He had one second to tip things in his favor — in Daud's favor, actually. Because once this was over, he'd be at the mercy of the winner. And Arella — now like a statue of the Void suspended in the act of turning toward him, her slitted gaze narrowing further, her lips parting, mouthing his name — would not be gentle.

No small feat, stopping time.

It was one of the hardest of his abilities to pull off — and according to Daud after one drunken evening, and after declaring the first of many uneasy truces between them — no Marked soul had come close to mastering it completely. Nothing burns through mana like halting the fabric of the universe, stretching a tiny, insignificant moment into several more, and all the while time and space grinding its collective jaws in protest.

Only the Outsider wielded this power without effort. Like Arella flicking her wrist and demanding death, the Outsider could make the world pause with a simple gesture. A moment on the cusp of itself, like the sands of an hourglass forever falling. For the Outsider, the gears wouldn't squeal. Sparks wouldn't fly. The Cosmos would acquiesce for as long as it could...but not forever.

Not even a creature of the Void could wield a wrench that big.

That being said, he was only human. And exhausted. And more than a little nauseous. The poison from Daud's dart still thrummed in his blood. His stomach was a knot of whirling moths. Wings of bone and teeth. Jessamine lay mere inches away, the wood and iron holding her prisoner easily destroyed, but without the keys she'd be ripped to shreds. Ironic, that. He had used the same traps on others, congratulating himself on his clever applications. To be held hostage by another with that same cunning...it was irony on a cosmic scale, the universe saying fuck you, Corvo.

So a choice now in the world of graying flowers, petals caught in the air, of many hands clenching cranks, unable to move until he said play — of the dark blur to his right, sword already deep in its first victim — Daud defying the seizing of time itself. Billie had the same immunity, her dagger thrusting with slow, fluid grace though the soft underside of an Overseer's chin.

Draw a line in the sand. He could always erase it later.

…Tick

Arella wheeled like a sculpture on a turntable, bit by bit, red hair fanning in a pendulum swing.

Tock

His fingers tangled in that wave, an echo of heavy silk in his palm, like a dream or memory. And there was resistance, as if time wouldn't allow both speeds to coalesce.

…Tick

Mark blinding white, Daud sliced his way though the line of Warfares, not cutting throats or disemboweling, but taking fingers, hands, even arms - severing anything attached to a Holger device. Less merciful, and mouth twisting in a fierce grimace, Billie shot something snakelike and black from her palms that gorged out eyes and tore into throats. Her mark shone on her dark skin, glimpsed though smoky tendrils of her lethal serpent.

Tock

The rest of Daud's Wraiths moved in a sluggish dance, like the ballroom waltz in his dream, taking down anyone within reach. Spatters of blood arced through the air like freezing ink.

...Tic

An unbearable vibration his bones as time shifted forward and the world popped into focus. Arella sucked in her breath and went still in his grip. Her pulse fluttered against his palm, soft and delicate like a trapped butterfly.

Late to the party, Overseers drew their pistols and aimed at Wraiths— who in turn, released a volley of darts from their wristbows. Sleeping bodies fell to join the pile of dead, screaming, or bleeding. In his side vision, Hawk stumbled, but stayed upright, his gun aimed at the Wraiths surrounding him. Shots fired and hit nothing. But then on the third level, Handmaidens burst through the doors of the Duke's private balcony, maces raised and swinging. The two Wraiths who transversed to greet them went down in the frenzy. One maiden shrieked as she tumbled to her death, impaled as she crashed through a trellis woven with firelilies. Hawk fired again. A pained cry of another Wraith. The others fell back and vanished to new positions.

"Corvo," Arella gasped his name, making him remember he had his hands around her neck. Her eyes showed no fear, but that wasn't surprising. She had seen this already hadn't she? All of it. Did he even have control anymore? They were all puppets dancing for her: Hawk, the Overseers,— even the Abbey itself. And now Daud and his Wraiths. But there were moments that slipped through the cracks. Futures she couldn't find. Hawk had surprised her once —

"But I know you, Corvo." She leaned into his touch like a cat. "You hold me now because I wish it."

His hand convulsed. Poisonous thing. Let it go. Her pleased sigh snagged when he tightened his grip and yanked her forward. On her tiptoes, straining, her cheeks flushing crimson. "I hold you because you have something I want," he growled into her face. "And you have something of mine. I'm not leaving without her."

