Rating: Rated T for violence and dark themes.

Disclaimer: Oblivion is the property of Bethesda Game Studios.

Please read Honor Bound and Madness Rising before reading this, or nothing is going to make sense.

Something's happened at the Red Mountain but I can't describe it. It's as if hundreds of Oblivion gates opened at once at its summit and it's spitting fire and death in all directions. Fort Frostmoth has been completely destroyed. The walls crumbled like loose dirt and the land is on fire. Everything around me smells of ash and of death.

3 Sun's Dawn 4E 05

I supposed I should have felt something as I looked up at the statue, lit by the soft morning sunlight. Happiness, maybe? Or perhaps gratitude? The artists got my face right, at least, though why they'd decided to give me a sword instead of my bow I just could not understand. But, looking up at the thing, all I felt was cold. Bitter. I didn't deserve it. I didn't want it.

It was Countess Narina Carvain who had figured out where I was hiding in the end, though I supposed that's what I got for doing a job for her. Sooner or later someone was bound to figure it out.

The Countess had sent a message that the people of Bruma wished to show their gratitude for what I'd done for their city years before during the Crisis. I'd nearly crumpled up the letter then, in anger and in grief. Could no one understand that I wanted to live for the rest of whatever passed as my life in peace? That I wanted nothing more than to forget what I'd done? The nightmares still plagued me relentlessly: a permanent, soul-staining reminder of what I had lost. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his staring back at me. Four years, and still he haunted me. And what Jyggalag had said… It was never going to end. Never.

I noticed that there was a plaque on the base of the statue, the new metal still shining.

Mara Fides, the Savior of Bruma.

Singlehandedly fought off the hordes of Oblivion, entered their Great Gate, and cast down the dread Siege Machine in ruin. Erected by the Grateful Citizens of Bruma, 4E 05.

Singlehandedly. I made a noise of disgust. They would just ignore the men who had come from all over Cyrodiil to help them? They would ignore that it was Martin who led that charge and not me?

I turned away from my statue, my monument. The sight of it made me feel sick. It should have been of Martin, not me. Not that I would have been able to stomach it any more if it had been.

I walked up the tiered levels of the city and stepped inside Bruma's castle, finally feeling some measure of relief at getting out of the cold. Soon I was standing in the throne room, absently examining the Countess's collection of Akaviri artifacts. All of them were stored in cases set with panes of glass. I noted the carved stone amulet that I'd retrieved for her from Pale Pass several years before.

"It seems strange to think it's been four years since the Crisis ended," Narina Carvain said from behind me.

I straightened, unclasping my hands from behind my back. Taking a deep breath, I murmured, "It feels like it's been longer."

When I turned to face her, she had that look again, the one people got when they saw my face. There were dark circles beneath my eyes, the product of endless restless nights filled with nightmares. My face was gaunt and still marred by the scars I'd received the night I entered the Great Gate outside of Bruma. I was sure I looked like some kind of creature that had crawled out of Oblivion, which I supposed I was. I didn't know how long it had been since I'd been able to face the woman I saw in the mirror.

The Countess quickly schooled her expression into something less pitying. "The timing of the statue wasn't an accident, Mara. The Lord High Chancellor wants to name you Champion of Cyrodiil."

He wanted to…

"What?"

"Chancellor Ocato wants to make you Champion. It's the highest honor. Only six others have ever achieved the title."

I stared at the floor, trying to wrap my head around what the Countess was telling me. Ocato wanted to make me some kind of… Champion? Wasn't a statue bad enough?

"You can tell him that I don't want the title. I don't want anything."

"He insisted."

"He'll have to find me first," I said flatly, staring her dead in the eye to let her know I was serious. "This time I'll go someplace he'll never even think to look."

"Sometimes we must do what's best for everyone, regardless of what we want," she told me.

"What's best for everyone is making me some kind of knight?"

There was a flicker of doubt in her brown eyes that quickly vanished. "The people are worried. They need hope. You can give them that."

I snorted. "Me? Right."

"You're their hero."

"Martin was the hero, not me."

The Countess paused at that. "He seemed like he was a good man, and he seemed like he would have made a good Emperor." She shook her head and went on, "I wasn't surprised when your Grandmaster came to me about the betrothal. My sister was betrothed to one of the princes before she disappeared, after all. It seemed like a logical, favorable match."

Her words felt like a knife to the gut. A harsh reminder. I looked away, gaze fixing on the floor. Tears that I would not shed burned my eyes and my lips pressed into a thin line. I forced myself to slowly unclench my fists.

There was a long stretch of tense silence broken only by a small sound of surprised understanding. Then in a quiet voice the Countess asked, "You loved him, didn't you? Martin?"

"That doesn't matter anymore. It never did."

"I –"

I ignored her. There was nothing that she could say that would change anything. If he had lived, she would have married him. I knew that. She knew that. Anything else said would be a lie.

