(AN: So this chapter ended up going in a different direction than I had initially intended, and so I changed the name and bumped the big reveal to the next chapter. Hopefully this won't be too filler, since we do see what the Dark Brotherhood does.)

A Killer to Catch a Killer

Early on the thirty-first day of Morning Star. After her frustrating, but not unexpected, debriefing to General Tullius, Legate Rikke spent the night in doubt. Now she was on her way back to Castle Dour for her duties. As soon as she entered the war room, her heart sank. Crixus was there, in deep discussion with General Tullius. Rather than go the rest of the way inside, she waited just outside the room and listened to what was being said.

"...do you mean you can't send for reinforcements?" Crixus demanded.

"Just that, unfortunately," Tullius replied. "The passes are sealed, and only the Imperial navy could bring troops here now."

"And what's the status of our ships?"

"We just received a raven from High Rock this morning," Tullius replied. "A navy is sailing north from the Abecean Sea; a fleet of black sails."

"You think the Dominion might try something?"

"It's possible, especially since your friend actively antagonizes them."

"Eirik is not my friend," Crixus replied. "In fact, he's even worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel that he could be much more dangerous than we realized. You know I'm not a religious man, and I don't put stock in folk superstitions. But I've spent enough time around him, and have spoken to the right people: there's rumors that he's Ysmir, some Nord hero like our Pelinal Whitestrake."

"Come, now," Tullius replied. "That's just fairy tales: the idle delusions of those too weak to save themselves."

"It may very well be," Crixus said. "But I've seen him at work: he's more powerful than you think, more dangerous than you realize. All he has to do is proclaim himself as Ysmir, and they'll flock to him. And then what? It won't matter if we have the passes open and the Red Navy docked on the coast of Solitude."

"But he's just one man!"

"Ysmir is connected to the fables about Talos," Crixus said. "If he declares himself as Ysmir - a Nord warrior, standing for all the old Nord traditions - it will strengthen the cause of the rebels. They'll say that their false god is alive and well, and the White-Gold Concordant won't hold any sway over them. It could start the real war again tomorrow!"

"Haven't you always been telling me that there is no real Dominion threat in Skyrim? That they're only here to hunt out Talos-worshipers and nothing else? Why the sudden change of tone?"

"It doesn't fucking matter! None of that does. Stopping Eirik is tantamount: fuck, he has the power to control dragons! He could use that power to make himself Emperor! And then what would happen to us? Oh, doubtless he'd have me pilloried in Windhelm as a laughingstock for all his Nord friends to fondle my arse and bollocks for his amusement: but what about you? You have the blood of hundreds, nay thousands, of his kin. How long do you think you'll survive if he becomes Emperor?"

"These are all pointless fears," Tullius replied. "I'm not as blind as all that. I know you have a personal grudge against Nords, and you're using Eirik as a scapegoat."

"This is serious, sir!"

"You're a soldier of the Empire first, now. You put your duties ahead of your own personal problems: that includes with the Nords under my command."

"Is that an order?"

"You're damn right it is. You're dismissed now."

Moments later, Crixus left the war room and went on his way. But Rikke didn't go immediately after him into the room. She had no pressing commands, and so decided to follow him. More than this, she wanted to know what he knew about Eirik: she had heard some bold words from him in Whiterun, but nothing about him being Ysmir. She wanted to know where he got this from, or if, as General Tullius said, it was owing to his personal grudge. From the war room, Crixus made a swift turn to the left and up a flight of stairs. Rikke kept her pace a little behind him, so as to not draw attention to herself. About half-way up, there was a landing, and then the stairs turned about and continued up the opposite direction. On this landing Rikke stopped, crouching behind the guard-rail of the stairs to keep out of sight. From the sound of Crixus' footsteps, he had halted: she then heard an all-too familiar, condescening Elven voice talking to him.

"Well? How did he take the news?" Elenwen asked.

"The war's being dragged on indefinitely," Crixus replied. "With no hope of reinforcements. How do you think he took it?"

"He'll take it however I insist that he does," Elenwen stated. "Remember, I'm only allowing this little charade to continue as long as it is beneficial to us."

"Is that why you have a fleet sailing up from Alinor?" Crixus asked. "Going to keep reinforcements from reaching Skyrim by sea?"

"That fleet is none of your concern."

"Well, I say it is. I'm done being your patsy. I'm going to go to Windhelm and end this war, like I should have done from the beginning."

"You will do no such thing," Elenwen ordered. "Unless you'd like a pair of fetters waiting for you back here...or in Cyrodiil...or even Mournhold?"

There was a pause. Rikke wondered what would evidence Elenwen had on Crixus that could put him in irons if it got out.

"You've just crossed the line, Thalmor b*tch!" Crixus hissed. It made Rikke smile: at least his hatred and crass behavior wasn't reserved exclusively for Nords.

