Corvo awoke to voices. He often did, to the sound of Mother and Aletheia and Trito and Dorian discussing whatever they had to discuss.

But this time was different. Mother was still asleep, he was nuzzled against her chest, and he heard Dorian’s snores, and when he glanced to the side he saw Aletheia propped against the wall.

But he still heard the voices. Trito’s voice. Soft as ever. Whispering. And….

“You cannot expect a mother to feel otherwise.”

“My mother felt otherwise. She left me.”

“She passed away, as all mortals must. So will Corvo. You must understand this.”

“You think he will be hurt, because you plan to fail him. I do not.”

Corvo sat upright and looked.

Trito sat in a window sill, his spear in his lap.

Next to him kneeled the shape of the Shadow Man.

Corvo felt himself freeze. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. Instead he watched in silence.

“I have raised many children,” Trito said. “You do not know what he needs. You are not physical. You have no body. You cannot raise him.”

“Why not?”

“Can you cook? Do you eat? Can you teach him of history and law?”

“There is no need for boring teaching. We play. Forever.”

“Forever play will prove quite dull, Skios. For him as well as you.” Trito set his spear aside. “And you cannot harm Eris. She has a role to play, and so does her son. Corvo will never be yours.”

“He will—”

Trito interrupted, “And if you accept that you cannot take him from her, you must understand what she will come to do. She will imperil him, because she fears you.”

“It is not my fault she is fearful. I have done nothing to my little crow.”

“Nor does the tarantula harm any human,” Trito said. “But it is in a human’s nature to fear it. You do not realize what others see in you. You believe a human woman gave birth to you; yet you are not human.”

“What do the others see?” The Shadow Man leaned forward.

“A monster. Infatuated with a child. A danger to one they love.”

The Shadow Man was silent as he considered this.

“The mother is a danger to the one I love. He was safe in my tower.”

“Perhaps. And maybe she is to blame. Yet have you considered that you might be? Does Eris only do what any mother would? Fearfully, foolishly. But understandably. And what then? Then Corvo would be safe, if only you left him. Then we would not need to come here at all.”

The Shadow Man fell silent once again.

“The lion in the vault could smell me. He knew me even in the light. He attacked my Corvo because I was there, watching, from the dark. Was it my fault? Did I endanger my little crow then?”

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“Yes,” Trito said. “You did.”

“I did,” the Shadow Man said. “It was my fault.”

Corvo finally came to his senses. He dropped to the ground and grabbed Mother and shook her, saying, “The Shadow Man is here! Mama!”

Mother needed nothing but a touch to shoot upright. She grabbed her staff, shouting, “Begone!” as she used a spell of light.

But she did not use a spell of light. She stopped at the last moment. Instead she drew Corvo’s father’s sword as she stood upright, pushing Corvo to the wall.

The Shadow Man saw her and hissed. He stood, and his head scraped the ceiling.

“He means no harm tonight, Eris,” Trito said. “He comes to talk.”

“There is no talk to have!” she said. “Begone, I said! You will not touch my son! You will be dead in days, creature; we have nothing to talk about!”

The others rose, gasping. Aletheia was first, and then Dorian. They all grabbed weapons, but did nothing more than that.

“Perhaps we can negotiate,” Trito said.

“There is no negotiating over Corvo’s life!” Mother shrieked. “He is mine! Not yours! Mine!”

She stepped closer to the Shadow Man. But the Shadow Man and his red eyes stayed put.

Then his head lowered.

“He would be safer with me.”

“You would kill him, just as you killed the goblin, as you killed the troll, as you tried to kill Aletheia!” Mother said.

“I was wrong to hurt Aletheia. I should only have hurt you.”

She lunged at him with the sword. He stepped only partially out of the way, seemingly unconcerned; yet when the blade touched his black skin, as it slipped along his arm, he cringed backward. A hiss echoed throughout the stone room, and he quickly backed away.

He raised his other hand to his arm.

A drop of blood fell from where the sword had cut. It was black as he was, and when it hit the ground, it sizzled and fizzled and steamed, until it disappeared entirely.

The Shadow Man looked back up at Mother. His eyes narrowed.

He seemed to sneer.

He vanished.

Mother dropped the sword. She went to her pack, pulled out a torch and her tinderbox, and quickly lit a small fire. Even that was enough to banish the oppressive darkness of the prior moment, and Corvo cuddled up against her as she left the torch on the ground.

She panted as she held him.

“Maybe we could negotiate,” Dorian said. “Maybe—maybe he isn’t—”

“Say nothing further!” Mother said. “This monster has killed! It is not human! It will kill again! You wish to be allies with—that? You do not know how it feels. What it thinks. You cannot ever know.”

“You have killed,” Trito said.

“Yet I might also be killed in return,” she said. “And for however strange or evil or cruel I am, I am still human. Unlike that—abomination.” She shook her head. “Do not pretend that you do not wish to destroy it. That is your true motivation. We know it is not for my or Corvo’s sake.”

Trito slumped down to the ground, leaving the sill.

“Yes,” he said. “I do wish to kill him. If we can, I intend to. He is a terrible sin of magic. He never should have been born. Yet he is right, that you have imperiled Corvo more than he ever might have by bringing him here.”

“It was your idea to come!” Mother sounded infuriated and exacerbated. “Was it not clear—from what it tried with Melitas—that it could not be reasoned with? Aletheia was nearly killed! She was killed!”

Her chest heaved. Corvo almost never saw her so flustered, and it scared him so much that he was flustered with her. He cried, and she brought his head into her shoulder.

“It is okay,” she whispered. “This is nearly over. It is—it will be—okay.”

“He’s dangerous,” Aletheia said. “But—he wouldn’t be the first one of us to have killed in anger. Or to have made a mistake.”

“There is no way to keep him in check,” Mother said. She spoke with her mouth against Corvo’s jacket. “He is too dangerous to trust. He always was. He cannot be allowed to live.”

“I talked to him. At Waterrest.” Aletheia sighed. “He told me he had a name. And he asked if I wanted to be his friend.”

“And?” Mother lifted her head. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know. I thought I could convince him to leave. But it didn’t work. How often have you talked to him?”

“This is the first time he appeared to me,” Trito said.

“He never appeared to me,” Dorian said. “But then I guess I’m just the party goblin. Not anyone to reason with.”

“It does not matter,” Mother said. “We are almost there. The Mortalists cannot be far.”

“We will reach them within hours,” Trito said.

“Then the discussion is pointless. This problem, like many others, will be solved with the death of the offending party. True power is violence, as the Shadow Man already knows well.”

They were quiet after that. Aletheia yawned.

“How long were we asleep?” she asked.

“Two hours,” Trito said.

“Two hours was enough,” Mother said. “I wish to continue on. Now.”

Trito sighed. “Very well. We will continue on. Now.”