If I'm a villain, then I'm the one you root for.

Chapter 46: Ara's Legacy

I stumbled to my feet. Heat drains you of your energy quickly. In the hottest parts of the Reaper's March, if you ever found yourself absent of water, your death is bound. My throat grew raw from simply breathing, my head pounded from the dehydration. I was dying, but I was alive. Ghost Flame slithered back into Nocturnal's Talon with a hiss. The scene before me was something cut from a glimpse of Oblivion on Nirn. They said visions like this was were commonplace in the war against the Mythic Dawn and Mehrunes Dagon. Reaching out from the base of Centaurcrass, all flora was completely decimated and burned asunder. What was left was a flurry of white and gray ash, a wide field a mile out.

War was about death. The enemy's death and subsequently yours. Blotches of black peppered the battlefield. Elven form. Mortals who once walked this plane of existence now dead and burned. The explosion painted the skies orange with a tinge of red. No fires remained, however. The dead were no longer flesh and blood but ash that crumbled at any slight touch. The air was far past the smell of burning, but a waft of long-forgotten soot left a tang in the air.

Crestel was the first to stand, shaking ash from his armor, his eyes red in the sclera and dried to oblivion. 'Water…' He cried. I've never heard his voice so weak.

I dug Nocturnal's Talon from its perch in the ground—I didn't dare sheathe it again—and tossed Crestel my waterskin. He tilted it back.

'It's boiling hot!' He rasped, spitting it out.

'Don't go wasting water, Cousin.' Milkar warped back to my side.

'You used Pondus?' I asked my brother. He was unscathed.

Milkar nodded. 'This sword has saved me on many occasions in Oblivion.'

I smiled despite myself and nodded. Admiration filled my heart.

Crestel pounded his fist into his palm. 'This was not supposed to happen. If I knew how powerful Monsotar has grown—'

'Now's not the time to reflect on the past,' I said, indifference salted in my tone. 'We're here now.'

'Watchmaster!' A lanky Bow with a hooked nose darted towards me. 'Watchmaster!' He skidded to a halt, fostering a cloud of ash in the process, and stood to salute me. The Bosmer's leathers were ripped in several spots, burned in others. A scathing red scar ran a trail over his head.

'Report?'

'The bulk of our force… they're… they're all dead. But—'

More rumbling in the distance. This time it wasn't the roar of fire, but a stomp of something large instead.

I ground my teeth. 'Finish.'

'Only about five hundred…' he looked back towards the tree line where the firestorm ended its tirade across the battlefield. 'Only five hundred of us survived. Most severely wounded.'

I closed my eyes tight, unable to swallow what little moisture I held in my throat. 'You did good, Bow.' I placed an affectionate hand on the Ranger's shoulder.

'What are your orders, Watchmaster?'

'We might have to retreat, Leila.' Crestel let the proposition linger in the air.

Retreat? Retreat now? I came so far, how could I retreat? That wasn't in my list of options. I've been through so much, too much to simply leave now after I came so far. I couldn't leave without Monsotar's head, I needed to see him die here, today. There was no retreating, not now, not ever.

I said nothing and watched the ground rumble again. A hand braced against my back. I turned towards my brother. 'Send them home, Leila.'

'And you? The Silver Crescents? All that we've sacrificed until now will be for nothing!'

'I said nothing of me or the Crescents,' Milkar said with a jagged grin. 'I told myself from a young age that I would see Valenwood fixed. And I will see it through until my last breath. This is it for me if there is nothing else.'

I looked into Milkar's sparkling emerald eyes. Those perfect jewels my brothers and I share glistened. The world had become ash all around us. Our plan failed terribly, and Monsotar was on the cusp of winning a fight he barely fought himself. But here was Milkar Lockharte, the storm that Valenwood was not ready for. I knew hope was not at all lost. To what depth would his resolve endure?

I turned to the Bow once more. 'How many of Monsotar's forces remain?'

He did a confused half shrug before answering. 'Still thousands. We believe most are regrouping in the—'

A feathered shaft sprouted from his eye as if by some dark magic.

He crumpled, revealing an army of dark armored Nightblades pouring from the base of Centaurcrass. I moved instinctively, raising my sword bisecting another arrow aimed for my heart. Arrows filled the sky with black death and rained down a hailstorm of chaos. Ghost Flame grew into a half barrier, covering Crestel, Milkar, and I.

The ground shook again. The rumbling was much closer.

'Crestel,' I said, my voice held an intense focus. I threw the Watchmaster's shortsword at his feet. 'Take any surviving members of the Ranger Guard and retreat.'

