It was nearing midnight by the time Lucia left her father's tent.

The two moons Masser and Secunda hung overhead, though Masser had waned to a crescent while Secunda was full, leaving the land pathed in a pale and silvery half-light. This left Lucia's surroundings looking unreal and ghostly as she tried to make her way back through the tents towards her own. This wasn't helped by the fact that a fair amount of mead had been served at the meeting and, consequently, Lucia was not quite as steady on her feet as she normally was.

The others who had attended the meeting had left a few hours earlier, with the exception of Ralof and Vilkas who had stayed to share a drink or three, which had turned into even more when the rest of the Companions had arrived.

Lucia had soon after found herself dragged to one side by Aela and Njada who demanded to hear the story of the Capture of Riften. She had started to tell the story but, as soon as Ralof overheard what they were talking about, he called for her to start the tale again and soon she was telling the story to everyone in the tent who were cheering and laughing at the exploit.

Lucia had wished Mjoll had stayed behind, she was far better at telling stories than she was, but everyone had seemed to enjoy her rendition and Uhther had been beaming with pride by the time she finished the tale.

He must have seen how uncomfortable she was with all the attention, however, because he had then called for more ale and mead and quickly began telling the tale of his encounter with the Wolf Queen, allowing Lucia to try to slip to the back of the crowd.

This had almost worked until Aela had cornered her again, but this time to ask if she would join her for some sparring practice in the morning, before the army set out.

'I want to see how much you've improved,' she said, simply.

Lucia had blinked at that. Uhther had taken her to Jorrvaskr a few times when she'd been younger and she'd practically begged the venerable fighters to teach her how to use the axe and sword. Most of the companions, Aela among them, had indulged the young daughter of their Harbinger by giving some rudimentary instruction. She had not thought that the Huntress would remember those days. She had not known how to answer so had simply nodded, thrilled at the prospect of real instruction from such a famous warrior.

She was dreading that meeting now though, as her head gently throbbed from all the drink.

It had been an enjoyable evening, though, passing in a whirl of stories, laughter and drink. It had been almost sad when Uhther had banged his tankard on the rough wooden table they had used for the meeting and told everyone to go to bed.

The Companions had risen and, after saying their farewells, left quickly. They had seemed no worse for wear than if they had been drinking milk and water. Ralof followed them out and Lucia had been somewhat gratified to see that he at least did stagger a little as he left.

'You get some rest, Girl,' Ralof called back over his shoulder towards her general direction, 'big day tomorrow!'

Lucia had every intention of doing just that. Just as soon as she could make her way back through the treacherous criss-crossing ropes of the tents that separated Uhther's from her own. Her father had offered his assistance but she had waved him off, insisting she could do it herself. She was rather regretting that now.

More to give herself an excuse to stand still a moment than out of any real wish to look at it, Lucia pulled out the roll of paper on which she had written her instructions for the next day. It wasn't much really, just some scribbled notes and a roughly drawn map of the area she and the Fangs were supposed to head to. It was to serve more as a reminder than anything else. Uhther and Legate Quentin had spent a good long while making sure she knew exactly what she was doing. Lucia was fairly sure that, even in her current condition, she would be able to recite it word for word.

It was as she was attempting to recite this plan that a small, furry creature darted out of the shadows in a flash of brown, leapt into the air, snatched the paper from Lucia's hand and was scampering away almost before Lucia could react.

Startled into some semblance of sobriety, Lucia watched as the creature, which looked like a fox, wound its way sinuously through and between the tent pegs, making its way to the edge of the camp. Some fires still burned weakly in pits and in braziers but it was not until the fox had reached the edge of the light cast by the last campfire that it finally stopped and looked back. Lucia could see the silvery light of Secunda reflected in those eyes. She could not help but think that the fox was inviting her to follow him.

For a moment, she hesitated. She'd spent the last hour or so listening to several stories that nearly all warned against doing the very thing that she was considering. If she did follow this fox, she would be led out of the camp, into the eerie darkness that pressed in from all sides. There was no telling what might wait out there. Draugr, Daedra, or even simple, mundane threats like bandits or wild animals.

From the way the fox was watching her, standing so still, Lucia was prepared to rule out any mundane threats. So, what was this?

She considered calling for someone, her father, or anyone nearby. But glancing around, she could see no one. No watchmen, no warriors still up drinking, nobody at all. A strange still silence had settled over the camp. There was some magic at work here.

Then a noise cut through the silence. It took Lucia a moment to realise the fox had yapped at her through the map it still held in its teeth. It sounded impatient.

