Peaceful. Warm. Simple.

Suddenly different. Sharp. A point of cold light appeared. Kat winched her eyes open and found stone arching over her. Below it and through a doorway, the glare of the sun was reflecting off some metal. The light in the air was the dull purple of a fine robe covered in ash, and coming at too low an angle.

Some time passed in blissful ignorance. When Kat returned, Arngeir stood upside down in her view. The light was still cold, but brighter and specks of dust danced in the beam under the runes. High Hrothgar. Her body came drifting back to her like twigs in a whirlpool.

"Alok. Rodraan wunduna. Tir grind zey." Arngeir left as soon as he had said the words.

Kat rose, stretched, rolled up her bed, and strapped her possessions in their places over the tunic. Everyone was doing variations of the theme - Arra beside the table, Endelle in the corner, Vokun in the opposite corner - but she wasn't looking at them yet. No one had died during the night, and that gave Kat hope. Things could be going much worse.

Also, she was now apprentice to a misunderstood murderer. Odd as their group was, there would probably be allies on hand if Endelle had an episode, but they couldn't stay forever. What would she throw at her then? Kat recalled stories of horrible cult initiations, and tried to keep her face calm as she inspected the fletching on her remaining arrows. She felt she didn't quite succeed.

After the gear was in order, it was time to look for some breakfast. The table closest to Kat had a platter of dark flat bread that looked appetising enough. She ate a slice and kept another. Then she took the platter to her companions at the main table, who were all more or less awake. She sounded so cheerful that she surprised herself.

"Zu'u ov hi pranaan? Nis mindok wo hokoron daar sul."

A while later they traced their path back to the doors. The great journey under stone turned out to be just three bends long. Hinges creaked, and the western holds spread before them in clear morning air. The sky was overcast with a thin sheet. It was chilly, but nowhere near the deathfrost of night.

From a formal arrangement of three greybeards, Arngeir stepped forward to greet the four. At that moment Kat saw the massive shape of Liis on an outcropping a little ways around the mountain. Dragons weren't a dream, check. As Arngeir explained what sounded like praying to the sky, Liis spewed out a column of flame that briefly tore the clouds above him.

"Vesey?" Arra was spellbound.
"Uv grind-haalvut", Kat added. A dragon's mouth acts like a hand in many ways - hadn't they already seen Liis greeting his lord with firebreath?

Liis flung himself at the people, looking too light for his size as always. He dropped on all fours with a thud. He turned his head sideways in his unique sly-looking manner and made a speech about... Alduin?

Kat should have known. If two unknown dragons could really exist, why not a feared one? She remembered little of Alduin, gods had never been of great importance in the household, but what came to mind was the epitome of darkness and cruelty. And judging by how Liis was telling it, Alduin was the very one who had given dragons that reputation. The travellers were being recruited to fight him!

Kat's pledge to Paarthurnax still held, didn't it? She nudged Endelle to do the speaking and nodded at her. The nord's face was stern again as if she had sobered up from a night's stupor.

No sleep. Vokun had tried to get some rest, but his eyes always fluttered back open again. Always going to one spot in the room. To one person. Arra. Of course, she was safe, but with that werewolf around, how could he be sure? The night passed quickly, and Arngeir entered the room at dawn. It was strange, seeing the Greybeards. Vokun had encountered them before, of course. He'd been up the Steps in the past on some forgotten quest. That was one of the years before his vampirism. That was when he still had basic, simple needs like eating and drinking. Now his only thirst was for blood. His only hunger for that crimson, warm liquid. He dug in his pack as Arngeir spoke, and took out a red bottle with what looked like wine inside. He sipped from it as he watched the others gather their things together and get up. Kat asked if they all rested, but Vokun once again ignored every word. He was... Preoccupied, you could say. He gathered his ingredients up and and placed them back in his pouch.
Whatever remnants of unused ingredients he mushed into the bowl and fit a neat wooden lid on top of it. Finally, he stood. The group had already moved out of the room, and Vokun followed back behind them... So many chances to suck their blood. Last night, in the morning while they were all groggy, and now, with their backs tur- What was he doing? Vokun had never hungered this much for the blood of people. It could've been that Arra was in their midst. That she was in the crowd but- No, this was his vampirism. He didn't feel like he could stop it, whatever it was. His hand twitched to his dagger, but he resisted.

As the group make it to the doors, Vokun pulled up his hood to cover his face. He pulled out dark crimson gloves out of one of his many pockets and put them on his hands. Fully covered with no skin in the sunlight, Vokun stepped out behind the group. From above, it would be one lone black speck away from the others. Three Greybeards greeted the group, and Liis spewed fire into the heavens. The dragon started speaking. It was about another dragon named Alduin. To Vokun, it sounded extremely familiar. As if it was once known, but long forgotten. And the group was being recruited for- What?! To fight the evil dragon?! This was news for everyone. Vokun could see the surprise on their faces as they heard Liis speak what he had to say. The werewolf started speaking. Vokun was in too deep of thought to listen. Alduin... Alduin. Slaying a dragon. Vokun thought of how much bloodshed there would be. What did dragon blood taste like, anyways? Vokun didn't know.
He hadn't ever tried to drink it. It could be an interesting taste, and make even more interesting potions... This journey could be worth the trouble of dealing with a werewolf after all.

