Disclaimer: The Elder Scrools series, Skyrim, and related titles are property of the developers and creatives. Dialogue and Kodlak's journal entries taken from the game via the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages wiki.

Author's note: Close. So close.

Sorry. Excuses. School.

This chapter (which was supposed to be the last) ended up taking both more time AND more space than I anticipated. I completely rewrote what I had on it a few days ago after realizing I hated it, so that's why it took so long. Also I feel like I screwed up some of the last chapter as far as characters go, so this one I try to amend some of that. If it feels disjointed between last chapter and this one, that is why.

The rest of it will be uploaded in a week or so. Just wanted to fling this out there for my own high.

Enjoy. Read. Review.


Fusi Zavna'a Nijrika in Keth

Neither of us say anything as we drag ourselves out of Driftshade Refuge. Vilkas nurses his sword arm like an injured bird and he limps on his left side, but the only thing that passes his lips are short, hot breaths. I hand the reins of my horse to him and he clambers up without complaint. The exhaustion has set in.

As we walk, I scrub at my fur with tuffs of grass. No use, I grumble to myself as I watch the shreds of grass float to the ground, their stems stained red. My nose wrinkles. "Mor kha'jay! Ahziss deqe nojri."

Vilkas grunts in response. I have no doubt he has no idea what I said, but the sentiment comes across as if he had: I need to clean off.

We say nothing further for a long time. My feet pad forward on their own accord, marching to a drum beat I do not recognize. I don't know if I have ever known Vilkas to be so quiet. He and his brother, Farkas, are not known for their words, but neither could be mistaken for valqahlipitha. Those without tongues. With every step, I see him struggling to speak. He rattles like a sword in its sheath, his teeth clattering in his half-opened mouth. I know how he feels. He wants to celebrate the retrieval of the fragments, but with the end of our quest came the reminder of death. Not just of the Silver Hand and the death of the Companions' rivalry with the group, but also of Kodlak's passing.

…what I want more than anything is to get the blood off of me.

For the first time, I feel disgusted in the beast. My stomach still churns and I taste blood at the back of my tongue. I know there is flesh in my stomach, and the very thought makes me sick. Never before had I lost control like that. Lost myself in the beast. Aela had warned me of the risk of losing yourself to the beast, but I had thought those who did were fools. Fumbatena who could not hold onto themselves. But I had done it, and at least in part, understood.

Because after losing Skjor and Garnok and Kodlak… I could see the ease and release in slipping into the beast.

"The first transformation is always the worst." Skjor's words echo in my head, bringing a scornful laugh up from my chest. No, the one you lose yourself is. Your last one.

After some time, Vilkas asks if I want to stop and rest. We have been walking for what remained of the day, and night is descending. The cool evening air whips past my face, carrying with it the scent of water… a river is nearby. I glance down at my hands, still coated in blood. My chest may have started bleeding again, but with all the dried gore I cannot tell.

"There is water, a river or a pond or something, near. I need—" I start.

Vilkas cuts me off. "I know." He pulls the reins of my horse toward the scent of water. "I did not want to press you."

"Thank you." I follow him, my feet finding their dull rhythm again. Sensation is coming back to me, pain drowning out the numbness I feel radiating from my heart. I forgot to replace my boots: my feet are raw and I believe the blood is my own. Something stings on my face and as I bring my hand up, I discover a tear in my ear where I once wore an earring.

The second I see the water, I run. "Oh, thank Talos."

Vilkas laughs somewhat hollowly. As I glance back, he struggles out of the stirrup. His arm has swollen to the point where he must remove his bracers, but his limp is gone. I take a cautious step toward him, my hands raised in assistance, but he only shakes his head.

"Come one step closer to me with your filth and I'll lose what little I've eaten today."

"Understood." I mutter, returning to the water. By the time I finish washing, the water near shore has turned the color of rust. I clamber out of the river, hoisting my body over a rock ledge to avoid stepping on small stones. My feet are bleeding my own blood and the cut in my chest has ripped open. Everything hurts. Even my stomach has become upset once more.

