As weeks passed and winter settled on the Jerall Mountains the reports began to come in from every province in the Empire. Gates to Oblivion were opening everywhere from Elsweyr to Morrowind, and in escalating numbers in the weeks since the Mythic Dawn had their holy book, the Mysterium Xarxes, stolen from their shrine. The setback only drove them to step up their offensive. To the east, the Dunmer city of Ald'ruhn became the first city since Kvatch to be burnt to the ground. The ancient Crystal Tower of Summerset Isle, far to the southwest, fell not a week after, and the Altmer province had been in complete political upheaval ever since. With the invasion so widespread, there was no one that could come to the aid of the Blades and their yet crownless Emperor. They were alone.

While things were relatively quiet at Cloud Ruler Temple, all its denizens could feel that a storm was coming. The onset of winter meant the battlements had to be swept off every day, and wood was always in need of gathering from the forest below to keep the fire in the Great Hall lit. It was the drafty old fortress's only heat source so the dark forest was braved several times each week by a single Blade while his or her comrades nervously kept watch from above.

The mysterious figures that lurked and watched only seemed to appear by cover of night. At first Baurus went down into Bruma nearly every other day to speak to the guard, ask around, search the city for clues. But time and time again he came up with nothing, a degree more irritated with every dead end. Eventually he was getting so that he quickly lost his temper and had a couple of confrontations with Bruma's hard-headed Nords. After this Jauffre took over the search himself, leaving the Redguard to pace around Cloud Ruler in frustration.

When he wasn't assisting with matters like snow buildup and firewood, Baurus took it upon himself to keep watch over the Septim heir. Day and night Martin sat hunched over the Mehrunes Dagon's holy book, trying to coax out its evil mysteries, surrounded by reference texts; some from the library in the Temple itself but most on loan from the Bruma Mages' Guild. While in the first week he was translating at a feverish pace, he fast hit a wall, unable to progress further. What the Imperial knew of these dark arts told him not a single stroke of ink on these pages was an accident, but parts of it were completely unable to be interpreted by any known language or symbolism.

And then sleep became harder and harder for Martin to come by and when he couldn't find rest, he would just get back up and start working again, no matter the hour. All any of his sworn protectors could do was voice an occasional word of concern or encouragement. None of them were qualified to help and they knew his efforts might be their only chance. With reports from the Blades outposts in distant provinces coming in every few days or so, and none of them particularly optimistic, they stood by and tensely waited, wishing they could do more.

Easily the most frustrated of them all during this period of helpless waiting was Carolara Moorhart, the newest of their ranks. The wounds she'd sustained on the mission that brought them the Xarxes kept her unable to do much of anything for about a fortnight. The Breton stayed in the Great Hall on her mat and made sure the fire stayed strong; it gave her the feeling of usefulness. Eventually once Martin's healing and her own persistence had her walking more she did small tasks like tidying up and making hot tea for her Emperor and fellow Blades to ward off the cold. It would be some weeks before she was deemed strong enough by Jauffre's assessment to go out scouting and gathering, but she was grateful when the day came. Despite it being very pleasant to spend so much time at Martin's side, Carolara vastly preferred being useful.

Before she put her leathers back on for the first time in weeks, the small copper-headed woman lined up a pair of mirrors to be able to see the damage to her back. The bandages had come off some time ago but only recently had it stopped being tender and sore, though the flesh had felt strange under her fingers in the bath. Now she could see why; spanning nearly from one shoulder-blade to the other was a horrible burn scar. The sigh that escaped Carolara was one of acceptance; for mistakes, there are consequences, right? No, she wouldn't see it as a punishment. The Breton smiled at her reflection and began to put on her scouting armor with optimistic resolve.

It's a reminder that I'm still alive, she told herself. I may have not done everything just right, but I'm still alive, and that means I can still help fight the Mythic Dawn. I can still protect Martin and save innocent people from dying. Her eyes strayed to the scar one more time before covering it up with her cuirass. She recalled the blur of garbled memories from her arrival at the Temple, the Imperial's voice and magics calling her back from not death, but somewhere between. I may have saved him before, but I still must thank him properly for saving me. With actions. Words are just words. My gratitude, my... feelings, these things will strengthen my service to him and to our cause.

