In his few memories left, there was a woman, a dark hair, faceless woman. She was like spray of smoke, shrouded by a grey blurry mist. A few scraps of gnawed rats were gradually drifting through her.
She was shapeless, but he knew she was there. That pounding thing which cannot be consumed by anything, was there, howling at him day and night. What is she saying?
‘She is saying ‘‘Awake, Corvo’’ ’ said a hazy voice. But he could no longer hear it.
In his few memories left, all the colours had faded.
If the ocean is the sanctuary for those who have lost their souls, then what about a man whose soul has been taken by the Seagod himself?
A god came, and the abyss followed him. By the time he leaves, he shall reclaim it all, a kingdom, or a very man with dark hair.
The strokes, the colors, the composition...