The Nord kept trying to stay awake. She hadn't slept in a while and all the action of the night was catching up to her. The woman drifted away in a peaceful sleep, her ceeks still wet from the tears. The land of dreams greeted her with a plethora of said dreams. Most of them consisted of memories of a life past, when her thrill of the hunt consisted of the most handsome man of Skyrim. She gave up when her life of banditery came to her, setting aside her old self to not let emotions disturb her focus.

Endelle felt quite depressed at the thought, those where good days that she enjoyed. She was about Kat's age when she joined Gromolech's tribe. It was a weird relationship she had with the tribe. She loved it because it allowed to practice her arts of killing freely, without any regards for law. On the other hand, the endless running away and thieving displeased her, she wasn't a fan of dishonor and fleeing. Fighting with honor against opponents was what she wanted. Gromolech, her mentor, knew that. Good thing, because he was the tribe leader and let her leave freely.

Upon returning to society, she took on a new name, keeping a souvenir of her years of crime. Luckily enough, the guards watching over Whiterun forgot her face in the three years she was gone. The city was the same as she left it: vivid with energy. Things were looking up just fine in Whiterun, Balgruuf was doing a nice job. That's when she met Aela, after three years that seemed to have took forever. A very warm welcome awaited Endelle in the Companions. She proved her worth as a skilled hunter, such as Aela. The duality was really present, Endelle being a talented mortal killer. Meanwhile, Aela shown agile animal hunting skills. They shared their common knowledge together, but Aela seemed to have changed over the years. She became amazing at tracking beasts, she was faster, stronger, just overall better. Endelle was outclassed by her in every aspect.

A damn dog, that's what Aela was. At first, Endelle refused to believe it, disgusted by the thought of her friend doing something like that. This reveal caused a grudge between the two hunters. Endelle couldn't believe that Aela would surrender herself to an unpredictable beast. What about loved ones? What if she transformed and killed them by accident? Apparently there were more of them in the Companions, the Circle, as they called themselves. The Nord hunter left the Companions, in disagreement with their beliefs. Then began her year of exile, living outside the city walls, hunting for survival.

Being a natural hunter, she had no troubles to handle herself alone. For most of the year, things were calm and nothing quite impossible to do. Until the winter came. The Skyrim temperature has always been low, but this winter, it was incredibly cold. Her pelts and fire weren't enough, the sneaky wind always managed to find a way to chill her bones. To top that, on a dark night, she got surprised by a bear. In no way, shape or form was she in a position to fight a bear. Her limbs were too numb to even grab something, or move.

The Nord suffered the heavy strikes of the beast, receiving slashes upon slashes of claws. A huge monster jumped from the nearby trees, faster than any being Endelle saw, and slaughtered the beast in mere seconds. Strangely familiar, the monster flew as fast as it arrived. The Nord woman was bleeding like hell, but a new found strenght rushed through her body and she managed to stand up. Limping, she followed the tracks. Arriving in a clearing in the forest, she saw the monster laying in the snow, suffering multiple spasms. It was.... transforming. What she saw surprised her, Aela was now appearing where the werewolf was laying. In a last ditch effort, Endelle tried to get to her, but she fainted.

One week later, the blonde haired woman woke up in a hot, cozy place. Her body was hurting all over, like she got crushed by a boulder. Upon getting out of bed, two people open the door and hugged her. She recognised the smell of Jorrvaskr. Aela and Farkas were holding her in their arms. When asking for an explanation, they said she needs to recover first. She slowly started to relearn how to handle the bow, her hands being shakier than before. Endelle was simply unable to regain her original level of archery.

That's when Aela proposed her to become a werewolf. The Circle said they would allow it, considering her old deeds and friendship with Aela. Agreeing with bitterness, Endelle wanted to know the side-effects. The list of perks kept adding up, almost making it look like disagreeing was the worst choice. Only two downsides: No children and no control on your transformations in the early times. The pros outnumbered the cons, but the cons weighted more. A small portion of Endelle did not approve of the deal, but that's all there was left to try to find her old strenght. She wanted to settle down one day and form a family, but that was lost forever.

The first years after her acceptance in the Circle mostly revolved around taming the beast inside. It's like an eternal fire blazing. And the hunger. The hunger for flesh was disorienting. With the help of Aela and Farkas, she managed to overcome it. The Nord hunter managed to take control over it, even managed to use some of the werewolf's powers in human form, like supernatural scent and night vision. In every attack on the Silver Hand, never did she transform. The other members of the Circle were baffled with her resolve to never succumb to the monster.

With years passing by, her hunting skills went through the roof, having no cap on how far she can go. Never did she hesitate on a single shot, all her arrows finding their mark and murdering whatever was at the end of the arrow. But the more she became stronger, the more her initial feelings grew alongside. She wanted to become something valuable to someone, she wanted to be someone's other half. And now, it was ruined by this curse.

She wanted someone to take care of.

Wether she had to thank the Divines or sheer luck, she now had this opportunity.

Something pulled her out of her sleep. Arngeir was back, asking the group to meet him and the other greybeards outside. The others seemed to be awake too, and eating some bread. The monastery appeared clearer than the usual, or maybe because it was just morning. Upon regrouping outside, they gathered around Liis, which was talking about the return of Alduin and how he must be stopped. Surprisingly, Endelle was rather calm, for her usual display of excitement towards a hunt.

