a/n: Hey guys, this is going to be relatively short over all, maybe two more chapters. I hope you enjoy!
Gone Again
Chapter One
The Golden Cat was a palace of illusions, where velvet drapes and gilded mirrors masked the scent of despair that clung to the air like a heavy perfume. It was a place where beauty and horror intertwined, where the soft glow of candlelight cast long shadows that danced with the secrets of its patrons. The grand staircase spiraled upward, leading to rooms of luxury and decadence, each a private stage for the whispered confessions and unspoken desires of Dunwall's elite.
In one of these rooms, draped in crimson silk, a woman named Lisette moved gracefully through the dim light, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpets. She had been a fixture of the Golden Cat for years, her life intertwined with the secrets and sins of those who frequented the brothel. But tonight, her focus was not on the usual routine of seduction and survival. Tonight, her heart pounded with an urgency that had nothing to do with her usual clientele.
Emily Kaldwin, the lost princess of Dunwall, sat curled in the corner of the room, her small frame swallowed by the oversized cushions. The little girl's eyes, wide and shadowed with fear, flitted around the room, searching for a comfort that would never come in a place like this.
Lisette knelt before her, her voice soft but firm as she spoke. "Emily, darling, we're going to leave this place. You and me, together."
Emily looked up, her young face streaked with the remnants of tears. "But... but the Pendletons... they said I had to stay. They said they'd hurt me if I tried to leave."
Lisette felt a surge of anger at the mention of the Pendleton brothers, the powerful, cruel men who treated the Golden Cat as their private playground. She had seen the way they looked at Emily, their eyes filled with a hunger that made Lisette's skin crawl. She had seen the bruises, the trembling fear in the girl's eyes whenever they were near.
"No one will hurt you," Lisette promised, her voice trembling with a mix of determination and fear. "Not while I'm here. We're leaving, now."
Emily hesitated, her gaze drifting to the door as if expecting one of the Pendletons to burst through at any moment. Lisette gently took her hand, pulling her close. "Trust me, Emily. I won't let anything happen to you."
The little girl nodded, her grip tightening around Lisette's hand. Together, they moved swiftly and silently through the Golden Cat, Lisette's heart racing as they slipped past rooms filled with the muffled sounds of revelry and sin. The corridors were a labyrinth of temptation and despair, but Lisette knew them all too well. She guided Emily through hidden passages, avoiding the main halls where the Pendleton brothers might lurk.
As they passed through the grand ballroom, Lisette glanced around nervously. The crystal chandeliers above cast shimmering reflections on the polished marble floor, their beauty a stark contrast to the dread that gnawed at her insides. She had to get Emily out, away from this place and the monsters that haunted it.
The kitchen was their final stop before reaching the hidden exit. The room was deserted, the usual bustle of servants and cooks absent in the late hour. Lisette grabbed a woolen cloak from a nearby hook, wrapping it around Emily's small shoulders.
"We're going to Morley," Lisette whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the hearth. "Far away from here. No one will find us there."
Emily's eyes, still wide with fear, softened at the sound of Lisette's voice. "Will we be safe there?"
"Yes, my dear," Lisette said, forcing a smile as she pushed open the door leading to the alley behind the Golden Cat. "We'll be safe."
The cold night air hit them like a wall as they stepped outside, the sounds of the city muffled by the thick fog that rolled in from the Wrenhaven River. Lisette glanced back at the looming silhouette of the Golden Cat, a dark monument to the misery it housed. She tightened her grip on Emily's hand and led her into the shadows, her mind racing with plans of escape.
They moved quickly through the narrow streets of the Distillery District, the smell of brine and rot heavy in the air. Lisette's heart pounded with every step, the fear of being caught gnawing at her resolve. But she pushed forward, driven by the desperate need to protect the girl at her side.
As they approached the docks, the sounds of the city faded into the distance, replaced by the gentle lapping of water against the wooden piers. A small boat was moored at the edge, its owner a trusted friend of Lisette's who had agreed to take them to Morley in exchange for a hefty sum of coin.
Lisette lifted Emily into the boat, her hands trembling as she helped the girl settle into the worn wooden seat. "Hold on tight, Emily," she whispered, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "We're almost free." Lisette sat beside Emily, wrapping an arm around her protectively. The fear that had gripped her heart slowly began to ease, replaced by a fierce determination.
