"You no longer bear the burden of prophecy. You have achieved your destiny. You are free." - Azura

In the times before Saint Jiub the Eradicator conducted his storied culling, cliff races would have filled the skies of the Sheogorad region in Vvardenfell's far northern reaches. Instead, a Falmer materialized out of thin air and began to fall. The ash storm blinded Gelebor so quickly he didn't have time to judge his surroundings before gravity took hold. The tainted air tore at his cloak and brought tears to his eyes, and the sharper particles of ash sent pinpricks of pain across his exposed skin. The ground rushed towards him, a featureless gray expanse.

Gelebor landed in a mound of ash that exploded on impact, sending up clouds of dust. The wind was knocked out of him. He curled up into a ball and put his arms over his face, and took several deep breaths. Vvardenfell, at last. If he followed Azura's command, he would take many lives on this island. If he refused her, he would be damning to extinction the last enclave of Snow Elves on Tamriel. Gelebor pushed his thoughts away and focused on the sound of the winds. It troubled him, to have a new god to answer to so soon after leaving Auriel. He'd have liked to make independence a habit.

Something told Gelebor that waiting for the storm to abate might be a waste of time. He staggered to his feet against the waves of billowing ash. Every step was like walking through a dune. If Nadene and Kharjo weren't nearby, Gelebor wasn't sure how he would ever find them. He cupped his hands over his eyes and peered up and down the shoreline, but there were no discernable landmarks in any direction. Just more ash, and the sea, and distant dark shapes which Gelebor supposed to be hills. Hills that lead to slopes, slopes that lead to cliffs, and cliffs that lead to Red Mountain. It gave him hope to know he now shared an island with Nadene's chosen granddaughter. I send you my heart, Habisunilu. Gather your strength. It won't be long now.

He had been walking for a short while, making little progress, when movement caught his eye. A small crab writhed on the beach just ahead. Pleasing to see life returning here, after all this time. Seems he's trapped. Gelebor knelt down to brush the ash away from the creature, and revealed a dusty six-point star at the end of one of its pincers. Hmm. Bizarre. He looked closer at the crab, and gasped. No. No!

He frantically dug at the ash around the finger, and Nadene's shuddering hand was revealed in measures far too small for Gelebor's liking. He grabbed her and pulled with all his strength. Her grip was frighteningly weak. The points of Moon-and-Star cut into his palm like tiny daggers, but Gelebor pulled until blood ran down his wrist and a slender gray body came up from the ash and landed on top of him. He was breathing hard, but there was no time for rest.

"Nadene!" He shook her shoulders, and ash fell in clumps from her short hair. Nadene groaned, and Gelebor thought it the most delightful sound on Nirn. She turned over on her hands and knees and coughed violently, puffs of gray coming off her with every movement. He patted her back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Are you alright?"

"No." Nadene was still. She'd stopped coughing, but her head was still bent to the ground. "I'm on fucking Vvardenfell. Do you think the ocean's poison?"

"I'd recommend a water flask, actually."

"No. I need to get this mess off me. I feel like a b'veking ashspawn."

Gelebor stood close behind Nadene as she stumbled into the waters of the Inner Sea and washed the ash away. She dipped her head underwater, and Gelebor's heart froze. His mind filled with images of mad slaughterfish and underwater sinkholes and all other manner of unlikely dangers. Is this what it feels like, to love someone? For so long, Gelebor had only had to worry about himself. Now there was this whole other soul taking up space in his head, and he was definitely going to need some time to get used to that.

"Here you are." He handed her a flask. She shook out her hair, took a short drink, and sloshed water around in her mouth before spitting it into the sea. "That was unpleasant."

"One way to put it." Her face softened. "Did you take your potion yet?"

"Oh! No, I forgot." Gelebor reached into his pack and withdrew a amethyst-hued bottle. He drank the potion, wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste.

"You have to remember," Nadene chided. "Dunmer can barely survive in this kind of place, and we were born for it. I don't want you surviving a Namira cult just to die of ashlung."

