Irvana simply nodded at Kayla, who asked the owner of the store about vanilla. She struggled with the pronounciation and her thick Nordic accent was present. Irvana had to admit it was quite strange to see an Altmer with a Nordic accent, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Nords and elves are never in the same page and there is a animosity between them considering what happened in history. She must have had a hard time finding a sympathetic lot in those frigid lands.

Seed-Neeus regarded Kayla with a curious look, and then made a sound with her throat. "Hmm, we might have something like that. Let me check."

The woman vanished behind the counter to search for her goods while Irvana browsed around. All I need now are wine bottles . . .

The Goblet might have some but she did not want to use something that belonged to them when she could have her own. She preffered a more candid method of leisure.

"Scent for your room?" inquired Irvana.

Abiene

Aravi led the way through the quiet inn to her chamber. Abiene noted the panties dangling on one doorknob, a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign that transcended cultural barriers. Kayla’s, perhaps? Hopefully she’s still enjoying her company.

Aravi secured the door behind them and smoothed the bed covers. “Would you prefer me sitting or standing?” she asked.

“Let’s sit on the bed.” Abiene followed her own suggestion, and Aravi took a seat beside her.

Abiene’s spells slipped into her hands with the ease of long practice.

She spoke her intentions out loud before each action to keep Aravi at ease. “I’m going to hold your face in my hands for a moment. Your ear has only just begun to heal naturally, but you may feel some warmth as I dissolve what little scar tissue has formed. First I’ll make sure the wound is perfectly clean. There, it’s done. Now I’m healing…” Abiene finished by stimulating the hair follicles around the wound, re-growing the tiny strip of fur that had dissolved under her debride spell.

“Now go ahead and move your ears as much as you can. That’s it. I want to make sure you have full range of expression.”

Abiene watched Aravi’s ears flick forward and flatten back, then swivel downward and up again. “Beautiful,” she said to Aravi. “As if injury had never touched them.” The Khajiit are truly a marvelous creation.

She folded her hands in her lap, drawing back into herself in the way that always followed a healing. She gave Aravi a little smile as soon as she had recovered.

“I’m going to hold your face in my hands for a moment.”

Aravi felt the healer’s hands on her cheeks, cradling her head almost. Aravi could only look either into the Breton’s face or at her chest. Not knowing what else to do, she closed her eyes and listened.

“Your ear has only just begun to heal naturally, but you may feel some warmth as I dissolve what little scar tissue has formed. First I’ll make sure the wound is perfectly clean. “

She felt the warmth Abiene warned her of, along with a prickling sensation. She did her best to keep her ears from flicking.

“Now I’m healing…”

The pain eased to nothingness and then the prickling began again. That too faded.

“Now go ahead and move your ears as much as you can. That’s it. I want to make sure you have full range of expression.”

Aravi moved her ears in every way she knew, flicking them, flattening, and swiveling them around.

“Beautiful, as if injury had never touched them.”

Aravi opened her eyes and saw the healer’s small, satisfied smile. She couldn’t help but smile too.

“Not quite,” Aravi said. She reached up to her ear and took out one of her golden earrings and handed it to the Breton. She closed her eyes again, and felt a little nervous tension in anticipation of the stinging pain.

It came and was gone again in an instant.

“There,” she heard Abiene say. “I’ve healed it, so you can put the ring back if you want.”

Aravi took out the earring and felt the smooth hole in her ear now. It felt just like the other ones that she had for years. She put the earring back in. Now all she needed to do was buy a new one. Would Chorrol even have them? "It's as if injury never touched them," Aravi echoed.

Now it is time, Aravi thought. She had time to think of Abiene's offer and the consequences while she walked back from the vampire cave.

“Thank you for everything,” Aravi said. “The other thing we discussed, your offer… I want to try it.”

Lycus had been cursed with the return of the almost unbearable headaches. And as he rose to his feet, there had come an unwanted and most unwelcome companion. The spectral shade of an old white-haired man loomed in front of him, a visible manifestation of the damage Lycus’ mind had suffered from the spirit journey. The blue-eyed man never spoke, merely watched him with its hostile stare, a constant presence on the edges of Lycus’ awareness.

The otherworldly apparition had driven Lycus to adopt a dangerous series of attacks against the ghostly sight, as if part of him was trying to defeat his own madness but nothing stopped the tortuous hallucination. It was as if it vanished and was summoned elsewhere. At the window, above the bed, near the cabinet, and at the door where it finally stood for a long period of time.

Pale and semi-translucent, elderly spirit was otherwise an almost perfect replica of what the he had looked like when Lycus first journeyed into the Hunting Grounds in both flesh and soul.

“What do you want now?” Lycus demanded.

The specter was quiet and when it did not answer Lycus closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples to ease the growing pain.

This should't be happening. Where is Vera?

Abiene

“Thank you for everything,” Aravi said. “The other thing we discussed, your offer… I want to try it.”

Abiene felt a rush of emotions that she couldn’t begin to express. She reached out to hug Aravi. “Your trust means the world, Aravi,” she murmured.

She composed herself quickly. There was more to discuss and decide.

“We spoke a little of tests I would like to make. I will certainly practice the procedures I’ve planned, not on people of course, so that I can reduce the danger to you as much as possible. But it’s your future kits that concern me most. If I had the time to see a pregnancy through to a healthy birth and then long enough to know the young creature is developing normally… Well, that could take a year. I have logistics in mind already, and I can get started right away. But I would ask you for time.”

Abiene took a breath.

“And also I’m going to need help. I know this is the most delicate and personal of subjects, but may I confide in Darnand and ask his advice? I can keep the details of who exactly we are helping from him, but when the time comes I’ll need him at my side to transfer the magicka. It would take more than a year to make me a competent mystic, I’m afraid. Oh, and we’ll need filled soul gems...”

Abiene interrupted herself with a little shake. Don’t get too excited and overwhelm her with details, she scolded herself.

Kayla nodded at Irvana's question. "Yeah. For the most part, inns smell musty and slightly used, which is to be expected. But you get a few sour smelling inns that smell like they're never cleaned after being used."

Seed-Neeus came back and handed Kayla the scent. The bottle wasn't as small as she had expected, and wasn't as expensive as she had anticipated. She grinned at the bottle after handing the money to the Argonian and then searched her person for her pack.

I left my pack, too! Godsdamned men always did make me lose my sense.

The bottle was half the size of her hand, and fitted, with a small amount of effort, into her pocket.

Should've worn loose pants and a tight shirt instead of the other way around. Idiot.

"Where else do you need to go" She asked absently as she fitted the bottle into her pocket.

Irvana noticed Kayla must have forgotten her pack, too. She was very distracted and perhaps even absent-minded. She kept her eyes on Kayla as she fumbled about herself, a thin smile creeping across her lips. Men and wine, Irvana reflected. All it takes is a drink and the passions of the flesh to redirect one's focus on what is at stake.

Kayla asked her about what else had to be done and Irvana managed a long yawn. "I walked for hours last night. I was hoping to get some rest. If you want, I can accompany you to whatever you need to go. But I was planning on getting some rest to rejuvinate the body."

She looked at Seed-Neeus and bowed, giving her thanks before heading toward the door. She turned and waited for Kayla. "How long do you plan on staying here in Cyrodiil?"

"I'm here until I can finish my business. It has to do with what we...I...discussed last night. With my family." Kayla hoped Irvana would catch up on the hint. Openly discussion her mission given to her by her Cult leader would be jeapordizing-

Who was she kidding? She'd already blabbed enough about her membership. She wouldn't spare any more details, but she'd hoped Irvana wasn't too tired to remember what she'd told her last night.

"However long that takes is how long I'll be here. Could be weeks, months, years. I could finish my business in two days. Who knows?" She smiled. "Go ahead and go to sleep. I've got a general idea about the town, and I could always ask directions. I really appreciate you helping me out today."

Irvana nodded at Kayla's words. One doesn't simply forget about vampire hunters and a cult of Meridia in one night. A drink as strong as wine wasn't potent enough to alter the mind of someone like her, and she did not drink too much to even get remotely influenced.

Her gold-colored eyes brightened as Kayla's words. She is uncertain of her stay? The woman clamped her hands around Kayla's shoulder. "Perfect! You'll be staying then."

She then stopped to think. Would she really want to leave Kayla out of her sights? Especially now that she's here and now, just a few feet in front of her. No, she thought. Such a thing is foolish. Sleep can wait. Lifestyle can be altered when something is dire

She released Kayla's shoulder and held her hands behind her back, her items already in their pack behind her. "I must apologize. Real friends do not leave other's company to get some shut eye. I'll accompany you!"

A smile came from that young face, and Irvana's cheery eyes sparkled with a spontaneous glint. "I promise I'll try not to be a burden."

"You? A burden?" Kayla was glad for the company. Her sense of direction was atrocious in towns, and Chorrol didn't have any maps on the buildings with a huge marker saying 'YOU ARE HERE" which would have helped greatly.