The small boat rocked gently as it cut through the fog, its oars slicing through the inky black water with a rhythmic, almost soothing sound. Lisette kept her eyes fixed on the silhouette of the larger ship that loomed ahead, its sails a dark shadow against the starless sky. The ship was a merchant vessel, bound for Morley with a cargo of textiles and spices. It was their ticket to freedom, away from the horrors of Dunwall.
As they approached, a lantern flickered to life on the deck, casting a warm glow over the weathered wood. A rope ladder was lowered, swaying slightly in the breeze. Lisette helped Emily to her feet, her hand steadying the girl as they climbed up to the deck.
The Captain's wife, a sturdy woman with kind eyes and a stern demeanor, greeted them as they stepped aboard. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she wore a thick woolen shawl against the chill of the night. She eyed Lisette and Emily with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Who might you be, then?" she asked, her voice rough but not unkind.
Lisette hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. She knew they couldn't tell the truth—not here, not now. "We're... we're mother and daughter," she said, her voice steady despite the lie. "We're running away from my husband. He... he's not a kind man."
The Captain's wife studied them closely, her gaze lingering on the bruises that marred Lisette's neck and Emily's small arms. She nodded slowly, a look of understanding passing over her face. "Aye, I see. No need to explain further."
She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Emily's face. "You poor thing," she murmured, her voice softening. "You've been through quite enough, haven't you?"
Emily nodded, her eyes wide and trusting as she looked up at the woman. Lisette felt a pang of guilt for the lie, but it was necessary. They couldn't afford the truth—not when the stakes were so high.
"Come with me," the Captain's wife said, gesturing for them to follow her. "I'll show you to your quarters. You can rest there until we reach Morley."
Lisette squeezed Emily's hand as they followed the woman below deck. The ship creaked and groaned around them, the sounds of the sea a constant presence. The corridors were narrow and dimly lit, the walls lined with rough-hewn wood that smelled of salt and tar.
Their room was small but cozy, with a full-sized bed that took up most of the space. A single porthole looked out over the dark waters, and a lantern hung from a hook on the wall, casting a soft, golden light.
The Captain's wife lingered in the doorway, her brow furrowed with concern. "If you need anything, just knock on the door across the hall. I'll be nearby. And don't you worry—we'll take good care of you both."
"Thank you," Lisette said, her voice thick with emotion. "You don't know how much this means to us."
The woman smiled faintly, her eyes softening. "You just rest now. The sea can be a harsh place, but it's also a place for new beginnings. I hope you find what you're looking for."
With that, she left them alone, closing the door quietly behind her. Lisette let out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding, the tension slowly easing from her shoulders. She turned to Emily, who was already climbing onto the bed, her small frame looking even smaller against the vast expanse of the mattress.
Lisette sat down beside her, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, the sheets soft and warm against their skin. Emily nestled close to her, her head resting on Lisette's shoulder.
"Are we safe now?" Emily asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yes, darling," Lisette whispered back, her heart aching at the uncertainty in the girl's voice. "We're safe. No one will find us here."
Emily nodded, her eyelids growing heavy as the gentle rocking of the ship lulled her toward sleep. Lisette wrapped her arms around the girl, holding her close as she began to hum a soft lullaby, the same one her mother had sung to her when she was a child.
The melody filled the small room, blending with the sounds of the sea and the creaking of the ship. It was a song of comfort, of protection, of hope—a promise that no matter what happened, Lisette would keep Emily safe.
As the final notes of the lullaby faded into the night, Emily's breathing grew slow and even, her small body relaxed in the warmth of Lisette's embrace. Lisette rested her cheek against Emily's hair, her own eyes drifting shut as exhaustion finally overtook her.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they were free—free from the horrors of Dunwall, free from the Pendleton brothers, free to start a new life in Morley. And as Lisette drifted into sleep, she vowed to herself that she would do whatever it took to protect Emily, to give her the life she deserved.
The sea carried them onward, away from the darkness of their past and toward the uncertain but hopeful future that lay ahead.
The fog clung to the streets of Dunwall like a suffocating shroud as Corvo Attano approached the Golden Cat, the notorious brothel where Emily -his beautiful daughter- had been held captive. The once-grand establishment loomed ahead, its elegant facade marred by the decay of the city around it. The faint glow of candlelight seeped through the curtained windows, casting an eerie glow over the cobblestone streets. Corvo's heart pounded with dread, each step heavy with the fear of what he might find inside.
The guard at the entrance barely had time to react before Corvo's blade found its mark, a swift and silent strike that left the man crumpled on the ground. Corvo moved quickly, slipping inside and blending into the shadows as he navigated the opulent but sordid corridors of the Golden Cat. He knew the layout well by now, having memorized the paths that led to the rooms where the city's elite indulged in their darkest desires.
