"Look!"

"Shh – "

"You shh!"

"She's waking up!"

From every direction, on every sense an assault came as I woke. First, the chattering all around me – barely contained whispers and giggles, a rumbling snore and the ambient echo of dripping on stone. The taste of blood and honey mingling in my mouth. Something warm and prickly, rising and falling against my cheek –

Luke. The cultists, the honey, the cackling – I jerked upright with a gasp, terrified that his head wouldn't be his head, that he would laugh at me again.

No – he lay sleeping, tongue lolling, round eyes flickering under his eyelids in dreams. I breathed a sigh of relief and stroked down his flank, squinting through bleary eyes at the blurry shapes before me.

"I like her doggie."

"I don't."

"Canines are known for carrying diseases – rabies, witbane, or worse, parasites. Fleas, ticks…"

I shut my eyes again a few moments longer, listening to the low whispers humming like the bees of my drugged visions. But, no - I was awake now, sober now, these past hours flooding back in. The ruin, the honey. The cultists, another buzz rising and falling.

"She pet me once. Under a fir tree."

"Nonsense."

"Maybe, maybe she'll let me play with her doggie!"

None of it made sense - of course it didn't. Still, a smile forced my stiff lips to curve. For the second time, I was awaking surrounded by madfolk. Still reeling I could almost laugh at the absurdity, at the turn my life had taken to bring me here.

… At least this time, I was still wearing clothes.

"I'll go tell Blue." A sharp, nasally voice, brisk footsteps moving away. Roused now, I took in my surroundings. I was in – some sort of a cell, it looked like. A little alcove, the entrance sealed off by a gate of wrought metal, ornate in Ayleid design and silhouetted by those watching me. As I shifted, one shape on all fours scampered away. The other stayed, giving a giggle when I staggered to my feet.

"IlikeyourdoggiecanIpetyourdoggie?"

It was all a little much for my still sluggish brain. I blinked and stared, searching through those muddy scraps of memory. That voice – light and high-pitched, familiar. Yes, the man who'd played with my hair. He wore what seemed to be a makeshift dress, split down the middle of the chest to fit his impressive figure. He carried a bowl of water between his hands. I licked at my chapped lips, staring.

"Oh! You're thirsty. She said you'd be thirsty." He slid the bowl into an opening at the bottom of the cell's grate. Eagerly I scooped up the bowl and drank, rivulets running down my chin. I couldn't bring myself to care. Greedily I emptied the bowl, only thinking at the last minute to lower it and leave some for Luke.

"What's your name?"

It was strange – his voice sounded like it belonged to a little girl, not this bear of a man. "… Dust."

"Dust!" He giggled, tucking a thick golden braid behind his ear. "I'm Nura. Can I play with your doggie, now?"

I frowned, at a loss for words. "… H-hello, Nura." I glanced at Luke, half expecting him to offer up his opinion. "I suppose, but - can you let us out, first?"

"Oh! Yes." He knelt to try and pull up the grating from hooks on the other side. A moment of childlike straining and he pouted. "It's too heavy."

"Stand back, Nura." A woman's voice, tight and harsh. The Dunmer from before, her arm bandaged where Luke had bitten her. I winced at the sight of it, chewing my lip and backing towards the wall as she approached. She stared at me for a long moment, then the hound, nose twitching.

"He smells like death. If he touches me again, I'll kill him."

"He won't. He'll be good." I swallowed hard. Luke stood upright now, lapping at the water, but his eyes remained fixed on the Dunmer. His teeth bared in a brief snarl until I placed my hand on his back, silencing him.

"Fine. I know the scent of the truth." She bowed to bring up the grate, easily swinging it open and hooking it back into place. Why had the man in the dress struggled? "Get out here."

I stumbled out, limbs still stiff, Luke at my side. "I don't mean any harm. Truly, I don't. I'm just an alchemist here for a sample of the honey."

"Whatever." She waved away my excuses, stalking ahead through a short hall. "Come on. Don't drag your feet, I hate the stench of waiting."

I was given no answers, not even time for questions as she led me through the winged corridors of the ruin. Nura fell in step not far from Luke, giggling and playing at snatching his tail, always pulling his hand back at the last moment.

The ruin was massive, full of nooks and alcoves – and residents. Curious cultists, the footsteps behind us multiplying as others joined our little march. I dared a glance back, a cold tingle down my spine at the silhouettes behind us that seemed to have simply formed out of the flickering shadows, whispering, laughing.

"She looks plain. Nothing to hide."