"I can't imagine you burdening me, Irvana. You're one of the least imposing people I've met here in Cyrodiil." She flicked a stray auburn lock from her forehead before running the fingers of one hand through her hair. "I honestly don't know what else to do in town. My armor won't be done for a few more hours, but staying cooped up in the inn was making me antsy."

Abiene gave her a quick and excited hug. Aravi smiled and thought shouldn’t I be hugging her?

The healer had a lot to say on the subject and Aravi listened. When she seemed to be done, Aravi spoke up.

“I want this. And I know this isn’t something simple. If you need to discuss this with Darnand then do it. And if you need his help… then I don’t see any other choice.” She knew she would be nervous anyways, and modesty would be the least of her concerns. Still, the thought of Darnand seeing her like that…

She wants a year. Seems so long, and yet so close!

“If this works, and I become pregnant, would I need to stay in Chorrol? Oh and what were you saying about soul gems?”

Abiene

“If this works, and I become pregnant…” The hope in Aravi’s voice brought longing back to Abiene’s heart. One of many paths not taken.

“I hope in a year’s time I’ll still be in Chorrol,” Abiene said. “I’ve been ordered away from the chapel for a week. But my troubles can wait.” Abiene passed a hand over her eyes.

“When the time is right we will go forward with the full expectation of a healthy pregnancy and delivery. That said, I would move mountains to see this through with you. Or rather move over mountains. Let us see where each of us is when the happy news comes. Then we’ll make our plans.”

When the time is right. Abiene knew some about the ja-Kha'jay, but much more study would be needed. Khajiit cycles and forms were influenced by the moons in a way unlike any other race. She wondered if Khajiiti mothers tried to choose the form their child would take by timing the pregnancy. It might be common practice, or the very notion could be offensive. This was not the time to ask.

Aravi’s lycanthropy might also be a factor. That would require even more cautious inquiry.

She pressed Aravi’s hand with hers. “About the soul gems. I’ll need them for some of the experiments. It will take some time before I’m ready for that part, though. And of course we’ll want extras on hand for your treatments, just in case.”

Irvana liked the words Kayla threw her way. Less imposing than others, she reflected. She was inclined to agree with that statement. Many who walked with her always were impressed and curious about her with an array of questions that were spoken behind her back and to her; That Irvana always walks with bodyguards. She's rich, why she can't afford a proper lesson in fighting? If she has two swords why does she bother wielding them if she is so terrible? She's too shy for politics, why does she walk in the Imperial Palace anyway? She's intelligent for a woman her age but why does it seem she lives a double life?

It was true, she certainly did not threat others or try to impose on them anything and she wouldn't dare raise a sword to anyone in just any circumstance. That is the folly of the young and proud . . .

She preffered the quiet life, the simple things or at least the shadow of such. To live a life like those imposing would be problematic and a concept she wasn't willing to adopt.

Irvana exhaled deeply, and grabbed Kayla's hand. "Come, come, I will show you the town. It has been years since I've been here but I still remember a few things. So much has changed since the Oblivion Crisis."

Abiene didn’t directly answer her question about needing to monitor her pregnancy. It sounds like a ‘yes’ though. She felt comforted in the fact that if it does happen she will have help.

I wonder what Kharjo is going to think of this. She winced in her mind, she didn’t consult with him at all about this. He’ll understand.

The question on the soul gems was clearer. “I will get the soul gems that you need when the time comes.”

She leaned forward and hugged the healer tightly. “Thank you so much for doing this for me,” she said.

Kayla willingly followed Irvana.

Abiene

Aravi’s strong arms wrapped around her in a warm hug. Abiene’s heart filled with hope and her own gratitude. She squeezed back, Aravi’s cheek soft as velvet against hers.

“I’ll keep trying to reach Darnand about the map,” Abiene said as they separated. “Thank you for your trust in him. I’d like wait to explain your situation to him in person, if that’s all right with you. I have to admit sometimes when I’m tired I don’t get my message through the crystal very well.”

Abiene rose to her feet, rubbing her palms on her leather trousers.

As Irvana laed Kayla through town, showing her the history and some of the to-go-places, and during their strides through Chorrol. Though Irvana had plenty on her mind, there was one thing that she needed to know and that was the location of the map and why was it worth something to the vampires. This was her responsibility and while the vampire hunters can search the location, Irvana had to first grasp the knowledge of what they would be dealing with to consider if its worth going alone or not.

Her mind wandered from possible underground cattle cells to an subterranean vampiric nest. If they are spreading, they must be destroyed once and for all lest they spread their parasitic disease over to the local farms and settlements and that simply, simply will not do.

This time, Irvana reflected, I'll pay a visit to them myself.

In fact, she seldom ever ventured out beyond her castle or the Imperial City or towns to go into caverns. As a woman of her station and status she could not be seen, let alone even suspected of going out gallivanting into forts and dungeons. Her brother took on the more confrontational tasks and was much more "adventurous". She always preffered sitting in a comfortable place. But he is not around and it is up to her to do something about it. Or, she thought, Kayla and Aravi could be sent into the fray once more. Aravi has many years of experience, and her ferocity is no mystery even to Irvana. Kayla has Dawnbreaker, and despite her slights she still had the favor of a Daedric Prince. That enough was indication of her capabilities. They can do their job.

"Kayla," Irvana began. "You mentioned you did not remember anything from that map? Not even a hint of it?"

Why on Nirn is she so curious about a damned map?

"Nothing. It was dark, and we were in a bit of a hurry. Once we got back to the Goblet, all of us were too tired to care about the map. I plan on looking at it again tonight, but that's if I don't fall asleep early tonight."

I won't.

In fact, I might end up staying up late again.

Kayla smiled at Irvana. She'd most likely end up patrolling the area tonight, if only to make sure nothing had slipped by them in the cave.

"If you remind me later tonight, I'll give you the map so you can look at it. Aravi has a friend she's trying to get ahold of to look at the map. Maybe you two can look at it together?"

She grinned inwardly. She remembered the cute little bow Darnand had given her when they first met. No one had ever bowed to her before, not even out of sheer politeness. Darnand was probably the first man to not clap her on her back or give her a death grip shaking her hand.

It was nice.

She shook herself from the memory and took a deep breath.

"Is there any other spots I should know about?"

Aravi looked up at the healer and nodded. She had no idea how long this would be for Darnand to come to Chorrol. Abiene has been unable to contact him.

I really don’t have a reason to stay around here now. Even after she discusses this with Darnand, she said it could be a year before she is ready to heal me. With that she decided.

“I am going to pack for Skyrim,” she said. “Unless there is anything you need me to do now. I understood that the soul gems could wait.” She told Abiene where to send a letter. Hopefully it won’t take too long for a letter to reach her.

She stood up. She didn’t have much that needed packing. Her armor and clothes would need to be washed before she left.

Abiene

Abiene nodded. “The gems can wait.” She felt a sense of loss already, but Aravi’s life was in Skyrim along with her mate. I never even asked about him. “I’ll keep you informed of our progress. Darnand will be sorry he missed you. But for all I know he’s in Skyrim right now. You may yet see him before I do.”

The two women shared another tight hug and spoke their farewells. Abiene turned back briefly at the door for a last glance and a smile. My dear friend, I hope I have good news for you soon.

Abiene finished her business at the inn. Within a few moments she was out the door.

*

Honditar:


The Proprieter Bograk looked down her nose at the filthy huntsman carrying in a half dressed inanimate girl and demanding a room; telling him to take his business to the Gray Mare till Eyja popped up beside him and smoothed her ruffled feathers.

"Is Lleris better? I sent the healer in before we left. Your horse and the two I rented from your friends are back in the stables. As you see, I found my friend; but she is injured. We will need a few rooms if you have them available." She gave her a hopeful look.

Bograk shook her head, then paused. "The suite is available, only three beds; but two of them are doubles. It's very roomy, and has its own private bath. There is a full kitchen with a separate entrance for two of the rooms, or you can come through the third room. It opens to the upstairs over the tavern." She pointed a finger toward the ceiling.

"We'll take it, and thank you." Eyja gave her a warm smile. "And Lleris, does he fair well?"

The Orc woman beamed. "Your potion and the healer's visit set him to rights. You are kind to enquire after him. Tell you what, I'll let you have the suite at a discount, say ten percent?"

Eyja thanked her and paid, taking the three keys and directions to the suite. She let Honditar lead the way carrying Maxical till they got to the right room, then stepped in front of him with the key to open it.

Eyja stopped Honditar from laying Maxical down in the room's bed. "Don't lay her down here. This room is too small, and right off the main hall so all the tavern noise can be clearly heard. Let her have a bed in the suite."

She took the second key and opened the door into the suite, searching till she found a large double bed upstairs. Honditar followed, carrying the sleeping Khajiit. The girl was tiny, but one could only carry so far before their arms went numb. His were. He was tired, and grateful to be able to put her down when Eyja pointed at the bed.

He gladly unloaded her travel pack beside the bed as well, not sure what she could possibly have in it to weigh that much; nor how she could carry it herself, with her small size.

"She must be strong as an ox to carry that pack." He showed Eyja where he'd set it. "Do you want me to wait with you till the healer gets in?"