"Kolos Alduin laat nizaag?", she shouted at the white dragon, staring at it in his deep golden eye.

Deciding she would take this as any regular hunt, the Nord hunter is going to not get eager to fall into traps or certain death, like the other members of the party earlier last night. Prudence, patience and time was what was needed in situations like these. Anyway, fighting head on with beasts wasn't Endelle's thing. Weirdly, the vampyre has been silent since last night's events. Odd, because he was the talkative kind. First, they must gather information on what would kill a dragon.

"Fos vis kriin dovah?"

The answer would probably be not much, considering their resilient nature, their scales were as hard as stone. Arrows or magic would simply be deflected. Swords wouldn't even scratch them. Poison sounds completely ineffective. There had to be a way to manage and ultimately kill a dragon.

The sky turned red with the leaving of the sun as a slight breeze blew through the air.  A lonely night it would be, again.  But there was always more to it than that.  The solace it brought, to just be someone who helps, to be something bright in the darkest depths, it meant everything. Even when it means to be alone, the ones you love must stay behind, or they would die. Love is not for the adventurer, finding someone you can trust is rare, and someone you want to care for is even rarer.

She heard voices and moved closer to hear the words. She inched from behind the back of one tree to the next, until she is able to see a small group walking along the road .
“Vos nii kos.” said an Mer clothed in Thalmor dressage. Scars and Black paint covered his sharp face, and she knew him.  She had cared for him, at one time.  But it had been years.  Vin, why were you here?  So many thoughts ran through her mind. Did he still...No, to stay would be a bad idea, but they started walking her way.

A female Elf in armor approached him, “Justiciar, nii siindah do Talos.”
“Nuz zu'u saag, vos nii kos. ”

She had to think of something before she was seen. Her right hand shook with Magicka as dark colors swirled between fingers. She pulled at the air, reaching somewhere behind it and felt herself grasp the Atronach, the fire in it strong. She released her hand, in a flurry of dark energy it appeared before her.

Without a word spoken, it knew why it was here, and so it charged towards them, but would not harm them.

She ran. How could she face him now? After everything? Better just hope he doesn't recognize her signature of casting, like he has done before to others, a power not many possess, and even fewer have honed.

But she ran from him, from that place, from it all...

Arra woke up.

Dreams of the past were not uncommon for her, but they still made her wake with a start. She was given bread which she munched on while looking around. She then noticed Kat's belt, and a shock ran down her spine. She felt her bare neck. How did she get that Amulet? But she didn't say a word, knowing how badly it would go over right now. So she waited.

She walked with the others outside. Her eyes on Liis. Dragons had a grace to them, and were breathtaking to watch. She scarcely heard what was being said, and instead simply spoke what she was thinking, in as close is she could get to her happy tone.

“Fod dreh mu bo?”

Dragon blood... Vokun had heard things of burnt mouths and scorched throats from drinking the blood of a dragon, but after those wounds were gone, whoever drank the blood could speak to birds. But what use would that skill be? Vokun would just turn into some pretty princess from one of his mother's fairy tales and sing to the birds and keep them as his best of friends! It was a dumb idea. What use could talking to birds have? Vokun didn't see the point, and didn't with most tales. But then, if dragons were real, drinking dragon blood could be, in the least, interesting.
Vokun was jerked out of his thoughts by what was said next. This group had been recruited to recruit. An army. Vokun would venture to say that this day was turning out to be more surprising than the day before. He moved forward as the group started to mount Liis. Wherever they were going, Vokun wanted in on it. He was interested, very interested. Thoughts of Arra were off his mind, she was a thing for later. Before he was fully secured on the dragon, Liis took off. Vokun yelled out like he never yelled out before. He clutched the scales as he nearly fell off. Half of the ride Vokun spent trying to lift himself back up. Even he, being a vampire, could feel the piercing cold. Once he was back on the dragon, he hugged the scales and felt the warmth emanating from the giant creature. It seemed to be not even a minute of being safely on the dragon when the beast dived. Vokun nearly came off the dragon, only his arms keeping him on. This was going to hurt when they landed.
As soon as Vokun had the thought, Liis did what felt like slamming into the ground. Vokun twisted mid-air and jumped off the dragon before he hit it's back. Rolling, he stood and brushed himself off. Maybe it wouldn't hurt after all. As the group dismounted, Vokun looked around. 

It was mystical. Magickal. The world seemed to rotate around Vokun as he stood still, taking everything in. Stone arches, high stone staircases, and the mountains around made it a sight to behold.

"Skuldafn," Vokun heard from behind him. And then everything went silent again. Dead silent. Even the waterfall not too far off seemed quiet. Vokun turned to the group and tilted his head at them. He refused to speak in this silent. It seemed too peaceful, too sacred. And even Vokun was one to respect that. His red eyes flickered as they twitched from each group member. The sunlight seemed to pierce into his sight, which made him squint, giving him a puzzled look. Why were they here, in this silent majestic place?

Making up his mind on whether or not to speak, he turned back to gaze at the amazing Skuldafn. It truly was a sight to behold...