"And killing the Emperor wasn't crossing a line for you?"

Rikke buried her fist in her gaping mouth: the Emperor dead? She had heard nothing about this. Then again, she likely wouldn't have heard anything. Did Tullius know? Of all the people she'd have expected to kill the Emperor, Servius Crixus was the absolute last one.

"There, that's better," Elenwen sneered. "Heel, cur. I trust, now, that there'll be no further issues with you? It would truly be a great loss for you to...prematurely outlive your usefulness?"

"One of these days, Elenwen, you'll go too far, even for you," Crixus replied. "And there won't be anyone there to save your yellow arse: I just hope I'm there to see it."

"You humans and your empty threats never cease to amuse me," Elenwen mocked with a haughty chuckle.

Rikke turned to leave immediately upon hearing Crixus' footsteps: he would be coming back down. But as she made her way to the war room as inconspicuously as possible, her thoughts turned once again to what she had heard. Had the Emperor been slain? What was the Empire without the Emperor? What, or who, was she now fighting for? Were they indeed merely pawns of the Thalmor now? What about her aspirations of a loyal Skyrim...one that required them to shed Nord blood? Her former dismissal of the Nords slain by the Imperial Red Legions as being "on their heads" seemed sillier with each passing day.

I don't know, she thought to herself. Whether to curse Eirik, or as Talos to bless him.

Five days earlier, the group of the Dragonborn settled in at the Candlehearth Hall. A grim and bleak situation lurked before them now; the Stormcloaks had their supplies raided, pushing the assault on Valtheim back even further. While Aela the Huntress was still in the wilds, out on the hunt, Eirik, Mjoll, Lydia, and Jonna were left to once more rent for themselves a room as Eirik would look for work. They needed the coin, one way or another. Jonna suggested outsourcing the raid on the Valtheim Towers to some sellswords: Mjoll was against this idea, but of course they were short on funds. However, they would have to wait until tomorrow.

When they went to their rooms, Eirik and Mjoll slept in one room together in one bed, with Lydia and Jonna guarding the door. Ever since Idolaf's attempted murder, Lydia's skill as a bodyguard were in question. Therefore she had Jonna stay up with her to guard the door. Jonna had the first watch, and was given the duty to rouse Lydia when she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Hours passed, with the general noise of the common room above them slowly fading until all was quiet save for the crackling of the hearth. The lack of sound was starting to lull Jonna to sleep, then she shook her head, forced her eyelids open, and jabbed Lydia in the side.

"Harder, my thane!" Lydia mumbled. Jonna stifled a grin, then shoved her shoulder.

"I wasn't sleeping, I swear!" she replied.

"Shh!" Jonna hissed. "It's your turn to watch, I can barely stay awake."

"Oh, you should have woken me, then."

"That's what I just did!" Jonna hissed.

"I'm teasing you," Lydia smirked. "I'll wake you when I...assassin!"

Lydia's exclamation took everyone by surprise. She was up on her feet and drew her sword at the dark-robed figure glowering over Eirik's bed. Jonna too, roused by the sudden outburst, was on her feet as well and taking out her axe for a swing.

"If we're going to be honest, huscarl, I let you catch me," a familiar voice said from the black-clad and hooded figure.

"Serana?" Jonna exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's me," the familiar voice replied.

By now, Eirik and Mjoll were awake. Eirik reached up from his bed and removed the hood from the figure by his bed. Sure enough, the pale-faced, black-haired vampire was staring back at him, her eyes faintly glowing red in the darkness.

"This wasn't exactly my idea, I'll let you know," she protested.

"Serana?" Eirik asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Business."

"Whose business, the Dawnguard?"

"Well, not exactly," she replied. "My business involves you. Now can you ask your huscarl and her friend to put their weapons down? If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have let myself get caught."

"Stand down," Eirik said. "Now, then, Serana, tell me why you're here. Planning on kidnapping me again?"

"No," Serana replied. "Much worse. You know, you've been angering all the wrong people lately. Someone's called in a hit on you."

"Wait...you're with the Dark Brotherhood now?" Jonna asked.

"Who is this, again?" Serana asked. "And how does she know me?" There was a sniff heard. "You're not a vampire, and you're not one of the Dawnguard. I know their scent. Yours reminds me of...the Siege..."

"It's...complicated," Jonna replied. "We may have time for it later. But what about you? Serving the Dark Brotherhood?"

"It's complicated," Serana sarcastically returned.

"So they put a hit out on me, then?" Eirik asked. "Well, why haven't you carried out your mission?"

"I know I should," Serana said. "But, well, it's you. I owe you everything, and I won't easily forget that."

"Aren't there rules about the Dark Brotherhood or something?" Lydia asked.