"You will, or you won't", she wheezed out. He loosed his grip and she rasped between fits of coughing, "Two paths. Which one? All depends on him," her eyes flew in Daud's direction as he flanked Hawk and what was left of the Overseers. Hawk glowered over his fallen Warfares, those at his feet moaning in agony and clutching at the missing parts of themselves. Blood flecked Hawk's spectacles, ran down one cheek, and soaked the lapel of his fancy military coat. "But he's going to die," she said. "I've seen it. All paths converge. All lead to one…destination. Our fate. You can't fight it."

The buzzing started in his head, like an arc pylon overloading. All the hairs on his arms rose. His fingers seemed glued to her skin. The power she threw at him was alive, a spitting, hissing thing. His Void energy pushed back in defense, scrambling for purchase. The buzzing grew deafening. Let her go, let her go…but his hands remained fastened around her throat on their own accord. Her image blurred, then blacked like burning paper. He held something horrifying, a nightmare of maw, teeth, and writhing tendrils. Pieces of himself were flying away, his soul like leaves, thin and crumbling. He was a husk of himself, his vitality draining, being siphoned

Then she sagged against him like dead weight, her eyes rolling back and body twitching. A dart protruded from her shoulder. He wobbled on his feet, her body unbalancing him.

"Didn't see that coming, did you?" Daud caught him before he fell, arm under arm, steady and firm. "Easy, Corvo. Take a minute. I've seen hagfish less green than you."

Arella flopped to the ground, eliciting a chorus of gasps and cries from some of the Handmaidens that had made their way to Hawk. Some surged forward, but halted when Hawk barked "hold". The few standing Overseers whispered strictures in a hushed, frantic chant. Shadows moved on the third level. The limp arm of a Handmaiden twitched over the railing. More bodies littered the stairs, gender and station unrecognizable.

"Don't worry sisters, you can coo and fuss over her when we leave," Daud said and beckoned for his people with his free hand. The other gave a not-so-gentle squeeze around his nape that said, You're not getting away from me again.

"Why didn't you kill the bitch?" Billie wiped her blade on a fallen Overseer's jacket and sheathed it. What was left of the Holger devices crunched under her boots. The otherworldly effect of her cloak and paint had diminished somewhat, but she moved like a barbarian queen as she stepped over her victims, ending those that dared clutch at her cloak, or moaned too loudly. The pistol in Hawk's hands followed her. Spectacles hid his eyes. Billie passed a palm tree, and behind it, the Duchess cringed like a paralyzed rabbit. Only a hint of sea silk and the winking light of her jeweled hairpins gave her away. So that's where she'd run off too. They weren't on the best of terms (traitorous bitch), but he didn't wish her ill. Not really. Though it might be better if one of the Wraiths darted her. For her own safety of course.

"The last thing we need is a martyr," Daud said to Billie. "That's why our dear High Overseer is still alive."

"And that is one of your many mistakes, Knife of Dunwall." Hawk's accent grated his words into razor-like shards, and the pistol in his hand moved from Billie to Daud. And now since he was a human shield, that damn barrel was pointed at his face. Gloved fingers slid from his nape over his scalp, an intimate gesture that sent a pleasing, but unwanted shiver down his shoulder blades. Then his head tipped back as Daud tugged a warning: Don't even think about moving.

"Yes, yes it is," Daud said. The hands deep in his hair gave him a little shake. Trust me, Corvo, the touch said. "And one of yours is lying here on the stone. Pretty though, for a crazy witch. I've had my fair share of dealing with her kind. Other Marked who didn't like competition, the Brigmore witches. I suggest you put this one out of her misery before, well...she tries boiling someone in a stew — or Cosmos forbid if she takes up painting." The fingers on his skull drummed thoughtfully and then settled. A lock of Arella's red hair tickled his toe. Outsider's eyes, she made his skin crawl. What he wouldn't do for a Piero's Remedy right now. Transverse away from her and Daud, grab Jessamine and get as far away from this shithole as he could. Wonder what Pandyssia looked like this time of year?

"You are beneath her. All of us are. She is holy, incorruptible." Hawk said with a peculiar smile. The mirror light of his glasses dimmed and behind them, the eyes of a hunter. Did he imagine them all as tygers? Spectral tygers that vanished and reappeared as if on the fringes of the Void. Hawk was surrounded, but didn't seem to care. If Daud would remove his damn hand he could check behind them, see what had the High Overseer suddenly so confident. Billie had eyes on Hawk as well, but she toyed with the leaves of the palm tree the Duchess cowered behind. She was either ignoring the Duchess or didn't see her. It was hard to fathom Daud's second in command not noticing the Duchess, but if Billie didn't see her, what else would she miss?

"She's an animal you need to put down," Daud said the word down as if contemplating doing the deed himself. "Because when she chews through your leash, she's going right for your throat."