"Yes, miss Othryn." He bowed his head and stowed the empty bottle. Reassuring to know she's thinking about the future. "You're certain you're okay?"

She grabbed her cloak from her pack and pulled it over her armor, and Gelebor followed suit. He'd put his hood up before Nadene finally responded. "If I hadn't had my mouth closed when we teleported, I'd be dead now. Maybe that's a sign. Let's stop talking and start moving. Kharjo must be around here somewhere."

He nodded, but Nadene had already turned away. She started walking down the shore, her shoulders slumped. The winds had ceased their merciless assault, at least for the present moment. Gelebor bit the inside of his cheek. I don't know how to help her. He tried to imagine what it would be like, to return to the Vale and find it in such a state. But even among the living Falmer he'd known, Gelebor had been no great figure of importance. The Dunmer of Vvardenfell had loved their Nerevarine. She'd watched them burn away, helpless to save more than a few.

"I thought…" Nadene said, after they'd been walking for a while. "Nevermind."

"Please. What's the matter?"

"I don't know." She raised her head and looked around. Now that the storm had cleared, they could see much farther inland. Whether there's anything worth looking at is a different question. Great mounds of ash dotted the landscape, intermittently interrupted by sharp rocks jutting out from the blasted surface and the occasional stream of bubbling lava. No living creature made a sound, nor did any leaves rustle or branches bend. There was only Red Mountain, filling the world to the south and obscuring the morning sun. Red Mountain and its children: the cliffs and hills and boulders and the horrible scars on the island that opened into sheer blackness. Nothing that would ever love or hate; nothing that could ever be loved or hated. "I was ready for it to be the same. You know? I was ready to lose my mind."

"I don't follow."

"I was expecting some sort of dramatic flashback to hit me. A rush of horrible memories, from all the horrible things that happened to me here. But instead…"

"Instead what?"

Nadene sighed. "I've never been here before. This isn't my Vvardenfell. The Red Year changed everything. The air, the ground beneath our feet, the plants and animals. Only thing that stuck around was the damn ash."

"I see." They climbed over a particularly steep rise. "Does that make returning here more difficult or less?"

"I'm still figuring that part out myself." She grabbed Gelebor's hand and brought them to a halt. Nadene smiled weakly at him. There was a glossiness to her eyes, and no trace of the emotional shields he'd once associated so strongly with her. "I wanted to say...I'm really happy you're here with me. Thank you."

"No thanks are necessary." He stroked her hand softly. "If I wandered Nirn for another thousand years, I'd never find a place I more belong."

"I know. We both wasted so many years. And who knows how many we have left? Gelebor, I-"

A figure in chitin armor ran up the hill with a spear in his hand, yelling in Dunmeris. Nadene watched him without moving, evidently dumbstruck, but Gelebor took his mace off his belt and held it at the ready. Their attacker seemed adept at moving in the ash; his feet didn't linger long enough on the surface to sink underneath.

Before the figure reached weapons range, Nadene called out to him in Dunmeris. The figure stopped as if stunned, but didn't lower his spear. He responded, and Nadene spoke again. Gelebor recognized one or two of the words, but not enough to make sense of the conversation. To his surprise, Nadene began grinning at their strange attacker.

"He's an Ashlander!"

"An Ashlander?" Gelebor raised his brow. "I believe you told me your grandchild was the last of them."

"I...I thought she was." Nadene's grin widened. "He says he's Urshilaku."

"I do hope it's not contagious."

She snorted. The Ashlander finally pointed his spear away, but Gelebor sensed he was still watching them closely. "No. They're the tribe that helped me become the Nerevarine. I just can't believe they've survived this long."

The Ashlander looked up sharply at her words. He moved slowly, reaching up with cloth-wrapped hands to remove his chitin helmet. The Dunmer's face was like netch leather, roughly textured, and his mouth seemed to be set in a permanent grimace.

