Awaking to the warm stone of the altar was not what Ellyria expected. Neither was the chill that frosted her guts and pebbled the exposed flesh of her arms. Something was missing, something inside of her that left a hole near where her heart was meant to be. A gasping breath alerted Khamira to her awareness. Pressing a trembling hand against her chest, she tried to push through the bone enough to fill the hole inside. Death had taken something from her, leaving her empty within.

"Five-claw, you are finally awake." Khamira's soft hands helped her move slowly into a sitting position. When she was upright, the queen still did not remove her steadying presence. "Are you alright? You have been unconscious for some time now."

Air hesitated to fill her lungs enough to speak. Had she been dead? She had been dead. Seconds passed without brain function before she could identify the problem. Then, air rushed into the vacuum of her chest. "It's gone, Khamira – the burn of my soul, it's gone. I can't – I can't feel the other dragons," she explained haltingly.

"Breathe slowly, Ellyria – you were very badly damaged in the battle with Kaalgrontiid. Nahfahlaar said the souls of the dragons would protect you, but it would take time for them to be restored within." Khamira's hand rubbed soft circles against her back, soothing and gentle. "He likened it to magic exhaustion."

The next question tumbled out without her consent. "Where are Abnur and Sai Sahan?"

Khamira's reluctance to speak was more telling than any words she could have used. Air whooshed from her lungs as if she'd been kicked in the chest. Black spots danced in her vision as she adjusted from being unable to breathe, to too much air, to gasping again. So much ached, inside and out. When her face crumpled, so did her heart. Ellyria dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, begging for the pain to snap her out of this nightmare. He couldn't be gone. He couldn't be. The sacrifice was hers to make. Orland had said she was the final sacrifice, not him.

"Sai has made his way back to the Dragonguard Sanctuary, but Tharn remained on the Dragon's Island. The aeostone was going to break, and someone had to contain the blast. Nahfahlaar returned, but he did not –"

A broken noise cut her off, and it took moments for Khamira to realize the sound was emerging from her companion. Ellyria cried brokenly into her fists, teeth chewing her lip bloody to hold in the sounds of despair threatening to spew forward. It was all she could do to hold herself together until she couldn't anymore. The worst was over, and yet she was still falling to pieces. Kaalgrontiid was dead, her purpose fulfilled, and she was still empty. Abnur Tharn and Razum-dar were both gone, from the world or from her life just the same. Her dragon soul was dormant again, broken from misuse. At least the world was saved, she acknowledged bitterly as if that meant anything to her. Khamira pulled her closely, allowing Ellyria's hands to find purchase against her leathers. Anything to anchor the flightless dragon in her arms. As the sun moved from high in the sky to barely cresting the horizon, they stayed that way. It was with heavy hands that Khamira guided Ellyria to her feet for the long walk back to a wayshrine that could spit them out at the Sanctum.

The scalding water felt like home on her bare flesh as Ellyria scrubbed away the dried blood. In the Sanctum's bathhouse, the water was always just a little too hot. Thankful for it this time, she finally felt clean when she emerged. Water dripped in rivulets down the soft dress she borrowed from Khamira. It was difficult to care about the mess she made with water as she squeezed her hair out onto the stone floor. There was no reason to dry off when the stifling heat of Pelletine would dry her soon enough, despite the darkness of night. Her bare feet padded out to the courtyard, but then she was stuck. In her mind's eye, Abnur and Khamira were stepping through a portal, ready to track down Kaalgrontiid. Every place he'd stood before was filled with his specter, haunting her as she stepped carefully through the halls of the Sanctum. Swallowing down the lump in her throat was hard. Days had passed before she'd been able to leave her chambers to bathe, and days more had passed before she'd been able to attempt it without Khamira's prodding. It felt good to be clean of her own volition, though. And for the first time, she was not crying.

"It is good to see you out of your chambers, Ellyria," Sai Sahan remarked from his place by the courtyard door. "Another letter has come for you in the aftermath of the end of days. Perhaps you will read this one."

"Thanks," was all she managed.

The parchment was thick in the envelope and sealed with her own initials. Clearly, it was from Navarre or her children. Shame heated her face when she realized it was the first time in many days that she'd given thought to those she left behind in Auridon. So caught up in Abnur fucking Tharn, as usual, she degraded herself painfully. There was no longer an Abnur Tharn to be caught up in, though. Her feet guided her mindless steps to the chambers that she called her own. With shaking fingers, she pulled the seal from the envelope and removed the parchment inside. There was a page from Adrian first, begging for stories about dragons that she'd slain, wondering at the magic he was being taught by Navarre, and marveling at the friend he'd made of a stable-boy caring for the horse she'd procured for him from a distance. He was working hard to learn all the things that could be taught to him. The second page was Sarelia's perfect script. There was question after question about everything, from "What is Pelletine like?" to "What do you eat while you're hunting dragons?" and "When will you return again?" Her stories of blood and dirt from sparing with anyone that would look at her were a pleasure to read. Ellyria couldn't help the smile that dragged up the side of her mouth. She saw far too much of herself in both children. Burning her eyes and blurring her vision, she had to wait through the tears that welled up before she could continue. The third page was split in half. The top was from her mother, a cursory letter to ask how she was doing and when she would return. It was progress, though, as back in Aldmeris, she'd never bothered to speak to Ellyria unless the need was dire. The bottom, from Navarre, detailed the state of her affairs. It was the last few sentences that sent her heart thudding to life in her chest for the first time in months.

Razum-dar continues to ask if we've heard from you, despite my repeated statements to the contrary. He's here most nights, eating my food and sleeping in your bed, coming and going at odd hours on business for Queen Ayrenn. I thought I would be free of cleaning your loft with you out for business, though I supposed I should have expected this. Who would have known that Khajiit shed so much in their sleep? I think he's taken a hit to his ego since you've been clearly too busy to respond to his letters. Serves him right.

She was laughing through the tears in her eyes, then, and wondering what she had done to deserve the people that cared so much for her. Nothing, her head reminded her. Everything, her heart whispered right after, soothing the ache just enough to keep her from falling further apart.

It was time to go home. Ellyria gathered her things into a satchel as she wandered slowly around her chambers. Each place had a memory-filled with Abnur Tharn, and she wondered if she would ever be able to truly let him go. It had been Abnur to bring her to this place of wonder and magic and gods and dragons, even if by accident. She had him to thank for Navarre, for Razum-dar, for the dragons she'd bested and the gods she'd slain. Ellyria's heart thudded painfully in her chest. For the first time upon returning from Dragon's Island, his specter didn't follow her through the halls as she said her good-byes. He didn't follow her to collect Sapphire from her stall, didn't follow her to the wayshrine. A harsh swallow cleared the lump from her throat. Ellyria steadied herself and her magic. It was her turn to rest.