I was up before the sun that morning, gathering myself – my supplies and my wits – for whatever lay ahead of me. A bedroll, rations, my healing supplies and my satchel with the big pouch to collect samples of the flora. My dirk knife, strapped to my belt. A few useful little potions, of course – some for healing, some more… destructive. I didn't get to use my concoctions often, and I had to admit the idea of getting to see their worth in the field was exciting.

In a moment of bittersweet thought I opened my bedside drawer, fingers meeting bare wood where the dagger once lay. My dagger, mum's dagger, belonging now to neither of us. I swallowed back a pang, pulling my hand away like I'd touched a candle flame.

What did they do with it?

No, no point in dwelling on that. I was trying to tear myself free of them, not bind myself further. I threw my cloak around my shoulders and made for the door – only to find myself pulled suddenly back with a growl.

"Luke!" I glared at him as he stared back, maw full of the material of my cloak. I tugged gently, but he just bit down harder. "Luke, I've got to go. I do not want to be late and make a poor impression. Just, Luke, let go – " Another tug. He growled, red eyes narrowing, claws sliding along the floor.

… Of course. Of course he would want to accompany me – be pressed to, being what he was. Had Lucien ordered him directly, or did he simply, innately know? I glared for a moment longer, grumbling through my teeth. He'd be coming with me, it seemed. So much for cutting ties.

Then again, perhaps it was a good thing. I stepped out, Luke now happily at my side as I locked the door and began down the quiet street. Orintur's words yesterday echoed in my head again. "A chance to talk in private with all your necromancer friends." He'd seemed trustworthy enough, yesterday, and he had gotten me that book down, but…

Well. Better safe than sorry.

I arrived a few minutes later than I'd intended, having to take the long way around when I spotted Telaendril making her usual rounds in the city. I'd left a note inside for Lucien – if he wondered where I was, he'd undoubtedly be able to get in and read it himself. If not, well, all the better. I didn't want questions, interrogation.

The Altmer turned as I approached, mild annoyance on his face – probably at my lateness – swiftly turning to surprise. His hand flew to a sword at his side, face twisting, eyes fixed on Luke who panted beside me. "What - is that?"

"Wh - oh! He's - he's just my dog. He's, um – a bit funny looking, I know, but he's harmless. I just like to have him along. You know, in case we run into trouble." I bit my lip, giving an awkward laugh. "H-his mother was a nix-hound, you see, and his father a very brave dog." The lie that had garnered chuckles, or at least dismissal from others only made his brows lower, eyes narrowing until he let his swordarm fall.

"Nix-hounds aren't mammals."

I blinked dumbly as Luke moved to sniff around Astarill's feet. "I'm sorry?"

"They aren't mammals. Nix-hounds don't give birth." A line rose briefly between his lips and his nares before vanishing, replaced by calm, cool politeness as he bowed his head. "Shall we go?"

I nodded stiffly, walking behind him as he began to move. Well – shit. That ended that little story, didn't it? I hadn't known that. Dammit, few in this province knew. Nobody had corrected me. Nix-hounds were a strange, exotic creature of Morrowind, and even most of the Dunmer in Cheydinhal had been grown and raised here in Cyrodiil. How was I going to pass him off? At least the subject had been abandoned, for now. I glanced at Luke as he walked beside me, oblivious and just happy to be out in the sun.

For the first hour of walking, I was too nervous to speak. The second and I was too busy panting, trying desperately to keep up with my partner's strides as our path grew ever more treacherous, rockier and steeper as we approached our destination. Sweat beaded my brow even in the early morning chill, leaving me blinking as we began another descent down crumbling rockface. I tried to angle my path down, staying near the scrub and brush in case I needed to grab something for support, while he made his way down far ahead – not graceful or light on his feet, like those in the Brotherhood, but like a boulder, unstoppable on its forceful path. He never spoke, but his continuing stride spoke for him. Keep up, or be left behind.

And here, well. I was neither graceful, nor forceful, but I'd be damned if I fell behind.

By the time we were nearing the end of our third hour walking I was quietly cursing every other step. Replaying the last days in my head, exhausted and irritable. Damn Lucien, for – for using me, hurting me. Making me think he cared, could understand. Damn Antoinetta for making me do what I did. Damn the blisters on my feet, stinging with every footfall. Damn this cave for not being any closer and –

Astarill stopped short. "Here."

