Standalone is such a beautiful, beautiful word when you're doing just that; standing alone. I don't mean alone, without people; I mean completely, utterly, undeniably alone. Inside and out. So alone and so very dark, and distorted, and rendered useless. Standalone.

To be more specific, standing alone at the top of a simple foothill, that rose so low compared to the mountains but so high above the canopy of trees. How powerful I felt, looking all around, seeing the miniscule stone structure of Leyawiin miles away. I loved looking to the south like that. The sunshine like a painting, whose yellow ink covered the expanse of Cyrodill as we descended into nightfall.

I closed my eyes. To be able to go back. To be able to apologize and have things go back to the way they were; to just go back to him, to the days when we fought side by side like brothers. The brothers that we were, by soul. Damn the Nine. Damn the world.

I pushed the sullen thoughts aside and started to slide down the hill, safe from all the pestering thoughts that came in twilight. I was now below the canopy, in my own place of content, where no one could find me. No one…

Could find me.

I awoke several hours later, fazed. The sun was gone, the darkness having overtaken Cyrodill. All dark. All so very dark and depressing and disturbed, because the dark is where the wild creatures come to kill the innocent and weak and eat their remains and bring their bodies to the lakesides of the Imperial City for the world to see.

I hated the dark. Still do, to this very day. I experience it every day on the inside. Why, now, does it have to plague my aura on the outside, as well?

So I stood, my half bare feet, clothed in badly worn rough leather shoes, getting poked by sticks and stones that had only moments ago been biting at my back. I snatched my oh – so – pathetic shortsword from its carefully crafted leather sheath and raised it to my face, placing my right hand right under the tip of the handle, and my left behind me and to my side, as I had been taught so many years ago by Blackwood Company. I could still recall the day; it had been but a week before the incident, dad's final mission.

I sighed. In the back of my mind, I knew he wasn't dead; I didn't want him to be, no, but I wanted to think he was. It was just the kind of thought that you think without thinking, and hardly remember thinking at all. I knew he was somewhere, hiding, waiting for the moment to strike back at the world that had taken so much from him.

I pondered where I could go. I had four options, which was why I loved being here, right at the edge of Niben bay, or even at the Kvatch ruins, so much; options. Of where to go, of what to hunt, of who to meet, of who to fight; options. That was also why city folk made no sense to me. Why stay in one place, when you can be everywhere?

So I decided to go to Bravil; to see what went on in the city of the Lucky old Lady. It was, in fact, one of the few cities I didn't frequent; probably because of it's boring scenery, and the annoying river that runs through the center.

It was a short swim. No slaughterfish to slaugher, no islands to map, none of the mild distractions that keep you busy during a swim. Just a silent swim, from one place to the next. It made me feel like the spy that everyone craved to be, going, under cover of night, from one place, one life, to the next.

When I got out of the water and stood on the trail that led to Bravil, I saw the damage done by the water. My black robe dripped wet and clung to my Argonian form. I shook my body to clear it of some water and then started the short walk down the trail to Bravil. I looked up at the moon to see the time (in my time in the forest, I'd learned to rely on things that would always be present, rather than worldly possessions) and determined that it was sometime around one in the morning. So, I assumed, everything would be closed, except perhaps some guild halls and inns.

The guard's form came into my view. A torch illuminated him, and another, along with a horse standing next to one. I nodded to them and entered the city through the massive gates.

As soon as I entered the city and saw the few people stepping along the streets, I had a lust to accomplish something. To give my life meaning. But I knew that that "something" was going to take place here, in the wet recesses of a pathetic city that is Bravil.

I kept that in mind. But first, I'd need to sleep, and review what I had. Then, tomorrow, I could go and find a job. Find a purpose.

Because tomorrow, everything would be better.

I stepped inside the first inn that came into view. My eyes didn't take time to read the name, I just popped in and grabbed 10 Septims from my robe pocket. The man, suspicious of my hastiness, slowly dropped a key on the counter.

"Last door on the right." He semi – hissed. I mentally laughed at his attempt, and brought on my best Argonian, reptilian accent.

"Thanksss." My voice felt like a snake.

I stepped upstairs, followed his instructions, and entered the last door on the right. The second I closed the door, I threw off my bag and leaned against the wall, burying my head in my hands. That had been the last of my money, and my pack was empty but for some venison, a series of stolen keys, a set of ogre's teeth, and some maps.

I sighed and lay down on the bed. My life was in shambles. All I had to show for my travels was a half empty bag of useless possessions. I'd have disappointed my father. I'd have disappointed Tram. I had disappointed myself.

My eyes finally shut and I drifted off to sleep, to a dream – world where no earthly problems could hurt me.

"Sleep, child," Said something beside me. "Soon it will all be better."