Lucia steeled herself. Her father would not be afraid of a fox, even if it did act strangely, and neither would she be. She still had Stormkist. The axe hung at her belt and she gripped the haft tightly as she made her way carefully between the tents towards the strange fox.

The fox, seeing her coming after it, turned and began trotting out of the camp and into the dark surroundings. Lucia was just able to make out where it went by the pale light of Secunda. There had not been much snowfall, not unusual for that time of year, but there had still been enough for the fox to leave prints. And it was these prints that Lucia followed out into the night.

The silence pressed in on all sides, broken only by the sound of Lucia's feet crunching into the snow and the gentle tapping of Stormkist's handle against her leg. She kept going, out into the frozen plains, and she soon found herself climbing a steep slope. She was being led into the hills.

Part of her mind was screaming at her, telling her this was stupid, that she should turn back now, but she ignored it. She did not know why, but she had to do this. Something important lay at the end of this trail and she had to find out what it was.

Occasionally she would see two flashes of light just ahead of her in the gloom and Lucia knew those were they eyes of the fox, just out of sight ahead of her in the silvery gloom, looking back to make sure she was still following.

She did not know how long she walked under the light of Secunda, the snow and frozen grass crunching beneath every step, but eventually she crested the hill she had been climbing and found the top oddly flat and empty apart from one dark shape at the centre of the open space. At the exact centre.

Lucia was now thoroughly on edge. She had heard the stories of her father's encounters with the Daedra and this seemed very similar. She drew Stormkist and advanced towards the dark shape.

'Hello?' she called, tentatively.

The shape moved.

Not much. It did not start or move to attack. The movement was slight, like someone suddenly aware that they were no longer alone.

'Ah,' came a voice, 'war comes to the Throat of the World and the Young Dragon comes to speak with S'zrege.'

Lucia was suddenly blinded by light. Fearing a trap, she raised her axe, but then she blinked and realised that the person who had spoken had simply conjured a flame and lit a campfire between them. The warm light flickered and cracked between them, throwing illumination on the speaker.

Lucia gaped.

From the way they had spoken, Lucia had taken them for a khajiit. They had that same sort of voice, thick with the accent of Elsweyr. But the figure sat on a rock behind the flickering flames was not a khajiit. They couldn't be. The nose was too long, too pointed. The ears were too big and pointed up rather than out, twitching in the soft breeze that blew around them. Their fur was a tawny brown with a flash of white at the throat.

'What are you?' Lucia asked, her voice hoarse, lowering her axe back down to her side.

The stranger chuckled and stood up. Lucia could see that they were tall, taller than any khajiit she had ever met, though maybe not quite the same height as a high-elf. A bushy tail swept into sight behind the stranger, swishing gently from side to side.

'S'zrege assumes you mean what he looks like,' he said, amusement in his voice, 'for S'zrege is no more a lilmothiit than his counterpart is a Khajiit.'

'Lilmothiit?' Lucia attempted to repeat the word. The stranger nodded.

'A very old people. Not often seen in Tamriel these days. Which makes sense for S'zrege, he supposes, for in this world truths are often harder to find than lies.'

Lucia could only blink as the fox-man's words washed over her. The lilmothiit, apparently not put off by the blank look on her face, smiled at her.

'To answer your question; what am I? The truth is that S'zrege does not know. We have never known, not I or M'aiq. We have simply always been.'

The stranger paused, looking up to the sky to where Secunda hung like a silver ball surrounded by stars. Lucia saw that light was reflected in his eyes, the same way they had in the fox's.

'Perhaps we too are remnants of Lorkhaj,' he murmured, so softly that Lucia almost didn't hear. 'That might make sense for us. Him with his mischief and this one there to give balance. So, what shall we do when the Last Days come? Shall we be re-joined? Remade? Or shall we fade?'

Lucia could make neither head nor tail of a thing that the creature who seemed to call himself S'zrege was saying. M'aiq was a name she thought she recognised, but she could not recall where from, and Lorkhaj sounded like Lorkhan, which she knew was the elvish name for Shor. But apart from that, it was all just noise.

'I don't understand,' she said, taking a step closer to the fire.

S'zrege turned away from the sky, fixing his eyes back on her.

'Naturally you don't,' he said, amicably, 'nobody does, despite what they might tell you. Even S'zrege does not understand. But this one knows much and wishes to tell. There are things that the Dragonborn needs to know and you are the best person to tell him.'

'Why me?' Lucia demanded.

S'zrege chuckled.

'His years and experiences have, quite understandably, made the Dragonborn somewhat paranoid,' he said, 'and this one's time is not long enough to spend trying to cut through his cynicism. This is why S'zrege sent Ma'aza to fetch you.'

