Chapter Text
Death has not been kind to Isaac. Then again, neither had life.
His rotted bones and moldy flesh knit themselves back together, tendons stitching like cruel clockwork, his missing appendage growing anew. The more his face began to resemble the man he once was, the more he realized he was truly alive again. Cruel, really.
Yesterday, he found the remnants of his sister, Francios. Her Hyde had failed to protect her; the curse had only made her more valuable — a perfect target for the assassin sent to hunt the missing “experiments” that escaped Willow Hill. There was no bringing her back. Not this time. Not even all her… pieces.
So here he was — a new chance at life, with nothing left to live for.
Until he remembered you.
All those years ago, in Iago Tower — before the explosion, before the death that should have kept him buried.
– Flashback –
Moonlight pooled through the tower’s tall windows, silvering the edges of glass and steel. Morticia stood beside him, bathed in that pale glow, her expression calm and knowing.
“Are you ready?” Isaac asked.
Her slow nod and faint smile made something mechanical in his chest whir with anticipation. His machine — the culmination of sleepless nights, sketches, and calculations — was ready to test. A device to temporarily shift Outcast powers from one host to another. His goal had been clear from the start: to inherit the gift of a Dove.
There were so many kinds of Outcasts. So many powers. But only the Doves could see what others could not. They could glimpse possibility — hope. Isaac had long forgotten what that felt like.
“Isaac, go ahead,” Morticia said, her tone soft. “I’m honored you chose my ability. I hope you find what you’re searching for. But… please.” She hesitated, her lips curving into a melancholy smile. “Remember — these visions are only glimpses, not full stories. Hope can guide you, but never force fate. Being a Dove requires… a certain lightness.”
“I know,” he replied. “I am patient. Science carved that virtue into me long ago.”
They began.
Morticia’s blood spiraled through the tubes, mingling with a chemical brew. The mixture pulsed as it changed — from burgundy to black, then bright red, finally settling into a faint violet glow.
Isaac lifted the vial, no hesitation clouding his mind, and swallowed it down in one clean gulp. The taste caught him off guard.
“Strange,” he murmured. “It tastes like a rose. Strong.”
Morticia only smiled.
– Present –
Those glimpses had never left him.
When the Iago Tower burned and his body failed him, his final thoughts were of his sister and you. The face from his vision, the one the Dove’s power had shown him. The one thing that felt real.
And now, risen again from the grave, Isaac knows what he must do.
He has a second chance.
He will not waste it.
He will find you.