Veria spent an increasing amount of time on her back, staring up into nothing and feeling as if she was floating among the clouds. She no longer worked for food and lodging. She worked for skooma. In the first few weeks she was in Kynesgrove, and she still had wit enough to know she had to eat.
Eventually, though, her appetite gave way to thirst for the sweet crystals of Elsweyr. Every time she sunk out of the euphoria she felt slower and heavier than before, and working in the mines of Kynesgrove soon became impossible for her.

She lent help on the farm and to the blacksmith, but it wasn't long until the people of the village became aware of her habit. She chased Khajiit caravans, pawned her weapons and other trinkets, even once lent her flesh in exchange for a single bottle.
The only thing she kept close was her leather armor. She felt naked without some kind of protection, even under the pink haze.

Eventually, even the joys of skooma began to dwindle. Veria noticed every time she woke from its influence that less and less time had passed. The euphoria was dampening, and becoming more brief. She started consuming multiple bottles at once, and although it revived the ecstasy for a short while, it ate away at her quickly. Her flesh clung to her skin like a wet rag. Reddish shadows stained the skin under her eyes, and even her hair lost its luster.

It was the trembling that drove her mad. Without skooma in her throat, her body protested and convulsed in need of it. She felt true dread when even under the influence of two doses, the shaking persisted. She begged dealers for more, but she cleaned them out. One of them, a young man who had a thing or two to gain from the situation, let Veria in on a little secret.

Redwater Den felt like a blessing from Talos himself. Somewhere in the wilds of the Rift was a broken down shack that no one would have taken a second look at. But thanks to the word of merciful seller Veria knew what to say to the guard at the door. She was lead down the stairs to the basement where in exchange for a few septims she was handed a small, red vial of Redwater skooma.

It glimmered like a ruby in her hands, and she had never been so dazzled in her life. Time melted around her as she sunk into the sweet, crimson perfumes. She felt light again, and all manners of pleasure seeped into her. It was a sharper, spicier kind of feeling than what normal skooma gave her, but there was also something darker about it. Beyond the red trails of steam there was blackness that seemed endless, as if all semblance of place had dissolved with the skooma crystals.

Veria lay on her back, staring up into the blackness above her and watching the trails of red steam weave between each other like ribbons dancing in the wind. The shadows shifted and converged on one another. The ribbons tangled together and slipped from each other as if caught in a dance. From the shadows above her, he descended. Tulian's face, his scales, even his smell was upon her.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and his wordless whispers in her ears. She reached up to touch him, and it was as if he had never left. Her fingers passed over his face and neck. She felt the cool, familiar touch of this scales. In her chest, a yearning rose that was so strong it hurt, and her eyes took to passing tears down her temples and into her hair.

"Tulian," she whimpered through her tears. "Please stay. Please..."
He held her face in his palm and gazed sorrowfully into her eyes. He looked pained; on the verge of tears.
"Veria," he whispered. Veria almost cried out at the sound of her name on Tulian's lips once again. His voice echoed in the blackness despite its softness. It felt otherworldly, as if it didn't belong in the ears of those still living on the mortal plane.
"Veria," Tulian whispered again, his eyes quivering with sorrow she had never seen in him before. "You should not be here."

Veria's voice rose and shook with rising hysteria. "I don't know what to do, Tulian. Every time I think of you it hurts. Nothing means anything, there's nothing I can I do, I don't..." She didn't know what she was saying. She stumbled over the words she babbled, lost in sorrow and confusion.
Tulian hushed her gently and brushed his fingers over her forehead.
"Get up," he said. "There are still things you must do."

"Tulian?" His touch grew looser, and he seemed to be rising further away. She tried to pull him back, but her hands passed through him like smoke. "Let me go with you, Tulian." His form was melting. Veria stretched up and grasped at him desperately, but there was nothing she could do to stop him fading back into the shadows. She cried out for him, but her voice sounded far away.
Suddenly, a void opened up beneath her and in a rush of air like a gasp it swallowed the fumes, the shadows, and Veria's body entirely.

Her eyes snapped open.

