A lot can happen, in the span of a week.

A hero can rise. A dynasty can fall. A war can end.

Perhaps we ought to have known. Twice on our journey, we ran into evidence of it – smoking black gates along the roads, still charred and ruining the idyllic summer green, but dormant and dead. No humming portals, no patrolling Daedra. Only jet-black arches, lingering reminders of the threat all Tamriel faced.

Something had changed. That much was clear even from a distance in approaching Bravil. A city the colour of swampwater was suddenly alight with red and gold, banners of dragons, the Imperial crest emblazoned on every wall. People were smiling, laughing – even the guards seemed relaxed at their posts as we entered the city proper, and soon we knew for ourselves the news that everyone was celebrating

"The Emperor is dead - long live the Emperor!"

The invasion was over. I caught only nonsensical scraps – a bastard son as heir, a champion at his side, his final sacrifice sealing the gates between Oblivion and our world for good. There was even a man who swore the Emperor had turned into a dragon, fighting Dagon himself in the burning wreckage of the Temple of the One, though he seemed a little deep in his cups.

But there it was. It was over; the Prince of Destruction was banished, the Septim dynasty was ended, and every gate had fallen silent at last.

I felt – strange. Relieved, of course, and glad to see so many people at ease at last, but disconnected. This wasn't my story. Someone else had found their triumph, their heroic ending. It was time for me to find mine.

No. Not an ending. I smiled to myself as we worked our way through the afternoon crowd, bustling with cheers and shouts. A new chapter.

"A drink! Have a drink, my friend! You, pretty girl with the curls, come have a pint!"

"I knew the Emperor would save us all, I knew it all along! Bastard or not, he was…"

"Latest copy of the Black Horse Courier for sale! The Last Septim Sacrifice; his champion vanished! Who will the Elder Council crown?"

I kept close to Blue as he grumbled and elbowed his way past the celebrants towards the Northeastern Gate, to the docks. "Idiots. They've no idea of the turmoil that awaits this province."

He had a point. There were many, many unanswered questions, like those the paper had posed. Who would rule? How would they be selected? What forces might rise up, in the vacuum of power? The Septims had ruled the Empire for an Era, and now we would crest upon a new one.

But it was all beyond me. It all seemed ethereal, unimportant as we emerged onto the buzzing docks, and I saw it in the distance.

Hardly an island at all, really. A jutting pile of rock in the middle of Niben Bay, unremarkable if not for the fact it hadn't been there just a week or two before. Most seemed used to the presence of it already, simply going about their business, drinking and cheering on the piers, or glancing sidelong before looking away.

The water brought with it a crisp scent, a cool breeze blowing welcome and playing with my hair. A blue sky and clean winds, what I thought of when Verana described me as smelling of peace.

I felt it now. Peace.

I hadn't at first, of course. Those first days of our journey were wrought with grief and anxiety. If Blue described leaving as cutting off an ensnared leg, the loneliness felt like a phantom limb. I cried often, jumped at every sound – and there were many, little whispers of movement or flickers in the dark that made me certain Lucien's threat had not been made in vain. She was waiting; she was following.

But Blue reassured me that she would not attack while we were together, and that once in the Isles, I'd be beyond her reach. Beyond even that of the Night Mother. He endured my tears in stolid silence, and soon enough I was dry of tears, of fear, of indecision.

I chose this path; all the mistakes and missteps, all the moments of beauty and horror. And I would see it through. I roused from my thoughts at the creak of the pier, Blue approaching with a scowl.

"What's our plan?"

"They say none are permitted to go near the island. Too many incidents."

"Incidents…?"

"It hardly matters." He waved me off, scoffing. "As though the laws of this insignificant little sewage drain will stop me now. But we may encounter resistance."

I laughed aloud, at that – I couldn't help myself, grinning ear to ear. "Resistance! And when everything else was going so smoothly, too!"

Even he smirked at that, running his tongue over his teeth. "Stay close, crumb. I have an idea."