"Yes, there are, the Tenets," Serana replied. "But I don't really care about breaking them. I mean, after all, I'm a vampire: what more could they do to me?"

Suddenly there was a scream heard in the silence of the darkness: faint and distant, beyond the walls of Candlehearth Hall, but bone-chilling. All eyes turned towards the sound, but then some of them turned back to Serana.

"I didn't do it," she said, shaking her head.

Eirik threw a cloak around his shoulders, as he and Jonna went out in search of the sound: Lydia remained behind with Mjoll, and Serana, slinking through the shadows, followed on after her. They left Candlehearth Hall and followed a steadily growing group of people near the Windhelm Hall of the Dead. In front of the structure were several tombstones situated in their own rows fenced off with low wooden fences. Slumped over one of these wooden fences was the bloodied and mangled body of a blonde Nord woman, completely stripped of all her clothing. Already around the scene, several curiosity-seekers were looking in on the carnage: the hold guards were keeping them back and away from the scene.

"The Butcher strikes again!" someone cried out.

Behind them came Serana to investigate the scene of the attack. As soon as Eirik was aware of her presence, he put out his hand to keep her from what he guessed she was doing. She cleared her throat loudly, Eirik turned about to see what might be the matter, and was starkly embarrassed: his hand had touched her chest when he put it out.

"Sorry," he said, removing his hand. "Just...don't go near it."

"Alright," Serana replied. "But it's going to be hard. I can smell it from here." She let out a disturbingly erotic sigh.

"Shh!" Jonna whispered. "Not so loud! You know we're in public, right?"

"You're right," Serana said. "Anyone know her?"

"I think I've seen her at the inn before," Eirik said. "But I don't know her name." Eirik turned to the crowd of onlookers and spoke to one of them.

"Who was that who was killed?"

"Susanna, I think," was the answer. "She used to work at Candlehearth Hall."

"I knew I recognized her from somewhere," Eirik told the two women. He then turned to the guards. "Is something going to be done about this?"

"Can't say for sure," the guard replied. "We're already stretched thin with the war. Say, aren't you the one I've been seeing up at the Palace of the Kings? They say you're the Dragonborn."

"Aye, that I am."

"Can you help us? We'd appreciate anything you could give us."

"I'll see what I can do. First, can I take a look at the body?"

"Be my guest."

The guard stepped aside, letting Eirik, Jonna, and Serana approach the body. Serana was eying the naked and bloodied form, a look of intense interest in her eyes. Jonna took one look at her and made a noise of disgust.

"What?" she asked.

"Can you not, please?" she asked. "You look like you're about to eat that dead body!"

"So?"

"Well, I guess I never really thought about it..."

"And who are you exactly, again?" Serana asked. "You seem to know me, but I'm not sure I could place you. You smell familiar."

"Smell?"

"Well, va...you know, we can smell things better than most other races," she said. "And you have a familiar scent to you: one I haven't smelt since the siege of Castle Volkihar last year."

Jonna sighed. "It would take too long to tell you. Can we just focus on what's at hand right now? And...don't eat her."

"Obviously," Serana chuckled. She then turned to Eirik and waved him over.

"Look at these cuts," she said. "They're very precise; almost look like the iron scalpels the old Atmorans used."

"So we're looking for a draugr, then?" Eirik asked.

Serana rolled her eyes. "Someone with the skill to use these kinds of embalming tools." She sniffed the air again, looking this way and that, while Eirik turned to Jonna to share his findings. Again, Serana's hand waved them over.

"There's a trail of fresh blood, I can smell it," she stated. "Let's see where it leads."

In the end, they found that the blood-trail led to the doorstep of a house in the Stone Quarter. The door was locked, but it was still very early, they could not gain access until the morning. They went back to Candlehearth Hall and tried to sleep, but weren't able to get much at all. The common room above their heads was now brimming with talk of the Butcher and who, or what, it may be. Aside from Eirik and Mjoll, none of them could sleep from the sound coming from the ceiling. Lydia kept watch outside the room, while Jonna queued Serana in to who she was and how she knew her: she remembered that their Serana had told them to contact her earlier self for help.

The vampire listened intently to Jonna's story, which was only a second-hand account. She wished that Sigrun were here and could tell her in detail what had happened. When at last she was done, Serana merely nodded quietly.

"Well, that's not the strangest thing I've ever heard," she remarked.

"Really?" Jonna asked. "You've heard something stranger than two girls being thrown backward in time to save the future?"

"Yes, actually," Serana replied. "How about a man wanting to put out the sun and his wife sending their daughter forward in time to prevent it?" She gestured to herself. "So, who exactly am I in this dark and terrible future of yours?"

"You're still his friend, obviously," Jonna said, gesturing to Eirik. "But, well, you're...well, you're kind of an aunt to me and Sigrun. Which I really appreciate: my mother's parents died long ago, as did his parents." She nodded with her head to Eirik.

