My night was sleepless.

I ran the wilds until nearly daybreak. I had little memory of the night before. Nocturnal's leathers enveloped my body when at last the transformation ended. I made my way back to Riften and collected the supplies I put together. I left without addressing any of my guild members.

I decided I was too tired to walk to my destination. I took one of the mares tied up in the stables before their caretakers emerged from their den. It was my luck that the guard patrol was just between shifts. I don't think anyone saw me.

The morning went without much incident, though I struggled to stay awake in the saddle. I was too tired to even think, so I focused on the sounds around me. I listened for the various wildlife, counted the different bears, guessed at which birds sang in the trees above me.

I reached the mouth of the canyon around midday. There was another person, a man, sitting on horseback at its entrance. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Typical Nord. He was dressed in fairly simple attire, what a farmhand might wear. I could smell the anxiety from him even from several feet away and I crinkled my nose. I gave him a sideways look as I pressed my horse past him. Not soon after I heard him urge his mount on, and he followed behind me. He was boldening when the canyon widened slightly, and he rode up next to me.

I glanced over toward him when he whistled and he smiled awkwardly. "That's quite the getup there," he commented. I let out a quiet exhale. "Lot of the people I've seen come through here just came with the shirts on their backs."

"Well, if you're going to be killing vampires, you should be outfitted properly."

"Right." He cleared his throat. "I hope you don't mind if I ride up to the fortress with you." I tilted my head enough to look at him with a quirked brow. He looked down and fiddled with the reins in his hands. He was young. Too young for this, I thought. "Truth is, I'm a bit nervous. I've never done anything like this before," he said, stuttering.

"Never done what? Join a cause?" He shook his head. "Not even for the war?"

"No." A hand went to the back of his neck. "I was scared of that, too."

I hummed. I looked around the canyon. It yawned on for ages, it seemed. But the view was nice, with a variant of greenery and wildlife. The roar of a waterfall was somewhere nearby. "So why join the Dawnguard?"

He sighed. "Y'know, I kept my head down during the war. It didn't get that bad where my Ma and Pa lived. And even when the Stormcloaks came, they were still people. They still cared about Skyrim. But the vampires? I've seen them, and I've heard the rumors. I figured I could either hide and be afraid of the night, or I could do some good and help my countrymen."

"That's noble," I said. Noble, maybe foolish as well. But he was the kind of person Skyrim needed more of.

"Thanks. I've never fought vampires before. Don't know if the Dawnguard will even take me. But you, I bet you've killed all sorts of vampires."

I made a thoughtful sound. "Killed a lot more than vampires in my day."

"Oh yeah? Like what kinds of things?"

"Daedra, undead. Werewolves." A thrill coursed through me at the thought. It was never pleasant to kill another lycan. "Also killed a great many dragons."

"Dragons?" he exclaimed. I couldn't help but laugh a little at his childlike wonder. "Boy, I'd bet they'd take you right away. I'd reckon—wait, dragons? You killed dragons?"

"I did have some help," I supplied.

He urged his horse further up until mine halted before him. I gave him an annoyed look. "You're the Dragonborn!" he exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.

"Nope." I wheeled my horse around his and continued on. I was starting to regret this. He trailed behind me.

"So you killed Alduin?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I accused. "How could I kill a god?"

"Did you really go to Sovngarde? What was it like?"

"The Dragonborn went to Sovngarde. I just waited outside and let them do all the heavy lifting." The fortress was in sight now as we rounded a corner.

"Wow. Dragonborn." I rolled my eyes. He was convinced, unfortunately. "What are you doing here, though, hunting vampires?"

A dismissive noise left me and I shrugged my shoulders. "Dragons are dead. Gotta keep doing something I guess. Vampires sound like a good something to kill."

I spent the rest of the long ride up the path in silence, while my companion continued on. I paid little attention to what the boy was saying, but I responded every now and then when appropriate with a hum.

