VIII

Billie melted out of the darkness, a spectre-like form against the night sky. She perched on a high wall overlooking the Abbey of the Everyman, breathing in sweet, fresh air as if she would never get enough. Smoke rose in roiling columns from the prison. Greedy flames licked at the walls, claiming more of the structure with every minute. The Overseers and the Culleran Guard looked like ants as they ran to and fro with hoses and buckets. Their efforts were in vain; Billie had seen to that. Soon the fire would consume the Void-forsaken place and all its horrors.

Unbeknownst to Billie, The Outsider looked on with the detached interest of a butterfly collector observing a specimen. His gaze followed her as she turned and dropped from the wall, carried on the fleeting shadow of a passing cloud to a neighbouring rooftop.

Outsider, a whisper dragged his attention away. Please, protect us. Don't let them take my mother. His brow furrowed as he focused on the voice. More whispers joined in, drowning each other out.

Please, Outsider, I'll do anything, just let me dream of him again!

El Forastero, watch over Amada. She only wanted to keep her grandmother's pendant with her...

Outsider, help me…

...grant me your power...

...I don't know where else to turn...

...make me strong…

Outsider...

El Forastero…

It was too much, too fast. The Outsider groaned and pressed his hands to his ears, trying to block out the suffering, the cruelty, the greed. The whispers only kept coming, and with them came visions from which he couldn't turn away.
A shrine of strange geometry. A lovingly polished rune on royal purple silk. Candles guttering in damp sconces. A weeping woman clutching a lifeless bundle to her heart. The snap of ribs beneath steel-toed boots. An emaciated child huddled in the rotting shell of a boat. Rats swarming in a dripping alley...
And blood. So much blood.

The Outsider thrashed his arms as if he could sweep the visions away. They came thicker and faster than ever, threatening to bury him. He disappeared in a flurry of shadows and hurtled through the Void in a frantic attempt to escape. He pulled up short as a vast shape formed out of the murk.

Where are you going, Outsider? The Leviathan regarded him with mild curiosity. It altered its course to drift around him in a slow circle. Your devotees call for you.

Make them stop, The Outsider begged. Even now, the whispers tugged at him insistently. He would go mad.

But you must listen. You are the Void's ears and eyes. You are a god.

I'm no god, The Outsider argued, I'm just a man. Surely you can see that? More Whales approached, sailing toward him on unseen currents. One by one, they joined their companion's lazy orbit around him.

A man, he says. Do men not think themselves gods? There was a ripple of something not unlike laughter. They were mocking him.

Would you reject the Void's power?

You made your choice. You offered yourself up at the altar.

You are a part of this place, as you once were. As you will be forever.

You're no man, chorused the Whales. You don't even have a name.

Don't listen to them, Boy, Billie's voice barked at him from the back of his mind. The Outsider clung to it like a drowning man clinging to a life raft.

You will not devour me! A monstrous howl tore from his lips, a primal sound that made the Void shudder and writhe. In the distance, black rock crumbled and dreamscapes fell to dust. The long-forgotten wound at his throat tore open. Blood poured, and floated in crimson ribbons around him.

The Whales closed in.

:::::

The pillars of smoke and shrieking alarms faded into the distance as Billie staggered her way down the jetty to the Knife of Dunwall. Through the portholes, a single light burned - a beacon to guide her home. Fatigue pulled at her bones, her connection to the Void stretched to breaking point, but she forced herself to take one step after another. At long last, her feet hit the deck with the reassuring hollow sound she knew so well.

Her Boy looked impossibly small and fragile, lying on his cot with the Whale bone clutched in a pale hand. One by one, Billie prised his lifeless fingers open. The charm dropped to the floor with a dull clunk.

"Boy," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "It's time to come back now." She tapped her knuckles sharply on his collarbone, but he didn't move. He didn't even blink. She dug her nails into his hand, slapped him harshly across the face - everything she could think of to wake him. His head lolled, his eyes blind, unblinking.
Somewhere deep inside Billie, a dam broke, and all of the fear and rage she had held back came flooding out of her.

"GIVE HIM BACK," she yelled, grabbing his shoulders. She shook him roughly, fingers twisted in his torn shirt. "Let him go, or I swear on Daud's memory, I'll march up that fucking mountain and drag him back myself!"

The bone charm gleamed white against the dark floorboards. She scooped it up and dragged herself out of the cabin, up the stairs and onto the deck. With all the remaining strength she could muster, she hurled it over the side of the ship, where it disappeared into the depths of the harbour.
The world spun sickeningly around her. Unable to stave off her exhaustion any longer, Billie's knees buckled, and she sank against the Knife of Dunwall's hull. The ship rocked her gently, like a child in a crib.
"Come back," she said, her voice a croak.

Her eye flickered shut, and she knew no more.

:::::

A light pierced the endless sky.

The Outsider felt it before he saw it, shining down through the tempest of Whales surrounding him. He reached out, and warmth kissed his skin, bringing with it memories he didn't know he had forgotten. The feeling of rain on his face. The thrum of the Knife of Dunwall's engine. The taste of peaches. He felt a pillow beneath his head, a twinge of pain in his injured ankle. The memories drew him in like a lover rousing him from slumber.