Serana chuckled. "Imagine that. Me, an aunt. I bet I had all sorts of interesting stories to tell you two: tales of blood, gore, and necromancy."

"You certainly were fun to have around Day of the Dead," Jonna remarked, and Serana smiled.

"And your...uh, friend? Sister?"

"May as well be my sister," Jonna added. "We're that close. She's on Solstheim, and..." She turned and looked at Mjoll. Serana looked at her.

"The other heartbeat," Serana noted.

"What?" Jonna exclaimed. "She's not even showing and you can hear her heartbeat?"

"Yeah," Serana matter-of-factly stated. "I can hear the heartbeat of all six of us here, including Lydia."

Jonna did some quick calculations on her fingers, then nodded in surprise. "How far away does it work?"

"If I focus really hard," Serana replied. "I can sense the heartbeat of everyone in this building; if we were outside, I could probably go much farther."

"What other things do you have?" Jonna asked. "I mean, I always knew you were, well, you know. But, owing to what we have to do, I want to know what kind of powers you have that we could use."

"Well I doubt most people would have much use for a necromancer around here," Serana stated. "I find it tends to frighten people. Aside from that, I have some skill as a mage, and my 'other' powers."

"What 'other powers?'"

"I'm faster than pretty much anything," she continued. "Only in short bursts, though. I can't run from here to the Reach and back in a minute. I also have the strength of ten men." She held up her hand and removed her black glove, flexing her pale fingers before her and Jonna's eyes. "The power of a giant all right here in this little hand." She then covered her hand back up.

"Of course, there's a down-side to all this power. I'm weaker in the day, and direct, prolonged exposure to sunlight would burn me up. Also shoot me through the heart or cut off my head, and that's it."

"Uh-huh," Jonna nodded. "Well, then it's a good thing you're on our side."

"Yeah," Serana replied. "So, why did I tell you to contact me?"

"You said you might be able to help," Jonna said. "And with your powers, I think you just might."

"Help you save Skyrim?" Serana asked. "Well, I don't think I could take on all the Legions of the Empire by myself, if that's what you're thinking. But I do have some magical knowledge, which I'd certainly lend to your aid. That could give you an advantage."

"We'll be grateful for that," Jonna added.

"One more question," Serana said. "When I came here, I noticed the heartbeats of the people were very uneasy, especially on the eastern side near the water. Do you know anything about that?"

"You're talking about the Dunmer in the Grey Quarter."

"Which ones are they again?" Serana asked. "Sorry, it's just that back in my day, the people of Resdayn were called Chimer, and they weren't dark-skinned."

For the rest of the night, they continued talking and Jonna told Serana what she knew about the world as it was. The sun dawned over the Sea of Ghosts: the twenty-sixth day of Morning Star. No more assaults or surprises happened that night. They joined the common room for breakfast, and the four of them ate breakfast at a table together: Serana ate nothing, but mingled with the crowds around them, listening and smelling.

"I've decided," Eirik said. "That I'm not going to wait for the soldiers to resupply. I'm going to ride to Valtheim and take the towers for the Stormcloaks."

"Just by yourself?" Jonna asked.

"Not alone," Mjoll stated. "You know I'm always going with you."

"Plus, we have someone in the wilderness waiting for us," Eirik added. "That's three...or maybe we should count her twice."

"Four," Lydia stated. "I'll go with you. Need to prove myself to you after Whiterun."

"But what about this Butcher?" Jonna asked. "We're not going to just let him keep on killing, are we? I mean, you gave them your word."

"No, we're not going to give up on that," Eirik stated. "That's why you're going to stay here and investigate in my name. I'll tell Jorleif who you are and have you act in my stead."

Just then, Serana appeared, brought a chair up to their table, and sat down.

"I overheard you planning," she said. "And I want in on this."

"Good," Jonna said. "You can go with Eirik and take the Valtheim Towers."

"Wait, what?" she returned. "No, I wanna stay here and find this killer."

"What?" Jonna and Eirik both asked at once.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she returned. "It wasn't one of us, and I think Jonna could use my help."

"But the real battle is in the west!" Jonna insisted. "This is just a distraction!"

"We need all the help we can get," Eirik stated. "I'd hate to lose you for four days."

Just then, another figure joined the table next to Eirik.

"Can I help you?" Mjoll asked.

"I didn't mean to intrude," a familiar voice stated. "But I thought I heard that you needed some help. Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

"You?" Eirik asked. "but you're a...well, you know..."

"A whore?" Serys asked. Jonna gasped at seeing the Dunmer woman again, here in Candlehearth Hall. More than a few heads turned toward the elf from the other patrons upon hearing what she said.

"Yes, I do walk the Grey Quarter at night," she replied. "But I'm also a skilled mage in my own right. I can be of great help to you."

