Corvo's body came to awareness grudgingly, joints stiff with cold and achy in protest. Bleary brown eyes tentatively slit open, the dim light of the sun stabbing into his brain mercilessly. A low groan escaped past gritted teeth at the throbbing pressure behind his eyes. Gloved hands clumsy with fatigue fumbled to ease the pain behind his sockets, only to catch on the jagged edges of his mask instead. Corvo froze, mind still hazy with exhaustion. Why was he wearing his mask?

Surging adrenaline burned through the remaining cobwebs in his head and he jackknifed into a sitting position, clutching miserably at his head as it swam at the sudden motion. The tipoff from Lurk. The warning she'd sent to Emily about some Void-cursed cult. Corvo had been sent out to investigate them, to evaluate the threat they posed to Gristol and deal with them as necessary. He'd tracked them all the way back to Shindaerey North Quarry before things had gone…strange.

A familiar prickle along the length of his spine had Corvo's eyes widening in shock. The ringing in his ears, a distant song he never quite caught. The insidious whispers crawling through his brain. Even with his disorientation, it shouldn't have taken him so long to notice. He was in the Void. But how –

"Hello Corvo," The Outsider drawled.

Slowly, Corvo lifted his head, masked face upturned as he took in the figure lounging before him. Unfathomable black eyes caught and held his gaze unflinchingly. Corvo's breath caught in his chest.

Lurk's missive had claimed the Outsider to be dead and gone. With Corvo and Emily's Marks dead on their hands, and the lack of summons to the Void, the Spymaster had been inclined to believe her.

He should have known better. The Outisider was not someone to be defeated so easily. Corvo studiously ignored the faint stirring of relief in his chest as he took in the blank-faced deity. He'd never admit it, but Corvo'd been something very close to grieved at the news of the Outsider's demise.

"You're not dead," he rasped, a questioning lilt to the statement.

One of the Outsider's eyebrows ticked up. "Debatable" he responded, as infuriatingly vague as always. The corners of Corvo's mouth twitched in a wan attempt at a smile. Some things never changed.

"Why am I here?" Corvo asked bluntly. Subtlety was neither useful nor satisfying when it came to the recalcitrant god, especially not with his head throbbing in muted agony. No, better to go for the more direct route – who knows, he might just get an actual answer for once.

"Why are any of us here, Corvo?" And instead of an answer, he gets a question – typical.

"Well, you're definitely you. Never met another soul that had your way with words." Corvo snorted, one hand still pressed to his head to alleviate the pressure.

The Outsider's face didn't so much as twitch, but Corvo knew he was amused - maybe even a little taken aback. It was odd. Corvo wasn't even sure if the deity was capable of surprise. Perhaps he'd just imagined it.

"You claim familiarity with me, wear the shadow of my Mark on your hand, yet I do not know you," black eyes narrowed as Corvo's mind went blank with bewilderment.

"I can see all tomorrows, and I know that you play a pivotal role in several of them. But you should not be here today." The Outsider tilted his head, oil-slick eyes piercing Corvo to the quick. "It doesn't matter why you're here, Corvo. All that matters is what you'll do now that you are."

"What?" Corvo stared at the deity dully, equal parts exasperation and frustration audible in his tone. His amusement at the deity's usual obfuscation was quickly wearing thin.

Corvo got the distinct impression the god was smirking at him. "You're something new – unexpected. Everything is changing even as we speak. I've never seen anything like it." Corvo determinedly kept from flinching back as the Outsider leaned down into his space. Liquid black eyes drew him in, drowned him in darkness. "I will return you to your world now, but know that I will be watching with great interest."

Without further ado, Corvo found himself wrenched back into reality, the Mark burning on his hand for the first time in almost a year.

What the fuck was going on?

Corvo had been lucky none of the cultists were in the area when he reappeared back in the quarry. Maybe it was a curtesy of the Outsider, but Corvo had never been put anywhere immediately dangerous when tossed out of the Void. Small mercies.

The unease he'd felt at the Outsider's words did not dissipate in the real world. Maybe it was him, but everything felt just so slightly…off.

There was no trace of the ritual he'd stupidly barged in on. He downed an elixir for his head and fled the room quickly, looking for a way out, a chance to clear his head and think. The Outsider's words looped through his head as the feeling of not-right only grew stronger.