He spoke in a gravelly voice, "Nerevarine?"

"Yes. Stay back, Gelebor. I want to show him." Nadene stepped closer to the Dunmer, and raised her left hand. Moon-and-Star twinkled even in the dim sunlight, on one of her fingers not protected by armor. The Dunmer leaned forward and studied the ornament. "Maybe being Nerevar reborn will actually get me out of trouble, for once."

"Nerevarine," The Dunmer said again. He pointed to Nadene and raised his brow.

"Yup." Nadene waved her hand around. "Nerevarine. Hortator. Moon-and-Star. For all the good it's done me."

"F'lah," he snarled, and thrust his spear at her chest. Nadene flew backward, ribbons of her cloak filling the air, and the Dunmer raised his weapon again.

Gelebor swung his mace and reduced the wooden shaft to splinters. With his other hand, he reached out and grabbed the Dunmer's throat. Lean muscle squirmed and flexed under his fingers. The Dunmer gasped and scratched at his throat, searching for the gaps in Gelebor's gauntlet. No time for this. He threw the Dunmer against the ground and turned to look for Nadene.

"I'm...okay," she said, sitting up in the rocks. Her cloak was in tatters, but the glass chestplate beneath sported only a large scratch. She took distressingly long breaths between her words. "I don't think...he knew...I was wearing armor."

"Too close, Nadene." Gelebor was almost certain he could hear his heartbeat. "Too damn close. You have to be more careful. Like you said, you've never been here before. If this mer was truly an Ashlander, than perhaps they do not view you as fondly as they once did."

"You're right. It was stupid of me to think I might have friends on this island." She stood on shaky legs and brushed the ash from what remained of her cloak. There was a defeated note in her voice he didn't much care for. "Looks like you killed this fetcher, at least."

"What?" Gelebor glanced at the fallen Ashlander. "No. I didn't throw him that hard."

She brushed past him and knelt a cautious distance from the crumpled Dunmer.

"He's dead," She reported after a minute. "Or else giving a masterful audition for his Horror of Castle Xyr role. You're stronger than you know, Gelebor."

"Oh. Well, I suppose so."

"Don't lose any sleep over it." Nadene held up a wet satchel she'd taken from the Ashlander's belt. She wrinkled her nose. "There are no Velothi traditions about carrying around sacks of raw mer flesh. This was definitely one of Namira's faithful. Probably why he didn't attack you first. Wouldn't want to damage the goods."

Gelebor looked at his hands. He couldn't remember a time he'd taken a life without meaning to do so. Killing Slitter in that Solstheim warehouse did not weigh heavily on his conscience; he'd been defending Nadene, and no one on Nirn was mourning that mercenary. This Ashlander had been corrupted by a Daedric Prince. I wonder if he had a family. I don't even know what he was called. If this was what Azura wanted from him, Gelebor wasn't sure he could provide.

"Did he say his name? When you spoke."

Nadene glanced up from her rummaging. "Nope. We didn't really get to the 'comparing birthsigns' stage of conversation before his spear entered the picture. I really hope he didn't find Kharjo before us. His armor's not as tough as mine. And I have a bad feeling that if he met an Ashlander, he'd probably try out the only word of Velothi he knows."

Gelebor rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the shattered spear in a new light, disturbed by Nadene's implication.

"His name was Sarobar," A woman's voice called from atop the hill. "And his heart was black and rotten. You did well, outlander."

His mace was back up in a second, and Nadene drew her bow and nocked a polished arrow. A Dunmer woman wrapped in worn robes watched them without reacting. She carried no weapon, and her hands rested by her sides.

"Good. You came prepared. This land has been plunged into bitter war, and your killing of this traitor has marked you as servants of the righteous. Welcome, Moon-and-Star. I deliver you the heart of Resdayn to be cleansed of the craven and evil. Vvardenfell is yours again."

"It was never mine." Nadene glanced away, evidently unimpressed. "Who in Oblivion are you, to promise me an island?"