"What's your – oh." In a snakelike movement he'd ensnared my wrist, pulling me towards the edge of the dock, then – "OH – "

Off the dock, plummeting the short distance towards the water – but it swelled, soared up to meet us and lift us gently to our feet, his magicka humming around us. The spray hit us, then sank obediently, and with the shouts of onlookers behind us we were gliding, transported on a wave cutting through those moving to shore.

What a difference. The first time I'd walked this lake, maman's scarf in my hand, I was heavy with grief and exhaustion and the water was still and dark as a shadowed mirror. Now it was alive; pulsing, swelling and falling, waves cresting and breaking into droplets that caught the sun and sparkled.

So close. There was nothing to stop me, not now. But as a dark cloud passed overhead, my exhilaration was tempered, just for a moment, by apprehension.

What could lay beyond that gate? I had only the slightest inkling. Back in Cheydinhal, in the life maman had left for me safe in the hands of the Brotherhood, I knew what I had. I knew what to expect. Here, there would be danger. There would be risk.

My risk. My choice. My path. Just as quickly the clouds broke. I straightened, inhaling deep and lifting my face to the sun. That was what mattered. After all I'd faced here these past months, I could handle whatever lay beyond. I'd welcome it, as I welcomed the spray of the waves on my face even as the day's heat receded, as I inhaled the sweet, cool air. You'll suffocate here, lass.

Not any longer.

The sun began to sink and the lake turned brilliant, fiery orange as though the light dissolved within it. The silhouette of the island grew crisp, shapes gaining clarity but only raising more questions in their appearance. Strange, brilliantly coloured mushrooms, star-shaped growths on slick rocks, spindly trees reaching for the sky and at the peak…

"He is waiting. Waiting, for us – for me."

But we weren't the first ones to arrive. He did wait – three faces, one head, carved snarling, gleeful, roaring with mouth agape and a glittering portal between his lips. Though the expressions were very different from that I knew of his statue in the swamps, it was unmistakably him. And already, he had company.

There was a Khajiit woman, curled up and muttering to herself, not even looking up as we passed. A guard from the city, cuirass emblazoned with Bravil's crest but soiled with mud and blood from the Dark Elf that lay eviscerated nearby. Blood was still oozing onto the slick rocks of the path.

But strangest of all was the one who stood before the portal now. I could tell nothing about their appearance, garbed head to toe in armour, but the armour itself told the tale. It was resplendent; silver and glittering gold, inlaid with ornate golden designs of the Empire and a dragon curling down the back.

"Please, you can't go in there! Every single one who's gone in has come out wrong. If word gets out I let you disappear into this blasted portal – "

A familiar voice rumbled, making Blue inhale sharply behind me. "Really, do come in! It's lovely in the Isles, now."

"Champion – "

The voice purred. "The perfect time for a visit."

The stranger held up a hand. They didn't look like a champion. They held themselves with exhaustion, that resplendent armor seeming less like a trophy, and more like chains. Without turning, without ever looking back, they straightened –

And stepped through.

There and gone. No flash of light, no hum of energy. Simply vanished.

"Shit. Shit, shit…" The guard turned from the portal, dragging a hand over his face before blinking, then snarling at the sight of us. "More!? What is the matter with you idiots? This place is dangerous!"

"Silence. We're going in."

"The hell you are! If you think I'm going to deal with your mess when you come out of that thing raving like the Dunmer – "

"Get out of my way. A meaningless crumb like you will not impede my destiny."

"You come any closer, I'll run you through just like I did this poor sod – "

"Wait!" I managed to get between them, the guard drawing his sword, Blue's talons arching to call forth his magic. "Look, we don't need to fight. Please, sir, if you'll just let… us…"

I trailed off, staring. For a moment, thinking; is there some hallucinatory effect, even out here? Some spore the strange plants give off? Because what I was seeing could not be real.

I was seeing butterflies.

First one or two, seeming to simply form from the stone of the island, fluttering away on wings jewel-vibrant, green and yellow, red and violet. Then more still, and with each seemed to come a little piece of the land itself, like the rock was never rock at all but simply the little insects at rest…

It took first my breath, then my footing. It all happened very fast, from there.