'You two won't survive this alone,' he said as an arrow whizzed past his cheek. He didn't flinch, and the intensity in his stare was undying.

'We're not alone,' Milkar told him. Rumbling again.

Crestel looked towards the distant trees. It was hard to see in the half-light of the night, but they were there. Still fighting. Our friends.

Crestel shrugged and turned back to us. 'Okay, listen. You two are family, and no matter what paths you've taken in life, I've always respected all of you. You didn't have Ara, and you didn't have Faeden. So, what I'm about to say to you may not mean much. This is not an ideal plan for either of you. If I retreat with the Ranger Guard now, and without you both, you'll face criminal charges for desertion. You'll be placed on the highest spot in the black target books of all Ranger Guard.' He looked from Milkar to me. 'Especially you, being that you're the current Watchmaster.'

I nodded. 'I understand. And I'm sure you'll vote the best and strongest choice for the next Watchmaster. As of right now, my only goal is to kill Monsotar and end this madness once and for all.'

Crestel shook his head and let out an airy laugh. 'You are certainly amazing, Leila.' He took a step back towards the end of the flaming barrier. 'Your mother would have done the same thing.' Crestel waited for a second before snapping to attention and saluting. 'Those of the Ranger Guard that wishes to stay with you may stay, those wishing to retreat can come with me.'

'Thank you, Crestel.'

'Nope.' Crestel shook his head. 'Thank you, Leila. You've shown me how much Valenwood has changed in these past few years. And that there are even heroes, not living in the limelight, but living in the shadows as rogues. For all of us that see who you truly are, we are proud.'

And without further disruption, Crestel took the Watchmaster's shortsword—the badge of the official office—and all Ranger Guard that survived under my Ghost Flame barrier before leading them in the opposite direction of Centaurcrass. To the North, where Elren was supposed to be, more rumbling. I heard the cries of Bosmer—the roars of war.

'Well, what now? It's just us.' Milkar asked.

I slipped my Iron-Bark bow from its straddle and examined the intricate design across its form. The wood warmed my palms, the design is of a recurve for power. The pattern was carved ornamental on its limbs. This wood was grey and metallic-like the broken Graht-Oak before me. Iron-Bark was wood, there's nothing in its alchemic make-up that could suggest it was anything else. However, if you told a smith that has never held nor heard of such an abomination of Y'ffre's forest, he'd tell you the thing was metal. I wondered about it many a night; how my father's family came to produce the stuff; how it was legal to farm Iron-Bark trees and cultivate Iron-Bark Graht-Oaks.

No matter how many years I've used the bow, my arm always strained to wield it. It carried weight. The weight of an entire family.

'One girl with a bow.' Milkar held Pondus. That sword, owned by the Camoran Usurper, also made of Iron-Bark, makes Milkar formidable in a wide-open battlefield. Perhaps he was alone enough to end Monsotar. But I knew, just as much as he did, that it had to be me.

And it will be me.

With my Iron-Bark bow in one hand and Nocturnal's Talon in the other, I let Ghost Flame ride down my sword's blade. The dark flames flickered to life with a flurry. Monsotar's forces grew from dots under the towering Centaurcrass to a line of angry wood elves as they grew closer. I laid my sword's tip to my bow and let the flame engulf it. Ghost Flame spread over the bow, burning heavily across the Iron-Bark. Against my own flesh, the power held no effect. It neither hurt nor burned me. I raised the heirloom high and took aim.

When each arrow touched the bow, they too were enchanted by the flowing flames.

The first arrow took them by surprise. A dozen turned to ash instantly. The arrow not stopping its path through body and limb before disintegrating in flight. They scrambled to defend against it. They couldn't—not against this power. My mother was known for her rendition of the Ghost Flame by making it into a flaming bow, she was unstoppable. I converged on them like a hungry beast, a thousand to one. Three, six, ten, fifteen; I counted each kill as my arrows shot through them with relative ease. I was at the center of a monster legion of killers. More Nightblade thieves poured from Centaurcrass; more died by the tip of these arrows.

'Keep them coming, Monsotar. Keep sending your thrall-minded minions so that I may end their lives before your eyes.'

Know that it was I, the daughter of your master, that defeated you.

Blades came down upon me, but I moved swiftly through the crowd. I punched one elf's face in, caving his skull, spun on my heel and sent an arrow to another's head. It took four others with him to Oblivion. I roared and jumped, releasing another arrow, taking the lives of another group of four. There was no time for them to scream as they watched their bodies disintegrate into nothingness.