"I am Sakani of the honorable and wise Urishilaku. We are devoted servants of the Queen of Dusk and Dawn, your watchful patroness and protector."

"Azura. Wonderful."

If Sakani noticed the scorn in Nadene's voice, she didn't show a reaction. Gelebor thought of his own encounter with the Daedric Prince, just hours ago. He'd been too distracted in the aftermath of their altercation with Sanyon to even think of telling Nadene, and now they were on Vvardenfell. It seemed like a poor time to add to her worries, with Habi in mortal peril. Especially when things are going so well between us.

"So I suppose some of you aren't as devoted as the others? This fetcher was Urshilaku, too." Nadene nudged the dead Ashlander's corpse with her foot. "Eating Dunmer with Namira must seem a fairly attractive prospect when your diet consists of ash yams and dried root soup."

Sakani hissed. "Please do not speak that name, bold Nerevarine. The lady of the void grows in strength every time she is called in Azura's domain, and our mother's power diminishes the same amount."

"That manipulative bitch isn't my mother. And you haven't answered my question."

"Yes. You suppose rightly. Many of the weaker Velothi have been seduced to the ranks of the Enemy. Mer of poor constitution and despicable character. They desecrate the honored dead under Red Mountain and spit in the face of Azura. One of our gulakhans is among them."

Nadene finally lowered her weapon, and Gelebor followed her example. "And what of your ashkhan?"

"The treacherous gulakhan was his son." Sakani came slowly down the hill, and with her feet cloaked by her robe she appeared almost to float on the ash. "Zanilath's heart was turning against the Urshilaku. Against Azura. So I cut it out, before he could turn his dark thoughts into wicked deeds."

"The mer of your tribe that I knew were lorekeepers. Mystics. The wise women certainly weren't cutting their way through the tribal leadership."

"Our wisest perished in the year of reckoning." Sakani looked towards Red Mountain. "Much of our knowledge died with them. The gravest blow to Veloth's people in an age."

"Also, you know, the thousands of elves that burned to death."

Gelebor interjected, "Were all of your books burned away, as well?"

"The n'wah mistakes us for temple scribes." Sakani didn't turn to look at Gelebor. "Perhaps we should return to the village, now. There we can talk without ignorant ears listening in."

"First of all, fuck Azura." Nadene crossed her arms. "Secondly, I don't plan on going anywhere on this cursed island without Gelebor at my side. Otherwise I'll probably end up falling in the nearest lava pit just to preserve my sanity. Tell me, fetcher. Why should I go anywhere with you? And if you use the words 'prophecy' or 'chosen one', you're going to go meet your ancestors a lot sooner than you planned."

"I know of no prophecy. Azura has spoken to me, but her words were as clear as the ash is hot. The time of mysteries has passed. We have come to an era of truth and bloodshed, Moon-and-Star."

"Every era is an era of bloodshed. And I've never left a conversation with a Daedric Prince feeling better about the world. Tell Azura I'm done doing her dirty work."

Sakani's face was impassive. "I ask nothing of you but to accompany me to the village. Your Khajiit has already joined us."

"Kharjo?" Gelebor couldn't help but smile.

"I don't know his name. All allies of the Nerevarine are welcomed by the Urshilaku. No matter their race...or their faith." Sakani glared.

"Pardon me?"

"As if your pale skin was not enough to mark you as a follower of the Divines," She waved a hand at his torso. "You parade around in ceremonial armor of Auri-El in this land of twilight."

"I hold faith with Auriel no longer." He found himself surprisingly upset. "Not that it's any concern of yours."

Sakani just shook her head. "My lady. We are besieged on all sides by the ignorant and the blind. What am I to do?"

Nadene rolled her eyes and pulled on Gelebor's arm. They walked several steps away, turned their backs, and spoke in hushed voices.