Corvo idly noted several strange details as he snuck back through the base. From what he could tell, the number of cultists out had decreased dramatically compared to when he'd first made his way through. The bodies of his missing agents had vanished as well, with not so much as a bloodstain to mark where they'd lain. Most concerning of all, however, was the fact that the camp he and his people had established a safe distance from the quarry had disappeared. Even with his newly returned Dark Vision, all Corvo had been able to spot was a couple of prowling wolfhounds in the distance. There were no other signs of life.

How long had he been stuck in the Void? Surely it hadn't been long enough for all traces of his team's presence to vanish.

Regardless of his concerns, it was getting dark out and he had a lot of information to consolidate and analyze. He quickly built himself a small fire and settled down against a broken wall that blocked the wind to think as the warmth of the fire began to seep into his battered muscles. It didn't do much to stop his older scars from flaring up in pain, but he'd long ago learned to take small victories where he could find them.

Now moderately comfortable and shielded from the biting cold, Corvo painstakingly began to sort out everything that had happened up until he'd woken up in the Void with a supposedly dead god.

He'd been investigating the Eyeless gang off and on for some time before Lurk had unintentionally brought them to the forefront of his attention with her message to Emily. After months of digging, he'd connected them to an Outsider cult operating out of the Shindaerey North Quarry and taken a group of imperial scouts up to investigate them with Emily's blessing. Without exception, every agent Corvo had sent to scout the cultists had either disappeared or come back to camp raving and insensible. Unwilling to risk more of his people, Corvo had decided to go in himself.

That was the part where his memories became fuzzy. There had been some sort of…energy permeating the stronghold. Like the Void, but less stable, more hostile and deceptive. Now that he was away from its influence, he could see how it had compromised his judgment, made him sloppy and reckless. A chill crawled down his spine. For him to have been so out of it, and to not even notice…

But he'd ignored the feeling and continued onward. He recalled snatches of broken bodies and profane rituals, twisted creatures of stone and fury. An empty Void, waiting to be filled. Something about not letting the Outsider go? And then Corvo had barged in on some sort of ritual and woken up in the Void, where he'd been stuck long enough that everything around him had changed. After all that talk of tomorrows and todays – it was more than a bit concerning.

The Serkonan knew when he was in over his head. His agents were gone and he had no way of finding them – he was alone. He needed to retreat, to report his findings to Emily and come up with another plan of attack. The Outsider was alive, and there was something very, very wrong with this cult.

It was weeks before Corvo managed to make his way back to civilization. He didn't think he'd been this happy to see the surging crowds of Cullero since before – well, before.

He walked the streets with his mask tucked inside his coat and took no effort to hide his face except for an upturned collar. Not that he was overly concerned about being recognized. His face hadn't been well known among the general populace for over fifteen years and bore little resemblance to his old and outdated wanted posters now.

Corvo quickly set about replenishing his dwindling food stores and other supplies from the various stalls lining the streets. He even managed to haggle for a nice pack of cigars to be thrown into the mix, to his delight. He'd have to make sure to hide them from Emily when he got back, the little brat was always sneaking into his stashes – like mother like daughter he supposed. Satisfactorily restocked, he then meandered his way over to the docks where he could purchase passage back to Dunwall, idly snagging an unattended newspaper on his way over. But a single glance at the headlines had him stumbling to a stop in the middle of the busy street.

It wasn't the article that caught his attention so much as the date. Clearly printed in the upper right corner of the front page was the year 1835 in the month of Clans.

Corvo didn't know how long he stood staring dumbly at that damn date. He was abruptly brought back to himself by the rough and irritated shoving of the crowd and quickly made his way to the nearest newsstand to double and triple check what his eyes were telling him. Surely it was a misprint, or an old copy someone had left lying around. Emily had spoken to him of her experiences at Stilton's manor, but that had been under extenuating circumstances and a fifteen-year change was a great deal more than three. Corvo couldn't possibly have experienced something as world shattering as time travel without even noticing, could he?

But the Void touched all places and times, and Corvo still had no idea what the Cult of the Outsider had been attempting when he'd bungled up their little ritual. He'd woken up in the Void at the edge of reality and the Outsider claimed not to know him, said he shouldn't be here. To make it worse, every copy of the day's paper he got his hands on only confirmed his growing suspicion.

Corvo had landed himself in the past.