Eyja fidgeted, looking at the pale inanimate form of Maxical. She finally shook her head no. "No, we should be fine. Abiene probably just stopped for a bath and to get fresh clothes, don't you think? Seth may be back soon too."

Eyja leaned against him in an exhausted hug. "Thank you for everything, Honditar. You have been the greatest help and comfort through this."

Honditar held her tightly to his chest. "Aye, anything for you, me darlin'"

"I love it when you do that pirate imitation." Eyja kissed him, then used the third key to open the separate entrance and let him out.

"You lock this door behind me, I've seen drunks back behind this inn." Honditar waited till he heard the click before he cut over the hill bypassing the old ruin to the road outside Chorrol. His nose wrinkled as he passed the ruin, a smell like decaying flesh clung to that site.



*

Eyja:


The room was directly next door to Seth's, but much smaller than the room he had rented. On the other hand, the suite was bigger than her own apartment in the Imperial City.

Eyja noticed the suite's back entrance let out into the back of the inn, and was directly below Seth's room window. She could look out her door or windows and see the site they buried that assassin. Eyja shook it off and turned the key in the lock. Honditar was right about the drunks behind the inn, she'd seen one herself back there peeing on the wall.

Eyja bathed herself first, then pulled Honditar's heavy shirt off Maxical and sponge cleaned her; carefully avoiding her stomach area. She wished Abiene or Seth would hurry, Maxical needed healing again. Instead of clothing, Eyja covered her loosely with the clean cotton sheet and a blanket; then lay beside her and fell into an exhausted sleep to the sound of a dog barking off in the distance.



*

Aravi was satisfied everything was clean. She stripped out of her robe and stuffed it into her travel pack. Her armor went on easily. Her swords went on her hips and the quiver and bow hung from her right shoulder.

She left the inn and stood outside near the road. She looked back at the inn. She was glad of the sudden downpour that made her seek shelter here. She wished to stay longer, but she needed to return to Skyrim. Kharjo was there, and she needed to speak to him.

An easy breeze passed over her from the north. The sun shone brightly. She guessed it to be around noon. Lots of time to get started north.

A final look at the inn before she started walking at an easy pace. I’ll be back someday.

“You are an irresponsible coward,” the old man at last spoke after what seemed like an hour of standing there. “A coward who knows not his destiny.”

I'm not a coward! Lycus thought. There was no point in voicing the words aloud; the hallucination was all in his mind. Speaking with it would only be a sign that his mental condition was further deteriorating. A piece of Oblivion rubbed off once more in his mind and Lycus knew he hadn’t summoned any spirits into Nirn . . .

Or did I?

“I but asked one simple task. One simple quest and you failed. You’re an impossible man. You fought the perils of the arena, slew beasts that would devour men whole, survived the Wild Hunt in His Realm all for what . . . to squander this gift with your stagnation?”

Lycus was growing weary of those words. He'd had this conversation with himself after he obtained his Lycanthropy and now he was experiencing it again and again through the delusions of his wounded mind. Yet now he refused to allow any doubts or uncertainties to cloud his mind; there is still time to complete that task. That special quest that he vowed one day would see realized.

“You stain the name.”

I am more than the man I once was, old man, Lycus thought calmly. I hold wisdom of centuries. Your mockery is wasted on me.

“If that was true,” the apparition countered, answering his unspoken arguments, "then how do you explain your life now? Your claim to have set upon the task you know you must do yet I am the only who constantly reminds you what is at stake."

You didn't need to remind me of anything. You’re just a hallucination.

“Excuses and justifications,” the old spirit replied. “You were once a fine warrior. But now you would rather retreat into a cave and not preserve the Castius legacy."

Lycus gritted his teeth as fresh pain was pumped into his skull, forcing him to clasp the sides of his head with such force that his knuckles turned white.

“You’re an irresponsible man. More so, you are a coward.”

Lycus swore under his breath, doing his best to ignore the ramblings of the spirit conjured by his head. How many times had he heard this exact conversation with himself in the past day? Twenty? Thirty? Fifty times?

The pain only intensified and blood continued to pour from his nose down to his beard.

“If you do not set upon the task you will fail to continue the legacy and you will bring shame to the bloodline. It is your responsibility! You will be haunted for the rest of your days. Your past deeds will not excuse your present guilt.”

“Silence!” Lycus screamed, no longer able to contain his rage. “You do not exist in this realm anymore, old man!”

He lashed out at the spirit by the door with his own body, determined to push the offending vision into oblivion. The old man did vanish, but Lycus’ victory was short-lived when he collided with the door and out into hall. Splinters flew and the door swung aside and broke off its hinges. The Imperial hunter fell to the floor with every growing agonizing pain.

He wheezed and coughed out loud and rolled to the side. He lifted his hand to heal himself but all of his strength was sapped, and his consciousness fled soon after.

"I will be sure to remind you," Irvana said after awhile. "I am only concerned. If you did not get all of them, if there are more out there, I worry about the people. I want to protect them from those creatures in any way possible." She said with force. "I would be honored to aid you two in bringing down those nosferatu if there are more."

And slaughter them all before they can spread their infectious disease . . .

Irvana walked on with Kayla until she asked if there were any spots of interest. Irvana regarded the high elf woman with a look, and wrinkled her nose in an act of uncertainty. "Well, nothing that is comparable to the likes of Bruma, I''m afraid. The Grey Mare is owned by a Nord. Perhaps you feel more welcome there? I am certain they have dishes from the north. Emfrid makes some quality food."

Irvana then thought about how much she liked the dish of the north. Not like the cuisine from Orsinium which are mostly rich and brothy. There was something distinct about her Nordic meals that she couldn't compare it to any other plate. Paradise for the tongue . . .

Abiene, mid-night

Abiene woke to light in her eyes. Riad stood over her holding a candlestick. The door to the hallway stood open.

“Wake up,” he growled.

Abiene blinked at him. “Yes?”

Riad gripped her upper arm and boosted her from the bed. “You’ve sickened another guest with your disease. He’s tearing the inn apart in his fever. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Abiene looked over her shoulder at the door that led to the suite. It was still closed. She pulled her chamber door shut as they passed into the corridor.

Dar’muktah stood in the hall lifting a massive door slab back into place. Splinters of wood floated up from the floor and fitted themselves together around the broken frame under Hethilion’s spell. These doors must be Muffled or we would have a crowd of guests out here, she thought. Both men glared as Riad escorted her past and into the guest chamber.

Bograk was dragging an unconscious man across the floor. Riad let go of Abiene and helped the orc sling him onto the bed.

Lycus, Abiene realized.

Riad jabbed a finger at Abiene as he stalked back out into the corridor. “Fix this.”

Bograk looked annoyed, but it was difficult to tell with an orc. She started after Riad.

“Wait!” Abiene called to them. “What happened? Where is the blonde woman? Could you just—”

The door closed behind Bograk. Small noises from the hallway told Abiene that they were cleaning up the mess.

Lycus lay running with sweat, blood trickling from his nose and ears. His breathing sounded painful.

Abiene quickly sat on the bed’s edge, casting the spells that prepared her for a healing. Then she reached out to begin identifying the source of his distress.

Her discovery made her snatch her hands away in shock. He’s a lycanthrope! Her pulse pounded in surprise, but her thoughts remained calm. This man could break her in half in his mortal form, so there was no use fearing what he could do as a beast. She would be just as dead either way.

Abiene took his hand in hers, beginning the spell again. He was certainly not ill, though she would tell the inn staff that he had been cured of a fever as an explanation. His high body temperature somehow seemed normal. She healed the broken blood vessels around his sinuses and brain, but then she stopped to consider.

His blood was strange to her. Had he ingested something to cause such a fit? Or perhaps it was the Daedric influence. She glanced around the room, hoping to see a clue.

Abiene, continued

This guest chamber was much larger than hers had been. Abiene glanced over the arming racks and travel clutter looking for clues. She could smell something acrid under the odors of vomit, sweat, and urine. Abiene was not bothered by anything a body could expel, but the hint of smoke was concerning. What had he been doing?

Her eyes fell on a drum standing next to a statuette. Of course, Hircine. An offering bowl sat before it. She tasted the ash but didn’t experience a reaction. Was he Void-walking? By himself? The thought made her shudder. Abiene was an inexperienced mystic. If his soul wandered the planes of Oblivion she would not be able to reach him.

But she could treat his body. Abiene sorted through items that had been thrown to the floor, no doubt in the course of whatever fit had sent Lycus crashing through the door. She found no drugs or poisons, only bundles of herbs, leaves, and petals. Sage was easily identified, and the tiny buds of pale lavender. She picked up a large, dried flower petal. Its rich purple color seemed to glow in the candlelight, as vivid dry as it would have been growing. She remembered that color from an illustrated book of Herbalism. A rare flower that bloomed in the snow on the highest mountain peaks. Wolfsbane.

Abiene knew little about lycanthropy, but it was known that Wolfsbane was fatal to werewolves. Had he ingested it accidentally in a daze, trying to recover from a trip through the Void? Perhaps he used it in some potion that aided his Hircine worship, or even burned it as an offering and then inhaled the smoke. It was likely that he was suffering from poison.