I stopped my horse and dismounted just short of the final bend to the fortress's entrance. I walked up the rest of the path, my shadow following closely behind me. A man dressed in those distinctive gambesons regarded us as we approached, waving to us.

"New faces! Here to join the Dawnguard?"

"We are," my companion replied, his voice a bit too giddy. It made my ears ache.

"Excellent. Head inside and talk to Isran."

I pressed the door open and stepped into the sprawling fortress. I looked around as I walked forward, a brow cocked. It was fairly barren. I had half a mind to turn right there.

But I had made up my mind, and this was already better than staring at Brynjolf.

Two men stood before me, one a Redguard who I assumed was Isran. The other looked older and wore attire that was similar to what the Vigilants would wear.

"You stirred up the vampires against you, and now you come running to me?" Isran shook his head. "I told you this would happen. No one listened."

His companion took on a beseeching look. "Isran, the hall was destroyed. Carcette, everyone...they're all dead. Isn't that enough for you?"

A softer expression took the Redguard's face and he grumbled. "I tried to warn him before I left. I never meant for any of this to happen. I am...sorry, you know." The Vigilant harrumphed and turned away, walking a short distance with a hand to the back of his neck. Isran's eyes landed on me. "So who's this? You here to join the Dawnguard?"

I nodded and continued forward, extending a hand toward him. He took it and shook vigorously. He had a firm grip; not something I experienced often. He seemed to be surprised, too, because one brow shot up for a second. "Syrael. You must be Isran."

"That's right."

"I'm an operative out of Riften." His face feigned the slightest twinge of concern. He knew exactly where this was going. I could tell. My heart raced. "My associates heard you were looking into the vampire issue."

He crossed his arms. "Right. So you want to kill vampires? Good." He paused for a moment, eyeing me critically. "And why should I let you and your...associates in to the Dawnguard?"

"I'm sure you're aware of how crafty vampires are. They're illusionists, seductors; it makes them dangerous." I started. He tilted his head and crossed his arms. At least he was listening. That was a good start. "While you have people taking the fight to the vampires, myself and my guild can provide you information or infiltration." I was just spouting out the mouth, of course. I had no intention to directly involve anyone else in this business. I would be enough, if I decided to stay. I just wanted to sound at least halfway convincing.

The Redguard hummed. "Interesting. Spys, then? Intelligence would definitely be useful." I smiled, confident with myself. "I assume this isn't without cost? Am I going to wake up one morning and find the keep barren?" He paused and looked around. "Well, more barren, I suppose."

He was suspicious. Good. I shook my head. "The vampires are a threat to us and our...business, as much as they are to the rest of Tamriel. We see it as a mutual arrangement."

Isran made a low sound and crossed his arms. His eyes were narrowed at me, but I remained steadfast. "I'd be unwise to turn away help. Still, nothing good ever flows out of Riften these days. Why should I trust you?"

The Vigilant turned back around. "Isran." I followed Isran's gaze to the man.

"What is it, Tolan?"

"I never told you...the reason the Vigilants were investigating Dimhollow was because we caught wind of vampire activity there."

"Yeah, I figured that. What's the point?"

"There were swarms of them, but they weren't making a den. The vampires were supposedly looking for some ancient vampiric artifact. We wanted to get to it before they did, destroy it." Tolan stopped. His face twisted and his eyes started to glass. "The vampires collapsed on the Hall. We never managed to find it."

"This is the type of thing my guild could provide assistance with," I said to Isran. He looked at me with an unconvinced expression.

"So say I take your help," he started, crossing his arms. "Who all do I get?"

"For now, you get me." His eyes narrowed. "I assure you, my skills will prove useful. I can get in, get whatever you're looking for, that relic for instance, and get out. You don't have to send your men and women to die for this. And if I die, well," I gave a shrug of my shoulders. "You have one less petty thief in the world."

The boy who followed me up the canyon made an unbecoming noise, rushing up to where the three of us stood. "Whoa, whoa, hold on. You're a thief?"