"Perhaps you should worry about yourself, my dull blade. What the Cosmos has planned for you is considerably worse that whatever fate you've imagined for me."

"I think your angry Cosmos has better things to do than plot the demise of a humble nuisance such as myself. No, High Overseer, I'm your personal thorn."

"Ah, well…how unfortunate then for you." The hunter eyes behind the glasses flashed. "For any thorn in my side, I swiftly pluck out."

The Overseer's music played then, a lone, whining shrill high above their heads. Everyone that wielded the Void cried out in pain. He managed to stay on his feet despite the needles in his skull. It was more annoying than debilitating; he'd suffered worse in his cell. The Wraiths however, did not have his endurance. All dropped like birds shot from the air, the consequences of being bound to Daud's magic. Billie curled into a ball, black smoke sputtering at her palms. Even Daud fell to one knee, head in his hands and gritting his teeth.

Through the blue haze of music-tinged air, Hawk aimed his pistol and fired.

The bullet spiraled toward them, almost beautiful in the ripples it created, the air pierced and bleeding around it. No need to predict its trajectory. The destination was between Daud's eyes.

Mana wrenched itself free, some hidden limb that tore and bled. Calling it forth was like a wolf tearing its leg from a trap. Daud grunted, the transversal taking them both by surprise. This instinct should be dead: he took lives, not saved them. And this sudden heroism would cost him. Where the music tainted, magic couldn't exist. The Void couldn't defy the Cosmos. That was the unspoken law. But somehow, he had transversed, his magic shoved through a space of barbed-wire and ice.

Charging head-first into a wall of light would have been kinder.

He collapsed next to a stunned Daud and retched into a patch of white jasmine. Hawk called from beyond the masonry wall that shielded them: "You are full of surprises, little crow. But why bother saving him? He'll betray you in the end. His kind always do. It's the root of their evil, that creature…this Outsider. You know it, Corvo. It's why you've tried to free yourself."

He didn't have the strength to respond. The music still clunked and clanged away. The leaves and flowers shook with it, but they were cool and wet as they kissed his forehead. The source of the song, the third story balcony. The Duke's private garden. He pointed toward it, his head still in the flower's embrace. Daud grunted again, Yes, I know, and then his shadow disappeared. The sounds that followed next came under a wave of distorted music: A puff of air as Hawk's pistol fired. An enraged cry that came across as a smothered curse. And then a weak groan. Feminine shrieks rose like a flock of distant gulls, Daud barking orders to any coherent Wraith. Billie's voice answered, a trembling note that the music devoured. More shouts that could be cries of victory or dying screams, and then—

Silence.

"Thank you," he whispered and rolled onto his side.

Daud's shadow returned and it spoke with quiet fury: "Six of my men dead. I should have just knocked you out."

"Add it to Hawk's list of your mistakes," he said.

"Get up."

"That dart you shot me with and my stomach are not getting along." And maybe that last transversal really kicked his ass, but why split hairs?

"It barely grazed you."

"I don't know what kind of poison you used but it had me smelling colors."

"Corvo, I'm not asking again. More guards will be coming."

He rolled himself onto his stomach and attempted to rise, using the masonry wall as support. "You can say 'thank you Corvo for saving my life'".

"Thank you, Corvo, for running off like an idiot, and for getting my men killed. You lied to me. You gave your word you would cooperate."

"Well that's your own damn fault for trusting me isn't it?"

Daud's punch knocked him over, his lip receiving the worst of it. It instantly split and bled. Alright, he deserved that and probably more, but Daud couldn't argue the logic. "The whole reason I'm even here is your fault," he said. "So you lost men. So what?" He spat the copper tang out of his mouth and into his hand. Nothing white rolling around in the red. Good, he still had all his teeth "I lost more than that back in Dunwall."

"Really? You want to do this again? Right here?"

"Daud, we have to go. The live ones are waking up." Billie's hood had torn sometime in the last battle, frayed threads sticking to the blood on her face. And she had the gall to glare at him. At him. As if all this was his doing!

"I didn't ask for your fucking help." He got to his feet, and whatever was in his eyes made the marks on Daud's and Billie's hands glow. "I didn't ask to be held and tortured — and I'm not talking about just this past week. I'm talking about Coldridge prison. Months of being bullied, starved and beaten. Months of Hiram and Campell shoving a confession of your crime in my face. This is my fault? Not a single soul would be here if it wasn't for you! You killed Jessamine. You committed regicide for coin! You and your fucking sheep Whalers! And not only did you ruin Jessamine's life, or my life — but you destroyed a child's life. Emily is gone because of the events you set into motion. The city of Dunwall is gone because of your greed and corruption. Jessamine wasn't there to keep the balance of power. She couldn't fix what you broke. You destroyed Dunwall!"