"You idiot, those ones have everything to hide!"

"Madgod have mercy, you're right. What do you think?"

I strained my ears, wanting to catch exactly what conspiracies I might unknowingly have born, but then –

"Oh!"

The hall opened up, flared arches soaring to a ceiling supported by pillars high in the air, vanishing in the darkness above lit only by sparkles of blue light and refractions of the pool beneath it. A grand pool, framed by carvings in the stone around the lip – perhaps once some sort of magnificent bathing room for the Ayleid. Once – now, it was a place these people called home.

Colourful banners and torn blankets hung around the ridges of the pool, more scattered with chairs and cushions. Well, 'chairs' could only be used loosely. Baskets, earthenware jars, crates – all manner of discarded and forgotten containers had been repurposed as furniture, decorated with dried flowers and green branches making this massive space feel somehow almost cozy.

A people living outside of civilization, society, building a little world all their own. So very different from and yet so very similar to the smoke-stained halls and hanging black and red banners of the Brotherhood. A sanctuary, a haven, a cult.

"You will wait here." The Dunmer strode forward until her foot hit the tip of a carpet, pointing at the cushions there. At my hesitance she paused, head raising, nares flaring as though inhaling my fear for a long moment before she gave a sigh. "… You will not be hurt."

I let the apprehension in my chest soften, just a little. Of course, I couldn't be certain of her word – but if they wanted to hurt me, kill me, they would have done it while I was drugged. A moment longer and I nodded, sinking to the floor with Luke settling his head in my lap. "… Thank you."

I was alone, yet not alone at all. Ignored, yes, but all around me the cultists resumed their day. One seemed to be leading some little song and dance, making the people around him clap and laugh aloud. Another, tall and thin, was scrubbing furiously at one of the ancient statues. And now the Nord who called himself Nura snuck up to me again, practically wriggling with excitement and impatience.

"Now can I play with your doggie?"

Attacked as an intruder, forced to take the drugged honey, the cultists had seemed terrifying. In my hallucinations, ethereal. But now…

Maybe it was my experiences at the shrine. Maybe it was how childlike he seemed, how harmless. Maybe – maybe I just wanted to trust, for once, someone's word. But I felt a smile, inside and out, and let it show.

"Well, you'll have to ask him."

A gasp. His gaze flew down to Luke, who opened one lazy eye as he knelt and lowered his head. "Will you, puppy? Pretty, pretty please?"

Luke snorted, stretching as he stood, then gave playful chase as the cultist – man, child? Ran and screamed and laughed in pure delight.

… What now?

I squeezed my eyes shut. Now, I'd – I'd negotiate for my freedom. They said they wouldn't hurt me, and I remembered faintly from the drugged haze that the Argonian said I'd be missed. But I still needed the honey. I couldn't leave empty-handed, after all.

Why not? A voice at the back of my head spoke up, sharp, insistent. Why should you listen to them? Now Anya and Netta's voices rang in my head, making me wince. The Five Tenets. You'd be safer if you belonged, if you were really Family.

And now, I found myself among these people who embraced the role of outcast.

"Do you remember me?"

I startled out of my reverie, staring at the woman who'd approached. I recognized her, if only by voice. The soft-spoken woman outside my cell, who'd scurried off when I stood. Covered head to feet in furs stitched together, coated with dirt, she hid in the shadow of her cowl crouched on all fours, waiting for my answer.

"You – you were there when I woke up, weren't you?"

She shook her head. On either side of her head long, matted ears from a hare's hide swung in turn. "From before, in cold-before-cold. You pet me."

I bit back a sigh. What did I expect from madfolk? "I'm sorry, I don't."

"There was a fir tree. You had mushrooms." She spoke haltingly, as though so many words at once presented a challenge for her. I frowned, a tingle trickling down the nape of my neck. "You pet me. A dark man came. I ran."

It had been so long ago – autumn, not months after I'd first been pulled into this world. Before my shop, before the traitor. Before maman had been made Listener, before she had died. But now, the memory came through clear – that crisp fall day in the woods picking mushrooms, I let my caught breath shudder out, shaking my head. "…You can't possibly know that."

A scrabble of movement – Luke returned panting and the woman – the rabbit? – fled in a flurry, Nura puffing and red-faced, but gleeful.

"Your doggie is good at chasing!"

"I'm glad." I watched as he sat cross-legged on the floor where Luke lay, humming to himself and picking up discarded toys from where they sat on the rug, dancing them along his back as a giant, furry mountain. Like a child in the frame of a grown man. Was this his gift, Sheogorath's blessing? Why?