But tonight, Corvo's mind was fixed on one thing: finding Emily.
He reached the upper floors, where the Pendleton brothers typically conducted their business, their cruelty hidden behind walls of silk and gold. Corvo's breath hitched as he approached the door to the room where Emily had been kept. He pushed it open, his pulse quickening—only to find the room empty.
The cushions that had once lined the corners were disturbed, as if someone had left in a hurry. A woolen cloak lay discarded on the floor, and the lingering scent of perfume mingled with the damp, musty air. Panic gripped Corvo as he realized that Emily was gone. He searched the room frantically, but there was no sign of her, only the remnants of her presence and the heavy sense of her absence.
His mind raced with possibilities. Had the Pendleton brothers moved her? Or had someone else taken her away?
As Corvo stepped out of the Golden Cat, the damp, cold air of Dunwall hit him like a wall. The fog had thickened, swirling around the gas lamps that dotted the streets, their faint light barely piercing the gloom. The city felt more oppressive than ever, the weight of its decay pressing down on him as he moved swiftly through the narrow alleys. His mind raced, replaying the scene in the empty room where Emily had been, the gnawing fear of what could have happened to her tightening its grip on his heart.
The streets were eerily quiet, the usual sounds of the city muffled by the thick fog. Corvo kept to the shadows, his footsteps silent on the cobblestones as he made his way toward the Distillery District. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl of anger, fear, and desperation. Emily was out there, somewhere in this wretched city, and he was no closer to finding her than when he'd first entered the Golden Cat.
As he passed through Clavering Boulevard, the distant sound of a Watch patrol reached his ears. He ducked into a side alley, pressing himself against the cold, damp bricks as the heavy footsteps of the City Watch echoed through the fog. Their lanterns bobbed in the distance, the light flickering as they passed, unaware of the assassin lurking just out of sight.
Corvo's breath came slow and controlled, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to strike if necessary. But the patrol moved on, their boots crunching on the gravel as they disappeared into the mist. He waited a moment longer, his ears straining for any other sounds, before slipping back out onto the main road.
The Distillery District was a stark contrast to the opulence of the Golden Cat. The air here was thick with the stench of whale oil and rot, the buildings crumbling and stained with grime. The district was a labyrinth of narrow streets and alleys, where the poor and desperate eked out a living in the shadows of Dunwall's towering, decaying industrial structures.
Corvo moved with purpose, his destination clear. He knew where to find Slackjaw, the leader of the Bottle Street Gang. If anyone had information about what had happened to Emily, it would be him. Corvo had dealt with the gang leader before, and while he didn't trust Slackjaw, he knew the man's network of informants was extensive. If Emily had been moved through the city, Slackjaw would know.
As he approached the Distillery, Corvo spotted a group of Bottle Street thugs loitering near the entrance. They were rough men, their clothes ragged and their faces hardened by the harsh life they led. One of them looked up as Corvo approached, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of a rusty blade tucked into his belt.
Corvo didn't slow his pace, his eyes locked on the man. The thug hesitated, recognizing the masked figure from previous encounters. He lowered his hand, his gaze flicking nervously to his comrades before he stepped aside.
"Slackjaw's inside," the thug muttered, his voice gruff. "He's been expectin' you."
Corvo nodded curtly and slipped past them, entering the dimly lit interior of the Distillery. The air inside was thick with the acrid scent of brewing alcohol, the floors sticky with spilt drink and grime. The place was alive with the sounds of machinery and the low murmur of conversation, the gang members whooped and hollered over the clanking of metal.
Corvo moved through the sprawling complex with ease, his senses sharp, his every step precise. He ignored the curious glances and wary stares from the gang members he passed, his focus solely on finding Slackjaw. The leader of the Bottle Street Gang was a man of considerable influence in this part of the city, and Corvo knew that any information Slackjaw had would come at a price.
He found Slackjaw in a large, cluttered office at the back of the Distillery, surrounded by crates of contraband and half-empty bottles of cheap whiskey. The gang leader was hunched over a map of Dunwall, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he studied the markings scrawled across the parchment.
Slackjaw looked up as Corvo entered, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, if it ain't the masked man himself," he drawled, his tone casual, almost amused. "I reckon you're lookin' for the little lady, eh?"
Corvo didn't waste time with pleasantries. He crossed the room in a few swift strides, his voice cold and dangerous as he demanded, "Where is she?"
