Chapter Fourteen

Where Have The Birdies Gone?

"Why do you keep doing that?" the mortal asked, irritated.

Doing what?

"Disappearing into thin air before I get a chance to answer you."

I shrug.

"Listen…I know we haven't exactly been on the best of terms lately. So I was…I was wondering if I still get to choose my remaining tales."

If you so desire, mortal. It has only been fourteen years since I first began to converse with you. Don't you think it's a bit past time that you finished hearing them?

"Yes…I'll give you that one."

You only have two tales left, mortal. The Tale of Madness or the Tale of Love…Which will it be?

"Madness," the mortal replied, decisively. "I will hear the Tale of Madness."

I nod. Very well.

…

This woman had three names, in her long, long lifetime. As a maiden, she was known as Vera Dubhghoill. As a matron, she was Vera Moray. And as a crone, she died as Granny Rags.

In her youth, I watched many men beg for her hand in marriage. Once, even an Emperor coveted her. I watched her measure each man's worth, only to find them all wanting. She never really loved Lord Moray. She filled a void in her life, through the reverence of his family.

Vera Moray and her husband traveled to the Pandyssian Continent one year, on an expedition. And it was almost successful, in discovering particular…knowledge that is best left forgotten.

Vera's actions were not without a great cost.

…

"You killed her, didn't you?"

No, mortal. I did not.

I drove her to into lunacy.

"Why would you have done such a thing?" the mortal paused. "She found something interesting about your past, didn't she?"

I nod. Yes. She did.

Vera Moray took an interest in the practices of Pandyssia's ancient people. My people. It is knowledge that should not be learned by anyone. It is better left dead in tombs, than recorded in tomes.

She became enthralled by knowledge that was not meant to be hers. So, I bestowed my Mark upon her, with a very different intention. Vera was not pivotal. She was not influential. Driving her into insanity was the only way to cease her incessant prying and hunger for that which did not belong to her.

I looked within her, and saw only darkness. It was befitting that she would spend the rest of her life in that very same darkness, blinded to the world around her and forced to look within the realm of her own creation.

In her madness, Vera killed her husband. She carved his bones into charms and runes. By doing so, she found a way to create a form of…immortality, as Granny Rags.

"You said Granny Rags is dead. If she had created a form of immortality, then who was able to kill her?"

That depends on who you ask, mortal. Some say that Slackjaw, of the Bottle Street Gang, killed her. Others say that the Masked Felon killed her. She finally met her end in the sewers beneath Dunwall, surrounded by her little birdies.

"Little birdies?"

I smirk. Rats, my dear mortal. How she dearly loved those little birdies of hers. They were children to her. She learned how to control the plague rats, just like the Lonely Little Rat Boy. She fed them. She cared for them. She loved them. Through her rats, and her powers, she became a menace of her own. She created complex rituals, bone charms, runes, and talismans. Whoever was unfortunate enough to get one of her creations would lose a small portion of their soul.

What troubles me is that even I don't understand what she was gaining from this.

I don't particularly enjoy showing emotion, mortal. Yet, I am glad that this witch has been dead for so many years now.

…

The mortal tilted their head, questioningly. "Outsider, may I ask you a question?"

What is it, mortal?

"I've heard stories about people who travel to Pandyssia, and try to settle there. To this day, no attempts have been successful. Everyone has either died, or succumbed to madness. Are you guarding the Far Continent? And if so, why? Were your people really that malevolent?"

I shrug. Forget Pandyssia, mortal. It's irrelevant.

"You're dodging the question!" the mortal paused. "Wait…Did Vera find the ritual that…that turned you into the Outsider? She did, didn't she?"

I felt my fingers twitch. Why?

"When she found your ritual, did you want her to free you from your fate? You thought that, perhaps, she'd be the one who could…Or, maybe it's more than that. She threatened to destroy you. If there is a ritual for creation, there is also a ritual for destruction. Which one was it?"

And so the mortal brings me to silence…

Well…At least they are not as dull as I originally perceived them to be…

"Are you going to answer me, Outsider?"

Yet again, you digress. There are more important matters. Do you wish to hear the final tale, the catalyst which sparks it all? Or should I leave you to flounder instead? It is your world that is at risk, not mine.

Why are my fingers still twitching? More human emotion, bleeding through?

The mortal shook their head, sighing. "I'd like you to give me a straight answer for once. But very well. I'm ready to hear the Tale of Love."

So be it, then.