The moment the Dragonborn became human again, Serana knew.

Like a candle, extinguished with a single blow, their connection was severed; the new bond between them broken. It was either that, or Rella was dead. Somehow, deep down, the vampire knew she yet lived. She couldn't see into the future nor know a person's fortune, but she knew the Dovahkiin was destined to survive.

After all, she'd made it this far, and despite the odds.

Serana had expected Rella to return soon after curing her vampirism, once again content with life as a human. They would continue their journey to stop Alduin, travelling and fighting side by side as they had done since Serana had been released from the tomb. She was a single day's travel from Morthal, and no more.

But three days went by, and still there was no sign of her. Then, it became a week.

As even more time passed, the vampire's hope began to severely dwindle.

It had now been weeks since she last saw the Dragonborn.

The one possibility she refused to entertain was that the Dragonborn didn't ever want to see her again. After everything they'd been through, to throw it all away now seemed… absurd, and very unlike her.

Serana clung to it; held it tightly and closely to her heart: that one day, the Dragonborn would return. It was the only thing that kept her from sealing herself away in another crypt, lost for another four-thousand years. When she would be set free again – if she would be set free again – the person standing before her wouldn't be Rella.

Serana's days since that night were long and tiresome, and painfully uneventful. Most of it spent thinking of Rella, losing herself in memories of their time together. Caves and ruins became her temporary home, utterly Spartan and merely a means to an end. Whenever she set foot inside a settlement, it was for the briefest of visits to stock up on small supplies or to listen out for news throughout the realm. Hardly anyone seemed to speak a word of the Dragonborn. The focus remained on the World-Eater, the Civil War, and the Dark Brotherhood's most recent victims.

When once the Dawnguard and the vampire attacks had been all anyone could talk about, the hunters seemed to have faded into the background. Since the resolution of the Tyranny of the Sun, their status throughout Skyrim had lost some of its grandeur. The random attacks had stopped. Their purpose had grown redundant.

Still, their vendetta against her had been so aggressive it was unlikely they'd given up. The fact that Rella had murdered one of their own, albeit in self-defence, had undoubtedly exacerbated the campaign. Of course, they would blame it on her – the vampire – for compelling the enthralled Dragonborn to do it. They truly were blinded by their own hatred.

Although Rella had been surprised by how swiftly they'd turned on her and forgotten how she'd aided their cause, Serana had been waiting for the knife in her back ever since the demise of her father. They'd been looking for any excuse to rid themselves of her and the Dovahkiin had given them just that.

No; they weren't going to give up. They needed a purpose, and she was it.

It was time for her to move.

Solitude was her next destination. She'd heard very vague rumours of the Dragonborn being seen there last, and at this point, her mind-set was that anything was better than nothing.

The city stood high on the edge of the mountain, stretching across the sea on its jagged stone archway. The climb up to it was far less punishing than the one up to High Hrothgar, though it never particularly bothered her save for the blizzards. Hidden beneath her hood, she anticipated resistance from the guards when it came to letting her in. It was commonplace now, following the attacks, that strangers were treated with scrutiny and suspicion.

Neither of them seemed particularly interested in her; too absorbed in their own conversation about the dragon threat to pay her much heed. She slipped through the gate quickly, before they found any excuse to stop her.

Once inside the cold, grey walls of the city, Serana found herself unsure of what to do. It wasn't a place she and Rella had visited very often; she didn't know a single soul apart from Jordis, one of the Dragonborn's housecarls. Even then, to say she knew her was a stretch. They had shared a sprinkling of words – hardly a full conversation. For her to simply turn up on the doorstep to Proudspire Manor and question Rella's whereabouts would seem somewhat peculiar.

If she had no other choice, then that is what she would do. But first, she'd try the tavern. Bartenders and bards were privy to much that came from loose, intoxicated lips.

The smell of alcohol was faint when she walked inside, overpowered by the musty odour of the surrounding stone. It was quiet, bordering on empty. An Argonian sat in an alcove to the left of the bar, making his way through a thick wedge of cheese. In the far corner, blanketed by shadow, a hooded figure sat, thin lips wrapped around the rim of a tankard.