Slackjaw's grin widened, unfazed by Corvo's menacing demeanor. "Easy now, mate. No need to get rough. I ain't the one who took her."
Corvo's patience was thin, his desperation palpable as he pressed the gang leader for answers. He needed to find Emily, and Slackjaw was his best—and possibly only—chance.
Corvo's grip tightened. "Then tell me what you know."
Slackjaw held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright. I got wind of a little commotion earlier tonight. Word is, some fancy woman took off with the girl. Slipped right past the guards and the Pendleton boys. She's smart, that one."
Corvo released him, stepping back as he processed the information. "Who is this woman? Where did she take Emily?"
"Now, that I don't know," Slackjaw admitted, rubbing his neck where Corvo had gripped him. "But I reckon I might be able to find out—if you do somethin' for me first."
Corvo's eyes narrowed. He knew Slackjaw wouldn't offer help without asking for something in return. "What do you want?"
"There's this art collector, name of Bunting," Slackjaw said, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Fancies himself a big shot. He's got a safe, and I want what's inside. The catch is, the safe's locked tight, and I need the combination. Get me that, and I'll see what I can find out about your little girl."
Corvo clenched his jaw, frustration gnawing at him, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice. If there was a chance Slackjaw could find Emily, he had to take it. "Fine," Corvo agreed. "I'll get you the combination."
"Pleasure doin' business with you," Slackjaw said with a sly grin. "You know where to find me when you've got the code."
Without another word, Corvo turned and left the room, his thoughts already shifting to his next move. The sooner he got what Slackjaw wanted, the sooner he could get back to finding Emily.
The task was straightforward. Corvo slipped into Bunting's estate under cover of darkness, his movements silent as he bypassed guards and traps. The art collector's obsession with his precious paintings proved to be his downfall—Corvo found the combination scrawled on a note hidden in a book. With the code in hand, he made his way back to Slackjaw, who was waiting for him in the depths of the Distillery District.
Slackjaw's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as Corvo handed over the slip of paper. "Good work, mate. Now, about that favor…"
"Talk," Corvo demanded, his patience wearing thin.
Slackjaw nodded, folding the paper and tucking it away. "Word on the street is that your girl was taken to the docks. The woman she's with, well, she's good at slippin' away. Not many people can move that quiet without gettin' noticed."
"The docks?" Corvo repeated, his mind racing. If Emily was on a ship, she could be anywhere by now.
"Aye," Slackjaw confirmed. "But don't lose hope. From what I hear, she's safe. That woman's got a head on her shoulders, she does. Took the kid and got out clean."
Corvo's relief was tempered by the gnawing uncertainty of not knowing where Emily was. He nodded curtly, turning to leave. "I'll find her."
Slackjaw watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Good luck, mate," he called after him. "You're gonna need it."
Corvo wasted no time returning to the Hound Pits Pub. The city seemed to close in around him as he made his way through the winding streets, the oppressive fog wrapping everything in a blanket of dread. When he arrived, he found Admiral Havelock and Piero Joplin waiting for him, their faces lined with worry.
"Corvo," Havelock greeted him, his tone urgent. "Did you find her?"
Corvo shook his head, frustration and exhaustion evident in his voice. "She's gone. Someone took her from the Golden Cat—helped her escape. They were seen heading to the docks."
Havelock's expression darkened. "Damn it. That complicates things."
"Complicates?" Corvo echoed, anger flaring in his chest. "She's my daughter and the future Empress! We need to find her."
"And we will," Havelock assured him, though his voice held a hint of doubt. "But if she's on a ship, she could be anywhere by now. We'll need to gather more information, find out where she might be headed."
Corvo clenched his fists, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had come so close, only to lose her again. But he couldn't let despair take hold. Emily was out there, somewhere, and he would not rest until she was safe in his arms.
"We'll start by searching the docks," Corvo said, his voice hard with determination. "And we'll find out who this woman is. She's the key to finding Emily."
Havelock nodded, his expression resolute. "Agreed. We'll put resources into it. You have my word, Corvo—we'll bring her back."
Corvo said nothing, but his mind was already working, planning his next move. Emily was all that mattered now. And he would go to the ends of the earth to bring her home.
Emily awoke to the gentle sway of the ship, the soft creaking of wood and the distant sound of waves lapping against the hull. The room was dimly lit, a single lantern hanging from the low ceiling casting flickering shadows across the walls. She felt the vibration in her bones, a deep, thrumming resonance that seemed to come from beneath the ship. As she lay still, listening, she realized it wasn't just the sound of the ocean.