I looked down at him, brow raised. "Is that a problem?" I was beginning to regret saying anything to him. I regretted allowing him to follow me through the canyon.

He looked like he was torn between being crushed and furious. It was pitifully hilarious, given his babied face. "I thought you were the Dragonborn," he exclaimed. "You didn't say you were a thief!"

I sneered at him. "I told you I wasn't the Dragonborn," I hissed.

"Dragonborn? Nonsense." Isran piped in. I sighed and squeezed a hand over my eyes. "The Dragonborn hasn't been seen in more than a year. Did you steal that title, too?"

"I came here to offer you help. You want it or not?" I replied crossly.

"Isran," the Vigilant implored again. The attention drew away from me, much to my relief. Tolan approached Isran. He had a dire look in his eyes. I could feel the emotion that rolled off him. He was an older man, but it was evident whatever he had seen in the recent days or weeks had harrowed him considerably. "The longer we let this go, the worse it's going to get. While we sit here squabbling over recruits, the vampires gather, and more people die."

Isran gruffed and cursed under his breath. He turned and walked a short distance away from the gathering. He looked up and around the fort, a hand running over his bald head. A harsh exhale echoed across the wall. "Fine," he relented. "Tolan, are you certain the artifact is in that cave?"

The Vigilant nodded. "Yes. They would not have swarmed there if there was not something of great significance to them. I would bet all my worth on it."

"That's good enough for me. Syrael, was it?" He turned back to address me fully and I straightened. "Dragonborn or not, I want you to go to Dimhollow, find out what you can. Bring that artifact back if possible. I want to know why the vampires are so eager to get to it. And I find out you pilfered it to some lowlife," he wagged a finger at me, "I'll bring Stendarr's wrath to Riften's doorstep."

I sneered, but his words weren't unfounded. He was wise not to trust me.

"Take anything you need before you go," Isran said. "There isn't much, some weapons, armor. Supplies. But you're welcome to it."

I nodded, but turned towards the door to leave.

"You there, boy," Isran barked. I turned my head enough to look back at the young Nord. He was pointing towards himself with a lost expression upon his face. "Yes, you, get over here. What's your name?"

"Agmaer, sir."

"Do I look like a sir to you, boy? What do you use? What's your weapon?"

My hand pressed against the door. There was a small pause. "Well, I mostly used my Pa's axe on wolves."

My free hand went to my eyes and I stifled a laugh. I rushed through the door before I could hear anything else.

I rode hard for the rest of the day and set up camp at nightfall. I made it into Eastmarch and stopped atop Bonestrewn Crest. With the dragon that roosted here slain, I was surprised that it wasn't occupied by bandits or other unsavory things, but I was thankful nonetheless. I just hoped the nearby giants didn't suddenly decide to investigate the crest.

I looked up from the hare I was cooking to the skies. The moons were waning. I judged that I could probably make it to Dimhollow before I transformed again, if all went well.

My jaw clenched thinking about the previous day's events. I poked at the fire with a stick. It wasn't often I transformed outside a full moon or otherwise unwillingly.

Brynjolf always did bring out the worst in me. That man made me weak.

I rarely ever had any memory of my unwilling transformations. It had been like that since I contracted the disease. Honestly, it was a wonder how I wasn't found out, how I didn't end up naked in the middle of a town or some roadside for a passerby to see. It's said that Nocturnal's favor protects her servants. That her dead Nightingales play an invisible hand from the Evergloam, aiding Her current bodies. I suppose they were watching over me.

I reached into one of the packs I prepared and dug out my map. I moved around the fire and laid it out in front of me. I planned on stopping over in Windhelm in the morning, pick up a few extra things, maybe ask around about the vampires and this artifact. Maybe pen a letter to Lydia.

A wolf howled. My blood sang, but I bit my tongue.

I made quick work of the hare I caught and retired to my bedroll before anything ill befell me.