Serana kept a measure of her attention on the cloaked stranger as she approached the bar. The Dawnguard usually moved in pairs, but this person was alone. The dark hue of the leathers would indicate Dark Brotherhood, but the vampire didn't think it commonplace for an assassin to be drinking at an inn in the middle of the day.

The barkeep turned to her, then, expression calm and faintly cheerful, "What can I get for you?"

"I'm looking for… someone," Serana said carefully.

"There's a lot of 'someone's out there," he responded coolly. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"A… woman," Serana offered awkwardly.

She wasn't used to being the one to do all the talking. Rella had always been the one to take the reins in this kind of situation, leaving her to hover in the background in an attempt to appear unimposing. The vampire hadn't particularly considered how she was going to approach this inquisition. She was reluctant to throw Rella's name or her title around, but how else was she going to get to the bottom of her whereabouts? She cast a nervous glance at the mysterious guest, before adding, "I seek the Dragonborn."

The bartender raised his eyebrows, and then lowered them into a frown. "And what business would you have with the Dragonborn?"

"It's no concern of yours," Serana replied snippily. I'm the one asking the questions.

The vampire swore she heard a snort of laughter from the hooded figure, but didn't dare shift her gaze from the barkeep. If he heard it, too, he made no indication of it.

"I intend her no harm," Serana stated, as if it would put him at ease. "I only wish to speak with her."

He set a newly-polished goblet down on the shelf behind him, settling on her again with narrowed eyes. "She was here about a week ago," he said. "Didn't stay long, though. A day, perhaps. Two, at most. It was all anyone could talk about."

"Do you know why she was here?" she asked.

"I'm a bartender, not a spy."

"Someone must have mentioned it," she pressed. "If it was all anyone could talk about."

The barkeep shrugged, slinging the polishing cloth over his shoulder. "Sorry, I don't know."

She regarded him suspiciously for a few moments, assessing his trustworthiness. His pulse was steady, so either he was telling her the truth or he was a good liar. "And you haven't heard anything else?" she reached for her purse, grabbing a handful of coins and spilling them on the bar. "Anything at all?"

He pushed the gold pieces away, wearing a disdainful smirk. "Keep your money. I've told you everything I know."

"Very well," she said, snatching up the money and shoving it back into the pouch. "Thank you for your time."

As she turned to leave, Serana stole a quick and final glimpse at the stranger in the corner, unable to discern who – or what – might be staring at her from underneath that hood.

Once outside, she let out a frustrated sigh. To know the Dragonborn had been there seven days before tugged at her heart, and it seemed as if her greatest fear was being realised. Either Rella didn't want to be found, or she was determined to make the vampire chase her halfway across the realm.

Perhaps this was her punishment for failing to stop her from killing an innocent. Or perhaps she simply wasn't ready to return, yet.

Serana would believe anything if it meant she didn't give up hope.

She started towards Proudspire Manor, desperately hoping Jordis would know where Rella had gone next.

No one was home.

For an hour, Serana had waited. Nobody came, and nobody left. She heard no movement from inside, saw nothing through the dusted window panes.

She stood for a long while simply watching the door, as if staring at it might provide her with the next clue; the next piece to the puzzle. Where are you, Rella?

"You're looking for the Dragonborn, yes?"

The voice was male, and took her by surprise. Serana wasn't easily startled; in fact, it was virtually impossible for someone to sneak up on her. And yet, she hadn't sensed the presence of another until they'd spoken. She touched her fingertips to the pommel of her dagger and a surge of magic pulsed through her arm, ready to be discharged from her palm at a moment's notice.

She turned slowly to her left, "What's it to you?"

It was the stranger from the tavern. He leant casually against the stone beside the steps leading to the manor's upper entrance, his face completely obscured except for his mouth and chin. He was broad and tall, though she hadn't particularly noticed it when he'd been sitting down. Thick forearms were folded across his chest.

"I seek her, too," he replied calmly, almost friendlily. He had an accent, one that lilted and rolled; exotic, like that of a Khajiit. "Perhaps we can help each other."