No, the Whales chorused in dismay. Who will tell our stories? Who will remember us?

I will, The Outsider promised, even as the light swallowed him. The Void gave a mighty shudder, like a man taking his last breath.

In the dim light of the cabin, The Boy blinked.

:::::

Sunlight streamed through the porthole of Billie's cabin, rousing her from her dreamless sleep. How did I get here? She wondered.
Her second thought, as she sat up stiffly; I'm too old for this shit.
Someone had carried her to her cabin and drawn her blanket over her. They'd also tied her shirt sleeve off, just beneath the stump of her arm. She took a moment to process both of those facts.
She found a spare pair of boots and pulled them on, one-handed. Then she made her way up to the main deck and squinted into the distance. To the south, a thin sliver of land was all she could make out of Serkonos. Cullero was a speck. Billie's lip curled. She decided she liked the city better from a distance.
She found her Boy upstairs in the bridge.

"What's our heading?"

"North." The Boy paused to check the navigation instruments on the panel in front of him. "Mostly north," he amended. Billie let out a quiet snort of amusement and gently took the controls from him.

"You look like shit," she told him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn away to hide a smile.

Neither of them mentioned the events of the previous night. They didn't need to. They were alive, and that was enough.

The days passed, and the dazzling blue skies of Serkonos gave way to the dismal grey clouds of Gristol. A chill wind blew in from the north, so in the evenings they took to huddling by the furnace in the engine room to keep warm. The Boy's ankle healed, and Billie fashioned herself a new eyepatch.

"I never thanked you, Billie," The Boy said quietly one evening. He wore a blanket draped over his bony shoulders. Billie had tried cajoling him to eat more, but their supplies had dwindled, and they were both getting sick of brined hagfish.

"It's fine. I handle gratitude about as well as I handle compliments. But, since we're on the subject..." she tapped her fingers restlessly, trying to find the right words. "This… connection you have with the Void. It's getting worse, isn't it?"

The Boy rested his chin on his knees and stared into the roaring furnace as he considered his answer. Eventually he nodded. "Yes. As long as the connection between the Void and this world exists."

"Shindaerey Peak." Billie shook her head. "I should have torn that place to the ground. Hey," she added, glaring daggers at The Boy, "no more messing around with bone charms, got it? Captain's orders."

The Boy uttered a soft laugh. "Yes, captain." This time, he meant it.

:::::

"Of all the places in the world, this is where we part." Billie gave a snort. "Typical."
They stood side by side on a lonely jetty in the shadow of Dunwall Tower. Once, Billie had fished a deposed empress from the water here. That felt like a hundred years ago.
The Knife of Dunwall was stocked up with enough fuel and supplies to make it to Karnaca. The ship sat low in the water - it would be a rough few weeks, crawling her way south, but at least she wouldn't have to stop in Cullero. She'd had enough of that city to last several lifetimes.

The Boy stared out across the water. Billie had never seen him look so lost. "You don't have to do this."

"Someone has to. Might as well be me." They had argued about this for a week, even going whole days without speaking to one another. But the result was always the same - Billie had to return to Shindaerey North Quarry and finish what she had started.
Then maybe you can finally be free, she added in her head.

"I won't be able to help you this time." said The Boy. Billie aimed a punch at his arm.

"Don't flatter yourself, you little snot. I lasted for years without any interference from you. I'll do it my way."

The Boy's jaw tightened as he looked away. "As you always have."

Billie reached out and pulled him into an embrace. He stiffened in surprise, but she didn't blame him. She'd surprised herself, even. Then, tentatively, his arms circled around her.
"Stay safe, Boy," Billie muttered into his shoulder. When she released him, his face was impassive, but his storm-grey eyes were shining.

"Take care, Billie Lurk."

The Boy stood on the jetty and watched the Knife of Dunwall grow smaller and smaller on the horizon. He didn't know when Billie would return, if she returned at all. But his four thousand years had taught him patience, if nothing else.

He would wait for her.

:::::

In the years to come, people whisper that the Outsider's voice has gone quiet, though not too loudly, lest the Overseers hear them.

The brick and iron landscape of Dunwall changes, reaching towards the sky. Whale oil fuels the engines of industry, driving them to new and dizzying heights. The empress declares an end to the Abbey's persecution of her subjects. Other countries follow her example, and peace finally settles across the empire.

The runes and trinkets made of bone still wash up in the silt of the river sometimes. But, with machines becoming ever more impressive, magic seems like a gimmick, unpredictable and less convenient than its man-made counterparts.

Where there are people in power, there will always be those who suffer beneath them. But if one cares enough to listen to the ragged orphan children who make their homes along the docks, they sometimes whisper about the man who visits the district at night like a spectre, leaving no trace. He's old, they say, older than the city itself, but you wouldn't know it to look at him. He's kind, too - he brings food, and warns them when the City Watch are planning a sweep of the district so they can hide.
Sometimes he tells them stories about the Whales, or about a boy not much older than them - a boy whose eyes are shut, but can see forever.