1: Dishonored

Corvo looked at his hands—the hands that had once held Jessamine as she died. The mark of the Outsider pulsed like a second heartbeat.

Corvo exhaled slowly. He chose the harder path. dishonored 1

He slipped through a service hatch, crawled through ducts slick with grime, and dropped into the private chambers of the Pendleton twins—the men who held Emily captive as leverage. They were drunk, arrogant, their faces painted like porcelain masks. One was detailing, with a laugh, how he planned to “train” the young empress. Corvo looked at his hands—the hands that had

He was shaking because for the first time since the Empress fell, he had chosen not to kill. And the mark on his hand had gone quiet, as if even the Outsider was watching to see what he would do next. He chose the harder path

But Emily was listening. Somewhere in the next room, she was curled behind a locked door, hearing everything.

The Golden Cat was a silk-draped hell of perfumed vapors and captive women. Its patrons were nobles who paid in coin and cruelty. Corvo had learned their names from the Loyalists—Admiral Havelock, the spymaster Pendleton, the inventor Piero. They promised to restore Emily to the throne if Corvo did their bloody work. He didn’t trust them. But he trusted the Lord Regent even less.

But the Outsider had other plans.