The sun had set an hour before Carolara was ready, but she had been waiting for the darkness anyway. Bow slung over herself and a quiver of arrows on her hip, half of the fletchings bearing the green stains indicative of poison, she walked up beside Arcturus on the eastern sentry tower.

"Any sign of them?" she inquired, holding her hand over her mouth so any watching couldn't read her lips.

"Right after sunset I saw something move on the east side," he answered, following suit. "Nothing since. Could just be deer."

Carolara nodded, scanning the forest herself and seeing nothing unusual yet. "Right, well, tell anyone who asks I'm going hunting then," she chuckled and her fellow Blade at least cracked a smile. "Ah, but really Arcturus, please don't let anyone come in the woods after me unless it's past midnight and I haven't returned."

He snorted. "Good luck, new-blood. None of us have been able to sniff those sneaky rats out yet."

As the Breton walked away and outside the massive gates for the first time in weeks she just smiled, holding herself back from saying anything too confident and dooming her own luck. While she kept her ego silent, however, that didn't mean it wasn't there somewhat; oh, she'd be cautious of course, but it was rare that Carolara Moorhart met someone who was sneakier and more wood-wise than herself.

She was surprised at how long it took her to find signs of humanoid activity, but once she stumbled across them there was a definite trail. At the end, a hill shrouded by thick foliage that would make an excellent vantage point to watch the Temple from. They had not yet come out that night. Perfect. Hurriedly Carolara reached into her bag and retrieved a length of rope, smirking in the moonlight, amused by her own idea.

An hour later, there was movement on the still path. Travelling with no light but that of the moons, when they decided to show themselves, was a Dunmer woman in simple commoner's linens with a thick cloak. She moved down the unmarked trail with practiced ease, almost completely silent.

Carolara had to admit to herself she was a bit impressed by how stealthily the Dark Elf moved; she'd be more impressed if she got around what was coming, though.

But she didn't. The Dunmer stepped right into the loop and from beneath strategically placed snow a rope suddenly tightened around her ankle, hoisting her up into the air. The unwitting prey yelped in surprise, struggling to no avail.

When the Breton came out of the brush with her arrow trained on the woman's head, she seemed to realize what was going on and glared at the Blade, pursing her lips together defiantly and going still.

"Ah, look at this. I've caught a big one, I have." Carolara smirked. "Right then. Out with it."

The Dunmer just spat on her, eyes never leaving her enemy's.

Rolling her eyes the Breton lowered her bow to wipe the insult on the back of her wristguard and then rubbed that against a nearby tree. "I already know who you're working for, cultist, so let's not waste time. Talk."

"Kill her if you want. She doesn't fear death," another voice came from behind, and Carolara froze in place. She felt something weighty, metal, and ice-cold against the back of her neck and it was all she could to not jerk away. "And neither do I. Those who die in the service of Lord Dagon shall be raised above other mortals and rule in the coming age."

The way she spoke suggested a Redguard but the Breton didn't dare turn her head to look. Her heart pounded but she wasn't completely surprised. All the reports had suggested more than one... and she had, in fact, taken this into account when she set her trap. She needed a moment, however, and Carolara loved a good bluff.

"Wait!" she spoke in a shaken tone, closing her eyes in the appearance of fear but trying to lock onto something mentally. "I... I was almost part of the Order once. We're supposed to be family, right? Let me just g-go, and I'll go get you the Xarxes back. Just please, don't..."

The second cultist came around to the front, keeping her sword against the Breton's throat the whole time. Carolara kept her bow down, eyeing the dark-skinned woman nervously. She just needed another few seconds, it was almost here...

"I'm not sure I believe you. You're not exactly known for telling the truth," the Redguard's eyes narrowed, "Carolara Moorhart, formerly wanted in three provinces for thievery, fraud and blackmail, now the lap-dog of the last pathetic Septim."