Form an army. Not the smallest of tasks. Funny enough, Endelle was not even surprised. Nothing could've surprised her at this point. Liis could've rambled about defeating a giant horker that caused earthquakes and it would seem normal. Although, a great revelation was given to the Nord woman: dragonkind could be defeated with regular weapons. What a relief on her shoulders, no need to find some eon-years old artifact in some weird, damp cavern. Not that it bothered her, simply the draugr are some of the only things that can give Endelle a scare. Their glowing blue eyes, their wrinkled decomposing skin... Eugh.

Shaking off the incoming shiver, Endelle noticed that Kat was asking some very good questions. They were answered like the dragon could read the Imperial's mind. Could humans be that previsible? Hm... The conversation progressing fast, Liis proposed a place to train and gather soldiers and ressources. More flying, that was for sure.

Still going East, the ride was definitely higher and colder this time. Werewolf blood kept Endelle barely warm enough to prevent frostbites. The others looked like they were freezing to death, which would be a shame. Endelle would've more work to do alone. It seemed like Liis was making extra efforts to try to get his passengers off. All those stunts, anyone who wasn't holding tight would turn into a canonball. After landing, everyone jumped off at the same time.

Now, that place was different. If it wasn't for the giant dragon flying away, this place would be quieter than High Hrothgar. The entire area was just grey-ish, silent stone. What looked like a temple was covering most of the place, it was immense. Everyone was just gazing everywhere at this sight. The temple was surrounded by what looked like a forest, a faint smell of vegetation was drifting towards her nose. What also was assailing her nose was that oh, so familiar vanilla-steel combo. Luckily enough, fainter that the forest's. An hour passed, with the party wandering around, looking at the scenery. Everyone was enjoying the silence, but the Nord hunter could notice that some of the party members had a case of the shivers.

"Aal hei ko bo ahrk faad heinmaar", Endelle proposed.

Everyone swiftly agreed, rushing towards the closest door, made of solid iron. With a creak so loud, the divines themselves would wake from a deep sleep, the group entered what looked like ruins as old as Skyrim itself. Spider web everywhere, with no traces of spiders nearby. After adjusting to the ambient darkness, the group established their camp. Laying down the few things they carried, the group felt relieved. The Nord woman turned towards her pupil.

"Zu'u praag tinvaaka wah hi naalein.", the hunter said, giving a swift look at the vampyre, her gaze speaking for her. If eyes could shoot arrows, Vokun would've been a porcupine now.

The young hunter was surprised, but in a good way. The Nord pointed at the door and they both got out. After closing the door, leaving the Breton and Dunmer inside, the two hunters could finally exchange some words. Endelle noticed that Kat was cold, so she gave her furs to the young Imperial. The same smile as earlier in High Hrothgar could be seen on the Nord's face. Apparently, she doesn't do it enough, seeing how Kat was slightly blushing. Regaining her usual look, the blonde-haired woman quickly explained that it was the perfect place to train, since there was no trace of living souls, except the other two inside.

Then, Endelle followed up on some basics of archery and stealth. Nothing Kat couldn't handle. After an hour of detailed explanations on how to track a beast, practicing with fake paths in the snow, the sun started coming off it's high spot. Complimenting on how Kat was assimilating information, Endelle made a subtle transition to the next step in becoming a greater hunter.

"Zu'u mungrohiik. "

An even more surprised look struck Kat's face, as the pieces were clipping together. It finally explained her ability to shoot so well in the dark, her stillness and ability to stay warm in the crazy cold temperatures of Skyrim. An admirative gaze was now drawn on the Imperial's visage. After what seemed like a minute, Endelle then explained how being a werewolf greatly enhances one's ability to hunt. Faster, stronger, better reflexes, etc. The perfect hunter. Just being able to have a wolf's scent would already make her 10 times better than what she already was.

Of course, Kat was skeptical at first, her brows slightly showing disagreement. The Nord explained that she developped a method to keep the pesky tranformations under her own will. Unless she wanted to transform, she could stay human indefinitely. Then, she warned the young hunter about the only rule: no children. Upon stating that, an obvious twitch made Endelle suffer inside. She was still bitter about it. Ignoring that, the Nord then told Kat how she she would make quick progress after becoming part Werewolf.

Considerating the opportunity, Kat finally agreed. Another smile covered Endelle's traits. It was looking like young Kat did that often to Endelle. Coincidence or not, night was almost here to take daylight's place. Quickly preparing the ritual, Endelle gathered the only physical material she needed: A tankard. She kept hers after flying away from High Hrothgar. Old bandit trick.

After asking Kat to wait outside, the Nord hunter joined the other two inside. Quickly explaining that they will need to stay inside for the remainder of the night with a dead serious face, Endelle then said that under no circumstances, must they open the door until morning comes. She then stressed to never open the door. After getting confirmation from both, she headed back outside.

Noticing that Kat stayed exactly where Endelle told her made her laugh. Placing the small tankard on the rock floor with a lound cling, she got closer to Kat. The blue-eyed hunter then stared at the young Imperial deep into her eyes, asking if she was ready to do it. A quick nod and a breath of anticipation was her answer. Then, Endelle explained how the ritual will go, that she will need to use a dagger to make Endelle bleed in the tankard, where Kat will need to drink it's content. After briefly describing the sensation of the primal hunger of the first transformation, they were ready to begin, as night was now freshly started. One last thing.