Lucia saw the fox she had followed to this place trot out of the shadows. It moved quickly to place the map it had stolen at her feet before retreating back into the gloom.

'Do zrish,' S'zrege said approvingly, watching the fox leave, 'Tonshe jer, Ma'aza.'

A soft yap came in response to this but otherwise there was no further sign of the fox. S'zrege turned back to Lucia.

'You will soon meet a great enemy,' he began, 'the Aldmeri Dominion come to topple the Snow Throat Tower. Should they succeed, it shall leave Mundus supported by only the Adamantine Tower. This will not serve. At least two towers are needed and the others are gone.'

'We know this already,' Lucia said impatiently.

'S'zrege speaks truth. The whole and all of it,' S'zrege shrugged, 'this one cannot help if you know some of the truth already.' He carried on before Lucia could interrupt again. 'What you do not know is that the Dominion does not come alone. From dread Akavir, another army comes at the behest of the Thalmor, the Ka Po'Tun. They are led by their emperor, the Tiger Dragon, Tosh Raka. They also bring their demon mercenaries and their allies, the Tang Mo, the strange and agile monkey men.'

Lucia had listened to all of this with growing disbelief and horror.

'What?' she finally spluttered, 'what is this?'

'The truth, Young Dragon,' the lilmothiit replied, his tail lashing more urgently, 'S'zrege tells only the truth. And it is a truth the Dragonborn must know. For each of these armies alone would be a match for the force he brings to defend the Snow Throat Tower. Against both, he has no chance.'

'But why would the Akaviri help the Thalmor end the world?' Lucia demanded, 'why would they help the Thalmor at all?'

Lucia knew very little about Akavir, certainly no more that the average citizen of the Empire. She knew it was another continent, roughly the same size of Tamriel, off to the east beyond the Padomeic Ocean, and she did remember hearing from someone that the armour that the Blades wore was based on Akaviri armour. But she could not see why they would come all the way to Skyrim just to help the Thalmor.

'To answer your second question first,' S'zrege said, calmly, 'the Thalmor assisted the Ka Po'Tun emperor end his peoples' most ancient and hated enemy. In exchange, he promised his army to assist the Thalmor in their invasion here. As for why he would see the Snow Throat Tower toppled, this one is afraid he does not know. It might be that Tosh Raka wishes to make himself the new Alduin and sees the Throat of the World as the place to make that pronouncement. Or it might be that the Tiger Dragon has no idea of the true plans of the Thalmor and believes the Dominion is simply increasing its hold over the western continent. Either way is the same. They come to help the Thalmor and that sets them against you.'

'And why should I believe you?' Lucia asked. She had intended to sound cold and authoritative, the way Uhther would have said it but, somehow, she knew the fox-man was telling the truth.

'You do not,' he replied, shrugging, 'I can only say again that S'zrege is always honest. But this one will point out that if he was a spy, sent here to deceive, S'zrege would surely have told you that your enemy was less, not more. What benefit would there be to making you think the enemy was greater than it is?'

'To break our spirit perhaps?' Lucia countered desperately, 'to make us lose our nerve.'

S'zrege regarded her coolly. He knew that she did not believe what she was saying.

'The Dragonborn will still take his army to defend the tower,' he said, 'he would do so even if the enemy outnumbered him a thousand to one. You know this. So, he goes expecting to face two armies and is faced with only one. His army is emboldened and will fight better and S'zrege, the spy, has failed quite impressively. No, Young Dragon, you know I speak the truth.'

Lucia had to force herself not to slump dejectedly to the floor.

'We have no chance then,' she whispered, dully. It had looked desperate when they had thought they would merely have to face the Thalmor army. If what S'zrege was saying was true, how could they possibly win?

But S'zrege did not look forlorn. He stepped forward and rested a consoling hand on Lucia's shoulder.

'All is not lost,' he said, softly, 'you still have friends. In the land of the stag, there are still those who resist. Indeed, they are doing a fine job of impeding the advance of the Aldmeri. And there are those beyond Skyrim who will come to your aid, as well as great heroes who have not yet laid their swords to rest. And the greatest of these should be looked for in unexpected places.'

The hand was removed, leaving Lucia's shoulder feeling cold.

'Tell your father what I have told you,' said S'zrege as he stepped back around the fire and began padding away into the silvery gloom, 'he should be prepared. For when the battle is joined, it will take all he has.'

'Where are you going?' Lucia called.

The footsteps stopped.

'S'zrege has done all he can do, for now,' came the reply, 'good luck, Young Dragon. I hope our paths will cross again.'

And with that, he was gone.