"If you'll excuse me, my Lady," I said quietly. The Countess was silent as I walked out of the castle.

Snow crunched loudly beneath my boots as I made my way up the hill. I tugged my cloak tighter around myself, trying to ward off the winter chill that was present despite the afternoon sun overhead.

I wanted to go back to Anvil, to the quiet and the solitude that the manor provided. Over the last few years, the other residents had started giving the manor an even wider berth than they had when I'd first bought the place. I'd overheard whispers in town that sometimes people could hear screaming coming from inside the house. It might not be haunted anymore, but that at least was true.

But something up the mountain drew me. I hadn't been back to Cloud Ruler Temple since the Crisis. Part of me knew it was a bad idea to go, but I also knew that it might be my only chance to see the fortress again. In the end I decided to go, if only for old time's sake.

As I approached the thick stone walls, I heard voices shouting from above. I stopped. Moments later the gates opened with their familiar loud groan and Jena hurried down the stairs. Her brown eyes were wide with shock.

"Mara? Is that really you?"

I nodded. Seeming to snap out of her surprised daze, the Blade ushered me inside the walls and the gates boomed shut behind us. As I walked up the stairs into the yard, I looked around to see that all the Blades were present. They must have hurried out to meet me. Jena's astonishment was mirrored on the faces of every single one of them. Steffan stepped forward. There was something hesitant and almost wary in your eyes.

"Mara," he said. "We weren't sure if you were still alive."

"I am." But at what cost?

When I added nothing further, he reached out to clasp forearms with me. "Welcome back, Bladesister."

They sat me down at one of the tables in the Great Hall and brought me some food. I picked at it absently, looking around the room. It looked much as it had the last time I was there, though there were scorch marks on the stones before the hearth from the portal into Paradise. And they'd removed Martin's books and things. The thought twisted at my heart.

My eyes caught on the swords that hung from the rafters all around the hall. Swords that had once belonged to all the fallen Blades. Jauffre's was up there somewhere, I was certain, along with Baurus's. I sighed and looked down again.

I shouldn't have even returned to Cloud Ruler at all. Jauffre had planned to discharge me from the Blades for my insubordination. It was only because of Baurus that I'd been allowed to stay until we reached the Imperial City. Had the Grandmaster survived the battle, there would have been no question of my dismissal.

At the sound of footsteps, I looked up. Cyrus stood on the other side of the table, watching me.

"Mara."

"Cyrus," I said, acknowledging him with a nod.

For a moment he hesitated. Then he sat down across from me, giving me an earnest look.

"We all wanted to know… What happened during the attack on the Imperial City?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled.

"But–"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!"

He shrunk away from me. I suddenly realized that I was standing. Taking a deep breath, I sat down again. I lay my hands, palms down, against the table and kept my gaze on them.

"I'll leave you be," he said quietly after a short silence. I heard him get up, heard his footsteps receding, and finally the sound of a door opening and closing.

I pushed the plate away, feeling too sick to eat anything. Yes, I was the only one living who remembered what happened that night, but I wished I didn't. I didn't want to remember any of it. I could still see the Dremora stab Baurus. I could still see Martin look back at me before he cast down the Amulet of Kings.

The smell of burning and blood abruptly filled my nose and I staggered to my feet, coughing. I shook my head and the sensation vanished. It was just a memory. Just a memory. I rubbed my forehead and sighed.

Almost without thinking about it, I trudged through the hall to the west wing and up the stairs beyond. I finally realized what I was doing as I stood before the door at the end of the short hallway. My hand hesitated inches from the handle. Did I really want to go in? Could I? There was no one guarding it. Why would there be? There was no one left to guard.

Steeling myself, I pulled the panel open.

It didn't look like anyone had been in there since he left. It was dark; the candles in the fixtures weren't lit and the only light came in through the windows along the southern wall. A layer of gray dust covered every surface. Numerous books still lined the shelves of the bookcase that had always been smaller than he would have liked. I ran my hands over one of the posts at the foot of the bed, fingers tracing patterns in the dust. Biting the inside of my cheek, I tried not to remember how I had once shared that bed with him.

Four years since Martin had died that night in the Imperial City. Four years, and the pain had barely dulled at all. I looked around again and the room blurred slightly as tears welled up in my eyes.

This was going to be my life: an eternity left with nothing but memories of how I'd failed him without even the glimmer of hope that I might see him again after my death.

I sunk to the bedroom floor. My back pressed against the bed and I put my face in my hands as hard sobs wracked my body.

I woke to the sound of distant voices.

My eyelids opened a crack and I gazed around blearily. The barracks were dark and empty. I sat up on my pallet and rubbed my eyes. It was still late, clearly. What was going on? The voices got louder and took on a distinctly worried edge. Hastily scrambling to my feet, I tugged on my boots, threw my cloak over my shoulders, and hurried out the door.