A long, rattling sigh came from the bed. Then silence.

Abiene scrambled back to Lycus’ side, her analysis of the situation suddenly secondary. Lycus’ heart barely fluttered under her hands. He wasn’t breathing.

She tipped his head back and covered his mouth with hers, strengthening his pulse with her spell as she breathed for him. One hand pinched his nostrils closed to force the air into his lungs. The other kept the contact that allowed healing light to flow into him.

His life’s energy had all but departed.

Abiene had walked far down the path to the Dreamsleeve in her time at the Arcane University, hidden away in forgotten chambers where her dangerous experiments would not be discovered. Her foolishness had nearly been the end of her, but now she knew part of the mystery. The soft song of pure light calling her spirit home. The relief of all suffering slipping away as the concerns of her mortal life were lifted from her. Once a soul began its journey it was all but impossible to tear it back to this realm, and doing so was not always the right course. Abiene fought death as if it was an enemy. She had to nearly experience it herself to accept that it was once in each mortal’s life simply a passage to the next state of being.

But not this time, not for this otherwise strong and healthy man. Not while she had the strength and will to stop it. If Lycus had intentionally tried to kill himself with Wolfsbane, he would just have to try again.

Abiene sent a spell through his blood to fight the Wolfsbane. She felt his heartbeat strengthen as the poison lost its grip over him. Damaged vessels closed, and the pressure eased inside his skull. But she could not call him back from the Dreamsleeve’s beacon. His soul did not walk that path.

Time lost its meaning as Abiene drifted in her healer’s trance. Her pulse became one with her patient’s. His chest rose and fell with her breathing.

She returned to herself feeling empty, her magicka spent. Lycus breathed on his own. His heart beat slow and steady again, and his body held the tension of animal strength.

Abiene brushed tangled hair out of the way and placed her palm against his cheek. “It’s up to you now,” she murmured. “Lycus. Wake up.”

Death wasn't at what Lycus expected. He was aware of it, in a way, even if that conscious was of a dark, nebulous sort. His consciousness went and returned in waves, floating here and there in unfathomable tides. He sank and surfaced at the whim of powers he knew he would one day see. All he could do was ride with them and hope that death wouldn't be like this forever. But he knew.

There was a surprising amount of pain in his body, considering that it was being damaged from the inside. He felt as if he was lurking at the precipice of his consciousness like a reminder of something important he had left behind. Was this some kind of punishment for the actions he had performed during his life? Were the countless people he killed and even devoured getting their revenge from a more privileged position in the afterlife?

This is nonsense, he told himself. While there is payment for many bloody deeds, his eternity is paradise. To hunt at the master’s side forever in an unending hunt. As a Nord spends eons in Sovngarde, a moon-born warrior of the wild is given honor when serving their Lord after a lifetime of living as a beast. This pain he felt was only temporary.

And then it all changed. Dying, Lycus observed with mild surprise that death was turning out to be not only peasant, but wonderful.

So, even as he lay gasping around the what felt like barbs piercing his lung, the soul of Lycus smiled. Even with the fighting and rattling in his body's last reflexive rebellion against the coming of eternity, even as his organs began to shut down one by one to maintain the final pieces of light and life within the vast and large intricacies of his mind, Lycus never imagined he would feel this way.

He felt as if he were falling in all directions, into a black hole that exploded with stars. The Wobbly Goblet was no more. He was not in the floor of the hall near a shattered door. He was not in a tavern. He was nowhere in Nirn. He was standing in a canyon where he saw a vague silheoute of a man with branching horns of a stag and a spear in his hand. And a great wolf at his side and an old man . . . all images he recognized, for he had been here before.

His own death was once foretold, entirely inevitable, and it would be the end of his legend. His fate was certain.... but Lycus began to suspect. Suspect that this wasn’t how he was supposed to die. This wasn’t how he was meant to fall.

“By the sword you have lived, and by the sword you shall fall.” Words spoken to him foretold.

And with that new consciousness beyond death came the very thing Lycus was troubled with all of his life; doubt. I failed, he thought as he dared to take a step forward. I failed to bring an heir of the legacy into this world. I failed to raise a child . . . I failed to become a loving father I once promised myself and my wife to be.

And now he would chase prey forever. Unless . . .

Lycus turned back and felt somehow, impossible at is seemed, that he had a choice to return. A choice . . .

He was never good with choices. Most were taken from him, and the ones he made in life simply resulted in the death of others or the death of aspects of himself and as he did forward he dared to step back.

No, now is not the time, he thought. Not yet. Not yet. My woman needs me, my child will need me. And he felt it, clear as crystal and yet obscure as shadow. He felt that he could return, that his own body, as strange as it felt, was calling to him saying: You can come back.

And so Lycus did, and as he did the wolf in the horizon snarled and chased him, surely saying: You belong to this realm now. You are part of the pack. There can be no going back.

Lycus did not care. He had all eternity to be part of this pack, but he had a lifetime to be part of a family. And he wasn’t ready to die just yet.

The wolf bit at his heel and the soul of Lycus turned and kicked, and he was being dragged away by the power of this lupine spirit. Lycus fought against the beast, his own companion. The battle went on and during this fight a voice came from somewhere, but he did not know where. He could hear it from beyond, loud and clear.

“It’s up to you now,” a voice murmured. “Lycus. Wake up.”

He crawled and ran and stumbled into nothing but into something. A light, perhaps? A portal? A door to another dimension? Another realm?

Or my body?

Lycus dashed through the light and fell and rose and tumbled in all directions as he felt lighter as if was floating now. Bright illumination entered his vision and the wolf was gone, the red moon and the forest were no more and Hircine and the old man were not in sight.

It came as less of a surprise and more of a relief when he finally awoke. His first clue that he had come back from the dead came when darkness truly fell. The sights evaporated, and the voices and snarls with them. For a very peaceful period, there was nothing to see or hear, or even smell.

Then the veil of shadow was lifted and Lycus opened his eyes. He could breathe now, but as he did before he died. There still was the sense of confusion and bewilderment, and there was a loud sound of a heart thumping within one’s chest and it wasn’t his own.

The blur dissipated and a figure standing over Lycus became more clear. He saw her with clarity now. For a moment he did not recognize her, as if she was someone who came and went. An acquaintance or less until the memory of her returned as his vision.

The healer. Abiene.

“Woman,” Lycus said softly. There was no aggression here, no malice or even hate. “What have you done to me?”

Abiene

Lycus’ eyelids twitched and fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness. Abiene moved back slightly, still within his vision but no longer crouched over him.

His return from death would be a kind of re-birth, one that he would remember with heightened clarity. Abiene recalled her own experience, the visions and insights that had come with her awakening. She didn’t want to intrude upon whatever understanding Lycus’ wandering soul had discovered.

He opened his eyes, amber in the candlelight. His voice was quiet. “Woman. What have you done to me?”

Abiene replied in her softest tone, unwilling to break his calm with too many words. “You were dying. I heard your last breath. Though I healed your body, it was you who returned to it.”

Her mind boiled with questions, but this was not the time. So she waited.

Lycus grunted as he summoned all of his strength to sit up in the bed and after much effort he swung his feet to the sides and flexed his toes on the floor. The putrid scent of vomit and other liquid mixed with the smell of burnt herbs still lingered. He realized that he unwillingly exposed what he had been doing and worst even was the small statue of Hircine not four feet from him and the woman.

Worshiping Hircine did not mean one was a Lycanthrope. Many people revered the Daedric Prince of the hunt for what he represented. Either for sport or survival or because they knew nothing else than hunting as a lifestyle. Many, many years ago he was still human when he worshiped Hircine.

Their reputation over the years had become something of a sour fame, especially after the Oblivion crisis produced factions of anti-daedric warriors and mages with an intense hatred of the supernatural. Anything related to Hircine would be pointed to werewolves or the sort. Lycus couldn't begin to count how many unfortunate souls who respected the Daedric prince and paid tribute to him in the wild were stoned or hung.

He looked at Abiene and decided, for that moment, that she had no malevolent intent against him. Otherwise he would be dead now.

He thought of the wolfsbane and the foolish notion that it could be ingested and inhaled without the negative and fatal side effects it could pose to his body. In any case, it was a lesson learned.

"You have my gratitude," he said. The words were faint, his voice still raw and ragged. He never liked being tended to like he was some child. Being at the mercy of others always made him feel somewhat bad, but he couldn't allow that to bitter his feelings for the healer. He was thankful for her aid, despite not knowing much about her. He also wondered why a woman would help another man she hardly knew. His sword, armor and perhaps even his demeanour did not warrant such charity. If she only knew what he had done, and what he is, would she still had saved him?

He let out a long exhale and craned his neck from side to side to crack it. He stood to his full height. To anyone else seeing him, he was two meters tall, and his powefully muscled frame seemed to reflect off of the light. It did not take awhile for him to notice that he was still shirtless and without much of his clothes, but that did not embarrass him.

His tanned hair-covered chest had many scars beneath them, fresh scars and old scars acquired after his first transformation and rebirth in his younger years.