With Vilkas a distance out of ear shot, I clear my stomach again. I need it empty.

What will you do when you transform again? My mind asks.

I cringe at the thought and reject the bile. Throat burning, I coax water from the river into my mouth. Suddenly, I need something to cool the heat in my veins. The thought of the beast's blood mixed with my own sends a tingling sensation from my fingertips up to my elbows.

"He thinks we've been cursed, but we've been blessed."

I have the cure to this curse. I have the cure if I should want it.

"This isn't a curse. There's nothing to cure."

Aela and Skjor's words echo in my skull. I let the water fall through my teeth. Aela would be ashamed if I told her what I'd done… how I feel right now. But if I do not tell her she would be furious. And maybe she can help me make sense of my own head.

Vilkas has set up a fire when I rejoin him. He's bound his arm with leather strips; it will do for now. As I sit, he glances over at me and extends a half-loaf of bread. I take it without a word. Gnawing on the bread takes my mind off the beast. Something cold hits my bare foot, and I look up. Vilkas holds a bottle of liquor aloft.

"You need this."

I do. The liquor burns through the fog in my mind. It's none of that honey-sweet mead stuff, it's good. Strong. Probably mixed up in some sap's cellar, but I don't care.

Vilkas watches as I down half the bottle. "Do you want any help bandaging your wounds? You know restoration magic, don't you?"

I manage to nod while I leave the bottle on my lips. The words… seem less clear now. The actions for the spell. That court wizard at Whiterun would call me a fool. Forgetting the words like a wafiit.

I think I forget to swallow because half the alcohol spills out of my mouth when I try to answer. "I don't think I can recall the words."

Vilkas chuckles, his dark eyes flickering in the firelight. "That's alright, whelp. You need to forget some things tonight. That stuff is stronger than ten orcs."

Pulling the bottle close, I stare at the label as the letters float in my vision. "Jer jetwijijri."

"No, you needed this." Vilkas argues, pulling bandages, one-handed, from my bag. "Besides, everyone knows you ain't no milk-drinker—"

"Jimetiit." My tongue translates. I have to translate every word from his mouth into Ta'agra in my head. Suddenly all the language is slipping away from me.

"Yes, Ja'Kasan. 'Jimetiit.'" He repeats, butchering the word. "You sleep. Forget. We will set off in the morning."

I narrow my eyes at him as I feel my limbs become lead. "Kaaka thjiz qara va." Seeing no harm in it, I raise the bottle and swallow the rest. My brain tingles for a few moments. Even Sanguine has to be impressed at my tolerance.

Then the night hits me like a fist.


I wake with the sun in my eyes and my arms thudding against the hide of my horse. Groaning, I pull myself into a sitting position in the saddle and squint around me. The sun says it is afternoon. I have no clue where we are.

"Ah! You're finally awake!" Vilkas cheers, slapping his hand against my shin. I wince and cling to my horse's neck as I squeeze my eyes shut. Something tickles my whiskers and I peek with one eye. Vilkas has shoved some grass in my face. "Chew on this. It'll keep you from vomitting."

"Why do I feel like that would be a good decision?" I mutter, taking the plants. In that moment, I expect the night to come back to me. I've dealt with my fair share of hangovers, even the black outs I'll remember the next day.

But nothing comes.

We walk on for a while longer, me chewing on grass and Vilkas humming some old Nord song, before I have to ask, "What happened? I don't… I do not remember last night."

Vilkas falls silent, the only sound coming from the stone crunching under the horse's hooves. Even nature has taken an interest in his answer. "We will be in Whiterun soon."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Nay, and you wouldn't like it." He glances up at me, his dark eyes overcast by the cloudless sky. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"Kodlak… is dead…" I mutter, feeling my mind strain for lost thoughts. "And… we… Wuuthrad …" My eyes open completely, "I–the beast—did something… bad."

"Depends how you look at it," Vilkas sighs. "I won't tell you unless you ask whelp, but you were not happy with the beast."

"Did I say that?" I ask, rubbing my temple.

A grunt. "When you were… indisposed." He pauses. "Do you want to know?"