It was the whales.
The vibration intensified, a low, mournful hum that pressed into her chest, making her heart skip a beat. Emily sat up slowly, her small hands gripping the edge of the bed as she looked around the cramped quarters. She was alone, but the presence of the massive creatures below filled the room, their songs reverberating through the ship's wooden frame.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding softly across the worn planks as she moved to the small porthole. Outside, the world was an endless expanse of dark water, the surface rippling as the pod of whales passed beneath the ship. Emily could feel their power, their ancient presence, as if they were calling to her from the depths.
The song of the whales grew louder, the vibration stronger, until it seemed to overwhelm her senses. Emily pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sound, but it was inside her now, deep in her bones. She stumbled back from the porthole, her vision blurring as the room seemed to tilt and spin around her.
And then, everything went silent.
Emily blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the room was no longer the same. The walls had shifted, the shadows deepened, and the air felt thick with an otherworldly presence. She knew this place—had been here before, in her dreams and nightmares.
The Void.
A figure stepped out from the darkness, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. The Outsider. He regarded her with that familiar, enigmatic expression, his voice smooth and unnervingly calm as he spoke.
"Did you hear them?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as if listening to the echoes of the whales' songs. "Their voices carry deep truths, if you know how to listen."
Emily felt a shiver run down her spine, but she stood her ground, meeting his gaze with as much resolve as she could muster. "What do they want?"
The Outsider smiled, a small, knowing smile that didn't reach his eyes. "They want what they've always wanted—freedom, survival, a future that's their own. Much like you, Emily."
She frowned, confusion and a touch of fear gnawing at her. "What do you mean?"
He stepped closer, his presence looming over her like a shadow, though his form remained almost intangible. "Have you ever thought about it?" he asked softly, his voice like a whisper in the dark. "A future where you didn't have to be an Empress? Where you could be anything else?"
Emily's breath caught in her throat. She had never allowed herself to think of such things. She was the daughter of an Empress, destined to rule, to protect Dunwall. But the weight of that destiny had always been heavy, even suffocating at times.
"I don't have a choice," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
The Outsider's expression shifted, a mixture of amusement and something almost like pity. "There's always a choice, Emily. Even if it's hidden in the shadows, waiting for the right moment."
She shook her head, trying to push away the doubts his words had stirred. "Why are you telling me this? What do you want?"
His smile widened, though it still held that inscrutable quality. "It's not about what I want. It's about what's coming. Delilah is coming for you, Emily. She's already set her plans in motion."
"What does she want with me?"
"She wants what you have—what you represent," the Outsider replied, his tone almost casual, as if discussing the weather. "But there's more at play here than just a fight for power. You'll need allies, Emily. People you can trust."
He paused, his gaze piercing as he studied her. "There's a boy named Johnathan. You'll find him when the time is right. He'll be important to you—more than you know."
Emily swallowed hard, trying to absorb all he was telling her. "And Lisette? Can I trust her?"
The Outsider's expression softened, just slightly. "You can trust Lisette with your life, but not with your power. She cares for you, but she doesn't understand what you're capable of. You'll need to make your own choices, Emily. No one else can do that for you."
His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, wrapping around Emily's thoughts, making it hard to see clearly. She wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but the Outsider was already fading, his form dissolving into the shadows of the Void.
"Remember, Emily," his voice echoed in the darkness, "your future is yours to shape. Don't let anyone take that from you."
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the vision ended. Emily gasped as she was jolted back to reality, her eyes snapping open as she found herself back in the small, cramped room on the ship. The vibration of the whales had subsided, leaving only the gentle rocking of the ship and the faint sound of waves.
Lisette awoke to the soft creaking of the ship, the gentle sway of the vessel as it cut through the water. The air in the small cabin was warm, almost stifling, but a sense of calm washed over her as she slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, she just lay there, her body still, her mind drifting between sleep and wakefulness.
Then, she felt the small weight against her side and turned her head to see Emily curled up beside her. The girl was still fast asleep, her breathing steady and peaceful. Her hair was tousled, her small hands clutching the edge of the blanket. Even in sleep, there was a faint tension in Emily's face, a shadow of the fear and uncertainty that had haunted her in Dunwall. Lisette's heart ached for her, and she gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from the girl's forehead.