"Govey hin rivve fodos hi laan niin zospein."

A quick laugh later, the Nord hunter had removed her clothing. Then, without stopping, she begun transforming. In about ten seconds, she was now a werewolf, maybe the first time in years. Holding still, Kat slowly approched, dagger in hand. With a playful groan, Endelle stretched her arm towards the young Imperial. Kat grabbed the tankard with her free hand. Making a small cut on the forearm, she collected half a tankard of warm blood. With a face of disgust, she chugged as fast as she could. Immediately, the transformation took place. Smaller than Endelle, but as hasty. Her red glowing eyes burned like fire, in opposite of the Nord's bright blue eyes, that carried on over her wolf form.

The night could now begin. First, the newblood started smelling all over the place, catching on to the young, tender meat inside. As soon as the last siff took place, Kat, now in wolf form, rushed towards the door, ignoring Endelle standing in front of it. Too bad for her, because the Nord slammed her on the ground, with a swift pounce. Clearly angry at this reaction, the newblood started throwing claws at Endelle. Fierce strikes, creating lacerations over her chest. Blood was pouring, but she have had worse. Rolling on the cold rock, in a flurry of claws, fur, blood and punches. Their eyes never left one another. Brute force versus wisdom and control, a tough fight.

About halfway through the night, both dogs were now starting to be exhausted from the constant fighting, half of the stone in front of the door was paved in thick, red blood. Then a swift punch from Kat on Endelle's nose knocked her back, dissying her. Seeing a window of opportunity, she made a ran for the door. Entering panic mode, the Nord got on all fours and catched up to Kat and slammed her against the door. The newblood was KO'd. Regaining their human forms, Endelle and Kat were all bruised up and bloody.

Seeing as how the young hunter was unconcious, Endelle did her the favor of carrying her towards the waterfall, which gave into a small lake. Washing Kat as best as she could without drowning her and washing herself at the same time, Endelle then walked back to the iron door, where their clothes laid next to it. The Nord woman carefully dressed Kat and herself back and laid her against the stone wall, her wolf blood now keeping her warm. The first rays of sunlight were piercing through the sky.

Kat Coalbrow was now a werewolf.

To be on a Dragon again was a joyous event.   To her nothing else mattered, it was enjoyable, if one didn’t count the cold.  Soaring through the skies made her forget her worries for a moment, made her feel alive.

She took her spot on the neck, slipping in between spines. Liis flew steadily until they reached some sort of ancient Nordic Tomb hidden away in the mountains.

 This flight was the coldest yet, and would leave them shivering for days. The sky was clear while the ground was covered in snow. Great arches stretched over long slabs of stone. Liis spoke again, this place was theirs? It didn't look very homey and welcoming...Just like everything else in Skyrim.

Skuldafn...Skuldafn. Strange name for a place, she thought, it must be more Nordic things.

Endelle led them inside, out and away from the biting chill, only to then take Kat back outside with her.   Staring down the Dunmer, the Nord made sure he knew his place. The Breton's eyes begged a quick “Don't leave me here” to both hunters in turn, but it was no use, the door slammed shut.

The Dunmer started to use some magic as she used this opportunity to move between the tables in the room and collect some of that old linen to make a coat. If the only places dragons took you was snow covered, then it was time to dress for it. She grabbed what looked like a fancy knife, or what she hoped to be one, and started her work.

Over and over, he interrupted her with a trick or song, dance or magic, his haggard face smiling all the while. She couldn't decide if it was comical, annoying, or unsettling because of the circumstances. He used Illusion magic, trying hard to impress her, and it wasn’t working.

“Zu'u krii mungrohiik ol zu'u bo wah Ronir-hofkah.” Vokun boasted.
“Oh?” She wondered, amusing him.

The Dunmer seemed to favor one leg, has if the one had been recently injured. She finished her work and had a nice little tan cloak to wear, dirty and dusty, but better than nothing. He spoke of his battle, showing simple magic tricks to aid in the story, and to show it.

He kept talking about how much his leg was hurt, and Arra then asked to see it. He showed it, and it had already healed. The Breton asked him how, which he simply replied that blood from last night...

“Sos?”
“Geh...”

He was a Vampire.

As if on cue, she hear savage, bestial roars echo into the room and off the walls, coming from outside. She opened the weighted door a crack, needing to know what she was hearing. Bloody flashes of pitch black fur and almost coppery fur met her eyes, they were fighting relentlessly. No, it couldn't be...no, no. Two wolf-man hybrids slashing each other where the hunters used to be, it had to be them. She looked closer and saw Endelle's blue eyes in the lighter one, but the other had black raven fur, bristling with each breath. The snarling was terrifying, with two points of soulless red rage in place of eyes. Burning with unnatural power and fury. Was it...Could it be Kat? Her eyes like Oblivion itself saw her, locking with dark intent. A slow growl rose from its throat, which became a roar.

She closed the door quickly, and backed away from it. They were, they both were...oh, Gods, no. Did they worship Hircine, or was this the doing of the Glenmoril? Or are they victims? There was no time to tell. And Kat, she had Arra's amulet, desecrating all it stood for, all she stood for...