Closing my eyes, I press my cheek against the neck of my horse. The creature's sweat is a familiar scent and feels like an anchor in the midst of my troubled mind. I remember wanting to talk to Aela about something… something with the beast. The sensation of shame numbs my fingertips.

"The Silver Hand are gone. It was me." I state. Not a question. Queasiness rocks my stomach. "I don't want to know."

"Okay…" Metal screeches against metal as he scratches the back of his neck. "But after… after Kodlak's funeral, if you do not remember, I will tell you. You have to gain control over the beast and I am afraid only fear will help you."

"That must be why I wanted to talk to Aela," I mutter. Either Vilkas does not hear or he pretends not to.

We arrive in Whiterun as the sun begins to graze the mountains. Whiterun still has not caught its breath, and feels paused in time. No one walks outside their shops, and even the Talos wailer is silent in the Wind District.

When we reach Jorrvaskr, Vilkas stops. "We should both clean off. Join us at the pyre when you are ready." He takes a step and stops, "Oh, Aela should have your ceremonial armor. See her first." A hint of a smile plays on his lips but before I can even narrow my eyes, he's walked inside the doors.

I follow and make my way down to Aela's quarters. A few other Companions file past me as I walk, dressed in armor I know they've hardly worn: either trophies or ceremonial. Athis claps me on the shoulder as he walks by. As much as it was revenge for Kodlak, it was revenge for him to, for what the Silver Hand had done to all of us. I barely move fast enough to stop him. He raises an area of his skin that used to host an eyebrow, and I quickly grab a silver sword from my bag. Pressing the blade into his hand, I search his face for validation... acknowledgement. Something like satisfaction stretches across his taunt face. Athis slips the sword into his belt and continues up the stairs.

As I enter the sleeping quarters, I see Aela sitting on the edge of my bed. She wears a set of wolf armor, nearly identical to my own, and it gleams in the torchlight. Her head raises as she hears me approach. She stands, her face stoic.

"What happened to you?" She asks, the old bitterness in her voice.

I touch the ear she's staring at and feel crusted blood around a tear where my piercing used to be. Frowning, I look down and notice a large cut on my chest has broken open and blood dribbles through my traveling shirt.

Aela takes my hand. "Come on, wafiit. Let's get you fixed up."

Before I can argue, she pushes me down into a chair in her room and pulls my shirt over my head. As she dabs a wet cloth over the cut on my chest, I grit my teeth. "Ouch!" I breathe. The cloth is soaked in alcohol.

"Shota zavozay!" Aela hisses, commanding me to stay still when I flinch. "Are you going to tell me what happened? You usually heal yourself."

My eyebrows knit together and one of my hands goes to my brow. "I don't really remember." I pause, feeling dread sink into my heart. Suddenly I do remember. Aela barely gets out of the way as I push past and empty my stomach into a kettle along the wall. "Talos…" I moan, spitting out bile. "Oh gods I—"

"Hush." Aela says, quickly shutting the door. A curious young blood had peered into her room.

I cradle the kettle into my stomach and squeeze my eyes shut. "Aela, I lost it. The beast—it's never been like that. I mean, with Skjor, I had it under control. I think… I think I lost it with Dar'Garnok. Talos, Aela… I can't do this anymore."

She kneels beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I don't want to look at her, fearing disappointment in her eyes.

"I killed… devoured… a farmer and his wife." Aela says suddenly, her voice steady. "I… it was early in my transformation. I loved letting the beast loose at night, running the countryside. But this one night… I strayed too close to the road while tracking a bear. The beast just saw them as more prey." I look at Aela and her eyes have lost focus, perhaps reliving that night. "I threw up for nearly a week, and then every time I thought about it." She squeezes my shoulder. "If we are not careful, we forget. We forget that while we and the beast are one, we cannot let it take over our minds.

"It's easier if it does, I know that, Kasan. I know with everything that's happened to you in this last year that nothing feels better than to surrender control, but you cannot do that. None of us can have that luxury."