He felt better, nay, he felt remarkably well. She had done her work wonderfully. His insides felt new and improved, he felt rejuvinated and empowered much like his mornings after a succesful nightly hunt. He wiped the smudge of blood around his nostrils and licked his lips and felt . . . something different? It tasted unlike anything he'd eaten or touched upon with his mouth. He gave Abiene a look of uncertainty.

What had she done to me while I was unconscious?

He suspected she may have used a healing spell to support his breathing with her own. It was something he had seen before with the ashlanders in Morrowind. But there was something else there, attraction perhaps? He did not ponder too much on that, his mind was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that he nearly was gone forever.

Aside from feeling hungry and thirsty, Lycus felt the need to stretch but he did not. Instead he stood there towering above Abiene. He had a savage look about him despite being healed. The beard below his chin and the hair around his mouth, adding to the long unkempt hair that fell past his shoulders gave him a rugged look of a man who had lived in the wilderness for years. This he knew.

What Lycus did not know was that a simple turn of his head, and the light of the torchlight nearby had lit his eyes. His pupils glowed quickly as if they were twin suns rather than human eyes.

"If you desire payment, I will see to it that it is given," Lycus said to her again, turning away to scavange what he could from the wardrobe. There was nothing inside but a used and tattered pants. He unfolded them, slipped his legs in them and pulled them up. They felt small and tight, much that he struggled to bring them up to his waist. "You saved my life. The least I can offer to you is coin."

Abiene

“You have my gratitude,” he said.

Abiene gave him a small nod of acknowledgement as Lycus climbed to his feet. He cracked his neck bones and seemed to be internally assessing himself. Then he touched his lips and looked down at her with a thoughtful expression. Not hostile but far from friendly.

It occurred to Abiene that he might have been asking if she used a potion or spell. A potion was anonymous and would have betrayed no secrets. She wondered if he knew that she discovered his lycanthropy at her first touch.

Too late to lie about it, she thought. Her pulse was already pounding in her throat.

The torchlight flared in his eyes as he turned away to dress. “If you desire payment, I will see to it that it is given,” he said. “You saved my life. The least I can offer to you is coin.”

Abiene took a steadying breath. “I healed you without your leave and with no expectation of payment. I would do the same again regardless of tonight’s outcome. If you wish to pay me I would have you return my favor but not to me. I do not ask you to save someone’s life without judgment, for that is no small thing and not what one should ask of a stranger. Only that when you next see a need but have no obligation you might act to another’s benefit.”

There were no tales of gentle werewolves in Abiene’s experience. She hoped that Lycus would not respond to her suggestion by scooping out her entrails.

“In saving your life I do not know what I have done for good or ill,” she said. “I saw a need, and I filled it.”

"Noble of you," Lycus said to her. "This many can respect and honor."

There was a sudden change of rythym within Abiene's breast. Her heart rate not only pounded fast but it was gradually ascending in speed. Lycus could hear it loud and clear as her chest was pressed directly against his ear though he was just a few feet from her.

Her voice and breath, though contained and steadied, betrayed her true feelings. Her eyes were a bit wide and worried as if she feared the man that stood before her. She did not cower in his presence but rather seemed to be trying to conceal her emotions from him with her controlled stance and voice.

It did not take Lycus to realize in that moment that this fear she felt was not because of the near-death experience he just went through, but though that was possible. Nor was it his deep and gruff voice. There was only on fear Abiene must have felt right now that Lycus understood the reason.

She is aware!

Whatever methods she had used to heal the internal workings of his body or his external had somehow revealed his true inhuman nature to her. She read his condition like an open book and fear as Lycus knew it often made people make irrational decisions like revealing secrets to others.

Vera hated people who went their way to reveal such precious secrets, as as she always said: Dead rodents don't squeak.

Lycus Desselius had no delicate way, no gentle manner, of handling this situation. He rushed to the door(what was left of it) and stood between it and the otherside. His back touching the wood.

"You saw a need and you filled it," Lycus echoed her words using a slighty modification. "When the need to reveal secrets will you seek the desire to have it filled as well?"

This is when Lycus calm had evaporated and when his frustration began to swell. He stood his ground at the door though he did not know why. Might he try to kill her then and there just for knowing what he is? At times even such actions would be too much and right now Lycus was feeling merciful, if not, entirely thankful. He would not repay her with the sword or with two large hands around her throat. She did not deserve such harsh fate.

But this is a secret so carefully kept and now she knows. When a sheep is aware of a wolf prowling about, they will alert the others . . .

Abiene

Lycus moved to the door too quickly for Abiene to discern more than motion. He stood with his back to it, quietly menacing.

“You saw a need and you filled it,” Lycus said. “When the need to reveal secrets will you seek the desire to have it filled as well?”

Surely he didn’t think she was foolish enough to try to blackmail a werewolf. However it was her own reckless action that put her in this position, so in his eyes perhaps she was that stupid. Abiene tried to view the situation from outside herself.

Lycus showed the predatory thinking that allowed him to survive among humans, while she had demonstrated the kind of unguarded altruism that caused folk to die young.

There was no point in trying to escape. Abiene took a slow step toward him. She pressed her hands against her thighs to still their shaking.

“Do you recall the discussion in the tavern about the hunt for vampires?” she said. “I was there. If you noticed me at all no doubt you judged me weak and therefor worthless. Yet without this weak human your body would now be cooling on the floor. What is my worth now? I learned what you are the moment I touched you, before you breathed your last. But I do not know who you are. I held your life in my hands and gave it back to you because I choose not to live in fear, though I am surely frightened now.” And I might not live much longer. “Now you hold my life in yours. Will you end it in fear of what I might do to you in the future, or shall each of us let the other go free?”

Lycus never much liked being around frail or fragile people, especially children. They were dangerous, for they unwillingly activated something in most Lycanthropes and that was the need to hunt. It was not uncommon for a Lycanthrope to walk in a settlement or come across a small farm where he has no intention of killing until the animalistic nature within him says otherwise. It is a calling most cannot ignore and Lycus had his fair share of troublesome days where he involuntarily shifted. Those memories haunt them to this day.

The poison on his lips from a kiss, the desert ash hot upon his skin, his throat feeling as if were submerged in fire. The Dunmer man and his children coming to save his life, and the transformation that was the result of the survival instinct of the wolf, for the blessed beast blood of the ancient lineage can shrug off poison as if it were the bite of a miniature insect.

And now things seemed as it was with the breton woman standing before him. Seemingly fragile. Abiene was shaking, so much that she actually had to still the trembling with her own hands. Lycus adopted a serious look, this was nothing funny.

"Do I frighten you so much woman?" he asked, and to appear less hostile he looked to the open window. "Or is it the cold there making you shake?"

“Do you recall the discussion in the tavern about the hunt for vampires? I was there. If you noticed me at all no doubt you judged me weak and therefor worthless. Yet without this weak human your body would now be cooling on the floor. What is my worth now? I learned what you are the moment I touched you, before you breathed your last. But I do not know who you are. I held your life in my hands and gave it back to you because I choose not to live in fear, though I am surely frightened now.”

Lycus only appraised her with that same stare that could be the same as bearing his teeth.

"Now you hold my life in yours. Will you end it in fear of what I might do to you in the future, or shall each of us let the other go free?”

Lycus' shoulders remained strong and tense and he refused to leave the door. He could not detect lies in her tongue, there was no hesitation there. No treachery. Boldness, perhaps. A compensation for the complete fear she was having in standing in a room with a Lycanthrope.

He understood all to well her perspective of him. Those with strength of daedric-influence allow power to crawl to their mind and seep into their spirit where everything and everyone around them is automatically beneath them. Lycus did not tell Abiene that he too, was once a normal man and that unlike Vera who was born with Lycanthropy, he acquired it by different means. He did not tell her that he also once was a weak man who had to struggle and survive and claw his way out of his lot in life, that he was modest and humble once. That he still respects those who are strong in themselves to forge their own path. He could see this in Abiene right now.

Though he was blessed with this gift he did not hate Man, Mer or Betmeri. Loathsome as their judgemental behaviors may be and their ignorant understanding in life, many of them were tolerable and capable of great deeds.

"Do not judge me as the world does. Spare yourself that dishonor." Lycus said softly. "I have seen much death to understand the value of life, to comphrehend what one is capable of. How something so fragile can have potential. For saving my life I will allow you to keep yours. This is my promise."

And he meant it. He would keep it at that. Looking at her rather unremarkable features, narrow face and soft brown eyes, she was in peril as many of the women before him.

I've never had much fortune with delicate women, he reflected. The first woman he'd ever cared about he was forced to behead her in an execution. The second one . . . he refused to mention her. Her death was worst still. Looking at Abiene reminded him that gentle and delicate things can be broken in the slighest of touch. The wolf knows this and Lycus knew too.

He looked around the room. At the vomit, the urine, the blood, the statue of Hircine, the herbs and ashes. He wasn't sure how long the woman had been in the buisiness of healing but judging by her remarkable craft he could assume she had studied in the Arcane University. Blood and entrails must have been normal for a healer.