"Why were you listening to our conversation?" Jonna asked.

"And more importantly," Eirik added. "Why do you want to help us? Just yesterday, I was ready to kill every Dunmer standing in my way. And now you want to help me?"

"Not every Dunmer in the Grey Quarter is like Athal Sarys," Serys replied. "Some of us just want to live here without being harassed for being different than you. We understand that the best way to live together with your people is to work together with them. So I offer you my service to hopefully mend relations between my people and yours."

Eirik paused and stroked his beard pensively, then turned to the others to get their opinions.

"We need all the help we can get, you said it yourself," Mjoll reiterated.

"I don't trust her," Jonna said. "This is the third time she's just showed up out of seemingly nowhere and knows exactly what we're doing and what our predicament is. She's up to something: I just know it."

"I'm with Jonna on this one," Serana said. "There's something not right about that elf."

"Why?" Mjoll asked. "Because she's trying to be helpful?"

"You journeyed to Morrowind many times," Eirik said. "You tell me: how helpful and hospitable were the Dunmer?" Mjoll didn't have an answer, but gave him a sour look. He turned to Serana. "What makes you say that there's something not right about her?"

"Well, for one thing I can sense her heartbeat," Serana said in a low, whispering voice. "I can sense everybody's heartbeats here in the common room. Most of them are pretty steady, except for the Dunmer. They're all on edge: all of them except her."

"And?"

"Well, she's clearly not nervous. Whatever's upset the rest of the Dunmer hasn't upset her. Also I'm pretty sure that I can sense some kind of magic about her."

"Well, she did say she was a mage."

"Seriously, this is a bad idea," Jonna stated. "Just taking up with a stranger who always stumbles upon us whenever we're in need?"

"Sounds a lot like someone else I know," Mjoll added, nudging Eirik's shoulder with her own. He then turned to Lydia.

"Don't look at me," she replied. "I'll go with you, no matter what decision you make...within reason, of course."

"Alright," Eirik nodded. "We'll take her on, and you two can stay here and catch the Butcher."

"But..." Jonna interjected.

"If you're right, then at least we'll have Aela with us," Eirik stated. He then called Serys back over to the table to negotiate their arrangements. Mjoll departed on an errand she had to run before they left, and Lydia sipped from her cup in silence. Jonna looked quite frustrated by this turn of events.

"This is a very bad idea," she told Serana. "Mark my words: something's off about that elf."

"Then maybe the best place to keep her is under Eirik's nose," the vampire suggested.

"But that's not it, though," Jonna said. "Before she left, Sigrun told me to keep him focused on his mission: winning the war. And already I've failed at that."

"Well, if what you told me is true, I don't see how it was your fault," Serana said. "You did the best you could: the theft of the Stormcloaks' supplies was what got in your way. We'll just have to improvise."

Jonna sighed. "Might as well make ourselves useful while we're here."

After they had finished eating, Eirik and the women went to the Palace of the Kings to find the steward Jorleif. Eirik told them that he would be gone for four days, and that his associate Jonna Strong-Voice was to be his second, and privy to any information or privilege that would otherwise be afforded to him. The steward was hesitant at first to divest such authority and privilege to someone he barely knew, but Eirik said that Ulfric would vouch for her.

"She helped the Stormcloaks take the Rift," he told the steward. "She's as worthy a daughter of Skyrim as any other. I trust her, and so can you."

Jonna smiled at this. Apart from how good it felt to hear him say this, something else awoke inside her. She had been after her family all this time, even back before the return. But now she had seen Idolaf twice, and neither time was he of any worth to her: and neither was his family the Battle-Borns. Yet she wondered now if, perhaps, she might make the innocent, childish words of yore now become truth? What if she allowed herself to be adopted into Eirik's family? True enough she had a mother, but she was starting to see Eirik as something more than just the father of her friend. He almost seemed like an uncle to her, if not more.

But there was little time to wax sentimental. Eirik went back to the inn to ready himself for his own journey, leaving the women before the steward. Serana whispered into Jonna's ear about what they found last night, and Jonna mentioned the house where the blood-trail had stopped. Jorleif said it belonged to a house called Hjerim, that hadn't been inhabited for years. It used to belong to a member of Clan Shatter-Shield, who had also been slain recently: unfortunately, this made things even more complicated. Clan Shatter-Shield was all but destroyed now, thanks to what many people were calling an attack by the Dark Brotherhood (which caused Serana to shake her head once Jonna turned to her with a suspicious look).

"Such injustice," Jorleif commented. "First Friga, then Nilsine, and now Tova kills herself. Clan Shatter-Shield is cursed, they say."