"Maybe Kodlak was right," I mutter, "maybe this is a curse." I can feel Aela tense beside me, and I regret my words. But she does not leave my side. Squeezing my eyes shut, I rest my head against the lip of the kettle. "Garnok told me once that Hircine and Malacath were just different powers, that the gifts we have are just different. Nothing to be ashamed of." I laugh. "If only he realized."

Aela says nothing.

"Do you think it works? Kodlak's cure?" I can't help but ask. I need to hear her thoughts.

She takes a few moments. "Yes. I have no doubts. The second he went to you about his far-flung cure, I knew." Her hand falls. "And whatever you want to do, Ja'Kasan," the addition of my honorific hurts me, "I will support you in it. But think carefully on it."

My question hurt her, I can tell. She rises quickly and her feet click against the stone as she crosses the room. I rinse my mouth with what ale is left in my travel bag and stand too.

"Aela, wait. I didn't mean—"

She turns, her gaze silencing me. "For one cautious of tongue, you have let too much of your mind out through your organ. I do not blame you for what you said, but you know how I feel. This… this is a gift to me."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I didn't… you must be so ashamed of me."

"Ashamed?" Aela crosses her arms, demanding explanation.

"I let myself become an animal. Let Hircine's gift become a curse."

She shakes her head. "You were always going to have trouble with your transformations, I could see that from your first. And with so much anger… Kasan, I am not ashamed of you," Aela takes a step toward me, her arm lifting a little as if to take my hand, "but I am sad. Sad that you had to go through it."

"Me too." I mutter, walking over to where my ceremonial wolf armor lay out on her bed. Taking the wolf helmet (identical to the one I usually wear but absent of dents) in my hands, I feel a surge of the beastblood. Power and anger mix into a deadly cocktail in my veins. The air is cooler, scents sharper. Aela's heartbeat sounds as if it is in my ear. Everything feels more real with the heat in my blood.

But the nausea is there too, reminding me of what I did. A tired rage bubbles beneath the surface, one that itches for a fight it knows will one day come.

Aela places a hand between my shoulder blades. "Not even a full day has passed. You are allowed to feel however you do." Reaching down, she picks up my chest plate. "Come. The others are waiting."

I look down at her, and my heart drops. She does her best to smile but the last two days have been hard on her too. Kodlak, very much like her father, has died. She was left to care for his body as two of her shield-brothers went to retrieve Wuuthrad and avenge Kodlak's death. Bodies of the Silver Hand had to be disposed of, the witches' heads hidden. She has not even had a moment to grieve when I return with news of my personal failure and distaste of the beast.

I am afraid that in my need for a strong hand to help carry me through I have pushed her away. But Aela is so important to me. All the banter, the hunting, the learning from each other… Aela is most of my world. Even when I was gone mourning Skjor, I thought about her. Now, I never want to leave her side. Without a doubt, I love her.

And I have to know she's okay. "Are you ready to join the others? Jer do?"

Her half-smile falters for a second before she looks at the ground. I take the chest plate from her and set it aside.

"I'm here for you, Aela. You do not have to be strong today."

"Wafa Kasan." Aela growls, yanking me close and burying her face in my neck. Her breath whispers through my fur, like the air before a summer rain. I wrap my arms around her and allow her to press into me. "Na do. The man who practically raised me is dead, and we could not even do for him his last request." Her words become choked, but she pushes through. "There has to be something we can do." Aela pulls back and shakes her head. "But for now we must send him off."

I brush my fingers across her cheek. "Your heart is so big. Ahziss isha jaji eja jer." I'm not sure if she catches what I have said, that I have just slipped and used the word "isha" to say I admired her heart… isha which means "to love" in Ta'agra. My muscles freeze and I watch her face cautiously, but she only closes her eyes and smiles.

"You are kind, Kasan. Somehow, even after being the idiot you are, you know what to say." Aela turns toward the door as if she hears something from above. "After this is all over, I am buying us enough drinks so we both slip under the table."

I grin. "I look forward to it."

"Good," Aela looks back at me. "Now dress, milk-drinker."

"You go on ahead," I say, grabbing my greaves from the bed. "I'll get dressed quick."

"Do you not need help?"