"Listen." Nadene jacked her thumb towards the muttering Ashlander. "I'm about ready to leave this bitch for the ash hoppers. I've been to Red Mountain before. We don't need a guide, and I didn't come here to be some Ashlander hero again. I came here as Habi's kin, to save her, and as your...whatever, to stop these cultist n'wahs from trying to eat you. Let's just get on with it and go cut this Eola woman's head off. We could all be drinking in Raven Rock by tomorrow morning."

"I'm not sure matters are that simple anymore."

She groaned and put her hands over her face. "Why. Why can't it ever be easy?"

"You said yourself that the island has changed. Likely the paths you once knew have been covered with ash and rock." Tell her about Azura, you halfwit. "And it would be a disservice to Kharjo to go on without him, even if we know he's in safe hands. Perhaps we should entertain this Ashlander for a time. At the very least, we'll probably get a warm meal or two out of it."

"Hmm. Have to admit, I wasn't looking forward to our planned three-jerky a day diet. Fine. Just don't ask me to be nice to the one behind us. You do all the talking."

"As you wish, dear."

The heat in her eyes suggested anger, but Nadene was smiling when she pushed him back towards Sakani. There was a promise in his expression that he wasn't sure what to do with, quite yet. Gelebor told Sakani they'd agreed to travel to the Urshilaku camp, and the three of them crested the hill and continued down the shore.

"Take these and keep them ready." Gelebor accepted a couple of pairs of weathered goggles and two soft face masks of hide. "Our village hugs the feet of the Mountain. The storms will worsen as we grow nearer."

"I see. The one earlier today did give us a little trouble." He passed Nadene her gear.

Sakani snorted. "That was no ash storm, outlander. That was the Black Isle clearing its throat."

They didn't speak after that. The Ashlands spread out before them: an arid wasteland of death and desolation, that did well to reflect Gelebor's mood. As they trudged through the ash, he found it remarkable how different Vvardenfell was from the southern regions of Solstheim. The latter island had been scorched by Red Mountain's fires, certainly, but these lands had been the epicenter of a devastation beyond imagining.

Gelebor knew well the stubbornness of rock and dirt. For entire eras he had witnessed the decay and renewal of thousands of living creatures. He remembered a priest taking him out to the forest to plant a pine tree, when he'd been just a child. And he remembered watching the old sentinel wither away and die thousands of years later. Always, the shape of the Vale had remained the same. Mountains were meant to be a constant, even for a mer living in eternity. Maybe it's better, that Vvardenfell has changed so. I'm not sure if Nadene would be able to maintain her composure otherwise.

The hills pressed them closer to the shore, until they were close enough that small waves splashed at their feet. Nadene had told him the waters of southern Vvardenfell were scalding to the touch, but the ocean here seemed much the same as it had been on Solstheim. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the sea. Lingering too long on Vvardenfell seemed to turn his mind to grim concerns. The secret in his heart burned like dwarven oil. He glanced at Nadene.

Her expression was still, her gaze set resolutely forward, but Gelebor knew her well enough now to recognize the pain she was in. The skin at the corners of her eyes was turned down, her lips closed tightly together. It's not as if it matters. I don't expect the cult of Namira will be the type to lay down their arms and surrender. We'll have to kill them all, and Azura will fulfill her end of the promise. Nadene need not be troubled by any of this. The reasoning seemed sound, but all Gelebor could think of was the feel of her lips against his, and the way she'd looked at him during Morvayn's dinner. I was not made for this.

"I love you," he blurted out, after they'd been walking for several hours.

Nadene gave him a strange smile. "I know. Why?"

The response stunned him. "Well, I-"

Sakani interrupted, "Silence, outlander. We approach the village. The home of Azura's most loyal warriors in the battle for Resdayn."

Twin spires of rock reached into the sky, and between them was the entrance to a valley. Gnarled trees sprouted from the craggy walls in every direction, making the vale almost a kind of forest. Gelebor was glad to leave the shore. Even in the oppressive heat of Vvardenfell, the waves had been cold on his feet.

