7th of First Seed

Isobel had been looking forward to this lecture all week, especially since their classes had been primarily focusing on Destruction magic lately, which she hated. She would never be able to cultivate enough frost to do anything other than to chill a mead.

Today Drevis Neloren was teaching them Illusion magic, today they were in her territory.

"Envision a memory where you have felt totally, completely relaxed. Whether it be at home, in a beautiful forest, or a temple. Encapsulate that feeling and project it through your hands..." Drevis lectured patiently, helping Onmund keep his rats from scampering out of his wooden box.

Isobel was lounging a little ways off on the steps to the basin of blue light, her enthralled rats snoozing in her lap or affectionately nibbling her smiling cheeks. She was thoroughly enjoying watching the same students who mocked her interest in Illusion failing miserably at what they had deemed "useless" and "easy" magic.

"Illusion is so silly, isn't it Whiskers?" Isobel cooed smugly at the rat in her hand, making sure she was loud enough for the others to hear. "Could you ever imagine a situation where controlling the minds of animals would come in handy?" J'zargo shot a piercing glare in Isobel's direction, a glare she happily met while waving the tiny paw of her complacent, rodent friend.

The lesson progressed on, all of it beyond effortless for Isobel. It was when Drevis was describing the process of channeling Fear that she felt the hairs on her neck stand up. She peered around the Hall of the Elements and there he was, sitting and watching in the shadows...

Ancano...

He rarely ever sat in on lectures, he had not even a fraction of interest in students and what they were learning, but lately he had been observing their lessons more. It was probably one of the reasons the past week of Destruction class went so poorly for Isobel.

Whenever she saw Thalmor robes and Altmer features she saw Rulindil, she saw patrolling guards, and the mer who captured her leaning over her paralyzed body. It was happening now as she felt Ancano's eyes bore into her. The visions swept out of her mind as quickly as they blew in, and even though her body was instinctively begging her to engage in a flight response and get away, she knew she couldn't raise any suspicion.

Isobel stole another glance at the Thalmor and saw his gaze distinctly lingering on her hands, whether he was looking at her rat or the scars on her fingers she didn't know, but she quickly faked a dramatic sneeze to pull his attention to her face while tucked her hands in her sleeves.

Isobel prayed Ancano didn't see her scars... or at least didn't know about what caused them.

She couldn't enjoy the rest of the lesson with Ancano observing her, even though the series of exercises were natural to her she couldn't shake off the invasive memories of torture and anguish. When Drevis finally wrapped up the lecture Isobel tore away from the others before they had even finished thanking their professor.

"We'll continue this tomorrow, if you have any questions in your practice be sure to ask Gwyndolyn..." Drevis was saying as his favourite pupil quickened her trembling step out of the hall.

She couldn't keep her panic in check anymore when she realized Ancano had stood up and was following her out into the College's foyer. His strut had intention and determination... he meant to do something.

Isobel bolted out of the College's main doors, desperately scanning the sunny grounds for a place to hide. As she heard the aged hinges begin to creak behind her she knew she only had one option.

Ancano stepped out into the crisp winter afternoon, his cold glare searching for what Isobel could only guess was herself. She held her ground three feet away from him, drawing on her magicka from deep within and imagining being as crystal clear and formless as the winter air around her.

"Damn it..." Ancano cursed under his breath, not wasting any time hustling towards the Hall of Attainment. The moment he disappeared within the tower Isobel's corporal form reappeared, panting and sweating as if she had just run a long distance.

"Shit... shit..." She swore breathlessly as she tried to pull her body and mind together. Invisibility still absolutely depleted her and that was the longest by far that she had held it. She would've felt proud of herself if the situation hadn't put her on the brink of hysterics.

She had been planning on going to the Frozen Hearth to continue helping Karliah and Enthir translate Gallus's journal anyway, but now she needed to leave the College grounds out of necessity. She needed talk to Enthir about what was going on with Ancano. If she was suspicious of him hanging around her before, now she knew without question that he wanted something with her. And Isobel didn't want to find out what it was.

Her lack of a winter cloak only made her hurry to the town's inn even faster. However, by the time she stormed past the annoyed barkeep and into his cellar, she was met with a scene she hadn't expected to find.

Karliah sat in her usual chair at the desk, her entire body slumped over. Isobel had never seen her without her shoulders straight and her posture alert, it immediately told her something was wrong.