The Blade tried not to scowl, but she definitely felt her blood heat up when the cultist elected to insult her Emperor. "You sure know a lot about me."

A laugh, one that didn't sound quite... right. Carolara couldn't help but notice that the woman's pupils were unnaturally dilated and she was starting to really fear for her life. "You made a mistake coming out here alone, Blade. But don't worry; soon the rest of your fellows will be joining you, one after the other, and then your precious Dragonborn will be sacrificed to Lord Dagon."

The Breton gripped her bow tightly, but relaxed when she caught sight of something just beyond her opponent. "Alright, alright, you've called my bluff. I commend you, but I'm afraid you're the one making the mistake, Miss."

"Oh?"

"I didn't come out here alone."

The Redguard had no chance to respond; the wind knocked out of her under the massive pile of fur and power that had just pounced on her from the brush. The mountain lion, eyes glowing faintly with the influence of magic, fell upon the cultist with such savagery that Carolara had to turn away. She wiped away the droplets of blood that ran from the light scratch left on her when the woman had been tackled and the sword dragged on her skin, but it was a sting and nothing more.

The Breton steeled herself and approached, searching the bloody pockets and coming up with nothing. She locked eyes with the beast and it understood her will, dragging its late-night dinner off into the woods so she didn't have to look at it anymore. While she had never been an expert on magicka, her Breton blood gifted her with some slight innate talent; in her case, the arts of illusion, and beasts were among the easiest things to charm.

Her attention went to the Dunmer now, who didn't look all too impressed by that display. "Well, if you're not going to talk now, maybe my fellow Blades can get you to." Carolara took out some smaller lengths of rope and bound up the woman's hands and ankles while she still dangled. The elf felt incredibly tense, and the Blade sensed that she was trying to find a way out; wary, she went to untie the rope suspending her and ease her down to the ground.

The second the cultist hit the ground she incinerated the ropes binding her. Carolara cursed aloud but was immediately forced to dodge a barrage of fire. Hot water and steam erupted at her heels, magical fire colliding with the snowpack as she ran, the Dunmer's aim just barely off, and the Breton threw herself behind a rock formation. She took the moment to pull a poisoned arrow and nock it; this one had no intention of going quietly. In her mind, it had at least been worth it to try.

The cultist was coming and the Blade forced her to chase around the rock for a few moments, and then she darted into the thick trees. A spear of ice impaled the truck of a nearby aspen and her breath hitched. Entirely too close. She began to make herself move faster, zigzagging this way and that, leading the elf on a wild pursuit through the forest. Soon enough she began to gain some distance and it was harder for her opponent to aim properly. The more she pressed on, the more the mage was losing sight of her. Carolara's breath came in ragged gasps and the icy night air was making her hoarse but she knew the Dunmer had it much worse. Sorcerers weren't exactly known for their rigid exercise regimen, after all.

Soon Carolara saw a fireball soar into a tree that was nowhere even near her, and she knew the woman had lost her. This was her chance. Forcing her breathing to slow so that her head would stop spinning she pulled herself up into one of the trees and got into the thick of the foliage. Once she was hidden and clear-minded enough she called out, "Ey! Stupid blue elf!"

A lightning spell flew her general direction, but at ground level. It was working. The exhausted but furious mage came into view some moments later and she took aim.

While the Dunmer was looking about, brimming with anger and confusion, she stepped right into the perfect line of sight and Carolara called out to her again. "Up here!"

Cursed red eyes met the Breton's brown ones. A spear of ice and a poisoned arrow crossed paths. The cultist fell, dead seconds after hitting the ground. Carolara dropped out of the tree, of her own volition however, just in time to dodge the spell flying her way and she stood in the once again silent forest, victorious.

Taking a deep breath, the Blade looked up at the two moons. Midnight had just passed; her superiors were likely wondering where she was, many had probably seen the commotion and magic flying around, and it wouldn't do to leave her friends worrying. She was certain they'd be happy to have some good news for once.