CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

It was so strange. After all this time, after all these years waiting for vengeance. After all the pain and suffering and grief and rage and despair. After everything I had been through. After everything I had lost. After all the plans I had made. After all the waiting. After it all, I was scared to take the first step into the Sanctum. The first step towards victory.

It wasn't that I feared the darkness, or the traps, or the Draugr. I did not fear them at all. I feared two things.

I feared failure. And I feared success.

If I were to fail, then it would be my death. I knew that. It was the simple truth. If my shot missed, if I could not find proof of Mercer's treachery, if anything, anything at all went wrong, then I would fail. And then I would die. In my mind, I heard Gallus's cry, saw him fall to the floor with blood coating his tunic, thick and red. If I failed, if I could not triumph over Mercer this night, that would be me.

I could not fail. Too much depended on my success. The Guild could not carry on under the leadership of a traitor. They had to be told the truth. The Skeleton Key had to be returned. Gallus had to be saved. The Nightingales had to be restored. And I had to keep my promise.

But the truth was that I was afraid of what success would bring.

Even if I were able to capture Mercer today, would I be able to prove his treachery? Even if I could find proof, would the Guild believe it? Even if they did, would I be able to find any among them who were worthy of the name of Nightingale? Because the trinity had to be restored. If it wasn't, the Key could never be returned. And even if I were able to find two Guild members who were ready and willing to take the Oath, then what of me? Would Nocturnal forgive my failure? Would she take me back?

But even if everything went to plan, I was still afraid. Because for twenty five years now, minus a day or two, I had been alone. I had been an outcast, an exile, a runaway. I wasn't ready to return, even after all these months of planning and preparing myself. I feared what would come with Mercer's death and my forgiveness. I feared the Guild. I feared my home. I feared my family.

And yet I knew that I still had to return. Because I had promised Gallus. Because I had to take revenge. Because I had to fulfil my Oath as a Nightingale, even if I wasn't a Nightingale any more. I had to save the Guild, and my friends who lived there.

It was my duty.

I had made a promise. And I intended to keep it.

I thought back to Irkngthand, to those moments when we had both thought I was falling into the hands of death. I heard his voice, full of fear and pain. 'Stay with me, Karliah. Please, stay with me. I will see you safe, you have my word. I will save you. I promise. Please, trust me.' I had trusted him to save me, and he had. He had kept his promise. I had made a promise to him, to avenge him. And I had also promised, maybe not in words, but in my mind for sure, that I would save him.

I had trusted him to save me, and he had saved me. He almost certainly did not know of my promise to him. But if he did, then he was trusting me to save him. And I had to save him.

Because Gallus never once broke a promise to me, apart from one. He promised to come back to me, and he never did.

But that was Mercer's fault. And Mercer would pay for it. He would pay for it a hundred, a thousand, a million times over. I would make him pay.

And so, no matter how much I feared what this day and the days that came after it would bring, I had to face it. Be it victory, failure, triumph, pain, misery, joy, or death, I would face it. Because my honour and my love for Gallus would not allow me to back out now.

I stood facing the door of the sanctum. It was locked up tight as a drum, but I would not be a thief if I could not pass through a locked door. It was calming, quietly slipping my pick into the lock and carefully twisting it around, finally finding the right position and listening to the satisfying click as the door swung open. It felt so normal, to be stealing and lockpicking again. Almost as if the last twenty five years had never happened.

But they had. And that was why I was here.

I pushed open the door.

I was faced with a passage, dark and long. The place smelled of ancient cloth, dust and blood. It was a smell I could not help but associate with death. I lit a torch and held it up before me, watching the clouds of dust pour through the pool of light. I took a step forward, and the bones of some small, long dead creature crunched beneath my feet. I shivered. The cold of the outside swept in an icy gust into the tomb, and the wind whistling through the gloomy tunnels sounded like a mournful wail of grief.

I walked forwards, into the darkness, keeping one hand on my dagger, ready to fight at a moment's notice. I looked carefully at all the mouldering bodies that lined the walls as I passed them, trying to block out the foul stench long enough to make sure that none of them were Draugr. Every step I took, I expected something to leap out from the shadows and attack me. Every foreign sound made me flinch. This was the place where my Gallus had died, and I knew that it might well be the place where I died also. I could not help but be afraid.

