Dishonored 1 May 2026

He knelt, lifting her onto his hip the way he had when she was small enough to sit on his shoulders during state processions. “We’re going home,” he said.

The mark on Corvo’s left hand still ached—a black, angular brand that smelled of ancient stone and void. It had given him powers he did not ask for: the ability to stop time, to possess the bodies of rats and men, to blink across rooftops like a thrown knife. Each power was a temptation. Each use a whisper that there were no clean hands in this fight. dishonored 1

But the Outsider had other plans.

But Emily was listening. Somewhere in the next room, she was curled behind a locked door, hearing everything. He knelt, lifting her onto his hip the

The rain over Dunwall had not let up for forty days. It fell in greasy sheets, washing blood and whale oil into the Wrenhaven River. Corvo Attano knelt in the shadow of a copper gargoyle, his masked face tilted toward the lamp-lit windows of the Golden Cat. Behind him, the city groaned—a dying beast choked by plague and the Lord Regent’s iron fist. It had given him powers he did not

No. Not tonight. Emily came first.