Judiiz left early the next morning after fitfully turning around on her cot most of the night. Around midmorning, she found Sorine Jurard's satchel full of Dwemer gears and gyros first before cresting a small hill by the river and finding the Breton woman assiduously chipping away at petrified remains around a small Dwarven ruin. After some inquiring, people had pointed her in the general direction of 'east of Druadach Redoubt and south of Darkfall Cave' and she'd eventually found the place. At first Sorine was disinclined to just leave everything.

"Isran? Wants me? No, you must be mistaken. He made it exceedingly clear the last time we spoke that he had no interest in my help. I find it hard to believe he's changed his mind. He said some very hurtful things to me before I left." She'd continued pursueing her interest in Dwemer technology. Judiiz, although not surprised by the way Isran had discarded her, explained the situation and mentioned the Elder Scroll, and the short pleasant Breton agreed to meet her in Dayspring Canyon. She continued her search, eventually gaining information later in the day from two hunters out scouting for deer near a small spring overlooking a breathtaking valley. They'd spotted a burly Nord at Clearspring Tarn, southwest of Mistwatch, very close. For some reason she'd dreaded her meeting with him, expecting to find another Isran waiting for her, but she was pleasantly surprised by his less-staunch demeanour, keen intelligence and relaxed attitude. He was also one of the very few people Judiiz had encountered with ruddy hair and beard, though not as bright as her own.

After explaining the reasons for searching him out, she just sighed in resignation when he grumbled, ""Isran? Needing someone else's help? Never thought I'd hear that. I'm afraid he's a few years too late. I've moved on." Another erstwhile associate considered superfluous. At least Isran was consistent. She agreed to assist him in killing a cave bear that would have proven dangerous to others and he in turn agreed to accompany her to the Dawnguard hideout to join up with Sorine, whom he appeared to know quite well, if only to find out what Isran wanted. On the way, he explained to her that his family had also been killed by vampires, much like Isran's, but it seemed as though he'd rather chosen to defend others from vampire attacks than take the path of revenge, which Judiiz instantly found deserving of respect. What a Dawnguard leader he would have made! It was near evening when they joined up with Sorine at the abandoned fishing spot in the canyon and after a joyful reunion between the big Nord and the Breton, they continued on to the fort. At least some progress had been made; there was a newly constructed and sturdy gate in place and two Dawnguard members out patrolling. Maybe Judiiz' rant the day before bore some fruit. She felt buoyant for a change, opening the great doors for her two newest companions. There was improvement, she'd made two new possible friends and even Helgen seemed more at the back of her mind lately. They barely made it into the large foyer before Isran barked at them from the upstairs balcony to stay where they were and all the gates around them slammed shut, effectively locking them in. They were bathed in concentrated magickal sunlight, nearly blinding them.

"What are you doing, Isran!" Sorine shouted in outrage, shielding her eyes with her arm. Judiiz had to agree, pre-emptive measures were one thing, but this was quite some reception of old acquaintances!

"Making sure you're not vampires. Can't be too careful," Isran returned self-righteously and ended the sunlight-spell. Gunmar was not thrilled in the least though.

"Still an ass, aren't you? Now what do you want?"

Isran's eyebrows arched, not quite expecting his sharp retort. "I'm sure you've heard a bit of what we're up against," he continued without preamble. "Powerful vampires, unlike anything we've seen before. And they have an Elder Scroll. If anyone is going to stand in their way, it's going to be us."

"Nice speech, and nothing we haven't heard already," Sorine cut in, making Judiiz smirk, "but do we actually know anything about what they're doing? What do we do now?"

"We'll get to that. For now, get acquainted with the space. Sorine, you'll find room to start your tinkering on that crossbow design you've been working on. Gunmar, there's an area large enough for you to pen up some trolls, get them armored up and ready for use." He turned and glowered down at Judiiz. "In the meantime, we're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for you," he shook a finger at her. "Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?"

A vampire? Here? Who would … oh no. She hoped Isran didn't do something exceedingly stupid, even for him. Judiiz took the spiral stairs two at a time to get to the top, nearly skidding around the next corner, only to slip and stumble down … right … in front of …

A torture rack, straps bloody and stretched.

Knives, saws and pincers spread out on a stained table.

A cruel, spiked clamp, blood dripping from it.

Glistening skulls lining shelves on the wall.

No, not again … nonononononooo!