Vokun grabbed her, trying his best to calm her down. He said he could keep her safe...

No.

She ran down the twisting halls away from the door and the Dunmer, away from the fear and the pain, not caring where they lead, only stopping when she was far from them all, and out of breath.  She was trapped in here with someone who would surely take her as a meal, his fawning nothing more than a con to woo his next in a long line of victims.

No.

Endelle, proven to be the psychopath Arra called her out as from the start.  The woman who could kill anything without blinking, who was always looking out for only herself, yet the same who had comforted her, who watched over them like family.

No.

And Kat, Kat of all of them!  The one she had left her trust in, the one she thought she could count on!  Arra would had been a fool not to overhear the talk of her being Endelle’s apprentice.  Some part of her thought in was in word only, it was to built trust with a woman they were all unsure of.  How far from right she was, seeing bonds that had never been.

No...

Now the hunters were the same, a team.  They would together maul and devour any and all who would stand in their way.  Between that and a creature that would do Gods’ only know what to her if they were left alone.

Monsters!   Flesh-diners!  No!  No!

Why does she bother? Why even try anymore? All of them had so much power, too much.  Even if they could be trusted, she is a mortal, and one day they would get rid of her, either by killing her or abandoning her somewhere, or even saying she has to stay behind for her own good, or protection. Something unneeded is never kept, and they had a mage better than her, he does fire and illusions, she had no chance. There was only one thing that could be done now.

Maybe Argyn was right about her, that a 200-year-old burden weighs heavily, and that, there is no denying who you are, what you are. If Arra was to stand amongst monsters, she would have to be the one thing she swore not to become. It was almost funny, the irony, that all those years would mean so little now, all the days learning fire magic to keep her mind off the darker arts, the ones she had known about, but refused to practice, until now.

Her hands started to glow with Daedric power, and she hesitated. Was this truly what she wanted? It would be hard to go back once she claimed it. But she knew she had to, it was the only way to survive now, the only way to stay sane in it all. She screamed and scorched the rock around her, charring an image of a rising sun into it, the embers settling until it was black.

“Los daar pah zu'u nu?” She screamed.   “Daar pah zu'u los?”

Arra's hands reached into the Void of Oblivion, that cold, lifeless place no man or mer was meant to touch, her hands pulled at dark shadows within another plain, and brought them forth. Not many knew their name, to others these are simply “Dremora”, but these were Kynval, the two bowed to her, which sickened her. They knew, and they had no shame in honoring it.

And that was it, the deed was done.  Arra was never a monster, so Arra is dead.

Arra had begged to them. Begged to them not to leave her with the Dunmer. And that hurt. Vokun took notice of it, and it hurt him. The Wolf stared hard at the Vampire. That didn't help with what he felt. But, to finally be alone... With the most beautiful damsel in all of Tamriel. He had to control himself. Start with something...small. He moved closer to her, using Illusion spells that Aridla had used to entertain Vokun on his trips to her camp once upon a time. Vokun tried to impress Arra. He tried. He tried hard. But she never seemed to take notice. She was too busy moving around the room, collecting linen to craft something, it looked like. She picked up an old embalming tool and started making what took the shape of a coat.

Again, Vokun tried to impress the fair female. He used Illusion tricks and attempted to say unheard words of Reachmen chants. It wasn't looking good. The Vampire then got an idea. If he couldn't impress her with song, dance, or magick, then why not try a story? He sat on the table she was using to work on her coat, and spoke.

“Zu'u krii mungrohiik ol zu'u bo wah Ronir-hofkah.”

The Breton seemed interested now, and perked up a bit after finishing her craft. He told his story of how he slayed the Werewolf, using small Illusion figures to assist his storytelling. He relived the battle that already seemed so long ago, and when he was done, sprinkled a light dust on the almost solid figures. The dust burned on Vokun's fingertips a bit, but nothing too bad. After a bit more storytelling, he ended up showing her his healed leg. She asked how it healed so fast, and he replied... Oh, what did he reply? He forgot as soon as he said it, but it was out. It was something about blood. About...drinking blood.

Her eyes widened. She shook her head. He approached her and it was a mistake. They both heard the roaring coming from outside. She peeked out, backing away from Vokun. He lunged forward to stop her, but it was too late. She saw. She knew what they all were. And Vokun hated himself and hated the Wolves outside even more...

He stopped for a moment at his thoughts. What had he just mentioned? Oh.. By the Nine... Wolves. Two. Endelle AND Kat. How did he not notice? Wasn't he here to help protect the group? He cursed himself. He cursed because he was lovestruck, because love made him blind and that blindness had made another mortal fall into the trap of Munralok.

Vokun couldn't allow Arra to share that fate. He lunged forward, another mistake. He seemed threatening. But that threat could protect her. She could be safe. As he grabbed her, she ripped from his grasp. Vokun's thumbnail pierced her skin on the upper part of her forearm, and left a trail of blood. She didn't notice, but she wanted away even more. She rushed down the hall, and Vokun lost sight of her. 
Realizing what he had just done, Vokun glanced at his thumb. In his mind, he saw Arra's arm. The scratch he left. It looked so similar... No. No it couldn't be that similar to... Or was it? The Breton blooded Dunmer shook his head. It couldn't be. The whispers couldn't come back, it was impossible. He had already done it that night, they couldn't... But they were. He looked up. He saw... His past. And the whispers. The voices of his ancestors. They narrated his memory.