They asked for the key to Hjerim, but Jorleif said that it was still on the body of Tova, who had been interred in the Hall of the Dead after her suicide. He suggested that they speak to Helgrid, the priestess of Arkay and tender of the Hall of the Dead, if they wanted to get the key from the body.

Once they had concluded their business, they left the Palace of the Kings and made their way south, towards the bridge leading out of Windhelm. Eirik was already in his traveling gear, as were Mjoll and Lydia. While they were readying themselves, the Dunmer Serys Ulvan walked out from the direction of the Grey Quarter; she was dressed in blue robes with a wool-lined hood for traveling.

"I'm still not sure about this," Jonna reminded Eirik.

"We need Valtheim," he replied. "And I've been idle for far too long."

"I know, I know," she returned. "Just be careful, alright?"

"I will," he said.

The three Nords bade them farewell and made their way to the stables for their horses. Serys said nothing, but kept her face fixed on the three before her, then rented a horse for herself from the stables and mounted up swiftly. The three of them then set off at a healthy trot and were soon lost amidst the snowy plains of Eastmarch.

Jonna and Serana then made good on their own plans. From the gates of Windhelm they went to the Hall of the Dead, immediately where they had found the body the previous night. Inside they found a well-lit tomb, very similar in fashion to the old Nord tombs that dotted the land of Skyrim. There was an old woman, dressed in the orange robes of a priest, milling about several bodies that stank to Sovngarde itself. Jonna could barely keep herself from coughing from the stench, which didn't seem to bother Serana much. After mastering herself a bit, Jonna approached the old woman.

"Excuse me," she said. "Are you Priestess Helgrid?"

"Yes, child, I am," the old woman said. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, we need to get into Hjerim, on official business for the Jarl," Jonna replied. "But we need the key. The Jarl's steward said that Tova Shatter-Shield might have it on her person. Can we look at her body and see?"

"Tova Shatter-Shield died sometime last year," Helgrid replied. "Her remains have already been embalmed and interred, according to her husband Torbjorn. But I won't give over any of her personal effects just because you ask. You young people, no respect for the dead! She should be resting, not..." At that point, she stopped talking and her mouth hung open in mid-sentence. Her eyes were fixed open and gazing directly at Serana. Jonna tried to get the vampire's attention, but she shushed her.

"Give me the key you found on Tova's body," Serana said. Without breaking eye contact, the old woman took a few steps back, fumbled around on a short wooden table, then picked up the key. She slowly walked forward, holding the key out in her hand. Jonna took the key, but was still stunned at what she was witnessing.

"You're feeling tired," Serana said to the old priestess. "Go over to your bed and sleep for a while." The old woman did exactly as she was told, then closed her eyes and went immediately to sleep. Once this was done, Serana turned to Jonna with a smirk on her face.

"You're welcome," she said.

"What did you do?"

"Vampires have some influence on the minds of others," Serana explained. "In this case, it proved quite useful."

"I see," Jonna nodded her head. "Come on, let's go check out Hjerim."

"Wait!" Serana said, holding up her hand. "What if...well, you won't be grossed out by it, will you?"

"What?" asked Jonna.

"Look over there!" she pointed to a long wooden table, upon which the pale blue body of the recently-deceased Susanna lay half-concealed under a linen sheet. "That's the girl who died this morning. If she hasn't decayed too much, maybe I could raise her for a little while?"

"What?" Jonna asked. "Why would you want to do that?"

"She might give us a clue about the killer," Serana suggested.

"Good point," Jonna nodded. "Alright, we'll do it. But just this once. I'll keep watch and make sure nobody disturbs us: make it snappy."

Serana and Jonna crept over to the body on the table. Jonna looked back at the stairway that led down into the hall from the street level periodically, to make sure there were no sudden visitors. Serana hovered over the body, as she had over Eirik's bed, her hands moving back and forth over the slain girl as she chanted beneath her breath. Slowly but surely, her chanting became louder and more intense; just as it was starting to grow to such a pitch that Jonna feared she would give them away, she thrust her open palm onto the face of the dead girl. There was a flash of blue light, and then a hoarse rasp: but no breath.

What Jonna saw next would stay with her for the rest of her life. The bloodied, mangled, and pale-blue body was moving upon the bed where it lay. The head moved this way and that, the blue eyes were wide open, and a look of panic was upon her face.

"Where am I?" she asked. "Who are you? What's going on?"

"Shh!" Serana hissed. "It's alright. We need you to talk. Tell me, what was the last thing you remember?"

"I..." the girl stammered. "...it was dark. I was on my way home. I had taken some food to the Grey Quarter and had to make myself scarce before Elda knew the food was gone. Then...pain. So much pain, I...I'd never known such pain. Gods, and I thought my issue was bad!"

"Rather talkative, isn't she?" Serana said to Jonna, who let out a tone of disgust. The vampire then turned back to the corpse. "Then what happened? Did you see who attacked you?"