She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb Emily, and padded across the small room to where her shoes were tucked away. As she dressed, Lisette couldn't help but feel a deep sense of responsibility for the girl. The decision to take Emily from Dunwall had been made in a moment of desperation, driven by the horrors she'd witnessed at the Golden Cat. But now, in the quiet of the ship's cabin, the full weight of that decision pressed down on her. She had taken on the role of protector, and with it came the heavy burden of keeping Emily safe.
Once dressed, Lisette glanced back at the bed. Emily was still asleep, her small form nearly swallowed by the large bed. Lisette smiled softly and decided to let her rest a little longer. The journey ahead was still uncertain, and they would need all the strength they could muster.
Slipping out of the cabin, Lisette made her way through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the ship. The smell of saltwater and wood filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of cooking from the galley. She soon found herself on the deck, where the cool morning air greeted her with a brisk, invigorating bite.
The sea stretched out endlessly in all directions, the water a deep, almost black blue, with the horizon just barely visible through a light morning mist. The ship rocked gently beneath her feet, the rhythmic motion soothing in its consistency.
Lisette spotted the captain's wife standing near the helm, her gaze fixed on the horizon. She was a tall, sturdy woman, with a face weathered by years at sea but softened by a warm, kind expression. Lisette approached her, offering a polite nod.
"Good morning," Lisette began, her voice still hushed in the quiet dawn. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
The captain's wife turned to her with a smile, her blue eyes twinkling. "Not at all, dear. Up early, I see."
"I couldn't sleep much longer," Lisette admitted. "The ship has a way of waking you early."
The woman chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "Aye, that it does. The sea has its own way of keeping time."
Lisette hesitated for a moment before asking, "How long do you think the journey will take? I mean, to Morley?"
The captain's wife pursed her lips thoughtfully, glancing back at the horizon. "If the winds hold steady, I'd say about five more days, give or take. The sea's been kind to us so far, so let's hope she stays that way."
Lisette nodded, a small weight lifting off her shoulders. Five days didn't seem so long, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead still gnawed at her. "Thank you," she said softly. "You've been so kind to us."
The woman waved off her gratitude with a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. A mother and her child running from a bad man? We've seen worse aboard this ship. You two are safe here, that's all that matters."
Lisette offered a tight smile, the lie weighing heavily on her, but she said nothing more. Instead, she excused herself and made her way toward the galley to fetch some breakfast for herself and Emily.
The galley was a bustling, warm space, with the scent of fresh bread and roasting coffee filling the air. As she entered, Lisette noticed a small boy moving quickly between the stoves and a large table, his hands busy with a tray of steaming mugs. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, with tousled dark hair and a thin frame, his clothes worn and slightly too large for him.
Lisette watched him for a moment, her curiosity piqued. The boy had an air of confidence about him, his movements quick and efficient as he maneuvered around the larger crew members. When he finally paused to catch his breath, she approached him with a friendly smile.
"Good morning," she said gently, not wanting to startle him. "You're quite the helper here, aren't you?"
The boy looked up at her, his dark eyes bright with a mix of surprise and wariness. He gave a quick nod, his hands still gripping the tray tightly. "Morning, miss. I just do what I can."
Lisette crouched down to his level, her smile warm and inviting. "What's your name?"
"Johnathan," he replied, his voice quiet but clear. He seemed to relax a bit under her kind gaze. "I help out in the galley and wherever else they need me."
She nodded, her heart softening at the sight of him. "It's nice to meet you, Johnathan. I'm Lisette. My daughter Emily and I are traveling to Morley. Do you like working on the ship?"
Johnathan shrugged slightly, his expression unreadable. "It's alright. Better than…some places."
Lisette sensed there was more to his story, but she didn't press. Instead, she thanked him and continued gathering food for herself and Emily. As she worked, her thoughts kept drifting back to the boy. There was something about him, something in his eyes that seemed to carry a deep, unspoken sorrow.
Once she had everything she needed, Lisette made her way back to the captain's wife, who was still on deck, watching the sea with that same calm, measured gaze.
"Do you know much about the boy, Johnathan?" Lisette asked, trying to keep her tone casual as she handed over a cup of coffee.
The captain's wife took the cup with a nod of thanks, her eyes flicking to the galley. "Ah, Johnathan. Poor lad. We found him drifting on the open ocean, clinging to a piece of wreckage. He was barely alive when we pulled him aboard."
Lisette's breath caught, a pang of sadness tightening her chest. "What happened to him?"
The woman shook her head slowly, a shadow passing over her features. "He doesn't remember. Not a thing before the ocean. We think he might've been on a ship that went down in a storm, but there's no way to know for sure. The sea's a cruel mistress, and she takes more than she gives."