He did wonder what else she could do. If she was so skilled in restoration, would it be too much to ask if she could 'restore' the water in his bath? Possibly turn air into water? He wouldn't ask.

Abiene looked tired. It was past midnight. He wasn't sure if she would remain behind for whatever reason as strange as it would seem, or if she would flee like a hare from a fox.

Abiene

“Do not judge me as the world does. Spare yourself that dishonor,” Lycus said softly. “I have seen much death to understand the value of life, to comprehend what one is capable of. How something so fragile can have potential. For saving my life I will allow you to keep yours. This is my promise.”

Abiene remembered the time before she learned to light her steps with illusion magic when she was often sent to fetch and carry from her family’s cellar. Walking to the edge of the torchlight to pick up her burdens, then turning her back on the darkness to retrace her steps and return up the stairs. Her childish mind had turned the shadowed chamber into a black pit filled with all manner of shrieking horrors. More than once she had dropped her bundles and bolted back to the perceived safety of the light.

Now she had that same feeling. Once released it was all she could do not to scamper from the room.

Abiene stood still for a moment, taking slow breaths until her heart stopped racing. He had given his promise, and she believed him. It just took her body some time to agree.

I did judge him, though I thought I had not, she realized. She walked across to Lycus, stepping gingerly over the mess in her bare feet.

“The best kept secrets are ones replaced with a lie, and we should agree upon one,” she said. She kept her voice too low to carry to the door at Lycus’ back, but she had no doubt that he would be able to hear her. “I’ll tell the inn staff that I cured you of fever. They’ll want an explanation of…” She made a vague gesture at the wreckage. “They may not ask you, but they’ll have no concerns about asking me.”

Abiene looked up at Lycus, chewing the corner of her lip as she considered. Perhaps he was not the only one staying in this room with the makeshift altar to Hircine. It was difficult to tell if these were all his belongings. Did Vera know his secret? Abiene had Lycus’ word, but that would not help her if his companion decided that killing her would protect him.

“The woman who travels with you, Vera. What should I say if she approaches me? Will you… Are you going to tell anyone that I know?”

Lycus was an honest man and lying wasn't something he enjoyed doing, even if it meant lying to preserve the truth of what he was. He disliked it. Being a straightforward and blunt man, he often had covered his tracks or skirt around unwanted questions.

Abiene had concerns that they may ask her about what transpired in the room. This led him to wonder how she got him ontop of the bed. A woman her size could not lift a man his weight unless she used some sort of spell. His eyes wandered to the floor where he saw the signs of blood smudged on the floor from the hallway where he had fallen to the room. This was evidence that he was dragged.

So she had help, he reflected. And someone might be aware of daedric worship or some strange rituals. They, of course, might not even care or are too tired to even notice. Leaving his fate in the hands of the breton woman alone.

Abiene then raised the question with Vera, and before Lycus could even reply he feared she would find the answer to that question all too soon.

The smell of another werewolf was strong to another of its kind. Lycus could register the smell like a normal person would catch the whiff of another passing by. That different or distinct smell of their own. It was the same for Vera. He had been around her for so long that he could tell he apart from anyone and anything and he could be aware of her presence just by catching her scent. Like he did right now.

His eyes fled from the floor to the door and behind Abiene where Vera now stood.

The Lycanthropic woman had clothes that did not belong to her, for they were too loose on her body. Her hair was wet and clung to her skin as it fell to her shoulders. She looked like any regular woman in her mid-twenties caught in the rain, though her regular transformations and pact with Hircine had extended her life throughout the long years. Her aging had been stunted.

Vera had a feral working of her jaw, a wild look in her eyes like an animal that just had found their prey. Her recognized that look all to well and sighed inside of his head. She doesn't look happy.

****

Vera had returned from a long trek in the wilderness. Her mind heavy with things that she had done over the long, gruesome years. Her bloody adventurers and hunts that was the highlight of her life. And now it seemed they would all come to an end. She once told someone she was never equipped to be a family woman for her own family suffered tragedy. There was an instinct, even stronger and more intimate than that of a beast, between a mother and her offspring. A bond. Though she would be more than happy to continue the legacy she had this motherly worry that she might not give her child all that he deserves. There was no doubt that he would inherit his parents' condition, and that in and of itself is something that will change a child forever.

She knows because she never had a normal lifestyle and she never would. Then again, it never meant she would be a scornful or harsh teacher to her child. She would be a mother as her own mother was to her before she died and Lycus would be the loving father. Free from the cares and worries of the world.

These were her thoughts when she walked into the Goblet, thankful of the clothes she found. These were her thoughts when she climbed the steps that led to the hallway where her room was. Those were the thoughts that tarried for awhile right before she heard: “The woman who travels with you, Vera. What should I say if she approaches me? Will you… Are you going to tell anyone that I know?”

A million thoughts flooded her mind, drowning that simple inner soon-to-be maternal ramblings. What does she know? Why is this woman here? Why does her heart seem like it is beating too fast for its own good? Why is she quivering?Why is she talking to Lycus? More importantly why does she smell like Lycus?

Vera stalked behind the woman as she had her attention focused on the half-naked man wearing overly tight shorts that did not belong to him. Vera cast a glance in the room and absorbed the scene before her in a matter of quick passing seconds; blood, putrid scent of regurgitation spewed over the floor, urine. She sniffed again and Abiene had a smell too. She had been close, entirely too close to Lycus. There was contact between them.

The worry of a future mother was gone, replaced by the ire and fiery curiosity of a jealous wife. But as she stood there, wondering if something happened between them Vera could not accuse him of being disloyal. In all his years he never forsook her for another. The evidence of something dire also pointed to something else, something Vera feared more than being betrayed. Being exposed. One of the reasons why she feared bringing a child into this world.

The edge of her smooth nose wrinkled and her teeth bared. Vera approached Abiene from behind and touched her shoulder and squeezed it tightly, perhaps too tight. "Get in." She told Abiene in a loud voice. "Now."

Abiene

Abiene had only an instant’s warning. Lycus’ eyes went over her head and her shoulder was seized in an iron grip from behind.

“Get in,” said an angry woman. “Now.”

Abiene found herself back in the room confronted by Vera. The woman’s hair was soaked. Is it raining? Abiene almost laughed at her absurd observation. Vera’s tone told Abiene what she needed to know. Lycus was Vera’s man, not her partner. And Vera was upset.

For the third time today Abiene had jumped or fallen into danger. She found she had passed beyond the point of fear. Instead she turned and looked between Lycus and his fuming woman. Now what? Her lifted brows asked Lycus.

Vera closed the door behind her, folded her arms across her chest and shot Lycus a dissapointed look. The evidence was there and it spoke volumes. Vera had been careless before and she had made stupid decisions recently, but she was convinced that they were beyond making mistakes like these. There was no denying Lycus had been discovered, and surely his condition would link her to him.

Though the people in the tavern seemed harmless, Vera knows some of them could alert the authorities. Lycanthropy is by law, considered a crime punishable by death and she wasn't feeling the need to run and hide. She had ran and hid all her life. When things started to look up, to look better, this happened.

Vera looked at the ash on the ground, remnants of wolfsbane and other herbs mixed with the bodily fluids. It hit her right away what happened.

"Tell me. What should she say to me when I approach her?" Vera asked Lycus directly, releasing her firm grip from Abiene's shoulder.

Lycus sighed softly. His calm demeanour and attitude peeved Vera. How can he be so calm when she's a flap-of-the-tongue away from having them both hunted down?

He moved over to the window and closed it, and then mimicked Vera's stance with his arms crossed over his large chest. "She wasn't sure you had knowledge of what I am."

"You told her." Vera came to the point. She didn't make it a question.

"She found out," he said. "The wolfbane nearly destroyed my internal organs. My ribcage almost collapsed. Abiene saved my life and in exchange I swore to keep her alive. It was agreed upon that what has happened here . . . will die here."

She looked at Abiene. "Damn right something will die here."

"Vera. It was an accident. I was nearly killed."

Vera gestured toward the door. "And you nearly destroyed the door."

"The visions," Lycus said. And that was all he said. He didn't need to get into detail about the old man or the Hunting Grounds. Vera knew the delicate nature of what he was speaking of.

Vera scoffed. The cold-blooded one does a better task at walking amongst sheep . . .

Lycus looked at Abiene, surely trying to calm her down some more. "Vera and I are moon-born for sometime now. We do not seek grievance with you or anyone else. As I have said before, you have my word that you will not be harmed."

"Don't make promises that can't be kept." Vera murmured. "I smelled her fear when she was in here. People with fear do irrational things, you know this better than anyone."

"Yes," he said with an added thickness in his voice. "I know this. You're being irrational.'

"I'm being cautious!" Vera shot back with fury, foam flecking her lips. "I am not going to be taken to prison. I won't risk being hanged or cut open for some sick experiment. Do you want us to be hunted down like dogs again?"

The Imperial woman ran her fingers around her hair and paced the room like a mad hound. She can already picture the guards storming in with their weapons and the Black Horse Courier editions announcing two known werewolves on the run. She was quite tempted in reaching for the dagger in her pocket but that would do no good.