My bow was the last victim of the Ghost Flame. It dwindled and grew lighter. The Iron-Bark could only take so much, and finally, the bow itself crumbled to dust. They came now, full force. I ducked under a thrashing ax, slipped between a pair of legs, flailing out with my dagger. The Bosmer fell to his knees as I jabbed the dagger through the back of his head. I spun puncturing the arm of a killing blow and dragged the blade through the center of his arm. Two more came at me. I leaped, kicking both backward and launched throwing knives into their throats. I spun with my dual-wielded knives, filleting limbs, cutting throats and faces, and ending the lives of my enemies with no remorse.

I would kill them all to get inside.

My arms grew tired; my breath, hard to catch. Every fiber of my muscles burned with fatigue.

Keep going. Keep fighting.

For everyone I loved, I needed to win.

I slipped. I just needed a second to breathe. One measly second. The Woods saw me fall to the ground. They converged.

A rush of air passed over me. The ground shook like an earthquake. A trumpet echoed, nearly deafening me. I rolled out of the way before the beast crushed me underfoot. The Mother of Gilden collided with the bulk of Monsotar's forces, plowing it's massive, wooly head against the wall of leathered nightblades.

'Hahahaha. Whew! Now that's what I call a fine rescue!'

There they were: Aranwen, Gwendalyn, Esmond, and Elren. Behind them, the emtirety of the Raw Tooth clan springing to action.

'Do you have any other mood than frantic glee?' Gwendalyn asked my brother.

I watched as three hundred-ton beasts smashed through the Woods with unrelenting force, crushing souls in their wake. Cries roared out as tusks as long as branches skewered them in one fell swoop of their heads. Sitting on a large platform saddle was First Lady Belwa. She looked down at me with a glinting smile. As the leader of the Raw Tooth, she knew the importance of this fight. If I didn't win, we were all doomed.

'I couldn't thank you all enough,' I told them.

'Thank us?' Esmond released an ice spike. 'There's no need.'

I felt a hand land on my shoulder. 'The shadows of your wings spread far, Black Raven of Shimmer Root. You've brought all of these people together to plow through this impenetrable wall that has been looming over Valenwood for far too long. The least we all could do, my lady, is thank you.' Lady Belwa pushed on with her clan.

'It's time,' Elren pointed towards the entrance to Centaurcrass.

I looked at the Silver Crescents and seen how far my people have grown. My heart still aches for Ceril and Sickle Ear who died fighting for what they believed in—a Valenwood without the corruption that has plagued and killed their own, but I rejoiced to know they're looking down at us from Aetherius. I held my head up strong and pointed towards the Graht-Oak.

Elren held out his hand with a smile, and I took it.

We exploded into the tree. Esmond's magelight shot out to all corners of the dark foyer. Nightblades countered in force, but they were no match for our combined effort. I rushed in with Elren. His nimble attacks gave him an edge where losing an arm would have left him vulnerable. I've underestimated Elren far too many times. He was a true warrior in all respects.

I cut into an enemy's palm and turned on the violet flames. As he became dust, I carved into a group, spinning around into the next victims. A sword strafed my armor, but I flipped over his back, pulling up on my blade and slicing him completely in half. Arrows whizz passed me, one grazing my left shoulder. I caught the third and snapped it while swinging my blade at the archer that released it. The Ghost Flame shot out and clung to him. He burned in an instant.

While the others were busy, a trio of Milkar, Elren, and I burst down a wounding corridor. This was going to lead us straight up to Monsotar's quarters.

More Woods poured through the corridor. Milkar used his sword's enchantment and teleported himself between them. He was a ferocious monster and they, feeble prey. Limbs separated from bodies, bodies were left torn, and blood flooded the ground.

'This way!' I turned into a flight of winding stairs.

Elren rushed in front of me, seemingly flying up the stairs. He exploded through a leaf veil, stabbing the nearest Nightblade. I came in, cutting clean through the head of another. Milkar moved with an unstoppable force to clean up the rest guarding Monsotar's chambers.

We looked wild. Our armor fringed at the edges; our hair, a mess; and blood caked in every crevice of our bodies. Nothing could stop us.

'This is it,' I said, halting. Two leaf-veils set in front of us. 'Behind this is Monsotar.' Memories of the horrors I experienced flooded me with unease. He killed my friends, forced me to eat their flesh, and raped me for a fortnight while I believed my family to be dead.

'We'll win,' Milkar said, reassuringly. 'Whatever happens behind this leaf-veil, I know we'll always be family. We are the Silver Crescents! Our vision of the future will not stop at this.'