Lisette felt a deep sympathy for the boy, imagining the terror he must have felt, lost and alone in the vastness of the ocean. "And now he just…lives on the ship?"
"Aye," the captain's wife replied. "He earns his keep, and the crew looks after him as best they can. But he's still a lonely boy, with no family to speak of."
Lisette's heart ached for Johnathan, but she forced a smile, nodding in understanding. "Thank you for telling me."
The woman offered a kind smile in return. "You've got a good heart, Lisette. That girl of yours is lucky to have you."
Lisette swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling the weight of the woman's words. She managed a nod of thanks before turning to head back to the cabin, her mind filled with thoughts of Emily and Johnathan.
When she returned, Emily was just starting to wake, her eyes blinking sleepily as she sat up in bed. Lisette set the tray of food down on a small table and sat beside her, brushing a hand through the girl's hair.
"Good morning, little one," she whispered, her voice soft and comforting. "I brought you some breakfast."
Emily looked up at her with a sleepy smile, the fear of the past few days momentarily forgotten in the warmth of the cabin. "Thank you, Lisette."
As they sat together in the small cabin, the morning light filtering through the tiny porthole, Emily ate her breakfast quietly, her mind clearly turning over thoughts that she hadn't yet spoken aloud. Lisette watched her, sensing the girl's unease. The silence between them was comfortable, but heavy, as if Emily was working up the courage to ask something important.
Finally, after a few more bites, Emily set down her spoon and looked up at Lisette, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and something deeper—perhaps a need for understanding.
"Lisette," she began hesitantly, her voice small and almost fragile, "why did you save me?"
The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Lisette simply looked at the girl, feeling the weight of what she was about to say. There was no point in sugarcoating the truth—not after everything they'd been through. Emily deserved honesty, no matter how blunt or painful it might be.
Lisette set down her own food and leaned in closer, taking one of Emily's small hands in her own. "Emily," she began softly, but with a firm tone, "I saved you because I knew the Pendletons were hurting you. I saw it in your eyes, the way you flinched whenever they were near. You were terrified, and no child should ever have to live in fear like that."
Emily's eyes widened, and she swallowed hard, her small fingers tightening around Lisette's hand. There was no mistaking the pain in her gaze, the unspoken memories that still haunted her.
Lisette took a deep breath and continued, "I couldn't stand by and let them hurt you anymore. I've seen what men like the Pendletons can do, and I wasn't going to let that happen to you. So I took you away, Emily. I took you because I wanted to give you a chance at a better life—a life where you don't have to be afraid."
Tears welled up in Emily's eyes, but she held them back, her face a mix of emotions—relief, gratitude, and a lingering sadness that Lisette knew would take time to heal. "But…where are we going?" Emily asked, her voice trembling slightly. "What's going to happen to us?"
Lisette squeezed her hand reassuringly, her expression softening as she spoke of their future. "We're going to Morley, to my Aunt Gina's home. She's a kind woman, Emily, and she'll take us in. We'll be safe there, and we'll start fresh. A new life, far away from Dunwall and all the terrible things that happened there."
Emily looked at her, the uncertainty still evident in her young face, but there was a glimmer of hope as well. "You think we can really have a better life there?"
Lisette smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile that she hoped would ease the girl's fears. "I do, Emily. It won't be easy, and there will be challenges ahead, but we'll face them together. I promise you that. We're both starting over, and we'll make the best of it. We'll find happiness, Emily. I believe that."
The girl nodded slowly, her grip on Lisette's hand still firm. "Thank you, Lisette. For saving me."
Lisette felt a lump in her throat, and she blinked back her own tears, forcing herself to stay strong for Emily. "You don't need to thank me, Emily. I'm just glad I could help. We're in this together now, and we'll get through it. One day at a time."
Emily managed a small smile, the first real smile Lisette had seen on her face since they left Dunwall. It was a fragile thing, but it was a start—a sign that perhaps, with time, the wounds would begin to heal.
As they sat there, Lisette knew that their journey was far from over, but for the first time since they'd fled the Golden Cat, she felt a sense of hope. They were on their way to a new life, and though the road ahead was uncertain, they had each other. And that, Lisette thought, was enough to keep them moving forward.
Corvo moved through the crowded halls of the Boyle mansion with a singular focus, his mind racing as he thought of Emily. Every step he took was laced with anxiety, a gnawing worry that had only grown since he discovered she was missing from the Golden Cat. He had expected to find her there, but instead, he had been met with nothing but dead ends and more questions. The uncertainty weighed heavily on him, fueling the relentless drive that pushed him forward.