She weighted the options here. Abiene was a known healer, surely. From what Vera saw she was known and liked. Killing her would only make it worst. And she had to admit to herself that deep down she knew that if this woman hadn't been here Lycus would be in the afterlife right now.

"Steel yourself." Lycus said to her. He walked over to his lover and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She is a woman of her word. She won't say anything."

Vera's jaw clenched and there was an audible gnashing of teeth. Her eyes did not leave Abiene until Lycus cupped her chin and redirected her gaze to him. "We aren't in danger."

She rubbed her temple. "We're always in danger. Every day of our lives."

Vera lowered her head and released a long exhale. She looked at Abiene. Confusion hit her like a battering ram. She wasn't sure whether to pounce on the woman or thank her. "Just go."

"Vera . . ." Lycus added. "This woman deserves better than that."

And he was right. She was on edge. Too much had happened recently that she had distrusted everyone around her. Looking at Abiene, and anayzing her deeply told Vera that this woman could be trusted.

She looked at Lycus and then to the breton woman. "I'll make certain to try and keep the promise that I might not kill you-" She paused, and then managed to part of lips to form a half of a smirk that told Abiene it was a joke. "I'll buy you a roast of mutton and a drink."

Abiene

Once inside the room Vera turned her attention to Lycus. The two Imperials moved about the chamber trading accusations and explanations. Lycus radiated calm as Vera became more agitated. This dance was for the two of them, and Abiene had no part in it.

Until Vera stared straight at Abiene, practically snarling. “Damn right something will die here.”

Abiene stayed still and silent. Her eyes went to Lycus. She had suggested a lie on the heels of pledging her word to him, and Lycus had not approved. Abiene knew the look that had passed over his face in the moment before his mate appeared. Would he still accept her promise, or dismiss her as a liar?

“Vera and I are moon-born for some time now,” Lycus said to Abiene. “We do not seek grievance with you or anyone else. As I have said before, you have my word that you will not be harmed.”

Abiene’s breath caught, her relief overcome by his revelation. Vera is also a werewolf? She hoped her surprise was lost in the outburst that followed. Vera paced the room like a caged animal, spitting frustration and fury.

Abiene didn’t move until Lycus walked over and touched his lover’s face. The gesture spoke more clearly than words. The fight is over. Her breath eased out with Vera’s.

“Just go,” Vera muttered at Abiene.

Abiene gathered herself to do just that. If ever there was a time to ask personal questions of a female werewolf, this was not it.

“Vera . . .” Lycus added. “This woman deserves better than that.”

Surprise again. Abiene had simply hoped for escape. Instead she found understanding.

“I'll make certain to try and keep the promise that I might not kill you—” Vera started.

Abiene smiled even as Vera twisted her lips to show she was jesting. Werewolf humor. Not unlike certain Nords.

“I'll buy you a roast of mutton and a drink,” Vera finished.

“I look forward to it,” Abiene said, and she meant it. As far as she knew this was the first time she had made peace with a lycanthrope couple, but she was well acquainted with the moment of passing into a circle. She would not take liberties, but she would never again doubt their trust.

Abiene moved toward the door. “But now this mortal needs to rest. Shall I send in Hethilion?” They might smell her fear and sincerity, but even a Breton could detect that Lycus needed a bath.

"Send him in," Vera said with her back turned to Abiene as she bent over to collect the statue of Hircine.

Lycus took a seat and waited. Both of the Lycanthropes' eyes were on Abiene, but they bespoke of curiosity rather than animosity.

"Give us some time." Lycus said after a moment. "Some things need to be cleared first."

Abiene wasn’t sure what Lycus meant needed to be cleared up, or by whom. But she knew how she liked to clear the air after a lovers’ quarrel, and it required privacy.

Perhaps she would see them in the morning, or they might wish to leave after the night’s events. Either way there was little more to be said at that moment. A soft smile crossed her face. She found she did hope to see them again.

“I’ll wish you good night, then.”

In the corridor Abiene glanced down ruefully at her attire. If we go back to Chorrol I’m going to pick up a robe. She went to find Hethilion.

"I would be honored to aid you two in bringing down those nosferatu if there are more."

Kayla smiled at the younger woman's noble claim. But something nagged the back of her mind. She had no way of gauging the woman's magickal abilities, but her physical prowess left something to be desired for Kayla. Her robes hid much of her body, all of it,in fact.

Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge. Aravi is very small.

Still... Kayla liked Irvana. Like she had said before, she was the least imposing person she'd met while on the trip to Cyrodiil. Kayla had a soft spot for weaker women, having been in that type of situation before. But who was she to judge?

"If you help," she began, after biting her bottom lip. "You'll have to let me know what you're capable of. With those swords and magickally. And if you have any hidden weapons. Vera can throw knives, stuff like that. And of course I've got...you know." She said, patting her hip where the absent Dawnbreaker would be.

"I take this seriously, and would hate for you to get hurt."

"Oh?" Irvana said. "You had me figured for some sort of battlemage. You mistake intent. See, I can only cast a small fireball and thats if I don't burn my own hand in the process. I am a terrible spellcaster and even a more horrific swordfighter. I'd be a danger to myself as much as the enemy is to me." She giggled, and her face showed what seemed to be embarrasment. "I am only well-versed in academics. I studied vampires when I was a student in the Imperial College. It was a small assignment of mine and it became a subject of interest. I know a lot about them. I can help you discover weaknesses if you haven't already."

And this was true. Irvana knew everything about vampiric lore; from artifacts, to clans, to feeding styles, habits, territories, weaknesses and even history. She looked at Kayla and offered a smirk.

"What many people fail to realize is that the greatest is this," she pointed at her own head. "The mind. Weapons and spells sometimes fall short of what your brain is capable of accomplishing."

Kayla had never been much for thinking. She preffered to allow her body to react, to let the movement flow through her. She shrugged.

"If I let you look at the map, and you come along to help, let me go ahead. You're a smart girl, and I'm sure that goes without saying, but let me do the heavy stuff. Stay behind until I've cleared a room. That's if the map comes to anything, of course."

The Imperial woman raised her hand. "That's assuming I would go with you. I'm not much of an adventurer when it comes to gallavanting in caverns. I'd rather sit in a room and read and even try to make some new discoveries. I would die out there!" she put some heavy emphasis on her last words, and then added a giggle. "Some of us are born with different gifts. I am just a different kind of special."

With that she led Kayla along the way to the tavern where she saw something in the corner of her eye. There in the corner was a strange woman, whose symmetrically blemished face was the color of rusty iron, and whose lesser clothing identified her as a visitor to the city, likely from some remote settlement nearby. She scratched the tatters of her coarsen-linen shirt and walked about.

Irvana moved over to the square’s diagonal corner to observe her while at the same time striking conversation with Kayla. The strange woman was eyeing individuals that passed in the streets, not as if searching for someone specific, but with a gaze more seeming like target acquisition. To Irvana she didn’t appear as a thief or pickpocket, though she did exude a hidden air about her thick with measures of urgency and deceit.

Abruptly Irvana made herself discernable by laughing at her own joke to Kayla. “Once I managed to cut myself in the hand while swinging a longsword. How in oblivion does on manage that?”

The woman immediately turned her head in their direction and began to hurry across the open toward them.

“Good afternoon,” she said as she drew near. In feigning interest in the inexpensive wares, Irvana pretended to be taken by surprise when she was approached..

“Are you addressing me?” she asked, turning to the woman.

“I am speaking to both of you, if you’ve a moment to indulge?” Her tired eyes were rimmed by shadowy marks that were not unlike the tint of her lips.

Irvana pretended impatience. “Why single us out, among this the square full of others? I will confess, I am short on coin.”

“It is not coin I am after. I am in need of capable rescuers.”

This woman surely heard I am terrible with the blade, Irvana reflected in her mind as a friendly and curious smile was drawn on her face. She should be walking the opposite direction.

“I am no adventurer,” Irvana said. “Quite the opposite.”

“I don’t need an adventuer,” she said, studying her openly and then shooting a glance at Kayla, inspecting her from head to toe.

“What then?”

“I need someone who has a heart,” she said after some time. “My two daughters went to Hackdirt. They are both adolescents. They left in the evening of last night and they haven’t arrived since.”

Irvana tilted her head, thinking of the woman’s clothes. “Where are you from?”

“Skingrad. I don’t have a place, though. I am homeless. My children went to Hackdirt to find if there was a place we can stay while I make some coin here to buy us food. Please! My children are out there and they would never take so long in returning. I fear the worst has happened.”

Though Kayla, the scar-faced altmer who’s obvious nature of adventure and fighting were proclaimned through her clothes, was standing there the woman had more interest in Irvana . . . the fresh-faced woman who appeared as if she couldn’t so much as fight for her life.

Hmm, Irvana thought. She looked at Kayla and waited for her response.

Kayla's face shone with genuine concern.

"Hackdirt?" She echoed. She'd seen the marker on hermap, but hadn't visited. "Give me their descriptions, and names. I'll be happy to trek out there. It's the settlement right above the city, right?"