Karthspire... Such a beautiful camp, didn't you think so? So green, wasn't it? With the sunlight shining down onto the brown hide tents and you, in the midst of Reachmen. It was an odd sight but you, you got to see... The whispers weezed ...odder sights almost every day. Slain adventurers, dead animals, you were used to it for your body's age. So...as you sat, practicing Alchemy in your slightly bony hands, you watched from above... From a nest... As you dusted off dark..feathers..into a vial filled with a blue liquid. 
The whispers weezed and coughed. Ash.. Ash was all Vokun could see now. Ash and fire. Through the fire, he saw a figure. Another Dunmer. A female. She waved. Made a sign. Then, the ash, soot and fire was gone.

Yes, you see the camp again. Good. Let your vision focus, Kroved Vokun. Look at the one who did so much harm. Look at her. Aridla. As you awake, you felt it. That grasp. Those claws. Terrible claws. Learn from it, learn from your past.... Aridla may have scared you, may have scratched your arm that morning when you were young, but you are no S'wit. Do not fear the past, but fear what you have done in the present... The whisper went silent for a moment.

Kat entered the stone room and screamed something about Arra. With a gaze of no sight, Vokun's hand went up and pointed down the hallway that Arra ventured. The hand he used to point erupted into flames. But he didn't know what action had occured. He did not see Kat as she ran down that hallway. All he saw was the ugly, curled face of a bird-like creature bending over him. Aridla. And all Vokun heard was the sound of that nasty, grovelling voice mixed with the voice of one of his greatest friends. Ingil and Aridla. Talking about him behind his back. Making plans.

Aridla lulled Vokun back into a sleep, her curled claws on his forearm, gently scratching him, but not so much as to bring much harm. She sang as best as she could. A lullaby about a dragon, ancient and dark... Alduin. And Vokun remembered.

Endelle watched Kat until she woke up. With further inspection, the Nord noticed how well-rounded her traits were. Her face, lean, but contoured with high cheekbones. Her dark hair contransting with her skin, making it look paler than it really is. Her lips were pale. A ghostly visage, surrounded by dark strands of hair. She could easily find herself a man to take and live off to somewhere nicer, if she put her mind to it. 

Oh, what was she thinking. This chance was ruined. Because of her. Because Endelle took for granted that Kat was like her. Valuing the hunt more than anything. Foolish she was to bring her into this. It seems like this is what she knows to do best: ruin lives. First, Gro-Molech, her mentor. She betrayed him, leaving him behind, with no one to gather food for the tribe. Then, Sven, the charming bard from Riverwood. He trusted her, thinking she would stay with him until death did them apart. Finally, Kat, the young huntress. Endelle destroyed her chances of being normal, like any young lady in Skyrim wants to be. Not to mention every life she took, all of those people that didn't deserve death. Who knows how many widows did she make, only in Whiterun, the first night of their meeting with Liis.

Her thoughts cut short by the young one. She was waking up. One word. A powerful one.

Mother.

If her face was neutral, her heart on the other hand, was melting. Barely keeping composure, she answered her as normally as possible. Three days. Endelle had 3 days to show her how to remain lucid in her beast form. It was that, or another nightmarish night was bound to happen. The Nord wouldn't want to have to put down her apprentice that early. Standing up, the pupil had a switch turned on or something, because she ran inside the camp as fast as she could.

That was a close call, one more minute and it would've been a tear fest. Emotions are a hard thing to handle for Endelle. As steady her bow can be, her weakness was what was going on in her head. Maybe that was the reason she picked up hunting in the first place.

Deciding to follow Kat, the huntress entered inside, the door still open. The vampyre was in a trance-like state, fire engulfing his hand. A swift look around, but no trace of Arra or Kat. She could smell them, though. Running after them, a noticable smell was surfacing: vanilla and steel. Hints of sulfur were distinguishable from the overwhelming scent of the arcanes. What the Oblivion smell could be doing in Nordic ruins?

Carefully following the smell of rotten eggs, she could hear voices. Voices of her friends. Arriving behind Kat, she could see the tall, red, knight overlooking what looked like Arra. One thing keep hammering inside the huntress' head: Evil. Whatever creature it was, it was evil. And it was near Arra.

Instincts kicking in, Endelle gently pushed Kat aside. A quick blow to the knight's chest broke his poise, flinching on his legs. Not noticing the second atrocity, Endelle put herself in front of Arra, leaving the young Breton between the wall and her. Mildly annoyed, Arra answered Kat's question.

"Daar los Quah'yrath.", she said, pointing the now recovering Dremora.

Two demonic swords were now directly pointing the huntress. One of them told her to back off.

"Fos los nust? Hi mindok niin?", Endelle asked, never taking her eyes off them.

It was after talking she realized she was bare handed. A not so funny situation to be in. Considering all she had for protection was some scrapped leather armor. She was willing to protect Arra with her life, if need be. Vokun would do the same probably, but he was too busy tripping his life on whatever concoction he made. Still no news from him, his smell still in the main hall.