The influence of the skooma had passed. She was once again in Redwater Den, and everything was still. The only sound were the aroused moans of the addicts around her, and the soft hiss of steam as it rose to the rafters.
Veria pushed herself up, feeling as heavy as iron. Her head felt ready to burst, and she pressed her fingers into her temples in search of relief. The itch returned in a matter of minutes. She thought that if she could get a bit more skooma, maybe Tulian would come back to her.

Just one more vial, she thought. That was all she needed. Just one more.
But she had no more gold. Nothing to bargain with. She was thrown out immediately when she couldn't pay, and no amount of beating at the door helped.

You should not be here.

His words echoed in her mind as she stumbled away from the run-down shack. If not here, she thought, then where?

There are still things you must do.

What kind of things? What could possibly be asked of her now, in this state? She was weak and useless. She had nothing but the leather on her back. Sithis couldn't possibly want her back, not after she abandoned the Brotherhood and ran from his grasp. If she died, she wondered if she would even be welcomed into the Void. Sovngarde would never have her, and she had no loyalty to any of the other gods, daedra or otherwise.

Veria concluded that even in death, she'd be lost. She'd likely wander the trails of Skyrim as a silvery specter for all eternity, forever restless.
She thought through all this as she picked her way through the wilderness. A hungry wolf spotted her, but like all predators knew not to eat of diseased prey, and moved on. Veria stumbled across the cobblestone road rather accidentally, and decided to take a rest there on the ground.

The jitters grew strong, and Veria was soon shaking as if a cold wind was blowing by.
You shouldn't be here.
She fought to think through the thirst, and considered her dream. Was is simply a dream, she wondered, or a vision? Did Tulian speak to her beyond the grave or was it simply a product of her agonized, deluded mind?

Whatever it was, it left Veria wondering what Tulian would think of her now. What would Astrid say, she wondered. What would Tulian do?
"He'd lock me away," she mumbled to herself. "He'd slap me and lock me up until this shaking passed..."
She didn't need to be locked up. She had no more money, no way to get more skooma.

Veria decided she needed food. Something to smother the thirst. She walked as straight as she could and devoured any berries and healthy herbs she could find along the road. The thirst persisted, but Veria refused to let it overtake her. She was going to need real food eventually, she knew, but she was too dulled to hunt successfully, let alone to build a fire and shelter.

A town, she thought. A city or village is what she needed. She didn't quite know where she was but the road would take her to one eventually. When she got there, though, she'd need money.
In a stroke of fortune she almost thanked Talos for, she spotted a traveler ahead of her. He was heading the opposite direction, coming towards her. Perfect, she thought.

There was a bridge between them, and as Veria stepped onto it she tried very hard to seem harmless. She walked straight and clenched her fists to quell the shakes. She squinted ahead. The stranger was clad not in armor but fine robes, as if he was a noble. Excellent, she thought. Easy pickings.
They were only a few paces apart now. Veria stretched her fingers. She was out of practice, but the years of pickpocketing still hid in her bones somewhere. She simply had to dig it out again.

Five steps away, Veria glanced to the side to seem uninterested in the stranger. Two steps, she angled her hand. One step, she bent her elbow. The coin purse attached to his belt passed by her hip. This gold would get her food in the next town. Hot bread, a mug of mead, and some steaming meat. Maybe, she thought. She could have just a tiny bit of skooma with it.
Now. She struck, slipping her hand into the fold and dipping into the stacks of gold within.

But she was slow and clumsy. The instant she moved the stranger roared and grabbed her by the wrist. "HEY!" he bellowed. "How dare you!" He wrenched her by the wrist, dislocating her shoulder and smashing her into the ground. It was only now that she realized her target had been a finely dressed orc.
Fool, she cursed at herself inwardly. How could she not notice such a thing?

Veria tried to grab at him but she was uncoordinated and sluggish. Her muscles were still intact but the skooma had taken its toll on her reflexes. There was nothing she could do as the orc picked her up, threw her, and beat her into a bloody mess. Her ribs cracked, several bones were broken, and blood caked her eyes and mouth. The orc was furious. He wouldn't let up.
Finally, Veria was on the verge of unconsciousness.

The orc picked up what remained of her and held her over his head. With a roar of anger he threw her over the side of the bridge and into the cold, angry waters of Lake Honrich below.