"Airan's Teeth," Nadene said, looking up at the rock columns. "Makes sense that you lot would take up residence here. Even if you can't get into the cave."

"The Nerevarine is wise," Sakani crowed. She seemed to take the remark as an expression of interest. Gelebor shifted uncomfortably. I don't like the way this mer looks at her. "Azura led us to the Valley of the Wind when the sky filled with fire and poison, but the honor of entering the Cavern of the Incarnate remains yours alone. Perhaps you'd like to confer with our lady, when twilight falls upon us? The Urshilaku have kept the path clear for you."

"Nope." Nadene ran her thumb over Moon-and-Star, touching each starpoint in turn. "That two-faced f'lah and I have nothing to talk about."

Sakani just smiled mysteriously and led them between Airan's Teeth. The winds fell in strength when they entered the protection of the foyada. If I were to seek refuge from an apocalypse, this certainly wouldn't be a poor choice. Of course it couldn't compare to the Vale he'd left behind in Skyrim, but few places did. The windtorn walls of this valley were nearly bare, and so narrow in places that Gelebor had to walk behind Nadene and Sakani in order to fit. It didn't escape his attention the strategic worth of such an arrangement. Little wonder they've been able to mount a resistance against the cultists. A handful of archers could hold this rift against a legion.

They came upon signs of habitation: neat areas of ash set aside from the main path, where the roots of ash yams, trama, and other hardy vegetables poked out of the barren soil. A battered dwarven crossbow rested in the ash next to a few primitive farming implements. Gelebor raised his brow at it as they passed.

Sakani noticed the object of his attention and spat at the ground. "A weapon of the Enemy. This is the closest they have dared tread to our village. Azura's mighty warriors felled the traitor with many arrows. The hoppers have taken his body, but the tool of his treachery remains. To serve as an example for the others that will come to die for their false goddess."

"These fetchers have advanced dwarven technology?" Nadene bit her lip. "Then they must be held up in one of the inner citadels. Odrosal, or Vemynal, or maybe the Dagoth Ur facility. Damn it. I was hoping to avoid a siege."

They walked around a curve in the valley. "Do not fret, Nerevarine. All will become clear to you, in time. Look. We've arrived. Behold the Urshilaku, the last of Veloth's people!"

A handful of yurts filled this wider area of the foyada, and figures wearing chitin and bone walked between them and spoke to each other using words Gelebor did not know. In the center of the village a bonfire crackled merrily, and more of the makeshift farms were spread around beyond the yurts. Most of the Ashlanders wore goggles and facemasks similar to the ones Sakani had provided, and there were few who exposed enough skin for Gelebor to even identify them as Dunmer. Makeshift ladders and stairs covered the sides of the foyada, leading up to the tops of the valley. At first he assumed their arrival had been unexpected, and was surprised at the lack of security. Then three Ashlanders approached them from behind, wielding spears, and called out in harsh Velothi.

"To our hearth comes Nerevar Reborn!" Sakani cried out. The warriors stopped, and their wonder was evident even with their faces covered. The other villagers stopped what they were doing and looked towards the newcomers. "The star-blessed hand returns to guide our steps!"

"Hold on," Nadene said. "I didn't travel here for the Ashlanders. Don't tell them that."

"For two centuries we have maintained the vigil. The Urshilaku did not let the light of Azura dwindle from this land. Now our loyalty is repaid. The child born to sire uncertain, who cast down the Sharmat from his Red Tower and crushed the Tribe Unmourned. Now our new adversaries will suffer the same fate!"

"No. That's not what's going to happen at all." Nadene clenched her fists. Gelebor put a hand on her shoulder. The Urshilaku watched reverently, some of them with their heads bowed.

"Nerevarine!" One warrior called out, and fell to his knees. "Ho Nerevarine!"