This time there was light, roaring from the mouth of the portal, growing brighter as the land beneath our feet broke off. A great crashing all around as waves churned and slapped to fill a new void in the water, a rumble from the dissolving island becoming a deafening roar. The water spitting, rising to our feet, over our heads, sweeping us away –

And above it all a wave of butterflies, fizzling away from a world where they couldn't belong.

A thousand rumours circled the shattered docks.

A shockwave, some said, from one last gate shutting just a little late. A portent, said others, for now the Septim line was ended, and surely any day now the Daedra would come pouring into our world again. Mass hallucinations, strange weather, magical phenomena – whatever they believed to be the cause, we knew…

"It's gone."

We'd made it back to shore in one piece, half-carried by the wave itself amidst a swell of splintered beams and sails. Soaked, of course, bruised and still coughing up mouthfuls of brackish water, but still alive.

Still here.

Blue knelt by the shoreline, watching as fishers tried to find their own property among the wreckage, as others hauled away tangled nets and debris. My head still buzzed. It all seemed so unreal. We'd been so close and now…

"I've failed." He dragged his claws down the side of his face, voice tight with despair, with rage. "How can this be? We were so close. So CLOSE!"

"Blue…"

"YOUR fault!" He wheeled on me – I jerked back, wide-eyed as he stabbed a finger in my face and snarled. "Weak, weak, if you hadn't made me wait, if we had been faster –"

"Blue."

He paused. I stepped as close as I dared, voice somehow steady. "… I'm sorry."

For a moment, I thought he would leap at me. Then, like those broken sails, he deflated all at once – shoulders sagging, eyes drifting shut, all strength leaving him. "… No. No, it wasn't you. Of course not. As if a scant mouthful like you could change my fate. No, the Madgod mocks me. Tests me." A slow laugh of his own. He cracked a golden eye open, squinting. "And you have lost almost as much."

He spoke true. In one swoop, I'd lost it all – I'd thrown away my ties to the Brotherhood, both loved and despised, for my one chance at this path. And now, that path was shut. Freedom was out of my reach.

But…

But I didn't feel chained down. I felt light. I felt floating, even now, damp and bruised and saddle-sore with nothing at all to show for it.

"It will kill you, you know." He spoke dully, exhausted. "Your wraith. The moment you walk the night alone, it will find you. There, you might have escaped it."

I swallowed hard. "… I might have." That was true, too. Maybe I could have convinced myself that the sleepless nights of travel this past week were my nerves. That even now, I could escape unscathed and make a new start, without ever facing her.

I knew better. And yet I wasn't afraid, even now.

"We will get a room at the inn, tonight." He dragged a hand down his snout. "We will rest. And tomorrow, we will return."

I followed in a daze, wanting to reach out and comfort him, yet left without any idea on how I dealt with this myself. I should be devastated. I should be desperate, I should be terrified, I –

But wasn't that the point? That I was deciding for myself what I should be?

It came to me as we settled on our cots, as Blue's frantic mutters became low, even snores. That my resolve had taken me here. The Madgod's invitation was a goal, but I was the one who had pursued it, and in that was the value. From here, from now, even here on this plane…

I was already free.

I could flee, as Lucien thought I would. Return to the Imperial City, or even to High Rock. I could go back with Blue and live with the cultists. I could dance, sing, take up knitting, I could up and vanish to gods-damned Vvardenfell, if I wanted! I had that power in me – I'd only needed to exercise it, to revel in it. If this path had been closed to me then dammit all, I would open another. I'd find my own. There was no one to stop me, but me.

….Me, and perhaps, one other.

I let Blue sleep, moving as quietly as I could on those ramshackle planks out of the Inn, through the city. Through drunken hollers and laughter, through unquestioning guards flanking the gate, back to the sands of the shore. I sat there, inches from where the water lapped and still spat up bits of nails and timber…

And I waited.

I drew little circles in the sand with a twig of velvet-smooth driftwood, and thought of her. I thought of the last time I'd been here with her, releasing what little of her I had left to the wind and water in ashes. I remembered leaning against her as we stumbled in bloodied and bruised after the death of the traitor. I remembered her taking Anya and I to the beach when we were small, delighting over every chipped shell we brought as gifts...

I thought of her, until I knew she was with me.