I had only been moving for about three minutes when I heard a noise that made me drop my torch and leap back into the shadows, readying my bow. The torch fell onto the floor, sending up a shower of embers. It rolled over, hitting the side of an urn and sending it toppling to the ground, crushing the flame into nothingness. In the blackness that fell instantly, I heard the sound clearly now. The sound of feet, feet that sounded as if they were made of wet paper, steadily padding towards me. I knew that there was no hiding from it. It would have heard the crash as the urn fell, and it knew where I was. I had no choice but to face it.

It appeared from around the corner like some ghastly apparition from the darkest of nightmares. Its flaky, rotting skin looked like it was made of thin parchment, and its bones poked through, stark and white. Just the sight of it made me want to drop my bow and run, but I had to face it, had to stay strong, for Gallus's sake.

The draugr's eyes glowed with malice as it neared me, its ancient, rusty greatsword raised high. Its first blow was clumsy and easy to dodge. The huge blade smashed against the floor with a clang. It turned its head towards me and hissed, its voice scratching in its throat. 'Bolog aaz, mal mey, ahrk aav dilon!'

Even without knowing what the words meant, the creature's intention was clear. I fired my arrow without hesitation, watching as the shaft buried itself in the draugr's neck. It staggered back with a growl, but quickly recovered and lashed out, swinging its sword forwards in a powerful lunge I only just managed to evade. I fired again, this time hitting it directly in the heart- if it even had one. It howled, dropped its weapon, and toppled backwards with a crash onto the floor, to die for the second time.

I stood still, standing over its body, breathing hard.

So much death in one place. So many lives ended here in this tomb. In the heart of this Sanctum, my lover lay in the darkness. Soon, I would face his killer.

And one of us was sure to die. Just one more death, here in the shadows.

I shivered, pulled my arrows from the corpse, replaced them in my quiver, and hurried on, into the glooming darkness.


I arrived at the heart of the Sanctum as night fell.

Of course, deep underground as I was, I could not see the sky darkening, but I had lived in the wild long enough to be able to know instinctively what the time was, even without being outside. Naturally, the setting of the sun made no difference here, where little or no light reached anyway.

My footsteps sounded loud as thunder as I emerged into a chamber I recognized. It was the one where the walls were carved with pictures, intricate patterns that stretched all along its length, from the ceiling to the floor. Ahead of me was the doorway through which I had emerged into the central chamber, but this time it was not open. The puzzle door stood firmly in my path, round and tight, blocking me from going any further.

I knew how to deal with these, though. I had been into an ancient Nordic ruin before, back with the Guild. The twins. Elruen and I had delved into a place called Korvanjund in search of some ancient, valuable artifact. We had found one of these doors there. All you needed to do was to unlock it with the matching dragon claw. I had been fortunate enough to find the claw on the body of a powerful Draugr Overlord in the last chamber, and now I turned the rings on the door to match the pattern onto the claw's palm, and inserted it into the centre plate. All it took was a simple twist to make the door click as it unlocked, and to slide slowly into the ground with a long, low grinding sound.

I stepped over the threshold and into the central chamber.

I stopped dead after only three paces, staring into the gloom. This was the place where the end began; the place where, on the blade of a friend, the man I had loved more than life itself had breathed his last. I had visited this place so, so many times in my nightmares. Never had I thought that I would return here once more.

I heard the door sliding back into position behind me. I wasn't worried about that. Mercer had the Skeleton Key. He could pass through any door he wanted to. He would come. He would come here, into the very heart of the ruin. He would walk right into the jaws of my trap, and then, I would be ready for him.

But there was something I had to do first.

I waited until my eyes became accustomed to the darkness before I stepped forwards. My throat was tight, as if it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, and my feet felt as if they were made of lead. But I walked forwards, into the blackness, until finally I saw him.

Or what was left of him.

I had expected no less. Twenty five years had come one gone since he had fallen to the ground, here in this ancient tomb. Time had taken its unflinching course, and now all that was left of the man who had meant more to me than the entire universe was a few scraps of ruined leather armour, and bones. Dry bones.

I felt a sob rising in my throat. It pained me beyond measure to look, but somehow I could not tear my eyes away. It was the most terrible sight I had ever seen in my entire life, and yet somehow it was impossible to stop looking. I think maybe something deep inside me thought that to flinch away from the truth would be a dishonour to his memory.

