Chapter Seventeen
The Mark Sparingly Given
"Please, please, leave a candle for me."
…
"Please, please let me see."
…
"Please, please. It's so dark in here…"
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"Please, please. I just want a candle…"
…
Having a nightmare, mortal? You poor thing. But I'll take pity on you, just this once. I summon a candle and its holder into my hand, and place it down upon the ground.
…
What is it, mortal? Has silence plagued you again? It's been some time, and you haven't returned to the Shrine. Instead, I find you walking here, amidst the follies of your mind.
"Why are you here?" the mortal asked.
Tsk, tsk, little mortal. Have you already forgotten what we were to discuss?
"Ah…Yes…The reason why you give your Mark. Since you're here, you may tell me now."
I cross my arms, and tilt my head. My, my…What airs you have. Do I detect a hint of Sokolov, in your demeanour? It's not becoming of you, mortal.
Just because this is a dream doesn't mean that you're entitled to assume that you are the one that holds the power here.
You're fortunate that I chose not to be as impetuous and impertinent as you are, child. Especially now that the infinite realm of your Time has narrowed into finite branches. You stand now in the darkest time, between dusk and dawn, between order and chaos, between eternal night and the naissance of a New Day.
I once promised you a story. I always deliver. It is time for the final tale.
"Fine," the mortal said. "I will listen."
Will you, truly?
…
It's incredible, isn't it, how Time is always moving on and on. Weaves are created as easily as they are destroyed. Yet, it is a gift, as much as it is a curse, to be able to see all things, to see forever.
You came to me as a young child. Now, you're a grown adult. I've seen your death. I've seen the death of those around you. All Humanity ever knows how to do is be born, live, and die. Maybe it is a true gift, that I am stuck in this form. Free, of my mortality.
I once told you that a child who is abused, and is powerless, almost always becomes someone dangerous. Someone to be feared. I also told you that, as a mortal child, I was abused. And I was powerless.
When I was forced to undergo that ritual, I became powerful. I became special. Yes. The argument can be made that I strip people of their free will. Yet, that is why I observe, and I rarely interfere. Only in the most dire of circumstances will I directly interfere.
Over the years, I have been given many names. I am to be given many, many more, for generations upon generations.
…
The mortal eyed me, intently.
Yes, mortal?
"I've always heard sadistic things about you. But you confuse me. Do you enjoy torturing us mortals, Outsider?"
No. I don't.
I am neither good, nor evil, dear mortal. I walk a very fine line between good and evil. I simply watch, and wait. Time tells me everything I need to know about a person. When I see that they are potentially pivotal to history, then I observe them for a bit longer. I wait to see who they were, and what they are becoming.
Do you know what it is I truly desire, mortal?
"No. What do you desire?"
Justice.
I bestow my Mark upon those who are powerless and abused. It sickens me to see that there are so many mortals who are mistreated, when they are kind-hearted.
Daud.
Corvo Attano.
Lonely Little Rat Boy.
Delilah.
What do they all have in common? They were either abused or powerless. Yet, when I gave them power, what happened? Everyone, with the exception of Corvo, became corrupt. Not by my doing, but by their own flawed humanity.
Time and time again, the potential to better the world, to right wrongs, was cast aside for personal gain. This was all their doing. This has become my greatest disappointment with Humanity.
"Will you finally tell me why you punished Vera Moray?"
Oh, Vera…I laugh. She was a very special one, indeed. You were correct, mortal, when you surmised that she knew too much of a past that's best left forgotten.
She was the epitome of the corruption of power, and the power of the corrupted.
At first, I wanted to believe that Vera could free me from this fate. That she could…restore my humanity. It was nothing more than a final, futile attempt to regain what I had lost, all those millennia ago. It allowed me to have, however brief, a respite from dwelling upon what I already know to be inevitable.
I suppose you could argue that I was unkind to Vera. Yet, I would counter this argument with the fact that I spared your world a greater unkindness, had her ambitions gone unchecked. You cannot fathom the mayhem that would have been caused, had she brought this knowledge back to the Isles with her.
"Why do you not remove your Mark from those who are committed to evil?" the mortal questioned.
Because, mortal, I tell them that how they use their newfound power falls to them, as it has to the others before them. It's a test of their character. If I were to take the Mark away from them, don't you think that would be hypocrisy? I'm merely giving them a tool, despite what the Abbey would have you believe. What they choose to do with it is their decision, not mine.
"Good point…" the mortal paused. "You know, you say you don't judge. Yet, you do seem very judgmental."
I shrug. No…I am simply bored.
"Uh…What?"
Do you want to live for over four-thousand years, mortal, and see the same things happen over, and over, and over? The Void is a cold, dark place, mortal. It's not a place for children, like you. Had events been different, or had you been born in a different time, you would understand the truth of these words.
In the coming days, I will be watching you closely. The next chapter of your story is just beginning.
"What do you mean?"
The past is moving into the present, and will attempt to force the present into the past. Dear child, it always comes back to one simple name.
"Whose name?"
Delilah.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Have you truly not listened to a word I've said, mortal? The highborn are always brought to heel by the lowborn. So, allow me to impart this to you…
The answer to your question lies within your blood – I bow, mockingly – my Empress.