All the Blades stood on the fortress's battlements, facing to the east. Several of them pointed at something. In the distance, over the mountains, I saw a faint light. At first I thought it was the sun, but no. It was like fire. As I continued to watch, I started to make out what looked like clouds of smoke.

No, not smoke. Ash.

In the east.

"What is that?" Someone asked.

"It's the Red Mountain," I gasped.

"Red Mountain? As in the volcano in Morrowind?"

I couldn't answer. It was Red Mountain, I was sure of it. But if we could see the eruption from here, what did Vvardenfell look like? I clapped my hand over my mouth at the thought of all that lava and ash raining down on the island. How many people were dying over there at that very moment? Hundreds. Thousands. My head spun.

The place I'd once called home, the one thing I'd never thought could be lost… gone.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running. I snatched a torch from one of the Blades and raced for the stairs. They shouted after me, calling for me to come back, but I didn't listen. I couldn't stay there. Not anymore. I had to get out.

Years ago I'd planned to go to Skyrim. I stayed at first because of the Crisis, but afterward… I didn't know. My memories held me in Cyrodiil. But Skyrim was where I would go now. I had to start over. It was all too much.

Pale Pass was dark and quiet when I finally made my way out of the caverns. Snow had started to fall and the small white flakes were illuminated by the flickering light of my torch. I just prayed it didn't go out any time soon. Pulling my cloak tighter around myself, I made my way down the rough, darkened trail that led through the pass.

On either side, tall pines loomed over me, their needle-covered arms reaching out through the shadows. Then there were the silhouettes of the old Akaviri statues. In daylight, I'd seen that their faces had worn down over the centuries into nothing but blank masks. I had to be nearing the ruins of the old fortress Countess Carvain had once sent me into in search of the Draconian Madstone. Maybe I could find some shelter in there for the night and set off again come morning.

That was when I heard a growl behind me. It was too loud, too deep to belong to a wolf. I turned around slowly, my heart racing.

In the torchlight I saw it standing some feet away. It stood over ten feet tall. Its skin was a sickly blue color. My eyes kept traveling upward over a thick trunk of a body and massive arms to its boulder of a head. The firelight glinted off of its beady black eyes and sharp yellow teeth as it started down at me. Behind it, all around in the trees, I saw more hulking figures. My eyes widened and I took a step back.

I'd forgotten about the ogres.

The one in front lunged and I took off running. I heard roars behind me, getting closer with every second. They were too big. I couldn't outrun them.

I scrambled up to the top of a nearby boulder, my boots slipping on the ice that coated the dark stone. On the other side was a flat space created by a partially ruined wall. Between them was a dark, narrow crevice. I jumped around it and out onto the wall before glancing around. There was nowhere else to go. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw the ogres clambering up as well. There were six of them. I felt lightheaded at the thought of having to face all of them at once. Breathing hard, I turned to face them and drew my sword.

I struck out at the first with my torch. When it staggered back, away from the flame, I slashed open its stomach with my blade. When it fell to the ground with a low boom, another stepped to take its place.

But the rest were smarter.

Before I knew what was happening, the ogres had surrounded me. One knocked the torch from my hand with a swing. When I stabbed at the creature, it knocked my blade aside as well. I was weaponless. Defenseless. I whirled around, heart pounding with fear.

One of them struck at me and its long, filthy nails tore gouges in my face. When I staggered back, crying out in pain, it slammed its massive fist against my abdomen. I felt something inside me give way beneath the blow. Stars exploded before my eyes. My foot slipped and I fell back, down into the crevice. My leg hit the ground first and there was a loud crack. I let out a scream that was cut off by a choking cough. I felt something wet bubble up onto my lips. Tears of pain filled my eyes.

I was in some kind of small cave made from the collapsed wall of the ruin. From every direction I heard muffled roars just outside the walls. The ogres.

I gasped, crawling backward in the darkness. Every breath I took made my whole abdomen feel like it was full of fire. Burning. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move my leg. It dragged along, limp and agonizing. My head spun, felt heavy. I was losing too much blood. I could taste it like iron on my shaking lips. Choking, I fell back to stare at the dark stone of the cave above me. There was fire in my chest, in my stomach, in my leg, on my skin. Then cold everywhere, crawling in slowly and flickering at the edges of my blackening vision. I fought to breath, fought to see. But there was nothing but the cold overtaking the pain.

I was dying.

But no, no. I couldn't die. Jyggalag made sure of that. If I couldn't die… what would happen to me?

The darkness was pressing in on me and everything was so cold.

I'd never felt so alone.

I struggled to take a breath, then another, and the tears in my eyes finally spilled over. As they did, I felt them start to freeze on my cheeks. Gasping, I did little more than choke on my own blood in my throat. My fingers twitched, longing for a comforting touch, but everyone who could have given it to me was gone. All I had left was myself, and even I was fading.

Divines, forgive me of my sins… Forgive m–

A/N: I'm not done yet. Bitter Faith is coming.