Two shaky steps took me to where he lay. I stared with wide eyes filled with tears at the unmoving form. I had thought that my heart was as utterly broken as it was possible for a heart to be broken, but now, looking at what little was left of my Gallus, I felt the last few invisible threads that held it together shatter into pieces.

I knelt down beside him, buried my face in my hands, and tried to choke back my tears. It was like trying to hold back the tide, and in the end I simply let them come.

Mercer. Mercer Frey. Once one of my greatest friends, a man I would have trusted with my life. My fellow Nightingale, someone who had thought beside me in so many battles I could no longer remember how many there had been. A man who I had once thought of as a member of my family. A man who had once been as close to me as a brother.

He had brought this upon us, upon us all. He had brought me to this, he had brought Gallus to this. He had destroyed the Nightingales, betrayed the Guild, exiled me and murdered his best friend. He, who had once been a comrade and a friend, had destroyed my love with his hatred, had ripped apart my life with his bitterness and greed. I clenched my fists. He had done this, done this to all of us, and I was going to make him pay. I was going to make him pay so dearly that he would forever regret the life he had taken within this tomb.

I would kill him. I would.

Because he did this. Because this… I looked at the remains of the man I loved for a second, then hid my face in my hands again. This used to be my Gallus. This used to be a wise man, a brave man, an honourable man. A man who cared for his Guild and his friends above all else. A man whose laugh was music, whose eyes were works of art, whose smile was pure light. This used to be a man who used to talk and laugh and steal and smile and love. He used to love. He used to love me.

But no longer. This was not Gallus, not anymore. Gallus was gone forever. His soul had left his body, his spirit was gone. The man I loved was lost until I could save him.

I breathed in, shuddering slightly as I did so. I had to harden my heart and do what I came here to do. I didn't know how much time I had before Mercer came. It had been early morning when Tsumata had brought me the news that Gulum-Ei had been found. I had travelled straight here from Solitude, whereas whichever Guild member had located the Argonian would have had to travel back to Riften first. I was probably a few hours ahead of him.

I still had to be quick. I needed to be ready in case anything went wrong.

I had to think for some time before I remembered the next stage of the plan. Gallus's journal. Did he have it? He had to. He always had it with him. It would be in the pocket of his tunic, as it always was.

The slight bulge in the pocket told me that I was right. I had to close my eyes as I gently tugged it free. It seemed so disrespectful to him, to take his diary from his dead body. But I knew that he would understand. If things had been the other way around, if our places had been reversed, then I would have understood, if it was me.

And it was the only way. I had no choice.

I clutched it tightly in both hands and straightened up. 'Thank you, Gallus,' I whispered. 'And… I'm sorry.'

I breathed in sharply as I flicked it open-

And my eyes widened with horror.

I leafed through the pages quickly, my eyes growing wider and wider still as I progressed through. I glanced at each page for no longer than a second. I did not need to look at them for an longer, because I could not understand a single word. He had written the entire thing in a foreign language. Not only that, it was a language with a different script. I stared at the outlandish, weirdly shaped letters, written with the precise strokes of Gallus's neat, careful hand. I was sure, I was certain, so absolutely certain that it was painful, that they contained the proof I needed. But unless I could find out their meaning, I would never be able to prove my innocence.

'Oh, Gallus,' I whispered, unsure whether to laugh or cry. 'Isn't that just like you?'

I turned away from him, heading further into the darkness of the tomb. I ascended the steps at the back of the chamber and sat down to wait.

I would find some way to translate the journal. But I would have to wait until Mercer was in my power before I did. I did not have the time to find a way to read it now. This complicated my plans, but it did not change them. I would just have to wait until Mercer came.

He would come. I had laid my plans to cleverly for him not to come. All I had to do was prepare myself, and wait.

I drew an arrow from my quiver, the one with the straightest shaft, the sharpest tip, the neatest fletching. Laying it down beside me, I pulled a small potion bottle from my pouch. I held it up in front of me. I couldn't hold back a small shake of my head as I thought about how the tiny amount of liquid in the bottom of this vial held power over my life and death.