I didn't sleep well, not for lack of trying. Never did. I laid there staring at the moons and stars, tossing and turning, listening to my horse's breaths and whatever else I could hear.

I was lazy when the sun finally rose. The air was frigid, as it always was, and my bedroll was warm. But I finally coaxed myself out of bed with the promise of some spiced ale I had ale was a relatively new addition to the Blackbriar was made on my suggestion, and was meant to be a competitor to that woman in Solitude. It was the only swill I could stand to drink, and I didn't like waiting a month for a shipment of spiced ale to make its way to Riften.

I took some time to hunt again, prepare the kill and eat it. It was near noon when I finished and packed up my things. I mounted up and made my way off the crest and out of the geysers. I pulled my hood up as I came to the road, and I pulled my mask above my nose as I approached Kynesgrove. I didn't feel in the mood to be recognized again.

I left my horse at the Windhelm stables, and I slipped one of the stablehands some gold to keep him quiet if anyone came inquiring about a stolen horse. I'd dealt with him a few times. He was agreeable enough, took good care of his stock, and hadn't ratted me out yet. His sister, on the other hand, was insufferable. I avoided her when I could.

I walked across the great bridge into Windhelm. The streets were quiet with the evening rolling about. Honestly, it had become much more quiet since Ulfric had his head smashed in. Commerce slowed a bit, as would be expected at the end of a war, which unfortunately also meant less things to pilfer. It was like the city had lost part of itself.

But it wasn't like there were no undesirables under Ulfric's banner. The Dark Elves and Argonians were having an easier time since the Stormcloaks were driven out of the city. I was openly sympathetic towards the Dark Elves in my last visit here. Ulfric once called me an elf fucker. He wasn't wrong, but he was still an ass.

I made my way towards the Great Palace. There were a number of guards posted outside. I raised a brow. A few of them took notice of me as I approached. One of them nudged another, the one in charge of the lot I supposed, who started a bit before she looked at me. I lowered my mask as she met me halfway to the door.

"What's going on here?" I questioned. "Why are there so many guards?"

"Been some trouble about," the guard replied with a shrug. My lips twisted. She wasn't concerned, and neither were the other guards by the look of it.

"What kind of trouble?"

"Dunno. Jarl wouldn't say, except there were some spooks happening in the night. People seeing strange lights." She laughed. It made my ears ache. "Hasn't been much of anything going on around here, now that the war's ended."

I hummed, low and groveling. "I see." My attention briefly went to the other guards, who were all paying us no heed, scattered about the courtyard, leaning against the walls. One even appeared asleep. A stiff breeze rushed past me, rustling my hood nearly off my head. Luckily I managed to catch it in time. "I have business with the jarl," I continued. "Is he receiving visitors at this hour?"

The guard made a long, questioning noise as she turned towards her fellows, then looked beyond me with a hand raised above her eyes. "Should be," she finally answered. "Might I ask what your business is?"

"No," I stated, already making my way past her. I heard her heart tense, skip a beat and flutter faster. She meant to argue with me, I think, but she must've known better. I made my way past the other now-curious guards and into the palace.

The mixing smells of a full banquet immediately flooded my nose as I entered, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth from watering. Further in the grand hall, Jarl Brunwulf Free-Winter sat at the dining tables along with some of his stewards, other keepers of the palace, and who I assumed was his young wife. More guards were posted within, keeping along the walls.

One of the palace helpers alerted the jarl to my presence. He looked up toward me before abandoning the flank he busied himself with, and wiped his hands and mouth on a dinner cloth. I lowered my hood as I approached him, something I did for a few outside those I was closest to or was trying to make an impression on, and ran my fingers through my hair. The jarl was a fair man. Not brutish like some Nords, especially like those under Ulfric could be. He asked just enough questions; he knew who I was, that I was Dragonborn, that I killed the World Eater. He did not know of my life in Riften, or if he did, he never let on to the knowledge.