"Oh, thank gods." I nearly doubled over, huffing, then sucked in a breath and flushed at his skeptical look. "I mean – thank you. Should we t-take a break?" I tried not to make my pleading overly obvious as Luke wound around my legs. "Ju-hust for a minute or two. Catch our breath before we head inside."

Another long stare and he nodded, then moved to sit. Gratefully I did the same, flumping to the stone ground beneath us, Luke sitting beside me. I snorted as he licked my sweaty cheek, pulling over my pack and pulling out my waterskin for a much-needed drink, then letting my gaze wander.

Not much grew this far up the mountainside. Thin, hardy plants, reedy evergreens, sparse grasses and wormwood. The cave was indeed nearby, open-mouthed and waiting for us, showing no mysteries beyond the shadowed entrance.

"I wonder what the plant will be like." Breath regained I tried to make conversation, crossing my legs and stroking Luke's head when he laid it down on my lap. "I wish Deetsan had been able to give a better description. I could be looking for anything, right now."

His smile took me by surprise, even as brief and crooked as it was with the mumble under his breath. "Or nothing." Almost as soon as I saw it, it vanished, leaving me frowning.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, gaze averted to his own pack as he rummaged through. "If you're going to eat, now is the time. We won't be stopping again inside until after."

All business. I sighed and dug out my own meal, the rations I'd wrapped earlier that day – smoked pork, an apple and a thick slice of pumpernickel. Luke perked up immediately. Whether he needed to eat or not, he certainly enjoyed it. I tore off a piece of the meat and grinned as he wolfed it down, licking his chops. "Did you even taste it, you greedy thing?" A whine in response and he laid down again, giving me big, mournful eyes.

"Oh, no. The rest is for me. You don't even need – " I caught myself just in time, clearing my throat and tearing off a piece of bread. "… Need to eat now. I fed you before we left, remember?"

Astarill regarded me briefly, brows lowered. "Has he a name?"

"Luke." I scratched behind his ears as he crooned. "He's really just a big softie. He'd only hurt someone if they tried to hurt me." A warning, however subtle. Part of me liked my new partner - lacking the pretension of many Altmer, blunt and straight-forward, but Orintur's earlier words still rang in my head.

"Hmn."

We ate in silence until we were finished, crumbs falling from my lap as I stood. I brushed myself clean and glanced once more to the entrance of the cave, hesitant now. Necromancers. I'd shared a bed with, loved a necromancer before.

… What if now, I had to kill one?

This is different. I shrugged my pack on my shoulder, lips tightening. It's an assignment from the guild, and it's self-defense. Besides, these are no innocents.

Neither was Voranil. Is it different, really?

My stomach churned. I regretted my meal as it climbed back up my throat, biting my tongue until the pain eased away nausea. Luke pressed his cold nose into the palm of my hand, pulling me from my thoughts in time to hear Astarill speak.

"Are you ready?"

I swallowed hard and nodded. He turned and entered the cave, leading the way as I summoned up my little orb of light to hover beside me. Once more Luke pressed against my side, pausing me, comforting me.

I'd come this far.

I followed him into the darkness of the cavern, hand hovering over the handle of my blade.

My spell lit up the walls, illuminating crags and sending bats perched on the ceiling screaming for cover. We paused as the first small room closed into a claustrophobic hall. I wrung my hands, chewing on my bottom lip. Even with my light we could only see so far – the rest of the hall was black, shrouded in shadow.

"Should – should I lead? Since I have my light – "

"Stay behind me. Do not," he stressed, "get in the way, or do anything stupid." With that he strode in front of me, leaving me to follow as I glowered at his back and Luke brought up the rear. Well, I had no bloodyintention of doing anything stupid, did I?

Still, part of me was glad to let him lead. The atmosphere became more oppressive as we began to make our way into the winding hall, darkness closing in, barely kept at bay with my spell. There was a low, constant hum, like the cave itself was alive and thrumming, breathing. Like we were in the gullet of some beast. I kept a wary hand on my blade even as I watched for the flora.

The hall opened up to another room, this time with three branching paths. It was beginning to look lived in, now. Crates and barrels lined one of the far walls, a chair near the other and – I suppressed a shudder – a pit with several coffins, varying sizes and broken apart in the center of the room.