I shake my head. "Everyone expects me to be late, I always am." Aela shrugs and walks toward the door. "Besides, I have to take everything that I am currently wearing off."

Aela turns back with a slight smirk on her face. "Kasan, you act as if I have never seen you naked."


As I walk to the Skyforge, I see the Companions and half the town gathered on the stone. Kodlak's body sits atop an unlit funeral pyre, clothed in his ceremonial armor. His Warhammer lays clutched in his hands over his chest. A lump forms in my throat, and I barely make it up the last step. Kodlak seems so life-like. His wounds are cleaned and covered, his eyes closed as if in sleep.

But he is gone.

Aela stands closest to the pyre, her face like stone. The brief moment of humor I saw from her earlier has since evaporated. Now the time of grief has come.

Eorlund Gray-Mane approaches the pyre and speaks, "Who will start?"

Aela takes a deep breath, "I'll do it." There is some shuffling as the mourners rearrange themselves. I find myself standing beside Farkas at the end. Aela raises her torch and begins the ancient rite: a call and response between her, the speaker, and us, the mourners. "Before the ancient flame…"

"We grieve."

"At this loss…"

"We weep."

Vilkas steps forward, "For the fallen…"

"We shout."

Farkas clenches his fist beside me, his eyes shining. He says his line through clenched teeth, "And for ourselves…"

"We take our leave."

The wind blows, but no other sound is made. Aela places her torch on the funeral pyre and steps back. We stand silent for a long time, watching the pyre catch light. "His spirit is departed. Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together."

The crowd departs like whispers of smoke. I take a few steps toward Aela, who stands in front of the pyre, her eyes locked on the flames. Her arms fold over her chest and wrap around her sides. I want to put my hand on her shoulder and draw her close. With the formal ceremony done, she will need time to mourn in her own way.

But before I reach her, a hand pulls at my elbow. I turn to see Eorlund, his eyes red. He grunts before speaking, trying out his voice so it does not break. "So boy, did you get the fragments?"

"Uhhh…" I peer around his shoulder to see Aela glance in my direction. She turns away hastily. "…yes. Yes, we retrieved them."

Eorlund nods. "Good, good. There is one last favor I have of you. Kodlak always kept a shard in his room, I'll need that to complete the weapon. I would get it myself but…"

"I understand," I interrupt him. No one has set foot in Kodlak's room since his death. "I will get it for you."

"Thank you, Ja'Kasan." He says. I think it's the first time he's ever used my name.

Eorlund steps away, and once again I see Aela looking at me. I gesture with my hand for her to follow. Perhaps visiting his quarters will help her. Also, I do not wish to go alone. Kodlak was the first Nord to truly show me kindness, to give me a chance in Skyrim. Seeing him lain out in his final sleep has left a bitter taste in my mouth. We—I— had failed him. He wasn't cured in time, and it was my fault. If only I'd been faster… maybe he would be in Sovngarde.

As she comes alongside me, I explain what Eorlund has asked. "No one has touched his quarters yet." Aela says, her voice oddly flat. "I did not know he had a fragment of Wuuthrad hidden there."

I nod. When we reach his quarters, I feel as if eyes are watching me. The dresser stares accusingly at me, an open book asking where I had been.

This is the one they call Ja'Kasan, they say, only present when he is no longer needed.

"It's so… quiet," Aela mutters.

I hold back my scoff. The room roars in my ears.

She walks toward the far wall and begins to search. Every item she turns over with delicate care, as if each were an eggshell. I envy her ability to compartmentalize her feelings. Mine always seem to crash into one another.

After a few moments of watching her, I start my own search. I walk over to his bed and peer under the straw mattress, under the bed itself. The end table looks more promising, so I open the drawer. A fragment of Wuuthrad slides across a journal and thuds against the wooden walls of the drawer. Removing it carefully, I stare at the journal. Before I can stop myself, I have picked it up and have started skimming through it.

"Did you find something?" Aela asks, suddenly at my side.

"It's Kodlak's journal," I mutter, sitting on his bed. Skipping to the last few pages, I read it aloud for Aela.