"No, it..." Susanna uttered. "It was so dark...and then everything got darker...and colder. I..." She let out a rasping noise. "It's still cold. I can't breathe. What's going on?"

"What happened then?" Serana asked. "You don't remember anything else?"

"Wait," Jonna interjected. "Ask her what happened afterward." She leaned in and looked at the poor, ghastly woman's face. "What happened next? After it got cold."

The woman was lost for a moment in thought, then slowly spoke. "There was...a valley. Lights in the sky, brighter than any Northern Lights I'd ever seen. And a...a palace somewhere in the distance. And I thought I could see the Whale-Bone Bridge. Was that Sovngarde? Please, let me go back. I was about to be judged by Tsun when you took me away! Send me back, please! I don't belong here!"

A grim look passed over Serana's face, then she waved her hand and a blue light flashed over the body and it was still once again; never to speak or move in this world. She then pulled back the sheet over the woman's body, making sure that all of her was as hidden as possible.

"Kyne's breath guide your spirit back to your home," Jonna whispered.

"A home some of us may never know," Serana added. "At least it'll be a while until anyone notices you've disintegrated. A waste of time."

"We still have Hjerim to inspect, don't we?" Jonna added.

With the key in hand, Serana and Jonna left the grim sight of the Hall of the Dead and went to Hjerim. The door opened upon a dry, dust house, bare of all but a few things here and there. Skeever droppings and cobwebs adorned the floors, walls, and corners of every room. Jonna and Serana spread out and searched each room individually; it seemed to be uninhabited for several years. Jonna went upstairs to seek out the second story, while Serana remained on the ground level. After several minutes of poking around, Serana called out from the bottom floor. Jonna came running down immediately and found Serana standing before a large dresser pressed against a wall near the back of the house.

"What is it?" Jonna asked.

"There's something about this dresser here," Serana suggested. "It's been nailed to the wall. There's probably something hidden behind here."

"What makes you say that?" Jonna asked.

"My mother had more than a few secrets back at our family castle," Serana replied. "Though this isn't nearly as clever as a hidden fireplace or a moon-dial. Amateur-ish, compared to her." She placed one hand on the wall and then opened the dresser with the other: there was a base board at the back of the dresser but nothing else. Feeling around with her right hand, Serana touched the base board of the dresser.

"It's in deeper than the wall," she said. Then with suddenness that surprised Jonna, she thrust her hand straight through the base board. When the vampire removed her hand, Jonna saw a dimly lit room on the other side of the hole. Serana then began tearing apart the base board, until the two of them could enter the room on the other side.

Inside, there was a makeshift altar set up on one end, surrounded by several still flickering candles. Upon said altar were several pieces of bone and human remains, arranged in a vaguely human shape. All the windows were boarded up, one by a large bookshelf with several stacks of flyers and an open book upon the shelves. Jonna went for the shelves, though Serana was more interested in the makeshift altar.

"This looks like a ritual," she said. "Necromancy, most certainly. I'd know it with my eyes closed. Someone's practicing illegal magicka."

"Strange," Jonna said aloud. "All these flyers say the exact same thing. Just a warning about the Butcher. And who is Viola Giordano? Her name is on each of these papers." Just then, something fell out from the stack of papers. Jonna reached down and picked up the amulet. It had a silver pendant in the center, with what looked to be a bit of jade malachite in the center that had been rubbed, or chipped, off at some point. There were now only a few scratches on the surface thereof.

"A strange amulet," she said, holding it up.

"I've never seen something like that before," Serana replied. "But there's something magical about this amulet. Probably tied to this necromancy ritual."

"Maybe we can take it to Calixto," Jonna said. "He seems to know something about rare trinkets like this." She stowed it in her bosom, then went for the journal.

"I think this might have belonged to our killer," she said. "Whoever he or she is, they certainly know a bit about magic. Says here they've been to the College of Winterhold. And it looks like you're right about necromancy, Serana: says something here about 'flesh magic.'"

"This is certainly quite a bit of evidence," Serana said. "A rogue wizard killing young girls in Windhelm for some necromancer's ritual. But where does it all lead?"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

From the house, the ladies went about to the shop in the Stone Quarter to spend some time. While they were there, Jonna noticed two Dunmer standing near the alchemist's shop The White Phial: they were talking to a tall Nord, bald of head and bearing a long, gray beard. It was certainly surprising for her to see Dunmer out and about here in the rest of the city. She gestured to Serana and pointed over to the group.

"How's your hearing?"

"Better than yours, why?"

"What are they talking about?"

They walked over to the side of The White Phial and Serana listened in to what the group was saying.

"Well?"

"It's hard to make out," Serana replied. "So much blood...so many hearts..."

"Focus!" Jonna hissed. Serana shook her head and continued to listen and recite what she heard.