"The plague destroyed Dunwall you fool!" Billie launched herself at him, rage in her eyes. Daud hauled her back by the flapping hood of her cloak.

"If you're going to throw a tantrum, Corvo, do it when we don't have Overseers and the Grand Guard breathing down our necks." To Billie he said: "And you know better. You two start flinging magic at each other and you risk more than yourselves. The Duchess just fled the garden. She's going to scream at the first servant or noble she finds to ring the alarm bells. More men are coming and we don't have the darts or mana to deal with them."

A young Wraith appeared at Daud's side as if summoned by his words, his entire face painted red, a black spiral circling his right cheek like the spiral on Piero's Door to Nowhere. The paint had smeared away at the chin and neck, revealing smooth tanned skin. "Master Daud, we've secured the servant's entrance. Most of us are out of sleep darts. Two groundskeepers tried to enter the gardens and we had to be…creative in putting them down. We don't have much time. Duchess Katrina—"

"Yes I know. Any minute those damn bells. Corvo, you can kick my ass all you want back at the catacombs, but we have to move. Now."

And there went the line in the sand. "Get out of here, I can make my own way," he said and started toward the center of the garden. To the Void with them all. Whatever camaraderie the poison had stirred in the beginning of all this was evaporating with every step. Nothing like a tirade to remind you of what's important. And what lay under the tea table meant everything.

"Daud?" Billie sounded ready for launch number two.

"Lurk, cover the north entrance. Watch for more servants. Anyone who wants to smell the damn roses, put them to sleep…nicely."

"You need to put him to sleep, permanently." Billie said, but from a distance, already obeying even though she clearly was not happy about it. Such loyalty. Either she owed Daud a very large favor, or she was fucking him. The latter was most likely, but what did he know?

Six Wraiths dead, but no bodies in sight. Spirited away, no doubt, and those that survived stood guard over the slain or sleeping — the more vocal injured quieted by a helpful dose of sleeping poison. Some of them would bleed out and pass in their dreams, a peaceful death. One Jessamine never experienced.

"You stubborn son-of-a-bitch," Daud said behind him, ever the stealthy assassin: not even a whisper of footsteps on the cobblestone path. "After everything, you're going to pull this?"

"I'm not leaving without Jessamine."

"She's dead, Corvo." Daud caught up to him, exasperation roughening his voice. "Remember? I ruined your life and destroyed the world."

"No, just Dunwall. Just me." He paused. Suppose it wouldn't hurt confiding in Daud. The reaction might be interesting. "And she's alive. He…gave her back."

"Who? Oh…right. Him. Of course." Then with dread, the realization kicking in. "Wait, the Empress is in the box?"

He didn't answer. Let Daud chew on that for a while. Under a pergola dripping with climbing roses of vermilion and ivory, sat the tea table with its scattered, but miraculously unbroken glassware. Arella lay like an abandoned doll next to it with Hawk slumped over her chest in an undignified heap, shielding her even in unconsciousness. How romantic. Hawk's spectacles dangled over his nose, and though the High Overseer didn't deserve the consideration, he pushed them back in place.

Something must have passed over his face as he studied the pair because Daud said, "Alive. We leave them alive. This city is already hunting witches. I'm not starting a war over these two mudlarks."

"And that's another mistake for you, Daud. Just like that day at Dunwall Tower. You should have killed me after you killed her. It would have been simpler for everyone." Then, a thought: "Why hasn't Katrina rung the bells?"

"I don't know, but that's more time wasted that we didn't have in the first place."

"Not my problem. And I didn't ask for your help. Go back to your fucking caves and leave me alone."

"With your box? Whatever's in there isn't worth it," Daud uttered a long, tired sigh. He rubbed the bridge of his nose again. No sign of skin yet. The paint must be extra thick there. "That black-eyed bastard. This is low, even for him. Giving you this…hope. To what end? Why torture you like this?"

"It was a gift," he whispered, bending down. "Something, I think, to ease the pain. Maybe…" He let the thought die and reached for the ornate box under the table. Heavy, glazed and old. Three locks of tarnished gold and on closer inspection, what appeared to be intricate runes carved into the sides. Jessamine's heart called to him from within, words in his soul, not his ears.