Missing people, whether children or elderly, or in between, weren't Kayla's forte, but with the recent vampire cave fresh in her mind, and her and Irvana's attacks, she was more willing to flesh out any hidden pockets of vampires.

"I'll have to get supplies, of course, and get my armor fixed completely, but Irvana isn't the adventuring type. I am."

The woman nodded frantically and reached for Kayla's wrist with her hands. "Gods bless you, woman, bless you! They both have red hair. My son's name is Melven and my daughter's name is Maleva. She's shorter than him. They always walk together!"

She pointed past the walls of Chorrol. "Yes, just over in that direction. A small settlement."

Irvana looked over at Kayla when she said her name. She was inclined to agree. She wasn't the adventuring type. Not since she was a younger girl. Now she had to be safe. If she so much as goes into the fray, there would be consequences. Certain temptations to do foolish things.

She put a hand on Kayla's shoulder. "I fear I will only hold you back. Will you be well?"

Before Kayla answered, she spoke again, looking between the woman and the vampire hunter. "I'll pray for you, and for your children, too. May the gods see fit to keep you safe."

Kayla gave the woman a reassuring smile as she clasped her wrists in gratitude.

"Melvrn and Maleva. Got it." She turned to Irvana.

"You go on to the Goblet. I'll be back to get my sword, but while I'm in town, I'll need to stock up on potions and such."

Gods keep me safe, my round rump.

"I'll be fine."

Irvana could only nod to Kayla when told to return to the Goblet.

She can handle this, Irvana thought. I have other things to worry about at this time.

And though the woman seemed happy and excited that the altmer would oblige, Irvana knew an actress when she saw one. She knew a talented liar when she saw one. As the saying went, it takes one to know one.

Instead of stroking her chin, clasping her fingers or even smirking in self-satisfaction of knowing deception, Irvana smiled to the woman and apologized she couldn't be much of an assistance.

She turned to Kayla and bowed slightly. "Be well, Kayla. I look forward to seeing you return tot he Goblet alive and in one piece. The thought of losing you would be most unbearable."

With those words Irvana left with her satchel and her newly purchased items. She went her merry way to the Goblet, quite hoping she wouldn't suffer another surprise with urine.

****

Hackdirt, Drathen.

The sun was setting over Chorrol. Shadows ran like black water, drowning the forest first, then climbing steadily higher, a tide of darkness to submerge the land. The gloom of twilight washed over the Colovian Highlands where stars mingled with day until light of the evening would forfeit.

Outside the town of Hackdirt, the Order's most gifted man sat on his horse with eyes set upon the settlement, what's left of it. Drathen grimaced. The poor mining village hadn't changed too much since the last time he was there. It still wasn't much to look at and if anything it still retained that squalid air he remembered when he first set his foot upon there.

The place was unpleasant back then when townfolk took their cult worship to a different level and were openly hostile to others. The order of attack came and the Legion burnt the place to the ground. Looking around, Drathen could still remember how the assault began and the areas which he himself scorched with fire. Out of the ashes sprung new but still less improved buildings. Not a single soul in sight.

Which just may suit my purpose . . .

Drathen guided his steed into the town and roped him in a makeshift stable after mounting off.

Physically, Drathen was tall but not overly imposing. He was in superb physical shape, senses keen, health undiminished. Around his body he wore his red velvet blouse and garments, his cold feet clothed with gold-trimmed shoes. Stationed beside his hip and safely stored in the sheathe was an old akaviri katana, a blade he recalled that had shed blood of many of the townfolk here.

He doubted anyone here would remember him. They've most likely fell victim to old age or some wild beast nearby. Even so he knew there could be some survivors there.

If only the Legion allowed the entire stain to have been wiped out, he thought, this entire town would have been restored to its former glory before those old practices.

The Legion, sadly, were not short of a few moralists with ideals of bestowing mercy to a feral pack of heathen dogs. Their pleas went unheard when the entire place was brought down.

But that was the past. He could imagine now that he would be able to haggle for some territory and even negotiate with the existing proprietor of the local inn. Property here would be ideal. Fort Carmala would be a welcome addition. The inhabitants of that place were, as the common expression went, evicted.

Drathen strode into town, his eyes bouncing from ever corner to ever dark spot. Though he saw no one outside he could feel eyes watching him from inside the buildings. The thought made him smile.

Watch all you want, peasants. I too, can stalk you at my leisure.

The Imperial nobleman came upon Moslin's Inn, a building that was old and ominous as the town itself. But old and ominous was no issue with Drathen. Not at all.

He entered and immedietly was greeted with hostile eyes from a bald Imperial man and a female that was leaning over the bar.

Drathen took himself over to the front to greet the fellow and the woman. He offered a gracious bow. "Evening."

The woman snorted, said her goodbye to the man and brushed past Drathen without saying so much as a word. Drathen refused to look behind him and wonder what the woman's problem was. Either she was poor and miserable, or ugly and miserable. Or both. Either way, he thought with amusement. She still struck as miserable. Miserable enough to hold grudges over outsiders?

The rumors about Hackdirt persisted over the months yet they weren't grand enough to bring the Legion snooping in. It would seem that the people of his place might carry old wounds of what happened to their parents and grandparents years ago.

"If you're here for food, you've come a bit late," he said. "We only have stale bread and water. Nothin' you'd like, I reckon."

Drathen half-smiled. Right now would be the worst time to get into negotiations or inquire about purchase of land. "I'm not hungry. I seek a bed, is all."

The man looked at him from head to toe, perhaps wondering why a man with such fancy clothes and eloquent way of speaking would seek to rest in a place like this. Drathen wondered this, too. The things I do for buisiness.

"I guess we've got a room available. Thirty gold per night. Take it or leave it."

The nobleman reached for his coin purse and dropped the pieces on the table.

"One of our rooms is in disrepair. I suppose you're in luck, as we don't get that many visitors. Take the stairs up to the right, the room on the right with the double bed. No visitors allowed. And no pets. And no noise!"

Despite the heavy emphasis on the last demand, Drathen thanked the man, and headed up the stairs to make himself comfortable. He opened the door and found that the place was just as he imagined. Poor. Ruined and unremarkable. But that was fine, he'd slept in worst places.

Kayla held Dawnbreaker's hilt as a means of comfort, but not because she sensed danger. She approached the town at dusk, and took in the view.

Burnt sdwn buildings outnumbered the one's left standing. She sniffed the air, but didn't smell any smoke.

What happened here? She silently wondered. It doesn't look recent. How long can someone live in a place like this?

She heard the sounds of a horse as she moved closer, caution edging its way into her mind. She saw no rider, and decided to move quicker into town as nightfall inched closer.

She jumped slightly when a woman huffed out of a nearby building, appearing suddenly as the door to the rickety building screeched open.

"Another one?!" She hissed at Kayla. "Why can't you people just stay away?!"

"Uh... I'm looking for two people. Melven and Maleva. Red hair, young adults. Their mother said she sent them here?"

"Go inside. I don't have time for you."

Kayla's eyebrows shot up in surprise as the woman stomped off.

"Grumpy..." She pushed the door to the inn open and smiled, but it faded as she regarded the snarl on the bald man's face.

Why does everyone have a stick in their rear?!

"Hi, I'm looking for two people. Young adults, Melven and Maleva. Have you seen them? Red hair, redder than mine." She offered the man a friendly smile.

Vlanhonder Moslin haven't seen many outsiders come this way in a single night. Usually there were one or two every week but two in the same night was something new.

Vlanhonder guessed that Imperial fop wasn't with this woman. A man who dresses like that wouldn't keep company with a woman who looks like that. Then again, he'd been wrong before. The man surprised him when he decided to rent a room. He could only hope he wouldn't cause trouble. Outsiders usually do.

Moslin shrugged at the almost red-haired Mer. He didn't like her either. The Imperial that just walked in was too rich and too polite. This one smiled too much, and worst of all she was too curious. But her curiosity was expected, afterall, he was expecting for someone to come searching for Melven and Maleva.

"Nah, I haven't seen any people around. Even if I had, why would I know anything about them goin' missing? Outsiders come in here every week. They don't stay too long." His nose wrinkled and his lips curled. "I don't like outsiders too much but the wilderness is dangerous and I don't want the damn Legion snooping around if they find some elf's body in the forest with animal bites or bandit bruises. You'll want to stick here for the night."

The light steps from above reminded him all too quickly that there was a visitor in the inn. He looked at the girl and tapped his finger on the counter. She can't have the simple room on the left. That would be troublesome for him and everyone in the town and he didn't want those Legion dogs coming in here again and burning down what he worked so hard to achieve.

"Eh," he scratched the bald area of his head. "We have one room available with a double bed. Thirty gold," he searched for his next words. "The only room we got. The other one is infested with rats and spiders. You'll have to share it with the gentleman that just came in a few minutes ago. It is the room on the right just up the stairs if you want to take it. Large enough to accomidate both of you without trouble."

And maybe her ugly scars can scare away that rich popinjay, he thought. One outsider is bad enough. If he's gone, things will be much more simple.