"Shadows preserve us... So it's true." Karliah's voice sounded equally as dejected and hopeless.

"What's going on?" Isobel demanded, rushing over to the two elves. "What did you find?"

"We finally got to the end." Enthir stated plainly, he didn't sound nearly as concerned as Karliah did. "It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey's allegiance to the Guild for months. Gallus had begun to uncover what he calls an '...unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures.' " He took his last sentence directly from his neatly written translation.

"And?" Isobel pressed. Between Ancano and this it very much felt like she was on the verge of tipping over a cliff, and it wouldn't take much to send her over.

"Gallus seems certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury without anyone's knowledge."

"Is that why the Guild is so poor?!"

"And..." Enthir continued firmly. "The last few pages seem to describe 'the failure of the Nightingales,' although it doesn't go into great detail. Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher."

"I knew it in my heart, I just didn't want to believe it..." Karliah moaned from her seat, still not facing anybody.

"I'm not familiar with the Twilight Sepulcher. What is it? What's Mercer Frey done?" Enthir persisted, both he and Isobel didn't seem to understand the weight of Mercer's actions the same as Karliah did.

"I'm sorry Enthir, I can't say." Karliah finally looked up and met the urgent glare of the Bosmer with her own weary eyes. "All that matters is we deliver your translation to the Guild immediately."

Isobel expected Enthir to demand the truth, to protest all these secrets Karliah was keeping from them despite the two of them being her only allies. It was what was on her own mind, she was just about fed up with Karliah's aloofness. She waited patiently for Enthir to pry Karliah further, but instead he sighed heavily.

"It's alright, Karliah. You don't have to say a word." He walked over slowly and placed a hand on Karliah's shoulder.

"Thank you, Enthir... words can't express..." A few tears slid down Karliah's gray cheeks, completely flooring Isobel. This was Karliah, the stone cold enigma who was stoic even during her lover's cremation at the very site of his murder. With bewildered eyes Isobel looked back and forth between the elves, utterly at a loss of what was going on.

"Now wait a second, I need to know-" Isobel shut herself up as Enthir turned to face her. He simply crossed his arms and looked at her, taking her in and nodding his head as if in approval.

"You shaped up pretty nicely, kid. You sure were a mess when you first came here." There was... pride in his voice? Between Karliah crying and Enthir being genuinely sentimental Isobel nearly felt like screaming. "Whatever Guild you end up in is gonna be lucky to have you."

"Enthir, what in Oblivion is going on?! What is this?!" Isobel gestured frantically between him and Karliah, who still sat weepy in her chair.

"Listen Isobel, all I want is the truth to be revealed to the Guild." Enthir spoke earnestly, now placing his firm hand on Isobel's shoulder. "They respected Karliah, and she deserves better... Do whatever you can and I'd consider it a personal favour."

"I'll start packing my things, we will leave for Riften tomorrow." Karliah sniffed loudly and sat up in her chair, her usual persona returning. "Isobel, you should do the same and meet me here as early as you can."

Leaving for Riften tomorrow... It seemed so surreal to Isobel, it was finally happening...

But her things. How would she pack and disappear without the others noticing, including Ancano?

"I can't go back to the College, Enthir." Isobel told her friend, who frowned at her inquisitively. "I think... I think Ancano knows about me being a Thalmor informant."

"How would he know that? He's been here for almost a year, he doesn't know what the Embassy is doing." Enthir argued. Isobel simply held up her hand, her scarred fingers and wrist speaking for themselves. "Hm. I always forget about those. I suppose he would know what kind of scars those are."

"He's been watching me like a hawk and today he followed me out as if he was hunting me! I had to hide from him and even then he still stormed off to my dormitory!"

"I will get your things tonight and sort out your withdrawal from the College, you can stay here with Karliah." Enthir soothed the panicking Breton. His offer calmed her down substantially, and slowly she was able to breathe again.

She was leaving Ancano behind and going back to Riften... to everybody in the Guild... As much as she valued the skills she acquired at the College, skills she definitely didn't think she would've developed, she felt very ready to leave Winterhold.

When Enthir left to gather Isobel's belongings he left the two women in the wine cellar alone, and as per usual it was silent between them. Karliah seemed very much absorbed in her own world, she simply sat in deep thought, staring at the wall.

"Gallus's journal mentioned the Twilight Sepulcher." Isobel said as she took her own seat. "What is that?"