Elren and I both nodded. I approached the tall leaves and made a small puncture with Nocturnal's Talon. The veil burned away at the slightest hint of power. The chamber was bathed in the gloom of low bearing mushrooms and orchids. The table where we sat and ate dinner for six moons sat barren. The air was stale as if time itself kept it in place. Life didn't move in there. I walked in slowly, Milkar and Elren taking steady steps behind me.

'Raven.'

Up the dais, Montedor stood beside his father who was kneeled over his son. Monsotar Handseed still wore his leather tunic over a bare chest with strapped breeches buckled down to his ankles. His body was chiseled with muscle despite his natural slim build. Goldfire hung from his belt.

Montedor bit his lip and turned back towards his father. Those eyes weren't the ones of a genocidal maniac I knew they were capable of, but that of a concerned father. He whispered something to his son and stood, leaving a hand placed on the boy's rough mane of rustic hair.

Rindiel grabbed Montedor's arm and pointed toward a sliver in the tree's hard bark. Rindiel of the Red Moss; Elren's uncle wore that polished Ossenium armor when we first fought. He looked more ready for war than Monsotar did.

'Hatred looks good on you, my Young Raven.'

'And it is my hatred that has brought me this far, Monsotar.' I watched his hands. 'Why don't you give this up? Your Thieves of the Wood are routed. Those who support you have dwindled. You no longer have any friends.'

Monsotar grinned and chucked a finger back towards Rindiel. 'Like brother; like sister. You've managed to take away the closest person away from me.' He shook his head. 'But then again, I don't think Rindiel was ever my… friend.'

Rindiel gripped his sword.

'Well,' Monsotar said, gesturing towards Leila, 'I've known that you've loved her for a long tim; don't hesitate now to join her side now.'

Rindiel made his move: a quick slash from the scabbard. Monsotar was too quick and sidestepped the attack. Rindiel came back, his blade singing. Monsotar drew Goldfire and blocked it with an underhanded grip almost too easily.

'It hurts less when you're honest about your feelings,' Monsotar said. A sparing gesture, but mocking all the same.

Monsotar dropped his guard, allowing Rindiel to hop backward, retreating to our side. I stepped forward. 'This is my fight.'

I knew I had to be the one to kill him. The Raven versus the Crow.

'I was eleven when I fell in love with her, you know?' Monsotar gave me a fond smile. 'She was the pinnacle of light. A dreamer that can make certain realities before your very eyes. I was always distant from the others, including my own brother, but Ara and I were so close.' He traced a finger down the foyer of his blade. 'Everything I know about fighting, I learned from her. There was something about it.'

There is a curse among those who have been touched by my mother's blinding light. She just burned brighter than all of us, and there was not anything we could do to match it. It sent the world around her into a spiraling depression. How could anyone be like that?

'It wasn't that long ago when you said that you and I were one and the same.' An electrifying explosion of nerves sent shivers down the crux of my back. Talking to Monsotar here like this was the one thing I strived for, for so long. 'I refused to believe such a thing. You and I were the furthest from each other anyone can possibly be.' I shook my head slowly. 'But I admit that your words do have some truth to it. You and I, the crow and the raven are two sides of the same coin. We both wanted to save Valenwood from itself and from those that would take advantage of it, but you've steeped too low, sacrificed too much and too many for that goal. I was falling into the same trap, and because of that, I can't see myself in the same position of power you've climbed to. My destiny is to ensure that those who do find themselves on the throne of roguery will not dissent into depravity.'

'Dissent into depravity?' Milkar riled a smile. 'Is that what happened to me? We were orphans: my brother, Esmond, Sultel, and I. And we were found living in this carcass of a Graht-Oak by your mother. She trained us, raised us; she taught us that even in the cruelty of this world there are wonders that we can love. She gave us hope by telling us that four little orphans can make a difference. The first job we did as the Thieves of the Wood was to force a treethane to give a poor village more resources. That was a long time ago. I couldn't believe that this world looked down on the way of the rogue. Not following anyone's rules, not adhering to laws that cause pain and suffering among the poor and unfortunate.' He let out a soft, sullen chuckle. His eyes made a sharp adjustment, filled with hate and malice. 'Why did she have to leave? Knowing we were all abandoned once, she left us. That's when I understood who Ara High-Arrow truly was.' Monsotar raised his sword. 'She was—'

'A light that shines too bright.' I took a step forward. 'We've all saw a glimpse of Ara's light, but you're the only one that allowed it to blind you.'