So the necromancers were no rumour.

Astarill approached the pit of coffins, examining them coolly, edging one away with the tip of his boot. Just wood. Empty wood boxes. Still, my throat was tight.

Empty now.

"What – do you think they're doing here?" I lowered my voice, tried to keep it steady. I had to prove I could handle this, both to the guild and to myself. "I mean, other than the obvious, but why are they doing that – "

"The usual necromancer interests, likely. Eternal life, resurrection, undead armies." I remembered Bolor's creation – that poor woman, stinking of formaldehyde even as her eyes looked so alive, so pained. This time I couldn't repress a shudder, swallowing hard. Luke whined and I stroked his flank, reassuring myself with his solid warmth.

"… The coffins, do you think - does that mean they have – zombies or skeletons? Walking dead?"

"Contructs." It wasn't so much that he spoke absent-mindedly, as that he seemed not to pay me much mind. But there was an intensity in that low murmur. "One moment."

I felt a faint tingle of magicka and perked up as he spoke facing the opposite paths, a thoughtful murmur. "There are four in a room to the North, some forty feet away. Clustered around a table, sitting." A pause. "Five constructs as well, straight ahead against the walls of the tunnel."

Four and five. I nodded, jaw aching from holding it tight. "How, um – how do you want to – " A shriek left me, quickly muffled as I slapped my hands over my mouth and jumped backwards.

The sudden light had caught me offguard, bright violet in the dimness, glinting like the eyes of a predator. They widened briefly in surprise, then narrowed, the spell vanishing in a blink. His eyes, I realized – a detection spell. I'd never seen one in action like that before, and my nerves jarred as they were…

My face seemed to glow with heat as he glared at me. I shrunk in embarrassment and averted my gaze. A deep breath, in and out through his nares, his words even and stony.

"Why don't you go wait outside, and I'll fetch you if I encounter the flora so you can identify it."

I bristled. Oh, a part of me was tempted – I wanted dearly to get out of here, away from the faint stench of death and threat before us, but dammit, I was here for a reason. I could do this. I'd faced the traitor, faced hell, braved a ruin of madmen! I could deal with a few corpselickers. "I'm fine. What's the plan?"

A grumble of relent and he turned back to the halls. "Their constructs are inert. If we go in quickly, we might prevent them from awakening and take them unawares. Can you use that?" A glance at me over his shoulder as I placed a hand over the hilt of my blade.

"Of course." ...Well. Sort of. The few scant sessions with Lucien and Netta hadn't exactly made me a master swordsman, but I knew which end to stick in, at least. Luke thumped his head against my hip, making me smile in spite of myself. "And I have a little extra protection, besides."

Will that be enough? I remembered Luke pouncing on the cultists in the ruin, the wounds he left. He could kill, I had no doubt. Do I want him too?

It's not the same. It's not the same. I'm not a murderer, it's not the same. These people brought it on themselves.

I wasn't very convincing, even to myself. But I couldn't turn back now, even if I wanted to - couldn't leave my colleague, as unpleasant as he was, to face them alone. That made it better, gave what foreboded a sense of purpose. Be brave.

The cavern closed in again as we moved, low ceilings and jagged stalactites forcing the taller Altmer to walk crouched while I matched pace with Luke, trying to keep my footfalls light. Our breath seemed terribly loud in there until at last it opened up again, revealing another lived-in tunnel. Benches against the cavern walls, barrels topped with stubs of flickering candles and…

I bit my tongue as a skull grinned at me. Alcoves were carved into the walls, housing those constructs Astarill had spoken of. A glance was enough to make me shudder but at least they were, as he said, silent. Waiting for the call to action that, hopefully, we wouldn't let come to pass.

At least the room was lit, not just the candles but ablaze with torches on wall sconces, each set just inside the alcoves, above the skulls. Perfect - I could conserve my magicka. I let my light spell fizzle out and reached for one on tiptoe.

I heard him just a second too late, felt the hiss of enchantment in the torch's sconce. "Don't - you did."

"What?" His eyes were glowing lilac again as I turned, felt my blood drain from my face as behind him one of the skeletons shifted. A reverberating growl began, low and guttural and clattering, then rose in pitch with distance shouts. "Intruders!" A warning system. The torches were enchanted on touch.

Shit.