"I want to play with my dolls now." Either hand held a little straw dollie, comically small in his hands. "You can have this one." He thrust one forward and I gingerly accepted, examining it. Straw had been bent and woven into the shape of a woman wearing a skirt, hair plaited atop her head, a placid smile painted on her face. I turned her in my hand, a smile growing in spite of myself.

"I had a doll like this, when I was a girl." Before it had been burned with the rest of our possessions when papa and Falrung died, when maman remarried. My straw doll was replaced by one of porcelain that I wasn't allowed to play with, for fear I'd break it and cut myself.

"Her name's Charlotte. She's a Breton." He spoke with the definitive certainty of any child, showing me the doll he still held. "Her name is Greta. Your name is Dust, my name is Nura!" He beamed at having named us all, then frowned at Luke. "What's your doggie's name?"

I scratched behind his ear, frowning. "… Luke."

Again, that factual attitude only a child could have, somehow in a grown man. He frowned, too, brow knotting. "That's not a very good doggie name."

"I named him after a bas…" I stopped myself from cursing, but there was no other word I could use that would describe everything Lucien was to me. A friend, a lover, a keeper and a threat. "… Someone I know."

"You could change his name." He tilted his head, hair falling. "Call him Snuffles. That's what I'd call him."

Luke whined. I laughed but shook my head, stroking down his brow as his eyes drifted shut again. "That's a good name, but his name is Luke now. For better or for worse." Names were important. I knew that all too well, myself. I paused, turning my gaze back onto the Nord. "… Who named you, Nura?"

"Da did!" He brightened up, now toying with the dollie, leading it to walk a path up and down Luke's back. "Blue found me, a long time ago. Me and my da. We were outside, in those woods." He pointed upwards, above the buried ruin. Was it dark or light out there, now? How long had I been down here? "We was hurt. Da was hurt, real bad." His face fell. "They gave us the honey to make us better, but he died. So they adopted me. I live here, now. I like it here. Will you stay, too?"

I listened intently to his story, trying to make sense of it. He and his father? And who was Blue? His question caught me off-guard, leaving me blinking. "I…"

Could I? Nobody would know where I'd gone. I'd simply disappear, out of Cheydinhal, off the face of Nirn and into its depths. Stay here, with madfolk? Abandon everything I knew to live among outcasts and misfits?

…Stay here where I wouldn't have to kill a man to survive, where I could escape the life I'd inherited?

Luke groaned, turning his head in my lap to lick my hand.

"I – I don't know. I don't think so." I offered the best smile I could manage, though he pouted in return. "I have – "

"Loyalties. You said as much."

I jumped to my feet now, meeting the familiar golden eyes of the Argonian. But it wasn't him who spoke – instead another woman at his side. A Redguard voice low and dulcet as the contents of the jar she held. She was strikingly beautiful, dark eyes and high cheekbones, yellow beads in her hair –

Except they weren't beads. Gossamer wings fluttered, jewel yellow bees fluttering around the thick mane of her hair, docile and loyal as drones to their queen.

"… You made the apiary, didn't you?"

"I did." Her eyes crinkled in amusement, gaze keen enough to make me squirm. "And you, my sticky-fingered friend – what interest do you have in my honey, hm?"

"I – I need it for..." I swallowed, searching for some clever lie I could give, lamely finishing. "… A potion." I set my jaw and pushed away the guilt. "But I have so many questions. Who are you people? Why are you here, why the honey, why – "

"One at a time." She shushed me with a raised finger, glancing at the Argonian who rolled his eyes. "First – I am Niyaneh."

"And I am Blue-Scales-Shining." The 'Blue' from Nura's story, then. "I lead this little herd in our pursuit of the Madgod's vision."

"And we're here because when we couldn't fit out there, we carved out our own place to belong." In contrast to the Argonian's impatience, Niyaneh spoke gently. "The honey is one of my creations. Do you remember what it told you?"

I pursed my lips tight and searched through that cloudy haze of memory. "… Call the damn dog?"

"I told you she could be taught." The woman grinned as Blue-Scales-Shining scoffed, tail lashing. "Not all from the University have such closed minds."

I stiffened. "How do you know I went to the University?"

Blue snorted. "Please, you stink of it. Shallow minds grooming shallow minds, trapping you all in a recursive loop of ignorance."

"And we would know." A lopsided smirk between the two told me all I needed to know. Before I could press – gods, I had so much to ask, there was so much I didn't understand – the Argonian had turned tail, striding off. I turned to give Nura back his doll, but he only beamed and shook his head, giggling when Niyaneh crooked her arm into mine.