He had asked me once where I had acquired my armor, commenting that it was blacker than anything he had seen. Not your typical common mercenary wear. I told him I looted it in some damned ruin, off some crazed idiot who took hold there. It wasn't terribly far from the truth. But he didn't inquire further, thankfully.

"Dragonborn," he addressed me, and I shook my head.

"You need not use that title," I reminded him. "My name will suffice."

"Syrael," he started again, bowing his head a bit. Ever the noble Nord. He extended an arm out to his left, then walked in that direction, beckoning me to follow through a door and into a side room. I followed him and closed the door behind me.

"I was not expecting your company," he admitted as I turned toward him. The man that I had met more than a year ago had aged considerably. A jarl, now, out of his simple-made warrior armor, and in the finest furs the hold's hunters could bring him. They almost suited him.

"Apologies, my Jarl." I strode around the room, looking at the various tables still filled with war relics and maps. I stopped at a relatively empty table and sat upon it. I stretched my legs, crossing my ankles, folding my arms together.

"No need for apologies. You have done much for my people; you are always welcome here."

I bowed my head. "Thank you, my Jarl."

"Now," he said. "What brings you to Windhelm?"

"Few reasons," I started, reaching to my side to dig through my rucksack. "Remember that pack of bandits you put a bounty out for a few weeks ago?" I said as I rummaged. His lips pursed for a moment before he nodded. "Took care of them not long after you told me." I produced a roughspun coin purse. "Didn't get a chance to make it back here 'til now. I've been...busy." I offered the purse to him, but he shook his head and waved at me dismissively.

"Keep it," he said. "Consider it payment." I gave a nod and stowed the purse back into my rucksack. "So there's that," Brunwulf continued. "But you showing up here usually bodes an ill omen." I huffed a laugh.

"I received some intel," I said. I crossed my arms. "I take it you heard about the Vigilants place?"

"I heard that it was burned down."

"That's right. By vampires, allegedly." The jarl grumbled lowly, and he raised a hand to his chin. "I'm on my way over to the burn site. There's a cave near there I need to poke around in. I wanted to stop here and see if you and your people have heard or seen anything."

Brunwulf turned away from me, and paced around the small room for a bit. "I was hoping it wasn't related," he muttered.

"The lights?" I inquired. "Is that why the palace grounds are swarming with guards?"

He nodded. "And strange sounds, too. Like howls in the night. It was a precaution. No one is to be out after dusk, either. Gods." He paused, looking about the room. His heart was pounding. I could smell the anxiety on him. "Do you think vampires could be at work here?" he said, looking at me again.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, and he sighed. He passed a hand along his head as he began to pace again. "I did not come here to worry you, my Jarl. Could just be children, you never know."

"I know, I know."

There was uncomfortable silence for a moment as he continued to wear a pattern on the floor.

"I will be staying in the inn for the night," I supplied. "I'll ask around, see if I can learn anything else. I'll let you know if something happens before I leave tomorrow."

That seemed to assuage his fears, if only a little, and he finally stopped his pacing. "Yes," he said, nodding his head. "That would be good. Thank you."

I pushed myself from the table and let myself out, pulling my hood back over my head as I stepped out into the cold again.

I walked the short distance to the inn. It was warmer inside. The air stunk with whatever was cooking upon the hearth, with stale mead and regrettable decisions. It was unusually crowded, no doubt in part with Brunwulf's restrictions.

I sat at the bar, and when asked if I wanted anything requested if there was anything spiced in stock. Fortunately there was. The barman briefly left his post to fetch it from the cellar. While I waited, I glanced around at my surroundings. Next to me sat a Windhelm local, someone I'd seen around often enough in my few visits here. Old guy, was a miner if I recall. Busted his leg some years back, now spends all his time and his coin here. Some other patrons were seated at a table behind me. Nothing of them of note stood out.