Endelle was now considering her options. Transform here? Dangerous. Fight them? A certain death. Throwing glances at Kat, she was asking for help.

What a sour situation to be in.

Red. The color of blood and fire, rage, destruction and pain. Red starlight fell upon and around her from nowhere, hanging in the air and on the ground like embers, floating through the room to give it the look of a land lost to the minds of man for an Era. Her eyes seemed blacker, burning with a pain unseen. Her hair seemed more red than brown now, swaying in ill-winds brought by Oblivion. Gone was the smile to believe everything could be alright again. Gone was the past, gone forever was everything.

A single, searing tear ran down her face. This icy road the only place to stand between the sea of fire, and the light of Mundas. But what hope is there? To fall is to live as she was meant to...or, how he wants her to...Why? Why have her suffer like this? These sleepless dreams of razor-fed Ravens calling death to the light, being given new eyes to glimpse the path into the garden, where one could leave this fog world behind. Or so it was told, but it was a lie.

The Kynval knights Uax'oath and Quah'yrath stood watch, their solemn faces not speaking unless told to. The former was armed with a great sword, while the later with sword and shield. The armor they wore was not that fancy red ebony, but Daedric war armor. This day was important to them, for they had been called by their lost master's blood once more. Not magic bound, but honor bound to answer.

The night passed without notice or care, without tiring or any change within the stone walls. Inside her though, everything kept changing again and again.

Her name was called from a place distant, echoing down hall after hall until it settled with the ember lights. Kat ran in, but the Breton couldn't face her. There was so much that could be said, many hurtful things to dig under the skin, or cut the face with. But it already hurt. Agonizing fear clashing with deathly rage on the field of Fate's cruel hand, warring relentlessly for release.

Just how far can a soul be torn before there is nothing left?

Endelle came next, stirring up the air with her actions, hitting Quah'yrath out of her anger. The mage said that these were her Dremora, and moved closer to them.

“Druv hi dreh daar?” Endelle asked her. Speaking with love and pain in her voice. The sharpness of it jarring.

“Druv?” Echoed the Breton. They should know...

But she moved for them, and thought of another...What would he say now? His pure blood made him what was wanted, but yet she fell instead. She remembered how she watched his dreams fade with the rise of Skyrim's troubles. Thalmor. That word was sharper than any blade...Oh, Vincano. Her hands dropped. If he had still been in High Rock, she would not have needed to leave, he would have protected her from them. He was so much older, but that didn't matter.

The Dunmer, Vokun, came in quietly, thinking he was unnoticed, though she did see him, she called him to stand with the others, to show the respect to face her. Her gaze met them as Arra for a fleeting moment, and she started to tell a story.

She was almost 16 that year, it was the very early part of Rain's Hand in the city of Dwynnen.  It was a nice enough place, once you took away the intrigue and crime.  Very pretty this time of year with a breeze shifting among the trees, and the sun's gentle rays breathing life to these woods. Her hair moving with each breath of the wind, a man came and recalled to the keep quickly to see Lady Gwynora.
 

After almost ten years, the corsairs had returned, if they took Dwynnen, they could take the whole of Wayrest with ease. Of course, the Lady herself would stay and fight as she did before, but she told Arra to run.

"Nid, monah."

Then she was to stay with Vincano at all times, there would be blood and death before it was over, and if her life was threated, her mother told her to run. After the fighting had begun, they were greatly outnumbered, they would die, and the city would burn.

The corsairs had found a way into the city, a passage that should have been blocked. Arra and Vin had moved to the front lines of battle in the city square, pushing their combined magicka to its very limit. He was hit, and she screamed his name. Bodies dropped all around her, Breton bodies. All was lost, unless... {Fin grongolz} she raced for the keep, down stone staircases to the deepest parts where no one knew. She took the dark, pulsing sphere from its claw holder, and carried it back outside.

"Lahvu fah lahvu,
Slen fah gaaf,
Bolaav mii nu,
Frey ko krif."

These words all heard, for they were said with a Daedric touch.  The forces within the sphere lashed out it all directions, black-red magic of another plane, the battle was over, the city was safe.  But the raw Magicka was too much, she passed out a breath after.

She woke in chains.  Her own city branding her the traitor, the one who told the corsairs about the entrance.  All had seen the Sigil Stone she wielded, all had seen her call upon a Daedra to save them.  So they had chained her outside, untrusting of what she was.  A rock of throw at her face from the gathering crowd.

Steward Argyn presided over the mod.  He read off the names of all those who had been killed by Corsairs.

“Jova Trepos, kriaan naal deyra!”

“Renan Lafevre, kriaan naal deyra!”

“Noella Raoult, kriaan naal deyra!”

Each, each shoat of Daedra instilled in them more and more hate.  Soon the crowd’s shout of “kriaan naal deyra!” became a crazed chant.  They would rip apart her body, they would beat her until she wouldn’t bleed any longer.

She broke her chains with magic, and she ran.  The people who she called friends turned on her with ease, and wanted her head.  She ran, all that was left was to listen to the very last words she ever heard her mother say to her.

Run.

 

She cried. Endelle seemed the most upset, and went to hug the Breton.  She didn’t fight it, and collapsed into the Nord’s embrace.