"You can keep her. She'll be your new friend."

The Redguard led me away now, at last answering at least one of my many unspoken questions. "Blue and I tired of the restrictions imposed by the University. Our potential was – limited, in such a place. We were both drawn to the gifts of the Madgod, and sought a place we could call our own. We found it here, and soon others flocked to join us."

The gifts of the Madgod. I chewed my lip, glancing back over my shoulder – the rabbit woman was crouched lapping at the water's edge, Nura splashing and waving goodbye to the 'doggie' when Luke followed our stride.

"The gifts…" An echo of memory, buzzing with mosquitoes and the voices of the madfolk at the shrine. "Blessed are the addicts?"

"Exactly."

"Is that – all you study? Addictive substances?" Little wonder she left the school. They never would have approved such studies – cures, yes, but not the creation of such things.

"For the most part. Call it a passion project." A smirk curved her lips, and I felt a flicker of – something, through my throat, into my gut. Jealousy? She'd left behind the University, the city, civilization and morals to do what she loved, while I felt more bound with every passing day. "Difficult to get materials and maintain scientific rigor out here, but one does what one can."

Blessings. I paused behind her for a moment, patting Luke's head in a search for comfort. Call the damn dog, don't be scared, dammit, what did it mean? If I had some – connection with the Madgod, what was I meant to do about it? Did I even want it? I could understand the gifts of creativity and imagination, but his other offerings…

"… What sort of blessing does Nura have?" I probed as gently and politely as I could, trying to make sense of it.

Niyaneh nodded approvingly, as though I'd asked the right question. "Did she tell you how she came to us?"

She, then? I nodded, blinking. "He – she – Nura said that she was found with her father in the woods, injured. That he died after eating the honey, and you adopted her."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "It's true, but not how you might think. The little girl's body died, and so the father's spirit died with it. I gave him my honey, opened his mind to the Madgod. Sheogorath brought them together into one."

I could only stare. "… So – Nura, the girl, is in her father's body? And she doesn't know it?"

"She never will. She is eternally the child she was before death. Sheogorath heard the cries of her father after he took my honey, as he held her limp body. He said he would trade anything for her to live on." A sad smile. "Our Lord had mercy on them both."

"Mercy," I whispered, eyes wide. Was that mercy? It was true, the father's wish had been granted. The little girl lived on, blissfully unaware. For all the strangeness of it, it did make a terrible kind of sense. However terrible, it was still a kindness that Nura lived on.

… Mercy. I remembered Sheogorath's voice in my head at the shrine, echoed now as Niyaneh murmured. "Madness is a bitter mercy, but a mercy nonetheless."

Sheogorath offered mercy, however twisted. Was there room for mercy in the eyes of the Night Mother? I accepted the jar of honey from her hands as if it might scald me, but she didn't let go right away, grip locked over mine as her gaze did the same.

"He's seen something in you, hasn't He? You told the truth, when you said He spoke to you."

I bit back a bitter laugh. "… It hardly matters." After all, what else could I do but what I was bidden, commanded? If I disobeyed, I'd be killed. And maybe – maybe that, I could have accepted, but the image that haunted me still from that storming night, kneeling at the feet of my mother and hers…

"Of course it matters. You could stay with us." She tilted her head, the bees flitting along her arms, one humming around my head. "You're an alchemist, aren't you? We could work together. Pursue your studies out of the public's eye. Away from judgment, rules and demands."

A disbelieving laugh left me. "I can't just – up and vanish." Could I? No, of course not. Just the idea was – well, mad.

She scrutinized me for a long moment, then her smile softened. "… You could, I think. But you don't want to. Something holds you back."

My gaze fell to my feet. Something, yes. Something like a threat to my life, a punishment that would be delivered by a hand all too willing. But it wasn't just that bitterness tying me down.

"…You must have given up everything." I blinked back tears now. "Your home, your status, your family, all to be here."

It sounded so tempting, so frightening. So lonely. I thought of Antoinetta and Anya, of Lucien. Of maman.

Of everyone who wanted the best for me, for me to make the best of what I had. For my own good, because they cared for me.

"Here, I'm free." Her gaze turned to me once more. I squirmed under it, uncomfortable, uneasy, uncertain, so uncertain. "Are you free out there?"

I didn't have to answer. My silence screamed it out for me.