"In my dream, I see the line of Harbingers start with Ysgramor. Each of them ascends to Sovngarde, until we come to Terrfyg, who first turned us to the ways of the beast. He tries to enter Sovngarde, but before he can even approach Tsun, he is set upon by a great wolf, who pulls him into the Hunting Grounds, where Hircine laughs with welcoming arms.

"Terrfyg seems regretful, but also eager to join Hircine after a lifetime of service as a beast.

"Then I see every next Harbinger turn away from Sovngarde and enter the Hunting Grounds of their own accord. Until it comes to me, and I see great Tsun on the misty horizon, beckoning me. It appears I have a choice. And then, at my side, a stranger I had not seen before. As I look into his eyes, we turn to see the same wolf who dragged away Terrfyg, and he and I draw weapons together.

"I realize this is only a dream, but a strong enough dream to inspire a man like me to take to writing, so it must be of some import."

Aela takes the book from my hands and narrows her eyes. "This stranger… who is? Is it you?" She flips a few pages and begins reading. "I've spoken of my thoughts to the Circle, withholding the part about the stranger lest Skjor worry I will no longer seek his counsel, and I was not surprised to see them torn by it. Skjor and Aela are strong in the ways of the beast, and even seemed to suggest that the Hunting Grounds would be their choice of afterlife, if it were truly a choice.

"Vilkas seemed most troubled. The boy is as fierce as a sabre cat in battle, but his heart's fire burns too brightly at times. He felt deceived, and I don't blame him. Farkas didn't know what to think, but I believe he will come around with me and his brother eventually. He usually does.

"I don't know what to do about Skjor and Aela. I know they respect the Companions, and me, but they take to the blood more deeply than the rest of us…." Aela stops and frowns. "I did not realize Kodlak wished to cleanse me of the blood." I see her teeth clench. "How dare he try to make that decision for me? I knew he disliked my hunting, but I thought it was his own squeamishness, not a disdain for who I was!"

I think for a moment of what to say. "I don't think that is what he meant, Aela. Kodlak wanted the best for you, he was just short-sighted… he could not see how what you wanted was different than his own desires." I laugh, "I think it was the Nord in him. How any Nord could refuse Sovngarde was beyond his comprehension."

Aela chuckled. "The old man was stuck in his ways. I respected him for it, however." She looked back down at the journal and tapped an entry. "Oh! Kasan, it's you!"

I peer over her shoulder and continue reading.

"…While Vilkas was confiding, through the shadows of Jorrvaskr, I saw a newcomer approach, who wished to join our numbers. It was the stranger from my dream, the one who would stand with me against the beast. Vilkas began speaking obliquely, not wishing to air our problems in front of our guest, and I had to be doubly cautious to not reveal anything of our secrets to the newcomer while also not revealing the details of my dream to Vilkas. I don't know how the politicians deal with these sorts of machinations daily.

"In any case, I've sent Vilkas to test the newcomer. We'll see if he is truly the great warrior I dreamt of."

I blink in surprise. "How are you sure it's—"

"Wait, there's more," Aela interrupts. "…This newcomer, it seems, is made of decent stock. He calls himself Ja'Kasan, and has already impressed some of the Circle with his mettle. I still keep my own counsel on his place in my dream, for now. Let us see what kind of destiny he is carving before hitching to him." She skips a page. "Ja'Kasan continues to impress. I don't know yet where he will stand on the question of the blood, but the question has not been presented yet. He does know that we carry the beastblood, and appears curious about it. Soon enough, I can explain our troubles, and hopefully see what role he will play."

"Okay," I sigh. "Maybe it is me. I didn't realize he thought so highly of me."

"We all do." Aela says.

I turn back the page she skipped and read it aloud. "In the meanwhile, I look for ways of cleansing my blood. The writings and legends on the subject are sparse and contradictory. I don't wish to engage any wizardry on this matter, but I fear they may be the only ones who best know how to navigate these worlds of knowledge.

"It's apparent to me now that Terrfyg's choice to turn us was indeed a mistake. Magics and their ilk are not in keeping with the spirit of the Companions. We face our problems directly, without the needs of such trickery. I can only hope to guide us back to the true path of Ysgramor before the rot takes me."