There was something very peculiar about him, though she struggled to place exactly what it was. Certainly, not being able to see and look into his eyes unsettled her, but in that moment, he could neither see hers. No; it was something else…

"Why are you looking for her?" Serana asked cautiously. He didn't appear to have any weapons on his person – none that were visible, anyway. She wasn't sure if that made her feel more comfortable or more ill at ease.

"Why are you?"

Without being able to see his eyes, she couldn't tell if the curve of his lips was a smile, or a smirk.

"I don't know you," she said plainly.

"And I do not know you, but that does not stop one from helping the other."

"I can't help you," she replied coolly, "sorry."

"You should reconsider," he said, following her as she started to walk away. "Two heads are better than one. Four eyes, better than two."

She quickened her pace, wishing to be as far away from him as possible. Fortunately, he didn't try to keep up.

"The offer is there," he called after her, "should you choose to take it."

Serana knew, then, why he unnerved her. The moment she turned her back on him – which probably wasn't the smartest move she'd ever made – he seemed to cease to exist. If he hadn't been speaking, she wouldn't have known he was there. He didn't have a pulse, he didn't have a scent; there wasn't anything about his presence she could detect.

When she cast a glance behind her, he was gone. She wondered if he'd even been there at all.

The night had drawn in, and Serana's last-ditch attempts to seek information from Legate Rikke inside Castle Dour had fallen on deaf ears. She'd been flatly refused, and told any information involving General Tullius and his meeting with the Dragonborn was highly confidential.

Someone else must know something, she kept telling herself.

But no one did.

The vampire was beginning to grow severely disheartened. Short of strapping the Legate to a chair and holding a knife to her throat, it seemed she would never discover where Rella had gone after leaving Solitude.

The guards were silent when she left, passing through the gates with a heavy heart that would only grow heavier. Finding someone who didn't want to be found was proving an impossible task.

Serana wandered slowly down the slope towards the harbour, feeling all at once adrift. She was lost. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know where to go.

Without Rella, she wasn't entirely certain what her purpose in this world was, anymore. Fighting alongside the Dragonborn had given her existence a meaning beyond that of simply… existing. She could become a bodyguard for hire, a mercenary, even a bounty hunter. Or something less violent, like an alchemist, or perhaps an enchanter – make use of her magical skill.

But it would never fill her with quite the same exhilaration as when she was with Rella.

For so long she'd denied her feelings for the younger Nord, unable to truly come to terms with it. She'd been so afraid of what it meant, not just for herself, but for them both. She hadn't wanted to jeopardise their friendship, especially not knowing if Rella felt the same way, but after their fight with Vyrthur, she hadn't been able to contain herself. The thrill of the victory, the relief that they were both alive, the atmosphere of the Forgotten Vale… it had been overwhelming, and she didn't quite know what overcame her.

The moment she'd heard the word "mistake" fall from the Dragonborn's lips, Serana had pushed any romantic thoughts of Rella aside, locking them away deep down inside her. Up until a few months ago, that's where they'd stayed.

In all her four thousand years on the earth, no one had ever come so close to her heart.

Truthfully, she'd never let them.

Rella, however, was different. She was wholly unlike anyone Serana had ever met before. She was strong, and yet extremely vulnerable. She was sensible, and yet sometimes unequivocally rash. She held inside her a great darkness, but there was still so much light. She was completely paradoxical, and the vampire adored her for it.

Serana was so lost in thought she almost failed to see Jordis the Sword-Maiden climbing the slope towards her.

The Housecarl stopped when she caught sight of Serana and a look of recognition flashed across her face. "You," she said, tilting her head to the side slightly and resting her hands on her hips. "I know you – Serana, isn't it?"

The vampire nodded gently. "Jordis. I've been looking for you."

"You as well?" the Sword-Maiden queried with a hint of amusement. "My, my, I'm popular today."

Serana wondered what she meant by that, but didn't ask. There were far more important questions that needed raising, "Have you seen Rella? Do you know where she is?"

Her response wasn't immediate. "I have, and I do."