A woman, someone who I would refer to as a 'back room' girl, came up to a cloak-and-hooded figure on the far end of the bar. She touched their arm, got their attention. Whispered a proposition to him. They obliged after a moment. She sauntered off. The barkeep emerged with my spiced drink a few minutes later, and the hooded figure abruptly stood and followed in the tavern girl's footsteps. My eyes lingered on his back until he vanished through a doorway.

My attention went back to the barkeep. He was busying himself with pouring my drink. "What's up with that guy?" I said, trying to make light conversation. When he looked up at me with a questioning gaze, I motioned with my head in the direction the person went. "Dark cloak, all mysterious."

He made a dismissive noise and shrugged. "Dunno. Figure it ain't my business to ask." He set my drink in front of me. The smell was intoxicating, and I didn't hesitate to raise the flagon to my lips. "Don't talk much, that's for sure. Said he was waitin' on a boat to come back to port, intended to sail on it."

I hummed, partially from curiosity and from how the ale warmed my throat. "Didn't look the sailor type to me." He shrugged and turned his back to me. I sat there a few moments, relishing in my drink, mulling over my thoughts. "I've heard there's weird shit happening in town again." He turned back to me, and began pouring several drinks and placing them upon a tray. "What's that about?"

"Bah, just superstition, that's all. It's nothing but the auroras looking a bit different than they usually are."

"So no weird noises? No strange lights or anything like that?"

He shook his head. "Sounds like people have had too much drink, if that's what you've heard." He took the tray and walked around the bar and up the stairs to the second level.

I spent the next ten minutes or so busying myself with my drink, and straining my ears at the fellow inn patrons. I heard little of value; something about a dinner plan, who was getting around with who, how so-and-so was getting along.

I emptied my flagon and began to push myself up with a sigh. As I did so, I caught the unmistakable scent of blood, and it gave me pause. I was stopped midway through standing from my stool. I stayed there, sniffing the air, long enough that the man sitting next to me gave me a questioning look. I smiled at him, though I think it came out more of a grimace. I pushed myself away then, following the scent that I was certain was blood, down the hall in the direction the man and woman had gone.

It led me to the final door, just past a corner and away from the prying eyes of the bar. The smell was overpowering now. I tried the door, but it wouldn't budge, so I unceremoniously threw myself into it until it gave away. I had hoped the clamor of the tavern would cover the sound.

Inside, the man from the bar was against the wall opposite me. The woman was held suspended against it, her feet off the floor, her face stuck in abject horror. Her mouth was open, eyes wide. She mouthed something to me, then a groan escaped her throat, and the man abruptly snapped his head towards me.

His features, once obscured, were pale and distinctly gaunt; no doubt a vampire. But his face was also very...batlike, much more so than I had seen in other vampires. It occurred to me he didn't have a scent, either; most vampires I could smell well before I saw them. They were weak, feeble creatures, smelling of blood and bone and rot. Such was apparently not the case with this one.

He roared at me, dropped the woman and lunged for me instead. I caught him and redirected us to the left, shoving him into the wall, knocking away a chair and table and its contents as I did so. He screeched and kicked in my grasp. I slammed him against the wall, hard enough that I heard a crack, thought I don't know from what. His face deformed, becoming even more batlike, and he snarled and bared his fangs at me. Something bristled mightily within me at the challenge. I let just enough of the wolf to push through, contorting my features, to let him know what I was. This seemed to spur his fury and he thrashed against my grip.

So, naturally, I did what anyone would do when presented with a vampire. I breathed fire into that gaunt face of his.

The most ungodly of noises came from him, and he thrashed harder, enough that I finally relinquished my grip. He dropped to the floor, rolling in agony. I took the opportunity to withdraw my sword and wasted no time in planting it in his chest. He struggled against it before finally becoming still.