She staggered backwards, her eyes unfocused with terror. Her mouth opened to scream, to beg, but only a high-pitched whine emerged. The balcony's railing slammed painfully into her lower back. She gasped, kept on panting for air, slapped at the hands reaching for her …

"Judiiz!" Cool hands enfolded hers with unnatural strength, but why did they also seem gentle? She tried to pull away feebly but she was trapped.

"Judiiz! Look at me!" a woman's voice penetrated through the fog of torment and dismay in her mind and she opened her eyes, looked into … smouldering embers, gentle and very concerned. Serana?

"Yes, it's me," the vampire confirmed lightly and she realised that she must have spoken her name. "Come on, breathe easy. It's okay," Serana tried to soothe her. What had just happened? Why would a torture chamber upset her to this degree? Surely she'd known of its existence here? The girl's breathing was slowly returning to normal and she'd stopped shaking, prompting the vampire to let go of her hands. Serana gripped one of her shoulders and bendt at the knee slightly to look into her downturned eyes.

"Better now?" Judiiz took a moment before her fiery tresses bobbed once. "Are you alright to …" Serana indicated the room behind her and the red curls shook sideways sharply. She's … as a frightened child, not willing to go back into a dark room. "Alright, we'll stay here," Serana assured her and sky-blue eyes radiated gratitude and … shame, lifting momentarily to meet her gaze before flitting sideways. This was not the same woman she'd met a few days ago; how could that have changed so abruptly? Isran chose that moment to emerge from his bedroom, his bedroom right next to his own torture chamber, Judiiz frowned, his scowl twisting his mouth into a snarl.

"What's the matter now?" he demanded impatiently, eyeing Serana with barely veiled disgust. "I ordered you to wait in the interrogation room. Did you not hear or understand?"

"We will talk here," Serana told him softly, but with steel lining her words and he shrugged.

"Suit yourself." By now Judiiz had composed herself to a degree that he was oblivious to what had occurred and he turned to her, fists on his hips.

"This … vampire," he sneered, "showed up while you were away. I'm guessing it's the one you found in Dimhollow Crypt, says it's got something important to say to you." He turned his body slightly towards Serana but his gaze remained locked on Judiiz. "So let's hear it." Serana looked at Judiiz and satisfied that she was once again herself she cleared her throat.

"You probably weren't expecting to see me again," she directed her words at the slight woman. Judiiz shook her head minutely, still refusing to speak. "I'd also rather it'd not been here," Serana lifted her hands elegantly, indicating the fort, "but I needed to talk to you. It's important, so please just listen before your 'friend' here," and Serana's intonation was not lost on Judiiz, "loses his patience. It's... well, it's about me," she admitted almost self-consciously, "and the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

"What … about you?" Judiiz broke her silence, her voice small.

"The reason I was down there," Serana explained, "and the reason why I had the Elder Scroll. It all comes down to my father. I'm guessing you figured this part out already, but my father's not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards." Her father. Harkon. The carnage in the dining hall. How did this fort suddenly come to feel the same? Judiiz wondered to herself. "He wasn't always like that though. There was …" she sighed, "a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophesy and he just kind of lost himself in it."

"Lost himself?" Judiiz prompted, her voice a bit stronger.

"He just became absorbed, obsessed. It was kind of sick, actually. The prophesy says that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. For someone who fancied himself as vampire royalty, that's pretty seductive. Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's … why I was sealed away with the Scroll."

"Such a risk," Judiiz noted kindly, "coming here."

"I know," Serana admitted, her rosy lips curling into a shy smile, "But something about you … makes me think I can trust you. I … hope I'm not wrong."

"You're not," Judiiz confirmed softly. "But others might not …"

"Alright, this is getting to a point where my stomach is starting to turn," Isran interjected rudely. "You've heard what it has to say. Now tell me – is there any reason I shouldn't kill this blood-sucking fiend right now?"

"Vik hefah!" (Damn idiot!) Judiiz exclaimed under her breath, causing the vampire's amber orbs to narrow. Now what was this? How could she know that language? This girl was … quite an enigma … "Your hate!" Judiiz accused. "Just … see the larger picture!"

"My hatred is what keeps me strong!" Isran retorted, outraged.

"Fine! You don't trust Serana. I get it! I trust her. I believe her! Trust me then." Momentarily taken aback by Judiiz' ferocity, Isran was silent for a few heartbeats before thrusting his finger at her.