Corvo

"I'm here. I found you. I'll get you out somehow." He traced the runes, the locks. Arella must have the keys hidden somewhere. Not on her person, no, not if she knew he would be here. In her quarters, perhaps in a secret drawer or safe.

"How long has the Empress been like this?" Daud stared at the box, stricken, as if picturing a horror inside. He wouldn't be wrong. A beautiful, proud ruler reduced to a piece of meat and gears. It was insulting to the woman she once was.

"Since the beginning, after the Outsider chose me. She tells me secrets." The runes seemed familiar, like something he had read in a book, or seen in a dream. "She knows about the man who took you away when you were a boy. And in the flooded District, when I was about to kill you, she…balked at the thought of forgiving you. I think you made her aware. You made her remember. She said there was no turning back from the path you had chosen."

Daud let out a shaky sigh and lowered his eyes. The bridge of his nose flaked. Now the skin showed, pale, exposed. Wraiths transversed around them, mobilizing to defend all entrance points. "I…I never seen this thing — her — that you have," Daud said. "When did you use it?"

"No one could see it before. It's her heart," he said softly. "Flesh and metal, molded by the Outsider's hands, and I suspect…Piero's as well. When Piero was sleeping. Dreaming. I thought she would be with me until the end. She was safe until the High Oracle got ahold of her." Arella made a kittenish noise as if she'd heard him, and he flinched, his hands spasming around the box.

Something clicked then deep inside. A brassy whirling of some sort of mechanism, then a low hum that increased in speed and strength each passing second. "Jessamine?" Her reply was dead air, and the sense of fear. But whose fear? His and hers, they tangled in a knot. The runes started to radiate a bluish white light — as if coated with whale oil. The humming burrowed straight to his bones, all sensation leaving his fingers.

A part of him knew what this was, what it meant. And that part sent all rational thoughts into the Void.

"Daud, I need the keys!"

"No, Corvo, let it go." Daud came toward him slowly, arms outstretched, placating and threatening at the same time. "Put it down. Now."

He clung to the box, backing away, then ducked when Daud's wristbow caught the light. A dart hissed by his ear. Must have saved a few especially for him. How many more in that contraption? "Stop it, Daud! I can't leave her here. She's all I have left."

"Drop it, damn you! It's booby-trapped!"

Another flicker of movement to the side of him. Another Wraith. Fuck. A sting in his arm. Damn them. All of them. The box slipped, but he grappled with it, pleading, begging. "NO. It'll open. The keys! They're in her room somewhere. Have one of your Wraiths—"

The box exploded.

Coils of razor wire spun free in shining arcs. Lines of wet fire burned his hands, his arms, his eyes. His mouth filled with blood. Heat poured down the left side of his face, heart thudding in a frenzied tempo. Flames soaked his body. Everything was so red and hot and his legs didn't know how to work anymore. Shouts from somewhere. Daud called his name. Then something soft underneath him. Earthy and cool. The fire released him into a lukewarm sea. Floating there in the nothingness…it was almost peaceful. But this peace came with the sense of disquiet. A nagging reminder that something terrible had happened. This was wrong. He wasn't where he should be. Where was Jessamine? He had to get the keys.

Shh, it doesn't matter anymore. Jessamine stroked his face. Her dark hair fell over her naked shoulders in tumbled waves. A rare sight. He brought a handful to his lips. Sandalwood and honeysuckle. They were in a timeless place, after their eyes had first met at the Fugue Feast, when they saw beyond the masks. Soul calling to soul. Entwined on her bed, drapery fluttering like fins of an exotic fish caught in the current. The faded lavender sky carried away parts of the walls, the marble floor. And in the hazy white pool of light beneath their crumbling island, the whales were singing.

She was smoke in his arms and ash on his lips. His thoughts caressed hers, soul speaking to soul.

You made me happy, Corvo. I will always remember that.

But what I did, what I couldn't do. Emily. I let our daughter die.

She frightened you, and you frightened her. But I know you never meant to hurt her.

But I did, and she fell. I failed.

She forgives you.

And do you forgive me?

Always.

Then why does this feel like goodbye?

Because you can't come with us.

Am I not allowed? Is..is this punishment?

Love is never a sin, Corvo.

Then why can't I be with you?

You are no longer mine.

What are you saying? I'm always yours.

No…you belong to him now.

Jessamine!

What's to come…I'm so sorry.

Stay then, stay and tell me.

I cannot.

Stay for me, please. I'm alone!

Love again, Corvo. For me.

A knelling in the Void drowned out the whale song, the clapper striking hard and true. But the bells of Karnaca didn't ring.

They howled.


I'll probably editing this later on after NaNoWriMo :)