At last she let go of the jar, letting me step back. "Remember what you learned here, mn?" A crooked smile, dark eyes lidded. "In exchange for the honey, Blue wants you to return monthly, act as our healer should anyone fall ill or injured. But I think you'll be back, anyway."

"I…" I hesitated. To come back here, where I'd been attacked? Yet when I tasted their madness, proved myself trustworthy, they accepted me. And hadn't the Madgod himself spoken to me? A light in the dark. Was this what Sheogorath offered me? I could escape here, for a short time. Away from my loyalties and responsibilities, from blood and death. A place of colour like the shrine had been, even if my life became one that brought…

"If you get tired of doing what you're told – if this," she nodded to the jar, "doesn't work out the way I suspect you need it to, you're welcome to return to us."

I swallowed hard, lowering the jar into my satchel beside the little doll Nura had given me.

I knew then that I would be back here. Even without the deal I'd made, I would return.

"… Thank you." I adjusted the bag on my back and ran my hand down Luke's back, earning a little croon from him. "Okay, boy. Let's head home."

I was led out the way I'd come in, the door shut behind me, instructions left to cover it back up with leaves and mulch. I obeyed despite the late hour, shivering as the spring day fell cool enough that the last remnants of winter shuddered through. Only when I was certain it was hidden again did I return to the road, to the city, noting landmarks so I could find my way back. Night had long fallen – I must have been underground the entire day. It was difficult to navigate in the dark, but once I was far enough away from the ruin I let my little orb of light and Luke guide me again.

I paused outside the city gates. I could run back – run, go with them and be their healer. Choose to be theirs, instead of being forced in because of my mother's work, or because of a threat to my life. They were harsh and strange and mad, but once I'd tasted their madness, they accepted me willingly.

…Anya would be worried sick.

I sighed and took a moment to soothe the pain from the blow at the back of my skull, the throb of my jaw, leaving me even more exhausted. I wanted to sleep, fall into bed and never move again. No, I wanted to eat, empty an entire pot of stew and ask for seconds. I wanted both at once, and both cravings led me stumbling home, Luke glued to my side.

My door was unlocked. I blinked under the glare of candlelight when I walked in, suddenly assaulted – Anya, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me tight. "Where have you been!? Oh, look at you, you're in a in state. And your head! You're hurt, let me see – "

Shit. "I – I found the honey I needed…"

"And that took the entire day? Look at you!" A low sigh as she closed in and inspected me, lips pursed tight. "You're filthy, you're – " A sharp little gasp as she noticed the bruise on my cheek. "Dust!"

Shit, shit. I should have thought of an excuse – I can't tell her about them. I parted my lips but couldn't find the words, watching as Luke slunk off to find a place by the fire. Inside, wishing I could do the same.

"I – I tripped over a root, like an idiot, into a pit." The best lie I could think of, on the spot. "It took me a long time to get back out, a, a hunter helped me – "

Anya's scathing glare was enough to silence me. A moment and she drew herself up, shoulders set. "You were a terrible liar before and you're hardly better now. You look like you were attacked."

"Don't be ridiculous. Anyway, I'm fine, and I have…" A shudder. "… I have what we need. I'll get to work on preparing it tomorrow morning." And the party would follow, that evening.

The party, and then…

"Dust." Firm and chastising as ever the way she said my name, then a sigh both exasperated and affectionate. "…I just want you to be safe. What's best for you, that's all."

Anger ripped through me with a scowl, whipping like a red-hot chain as I snapped. "If only you could all recognize that I might know what's best for me, myself. If you would just stop mothering me - "

"I'm not trying to mother you, I just – "

"Good, because you're not her. Get out."

I'd hurt her. It was subtle, the way she drew back, the hesitation in her eyes, but it was there. I pulled away.

"Goodnight, Anya."

I didn't bother waiting for a reply, trudging upstairs with Luke in my wake. She didn't move to stop me again. Without even bothering to wash or change I dropped my satchel and collapsed, Luke clambering in beside me as tried to process the madness, the possibilities of the day.

The cultists – they'd rejected safety, society, law. They'd made for themselves a place to call home, a place to be free, no matter the ties they had to cut. No matter what other people thought, for better or for worse. They answered to no one.

More and more, it felt like I answered to everyone but myself. Out of loyalty, or love, or just plain cowardice.

At least – at least I'd found the madfolk, been accepted by them. A strange thing to be grateful for, but it was comforting to know they were there, just outside the city. My time at the Shrine had been – messy, but healing. They, too, had been kind to me. They welcomed me for me.

And if I still tasted honey as I drifted to sleep, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.