The vampire watched the woman carefully. "I need to find her."

Jordis shifted uncomfortably, breaking eye contact. "She's on official business. She doesn't want to be disturbed."

Serana stepped closer, the movement bringing the Housecarl's gaze back level with her own. "Please," she said. "I have to find her. It's important. I need…" she trailed off, her throat tight. "I need to see her."

Jordis let out a weary breath, expression defiantly sympathetic. "She'll be in Whiterun in two days," she admitted. "But you'd better hurry, because I don't know how long she'll be there."

"Two days," Serana repeated softly.

Solitude was nearly four from Whiterun.

She thanked the Sword-Maiden and bade her a very hurried farewell.

Serana stopped only once on her journey to Whiterun. She'd pushed the limit of her hunger as far as it would go before she became a danger to humans. She drained a stag dry, giving herself at least a week's respite, and continued onwards, unremitting.

The horse she'd stolen from the stables in Solitude was half dead from exhaustion by the time she arrived, but that was the least of her concern. A dragon circled the Great Porch atop Dragonsreach, seemingly caught in some sort of struggle. Somehow, the vampire knew that was where she'd find Rella.

By the time she'd reached the top of the keep, the creature had been trapped inside some sort of large contraption – a curved structure that trapped its neck and prevented it from moving.

Before Serana could scan the open space looking for Rella, a guard stepped in front of her. "Who are you?" he asked. "You have no business here."

The vampire resisted the urge to fling him off the roof. "Let me pass. I'm here to see the Dragonborn. I'm a friend."

"I'm under strict orders not to let anyone up here," he said. "You're going to have to leave. If you refuse to co-operate, I'll have to forcibly remove you from the area."

"Bekkr!" Serana recognised the voice, turning to see Lydia striding towards them. "Stand down," the Housecarl said. "I can vouch for the Lady Serana. She is a faithful companion to the Dragonborn."

The vampire didn't need to see the eyes beneath his helmet to know he was probably glaring at her. He bowed his head almost imperceptibly, "Please accept my apologies for the misunderstanding, milady."

When he was out of earshot, Lydia mimicked his stance and blocked Serana's way. With all her heavy armour on, she was nearly twice the size of her. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here," she said in a low voice. "Not right now."

"Why?" Serana questioned irascibly. "What's happening?"

"Rella is going to travel to Sovngarde to face Alduin," Lydia told her, expression grave. "She can't afford any distractions. She needs a clear head for this fight."

"When?"

"Any moment now."

Serana dropped her gaze as a terrible wave of anxiety swept over her. She clenched her fists at her sides.

"She's going alone?"

The warrior dipped her head once, firmly. Finally.

Serana's stomach churned. The Housecarl was right; it was too much of a risk to disturb the Dragonborn, now. There wouldn't be anyone else to help her, if she had a lapse of emotion and let her guard down.

But all she could think about was if Rella didn't come back. She might step over that threshold, never to return again, and the vampire wouldn't have even had the chance to say goodbye.

"This is the right thing," Lydia said, surprising the vampire with her tenderness. "You know that, deep down."

Serana nodded numbly, eyes stinging. It was painful, to be so close to Rella, and yet so very far, far away. "Then will you at least let me give her a message?" She raised a hand to cover her silent heart, struggling to keep her tone steady. "You owe me no such kindness, but I beg this of you. Please."

With a knitted brow, Lydia took her lower lip between her teeth. It seemed like an eternity before she gave Serana an answer.

"Very well."

Rella placed Nahkriin's staff into the receptacle above Skuldafn, and the portal to Sovngarde once again opened, ready to receive her.

Before stepping through and into the unknown, the Dragonborn took a moment to gather herself. She took out the folded piece of parchment Lydia had given to her as she'd been leaving Dragonsreach on the back of Odahviing. The Housecarl had told her she'd know when it was time to read it.

Rella stared into the rippling, undulating gateway, and realised this was it. Alduin awaited her on the other side, and there was a possibility she might not make it back alive.

Her hands were trembling as she unfolded the vellum.

Written in Serana's delicate hand, it said:

Come back to me.