"The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple to Nocturnal." Karliah didn't move from her pensive position. "It's what the Nightingales are sworn to protect with their lives."

"Why does it require that type of protection?"

"Everything that represents Nocturnal's influence is contained within the walls of the Sepulcher." Karliah continued. "Now it seems Mercer has broken his oath with Nocturnal and defiled the very thing he swore to protect."

"Is this where you're taking Gallus's ashes?"

"Yes."

It all rubbed Isobel the wrong way. Thievery was sleuthing through city streets at night and conning gullible people during the day, it was about power and profit, deceit and wit. It wasn't about protecting sacred temples, it wasn't about worshiping patron deities or honouring the dead... Karliah spoke like a lunatic, in fact Isobel seriously entertained the notion that Karliah actually was as insane as she sounded.

"Thieves and temples. It just doesn't add up." Isobel grumbled.

"I felt the same way when Gallus first revealed things to me." Karliah pulled herself out of her reverie and faced Isobel. "I think given time, you'll understand what I mean."

"I'd understand better if less mystery was involved." She replied bitterly.

"I know the Guild doesn't do much to foster faith, but I'm going to have to ask that you continue to trust me." Karliah insisted.

And funnily enough, as Isobel sat there questioning the Dunmer's sanity, she did. She did trust Karliah. She may be secretive and confusing, even harsh at times, but she saved Isobel's life and was dedicated to restoring the Guild.

In a few more weeks they would be approaching Riften's gates, ready to face Mercer and expose his betrayal. Isobel just hoped she only had to worry about Mercer attacking her and not the Blackbriars, or the city guard... or Brynjolf.

"I've got your back if you've got mine." Isobel muttered, and Karliah's worried face softened ever so slightly.


18th of First Seed

Brynjolf was in bed, but he was far from sleeping. Despite the heavy bags under his eyes and the exhaustion that plagued him to the bones he could not sleep for the life of him.

Instead he simply stared out into the dark, recognizing the first few rays of dawn streaming through the aperture in the ceiling and knowing he would have to get up soon to face another horrid day.

Another day of being stuck.

It was a miracle no one had bailed and abandoned them. Although morale had soared upon Brynjolf's return and his seizing the title of Guild Master, after weeks of stagnation everyone in the Guild had slowly deflated.

Eventually Brynjolf had to force them to lower their guard and stop the continuous scouting above ground, they needed to try and figure out what had actually happened. They interrogated locals and sent letters out to those they thought might've possibly corresponded with Mercer, but none of their contacts knew where he could have gone. Not to mention Riftweald Manor was completely locked up with no way of getting in, and Karliah was still out there.

Jobs were scarce, coin was drying up. It wouldn't be too long before they'd have to break open the vault and start taking out of the Guild savings just to buy stale bread. Just the thought made Brynjolf sick. That and the way everyone looked at him.

Everyone, even Delvin, looked at Brynjolf with a sense of inquiry. Like they were silently asking him: "What now?"

And Brynjolf had no idea. The Guild was his responsibility to lead out of Mercer's mess, and he couldn't. He had so much hope to restore the Guild to Gallus's legacy, but no fucking clue on how to untangle their situation.

He hated it. He hated the dragging feet and slumped shoulders, the monotone murmuring that constituted as conversation, the gurgling stomachs, and the missing piece in his heart that Isobel's disappearance had stolen away with her.

Only he knew how many times he had broken down and wept for her. He had failed to help her, she was the only woman in his life who had made him feel romantic love and he cursed her away and failed her when she needed him most. The heartbreak was too much for him to bear, but he couldn't let the others see him grieving for Isobel while their lives hung in balance as well.

His continued to stare at the morning light coming through the well, trying desperately to envision any plan to save the Guild.

And then a rope unfurled from the light and hit the stone bottom of the cistern with no more sound than a falling leaf. Brnyjolf bolted upright, shaking his weary head and not believing his bloodshot eyes.

A small human descended down the line, the rope wrapped in such a way around their leg that they was able to controllably slide down as quickly as if they had fallen. Their boots hit the stone floor just as silently as the rope, and instantly their face turned to the one body that wasn't sleeping.

Brynjolf could only stare as the mysterious person approached his bed, his agape mouth shutting and his heart leaping into his throat when he recognized familiar blue eyes glaring at him under a gray cowl.

Isobel's eyes.

"Where's my thief?" The Gray Fox demanded.