I uncorked the bottle and swirled the liquid around inside it, making sure that all the ingredients were thoroughly mixed together. I rubbed the tip of my arrow on my tunic to clean it before dipping it into the poison. Despite the fact that I had only made a few drops, I knew that it would be enough- maybe even more than enough. It would only take a few seconds to take effect. I had enough confidence in my skills as an alchemist to be sure that it would work.

Everything depended on it working. Everything. All my well laid plans would be wasted in a second if this failed. If my shot misfired, if the poison did not take effect quickly enough, if Mercer did not come…

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. He would come. And I would be ready for him.

An hour passed, crawling by agonisingly slowly. Then two. Then a third. Soon I was pacing up and down to try and wear out the stiffness in my limbs, and to try and give myself something to do. Boredom was by no means a foreign concept to me. Much of the last quarter century that had not been spent acquiring food had been used for sitting around and doing absolutely nothing. But right now, when the moment for which I had been waiting for so long was just around the corner, just out of my reach, the wait was agonising.

Just as I was beginning to wonder whether my plans had gone wrong, whether I had overlooked something, whether he was not coming after all, I heard the door click.

Instantly I was standing at the top of the steps, my heart racing like a wild horse and my hand shaking so much I could barely fit the poisoned arrow to my bowstring. I breathed in deeply, then breathed out again, trying to calm myself. I had to stay focused. This was the moment I either succeeded or failed. I would only get a single shot at this- in more ways than one. I had to concentrate harder than ever before, because if I made just one single mistake, everything was lost.

And I could not fail now. For my sake, for Gallus's sake, for the sake of the Nightingales, for the sake of the Guild.

I drew back my arrow until the feathers were brushing against my cheeks, looked down its length, and waited. The rest of the world seemed to drop away, and the universe shrank to the size of this chamber.

It was time. After all the waiting, after all the pain and the suffering. After everything I had endured, it was time, finally time-

The door twisted. I could hear the rings grinding against each other. Slowly, so slowly, it began to slide away, down into the floor. The final barrier between me and the vengeance I had dreamed of for so long sank out of sight, and for a moment, all was silent.

Then a figure appeared in the doorway. A figure in the armour of the Thieves Guild.

I tensed, and was an inch from letting my arrow fly, when I realised with a feeling of growing horror, that this was not Mercer.

It was too dark to see the person properly, but I knew that they were far too small in stature to be him. Their footsteps were quieter and lighter, their entire demeanour somehow softer. And- I could only see by squinting through the darkness- I hadn't known Mercer as well as I'd thought I'd known him, but I knew he definitely did not have a tail.

No. Mercer was not, and never had been, a Khajiit. And this stranger was without a doubt, a young female Khajiit.

But how could that be? Who was she? What was she doing here? Surely only Mercer could have understood the trail I had laid. Surely only he could have come here, could have known to come here. Surely only he-

And then it hit me. He had been one step ahead of me. He had known that this was a trap. Of course he had known. How could he not have known? And so he had lured this Khajiit here with him, made her take the lead, made sure that any shot I fired would hit her before it hit me. And if it came to a fight, she would not know the truth. She would fight for her Guildmaster. And I would be outnumbered. There would be no chance of victory.

I saw him. For the first time in almost twenty five years, I saw him. Lurking in the shadows, shielded by his oblivious Guild member. The sight of me sent a wave of hatred flowing through me, so strong that it almost knocked me clean off my feet. He had let me taste victory, and then he had snatched it away. I knew what he was thinking. Come on, Karliah. Make your choice. Kill an innocent girl, and have a chance of taking me? Or spare her, and lose your one and only chance of vengeance? I could almost see his smirking smile…

Oh, Divines, I thought despairingly. How could you be so cruel?

But there was still one option. It was a tiny hope, the tiniest hope that had ever existed. But it was a hope. And it was my only hope.

Because I knew this Khajiit. I had seen her before. For a moment, my mind struggled to make the connection; and then I realised. I had seen her in my dream, the dream that had led me to realise how I had forgotten my love for Gallus. I had seen here there. I had looked into her eyes. I had heard her voice. 'Seek for me,' she had said. 'Seek for me.'

I did not need to seek her. She had sought out me, and she had found me. And now, she was my only hope.

All these thoughts flew through my head in less than a single second. In the single moment it took for the young Khajiit to cross the threshold of the doorway, I made my decision.

I breathed in, and breathed out. I picked my target. I whispered Gallus's name.

And I fired.


END OF BOOK THREE