"You'd better know what you are doing. It can stay for now, but if it so much as lays a finger on anyone here, I'll hold you responsible. Got it?" He swung on Serana, his finger still accusingly rigid in front of him. "You hear me? Don't feel like a guest, because you're not. You're a resource. You're an asset to be used. In the meantime, don't make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity, because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it."

"Thank you for your kindness," Serana acknowledged serenely, sarcasm swirling around her words. "I'll remember it the next time I'm feeling … hungry …" she drawled, eyeing his outstretched digit as though it was some appetising morsel at a banquet. Isran jerked his hand back before he could stop himself and in spite of her earlier reaction to the chamber and tools, Judiiz suddenly had a very hard time not to snicker. It was a relief to be able to shift unpleasant memories and her embarrassment over her reaction behind her.

"So, in case you didn't notice the giant thing on my back," the vampire addressed her cheerfully, "I have the Elder Scroll with me. Whatever it says, it will have something that could help us stop my father. But … of course neither of us can read it."

"Who can?" Judiiz wanted to know and Serana's thin dark eyebrows furrowed delicately.

"Well, the Moth Priests are the only ones I've heard of that can do it. They spend years preparing before they can start a reading though. Not that it helps us anyway, because they're all half a continent away, in Cyrodiil …"

"Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim a few days ago," Isran interrupted, making them well aware that he was still part of the discussion. "I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by. Maybe that's your Moth Priest."

"Do you know where he is staying now?" Serana asked politely.

"No," he scoffed, "and I'm not going to waste men looking. We're fighting a war against your kind, and I intend to win it. You want to find him, try talking to anyone who'd meet a traveller – innkeepers and carriage drivers in the big cities maybe. But you're on your own," he concluded gruffly, twisted on his heel and departed.

"Thank goodness," Serana remarked after his steps had disappeared down the spiral staircase behind Judiiz. "I thought he'd never leave."

Judiiz smiled genuinely this time; Serana's humour and … quiet dignity was truly uplifting, even if it was solely to draw her out of … what happened earlier. Why would she though? How could she achieve this still when there was a palpable sliver of sorrow behind her mirth? What had happened after she'd been banished, leaving Serana at her home by herself?

"Any better ideas?"

"Well …" Serana bit her bottom lip in thought and for a moment, Judiiz found her gaze drawn … wait, no! How could she … she shook her head as though trying to rid her mind of these strange thoughts. "Back before I... you know," Serana continued, oblivious to the conflicting emotions passing over Judiiz' features, "the College of Winterhold was the first place I'd think to go for any kind of magic or historical thing."

"Oh?" Judiiz asked, pulling at the neck of her armour. Why was the damn cuirass so constricting suddenly? She'd have to have a better look at the padding again.

"The wizards know about all kinds of things that people probably shouldn't know about," Serana chuckled musically before looking up into Judiiz' eyes. "Actually … now that I think about it … may I come with you? I've explored a bit on the way here, but could do with a … guide."

"Yes," Judiiz agreed, cursing herself for maybe sounding too eager. What was wrong with her? She needed to get out of this place and on the road again.

"Thank you," Serana replied sincerely, her relief obvious. "Well, let's move then."

"Okay," Judiiz replied, quirking her brows when Serana looked at her expectantly. "Oh … right," she muttered, blushing furiously and spinning around to lead the way. A corner of the vampire's mouth twitched before she followed in a barely perceptible wake of lavender and dawn's dew, her senses recognising it but her mind not yet registering the source.

They left Dayspring Canyon, having felt decidedly unwelcome. A night out in the woods would be preferable to Isran's unremitting hostility. They found three Vigilants stationed at Stendarr's Beacon, the small tower fort with its arching buttresses still capable of providing some shelter even though it was quite exposed. Much to their surprise they were hailed by name and warmly received, despite Serana's welcome appearing quite a bit more guarded. This had obviously been Tolan's doing, which the Vigilants confirmed. They'd been watching the road to show any of their fellows directed here by Tolan to the small Canyon entrance and a few had already settled themselves in the voluminous caverns inside. Tolan had followed Judiiz' suggestion and had started guiding refugees of vampire attacks there as well, although only a few had arrived so far.

They were settled around the fire a short while later, their conversation venturing around vampires and their origins when they noticed the other Vigilants glancing at them sidelong with curiosity. They invited them closer and one of them, a young Nord in her early twenties, asked the question on most of their minds; how Serana had become a vampire.

"I guess... " she murmured, her eyes mirroring the hue of the low flames between them, "we kind of have to go way back. To the very beginning. Do you know where vampirism came from?"