I am surprised by the harshness in Kodlak's tone. Aela seems stunned as well, so I try to lighten the mood. "He would've been so proud knowing I joined the Thieves Guild."

Aela laughs. Truly, happily, laughs. "You are such a wafiit. If Kodlak had caught you, he would have thrown you in Dragonreach's prison himself."

"One of the Guild asked me once to steal something from Jorrvaskr," her laughter is contagious, "I asked him if he'd come to my funeral."

She snorts. "We could've had a Khajiiti rug!"

"Just imagine, every Companion for the next hundred years could look into my glass eyes and say 'What an idiot.'" I sigh. "At least I'd be known for something."

"The Greybeards would be furious."

"They could find a new Dragonborn, I'm sure. It's not like I'm the last." I say sarcastically.

It takes several minutes for both of us to stop, and by the time we do, both of us are crying. Not so much sad… but exhausted and happy and nostalgic tears. Aela finally takes several deep breaths and turns to the last page in Kodlak's journal.

"I'm amazed that Aela thinks she can keep a secret among this drunken rabble. Especially with the loss of Skjor (my heart aches), emotions are fraying, and the walls of discretion are the first to fall.

"Apparently she and Ja'Kasan are waging their own separate war against the Silver Hand, in retaliation for Skjor's death. Their hearts are noble, but the course of vengeance is running hot, and I fear the counterstroke that may come if they do not rein in their fury…"

Aela trails off. "I should have known he knew. You could not fool that old man." With a shake of her head, she continues. "Ja'Kasan shows valor, though, even in this more underhanded time. We have not had cause to speak much, and that is something I deeply regret. I have high hopes for his destiny, as I realized that his appearance in my dream may indeed mark him as the—" she stops.

I pick up where she left off, "—Harbinger to succeed me." Aela glances up at me. "Oh. I did not realize… why me?"

Aela shrugs. "Who knows what the old man was thinking at the end. I think he saw you as something new… new blood to purify the old and set forth a new path. Though we did not agree on everything, I think Kodlak and I agreed on that: the Companions had become stale. Your arrival marked new growth and life."

I don't know how to respond to this, so I finish reading Kodlak's entry.

"I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Ja'Kasan can carry the Companions' legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Only Ja'Kasan stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts…"

Frowning to not let any emotions bleed onto my face, I read over that last sentence again in my head. I guess I have my answer now.

"…I will not speak to him of any of this, though. It is too much to burden another with. My hope is that he and I can keep counsel over the coming years, that I can impart the wisdom of the Harbingers. All things in time. Firstly, I will seek his assistance in the matter of the witches of Glenmoril. It would appear that our path to the cure is not without some poetic justice for the tricksters who first cursed us." I finish.

"And justice was done," Aela says as she closes Kodlak's journal. "Come on, let's get the fragment to Eorlund. I think I have an idea."


Ta'agra translations courtesy of the Ta'agra Project:

Fusi Zavna'a Nijrika in Keth - Regrettable Actions Bathed in Blood, the title of this chapter.

Mor kha'jay! Ahziss deqe nojri - Dark moons! (an oath) I need to wash off.

valqahlipitha - literally "absent tongues", translated to "those without tongues" as a phrase. Ta'agra is like German where modifiers are strung onto the front of nouns.

Fumbatena - literally "slow-paws", a Ta'agra phrase for stupid.

wafiit - idiot.

Jer jetwijijri - You shaveskin/cut-skin. An insult to non-khajiit.

Jimetiit - milk-drinker

Kaaka thjiz qara va - What a foolish cat (derogatory) I am.

Shota zavozay! - Hold still! Literally: Hold motionless!

Jer do? - Are you okay?

Na do. -Literally: I am not well. Used as: I'm not okay.

Ahziss isha jaji eja jer - I love that about you

The next chapter will modify the time table of the game, which has Eorlund magically create Wuuthrad in three seconds. Then, and I actually mean it this time, that will be the last chapter.