Lady Boyle's party was a cacophony of laughter, music, and indulgence, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within Corvo. The opulence of the mansion, with its gilded walls and ornate chandeliers, was almost suffocating in its grandeur. The guests, masked and oblivious, moved about in a world of their own, completely detached from the turmoil that gripped Dunwall beyond the mansion's walls.
As he maneuvered through the throngs of revelers, Corvo's eyes scanned every face, every gesture, searching for anything that might lead him closer to Emily. His thoughts kept returning to her—where she could be, what she was going through. The image of her small, frightened face haunted him, driving him to the brink of desperation.
Finally, his target came into view. Lady Boyle, resplendent in her elaborate gown, stood at the center of a group of admirers. Corvo felt a surge of anger at the sight of her, knowing that she was just another piece in the twisted game that had torn his life apart. But he couldn't afford to let his emotions get the better of him—not now. He needed information, and he needed to keep his head clear.
With practiced ease, Corvo approached her, blending in with the crowd until he was close enough to whisper his carefully chosen words. He had made a deal with a certain lord, one who had his own reasons for wanting Lady Boyle gone. The plan was simple: he would ensure she left the party with the lord, never to return. It was a small price to pay for what he needed.
Lady Boyle's eyes widened behind her mask as Corvo spoke to her in hushed tones, the gravity of his words sinking in. She hesitated for only a moment before agreeing, the fear in her gaze unmistakable. Corvo watched as she was led away by the lord, his heart barely skipping a beat. It was done, and with it, one more obstacle removed from his path.
But as the door closed behind Lady Boyle, the unease in Corvo's chest only deepened. The party continued unabated, the revelers unaware that one of their hosts had just been spirited away. Corvo's mind was already moving to the next task at hand: finding out what ships had left Dunwall recently. If Emily had been taken, it was possible she had been smuggled out by sea. It was a lead, however tenuous, that he couldn't afford to ignore.
Leaving the mansion behind, Corvo made his way to the docks, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the party. The streets were quieter here, the sounds of the city muffled by the darkness that had settled over the water. The docks were a labyrinth of wooden piers, warehouses, and moored ships, their creaking timbers and the distant call of gulls adding to the eerie stillness of the night.
Corvo approached the first dockworker he saw, a grizzled man with a weathered face and a suspicious glare. "I'm looking for information," Corvo began, his voice low and urgent. "Any ships leave recently? Ones that might have carried passengers?"
The man eyed Corvo warily, but something in his tone—or perhaps the glint of determination in his eyes—seemed to convince him to answer. "There was one ship, left just a few hours ago. Headed for Morley, I think. Don't usually take passengers, but there was a woman and a girl… Didn't get a good look, but they left in a hurry."
Corvo's heart raced at the mention of a girl. "Which ship?" he pressed, the urgency in his voice undeniable.
The dockworker pointed to a spot further down the pier. "The Sea Witch. Old schooner, reliable enough. If they're on their way to Morley, you might catch them if you're quick."
Corvo didn't waste a moment. He thanked the man and moved quickly down the dock, his thoughts racing as fast as his footsteps. If Emily was on that ship, he would find her. He had to. The idea of her alone, frightened, and far from home was almost too much to bear. But Corvo knew one thing for certain: he would not stop until he had her back, no matter what it took.
The night seemed to close in around him as he moved toward the pier, the weight of his mission pressing heavily on his shoulders. But within that weight was a fierce determination—a father's love, a protector's resolve—that drove him forward, refusing to let fear or doubt take hold. Emily was out there, and he would find her. He would bring her home.
The dockworker watched Corvo's intense expression, noting the desperation in his voice and the way his eyes bore into him. To the old man, it was all too familiar—a man searching for his runaway wife and child, filled with the kind of rage that only comes from betrayal. The dockworker had seen it before, men storming down to the docks, looking to reclaim what they believed was theirs. He felt a twinge of pity for the woman and the girl, imagining them fleeing in fear. So when Corvo asked about the ship, the dockworker hesitated, then deliberately gave him the wrong name. "The Sea Witch," he said, pointing further down the pier. He knew full well that the woman and girl had boarded the Blackfin, now long gone from Dunwall. As Corvo rushed off, the dockworker shook his head, feeling a bitter satisfaction in misleading the man. He might not have saved them, but at least he'd bought them a little more time.