"We sort of guessed a … daedric prince maybe?" an older male Breton ventured and some nods accompanied his answer.

"A good guess," Serana complimented. "The short version is that my parents and I... we were followers of Molag Bal."

"The daedric prince? But that's … I mean …"

"I know, I know," she forestalled any more exclamations with a graceful wave of one hand, "but just... anyway. Now, you might already know that Molag Bal is the original source of vampirism. What you probably don't know," and she raised her index finger, "is that he still grants it to his more impressive followers."

"But … all the vampires we've ever encountered were just about feral," the third Vigilant, a dark-skinned Redguard commented, her deep brown eyes puzzled. "Why aren't you?"

"This isn't that watered down child's power that you simply contract from another vampire," Serana continued. "We're pureblood creations of original vampires. We earned this." Judiiz cleared her throat and eyes turned toward her expectantly. She'd been quiet thus far, absorbed in her own thoughts.

"I can see …" she tried to explain, suddenly awkward, " … the immortality, strength, speed …" She fell silent again, shifting uncomfortably on the ground, but Serana was looking at her with mild wonder.

"I have to admit, I'm … thrown. Not many people understand the appeal. You keep surprising me." She noticed Judiiz' discomfort with the attention and chose to continue her explanation. "The first vampire came from Molag Bal. She ... was not a willing subject. But she was still the first."

"Lamae Beolfag, the Blood-Matron …" the young Nord Vigilant mumbled in awe and her fellows looked at her in surprise. "What?" she retorted, "I listened to some of Tolan's ramblings!"

"Wow!" Serana commented, causing the young woman to smile. "But a common misconception is that all vampires came from her, and while some did, the fact is that for the most devoted and impressive followers, Molag Bal will give the gift anew, in its pure form."

"Is there some form of ceremony?" the Breton asked, eager to learn more. Serana's mirth drained from her pale features and she diverted her eyes away from her audience with sudden uneasiness.

"There is … and it is … degrading. But we all took part in it. Not really wholesome family activity, but I guess it's something you do when you give yourselves to a daedric lord."

"Do you … regret it?" Judiiz asked softly and Serana's eyes fixed on her with unnerving intensity, turning into gentle curiosity.

"Nobody's ever asked me that before. I ... I don't know." She hesitated, searching for the answers within herself. "I think ... mostly I hate what it's done to my family." Longer silence ensued, most of her listeners wrestling with this new concept of a higher form of the creatures they'd all hunted, possessing joys and sorrows similar to theirs, and regretting what life's choices had done to loved ones.

"I'm sorry," Judiiz murmured and Serana gazed into her eyes once more, understanding that her younger friend also felt remorse for allowing the curious inquiries of the Vigilants and contributing to her discomfort herself.

"Let's just ... move on from here, ok? It may have driven my family apart, but I'm still here, and I'm alive. I won't give up. But what about you? Did you grow up in Skyrim?" Judiiz was caught off-guard by the sudden reversal of questioning and she took a long moment to answer.

"There's not much to my tale. I grew up mostly in Kvatch. In Cyrodiil."

"Your parents must have been proud to live in the city that the Hero liberated from the Oblivion gates first."

"I … didn't know them. I was an orphan." It was Serana's turn to be apologetic, but Judiiz shook her curls gently to let her know that it was unnecessary. "I moved to Bruma later. I arranged with a … local Nord … to cross the border. He … he betrayed me."

"What happened?" Serana inquired kindly, noticing Judiiz' growing distress again.

"I was … handed over to the Thalmor …" Judiiz swallowed hard, trying her best to curb the dark flood in her mind. "I was … to be executed at Helgen."

"Helgen?" the Breton exclaimed. "Did you see the dragon?"

"Yes, I … we escaped … now I'm here …"

"I think that is a tale for another evening," Serana proclaimed watching her closely, and two sapphires reflecting the dying fire met her gaze fleetingly, conveying appreciation. The Vigilants thanked them for the company and agreed on a guard routine before the tower became quiet, snow slowly beginning to drift down around it. Serana watched Judiiz a while, curled up in her bedroll, and wondered at the changes in her since she'd met her. How could the chamber in the Fort have been such a … catalyst for the change in her? There was also much more to her simple and haltingly delivered account of her life and arrival in this land, but she'd been exceedingly loathe to elaborate. The girl was a puzzle, a strong and wilful woman one day and a scared, scarred child the next. Would she be able to depend on her for what lay ahead?