The scene was left in absolute carnage. A pool of black ichor spread from the vampire, while a crimson one was quickly surrounding the woman. It was all over her. Her face, her chest. In her pale hair. She was clearly dead. Her eyes were still open. Her lips were still parted. She was half-dressed, I realized too slowly, so I quickly took the bedclothes off a misshapen bed and laid them across her. The action made me realize how shaky my hands were, and I struggled to stop it. Rage bubbled at the back of my throat like bile. My heart was racing. I took a few long breaths to steady myself.

Footsteps rushed down the hallway. I looked up from where I crouched next to her. The doorway filled with people, though a few turned away quickly upon seeing the contents of the room. There was a scream, then crying. Someone was nearly ill at the sight. The barkeep was at the front of it all, his features twisted in shock.

"Vampire," I said to him.

His eyes shifted back and forth between said vampire and his barmaid.

"She's dead," I supplied. I looked back down at the woman for a moment. "You should send someone for the jarl," I said, and looked back at him again. "And a priest."

The barkeep scrambled off, as did the others. I sat upon the bed as I waited and soon, the jarl arrived. The city guard came soon after, and ushered everyone out and ordered them to go home.

The next several hours I spent stalking around the tavern while the guards looked over the scene, questioned myself and the barkeep. Two priests arrived around midnight. One stayed behind to sanctify the building, while the other transported the deceased to the Hall of the Dead. I trailed behind the short procession.

The vampire was taken elsewhere, to Windhelm's dungeons, if I understood correctly, while it was decided what to do with him.

"You need to burn it," I said, leaned against one of the walls of the crypt. Brunwulf, who looked exhausted and utterly devastated, peeled his eyes from the concealed woman and looked at me with a questioning gaze. "It's the only way to make sure he stays dead," I explained. "And you need to do it quickly, before he rises again."

Brunwulf nodded and looked away again. He raised a hand to his lips. Had he known her, I wondered? "What would you suggest?"

"Best to do it before dusk settles. Use fire salts. It will make the blaze even hotter."

He nodded again. "Thank you. I'll have my men see to it."

Silence.

"And you should burn her, as well." This time both Brunwulf and the priest looked up at me with an incredulous look.

"What do you mean?" he accused. "You mean to tell me she's one of...one of those things now?"

I raised my hands. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you." That answer didn't seem to satisfy them. "But it's better to be safe than sorry."

"What of her family?" the priest barked. "She deserves a proper burial."

"Would you rather wake up five months from now and find a whole brood at your doorstep?" I didn't get an answer. "Look, you can burn her and keep her ashes here, if that's what's wanted. But if you leave her body alone, you run the risk of her rising and turning people."

Brunwulf released a haggard sigh, running a hand across his eyes. "You're probably right," he conceded. "See to it," he muttered, motioning toward the priest, who hesitated for a moment before bowing his head and scurrying off.

My eyes darted over Brunwulf. A well of emotions settled in him, making me uneasy. "I don't want to scare you," I continued once the priest was gone. "But that vampire wasn't like ones I've seen before."

He grumbled. "Fantastic."

"You should get in touch with the Dawnguard." He looked at me. "They're just starting up again, but if you tell them what happened, tell them I was here, they might send some of their people over here to keep an eye on things and root out other vampires." He nodded, looking down again. His hand reached for the woman, her head, stroking her hair, I think. I look down to my boots. The silence bears down upon me and I relent. "I'll be around until morning," I say, pushing myself away from the wall. He doesn't regard me, just nods his head, and I make my way out of the crypt.

I spent the rest of the night in a relatively dry corner of the streets, eyes closed. Not sleeping, just resting. When dawn broke, I made my way back to the inn, requested some parchment and a quill from a fellow there. I wrote two letters; one to Isran, and one to Lydia. I informed her of what I was doing, where I was. That I might need her help. I started to close the letter before I hesitated, opening it back up again and hastily scrawling a request that she order more spiced ale for me at the bottom.

I found the courier before he set out on his morning route, gave him the letters. I went to the stables, finding that, thankfully, my horse was still there, and began on the path again.