"Yes, my child. She is here to save us." Sakani raised her arms and smiled crookedly. "Three belied her, three betrayed her, and now the three are gone. But she remains, and we have been true! Nerevar will lead us through fire and war! To Red Mountain, to cast out the outlanders and spill their lifeblood in the ash! Hortator, savior! March Veloth's people to victory!"

Many of the Ashlanders cheered and raised their weapons in the air. Nadene trembled under his hand. He bent his head to whisper in her ear, but it was too late. She shook his grip off and went towards Sakani.

"She will deliver us from the hands of our enemies! Ho, Nerevarine!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Nadene punched Sakani in the face, sending the wise woman reeling. Several of the Urshilaku gasped, but none moved towards the pair. Nadene looked at them with wide, wild eyes, breathing heavily. She wrenched Moon-and-Star from her finger and threw it far. As it flew, the ornament glittered in the light of the falling sun.

"Nadene!" Gelebor said, and she looked towards him. She held his gaze for a moment, her bottom lip trembling, and then crumpled to the ground. He rushed forward, ignoring the stares of the Ashlanders, and gathered her in his arms. Nadene sobbed against his chestplate, nearly hyperventilating. He held her closer and walked to the yurts.

"Do you have a place for guests?" Gelebor asked politely.

A short figure clad in bonemold stood up from the bonfire and came to them. He tugged on Gelebor's cloak and led them to a yurt set apart from the rest.

"Thank you."

The short Ashlander tugged down his mask, and Gelebor was surprised to look into the face of a child.

"N'wah," The boy sneered, and pointed to the yurt. "Stay."

Gelebor ducked inside, eager to escape the eyes and insulting words of the Urshilaku.

"Hello, Knight-Paladin." Kharjo sat in the middle of the dwelling, his legs crossed. A cup of bitter-smelling tea was balanced on one knee.

"Kharjo. You don't know how happy I am to see you again." Gelebor sat down against one of the walls of the yurt, Nadene still in his lap. It felt good to stretch his legs out.

"Khajiit heard a commotion. Is everything alright?"

Gelebor hesitated. "Well. I don't think things have been alright for quite a while now, wouldn't you say? And I don't think they're going to get better for a little while yet."

"This may be true. We have made it this far, at least. This is an accomplishment. Of that, Khajiit has no doubt."

"I'll try to take comfort in that." Gelebor rested his head against Nadene's. Her breathing was calming down, thankfully.

A voice spoke from the corner of the yurt, where a wrinkled bedroll lay. "Your friend. Is she ill? I may be able to help."

"No. We're all just a tad overwhelmed, but thank you for offering."

The Dunmer sat up from his bedroll and regarded them curiously. He had long black hair and a short beard, but seemed to lack the wildness of a tribal. Besides that, his Cyrodiilic spoke of someone educated in the Empire. But then again, so did Sakani's.

"Are you the Urshilaku's healer?"

"No, my son. I am merely a guest of these people. In truth, I have overstayed my welcome, but fate has left me little other choice. I was gravely injured when the Ashlanders found me. I'm afraid it seems I'll never walk again."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Might I ask your name?"

"Ah, yes. I beg your pardon, but the last few days have not been kind to me. My manners seem to have gone the way of my legs. My name is Erandur. I'm a priest in the service of lady Mara."

"Truly?" Gelebor couldn't help but smile. "How in the heavens did you end up here? It must be quite the story."

"Khajiit was also surprised to learn this kindly mer's occupation." Kharjo's whiskers twitched. "He says he came from Balmora."

Gelebor's mind raced. "Balmora. Then we may have more than a few questions for you."

"And I will be happy to answer them. But perhaps you should let your friend sleep, for now, and get some rest yourself. I'm guessing the day has been long for the both of you."

"That's probably a good idea." Nadene looked at peace for the first time since they'd arrived, slumbering against his breastplate. "It's good to meet you, Erandur. I was afraid we'd be alone on this island."

"Fear not. Lady Mara watches over us all, my child."

Gelebor laid down, moving Nadene as gently as possible, and closed his eyes.