"They're upset," she said. "Something's happened that's made things difficult for them. They didn't get all the information they wanted, and they're wanting Brunwulf's help. And who's Sedris Ulver? I've never heard of that person before."

"Did you say Sedris Ulver?" Jonna asked.

"Yes, why? Do you know the name?"

"Sounds familiar," Jonna mused. "But...I don't know. Come on, we've got to stop by Calixto's shop."

They left the mystery behind for the present and made their way across town to Calixto's shop. The proprietor was present and greeted them warmly; he seemed to have remembered Jonna from her previous visit. When she presented the amulet to him, he became very interested in it.

"Where did you say you found this?" he asked.

"At Hjerim," Jonna said. "Can you tell us what this is?"

"Oh, of course," he replied. "This is a Wheelstone amulet. Traditionally held by the court mage, but I have no idea why it would end up at the late Shatter-Shield girl's house. Most curious. This would make a fine addition to my collection: I'd be willing to take it off your hands for a fair price."

"Shouldn't we return it to him?" Serana suggested.

"Bah, hardly necessary," Calixto returned. "Purely ceremonial. I doubt he has any use for it. Besides, if even half the rumors about him are true, the court mage is a creepy fellow. They say he dabbles in necromancy." He shivered. "Wouldn't want to be the one to give it back to him. It's much better with me, I promise you."

Since they needed the money, they agreed to part with the amulet: Calixto gave them a small bag of five hundred septims for its worth. They then left the shop, despite his invitation to see the legendary Dancer's Flute, which he claimed would cause those who heard its notes to dance uncontrollably, regardless of where they were or what situation they were in. Once they were outside and the door was closed, Jonna turned to Serana.

"Well?" she asked. "That's as plain as ever. The court wizard is our killer. You said that was a necromancy ritual, and Calixto did say he suspected the court mage of necromancy."

"Are you sure?" Serana asked. "You know, we had court mages back in my day, and I don't recall ever hearing anything about a Wheelstone. Then again, it could be from after my time."

"I'm sure it's him...well, mostly," Jonna stated.

"We could ask him," Serana suggested.

"And if he's guilty, do you think he'll just confess right then and there?"

"I could always force a confession out of him."

"Serana..."

"Look, I'm older than you," Serana suggested. "I have a good feeling about this one. I really think we shouldn't jump to conclusions with this."

Jonna sighed. "Why can't you just accept my decision? Gods, I need to assert myself more and you're making it difficult!"

"Well, I'm sorry. Next time, I'll let you make the decision. But right now, let's seek out the court wizard."

They set off at once for the Palace of the Kings. Jonna asked the steward where they could find the court mage. He told them that Wuunferth the Unliving, the court mage, rarely ever left his quarters on the second level of the palace, and reminded them that he wasn't a man to be trifled with. There were rumors about him, that he was quite a dangerous man, and Jorleif warned them to mind themselves around him. They asked the guards for directions, and soon were on their way through the grim, austere stone halls of the palace to find the court wizard.

They found him at last, a wizened old figure sitting alone in his chambers, pouring over several old books. Serana spoke up when they approached.

"Do you have a moment?" she asked. "We'd like to ask you some questions."

"Whatever you've heard I can do, it's probably true," the old Nord said. "Does that suit your curiosity?"

"No," Jonna interjected. "We found your journal, we know what you're doing."

"What nonsense is this?" the old Nord asked. "I don't keep a journal; such tedious things, keeping track of everything you do. Always a way of being traced back to you."

"See what I mean?" Jonna whispered toward Serana. "He's totally our guy." She then turned back to Wuunferth. "You can play around all you want, but we know you've been dabbling in necromancy."

"What?" Wuunferth exclaimed. "Necromancy? That's absurd! I'm a member of the College of Winterhold; a good standing one! Necromancy has been banned for over a hundred years."

"What about the amulet we found there?" Jonna asked. "The Wheelstone amulet."

At this, Wuunferth turned about and rose to his feet, a keen look beneath his old gray brows. "I see you've been talking with Calixto. He's not always keen with his observations, nor are his books. They say they're mostly lies and conjecture mixed with rumor and assumptions. Now, let me see this amulet you found."

"We don't have it," Jonna stammered, looking at the ground.

"Hmm, I see," Wuunferth said, stroking his long, gray beard. "Well, did you at least get a good look at it first?"

"Yes, we did," Serana stated.

"What did it look like?" he asked. Jonna described it.

"By Shor!" Wuunferth exclaimed. "You have no idea what you've let slip through your fingers. That's the Necromancer's Amulet. It's a legendary artifact: said to have been made by the King of Worms himself, and possessed at one time by none other than the fabled Underking."

"No wonder I didn't recognize that," Serana muttered. "Never heard of them."

"Surprised you haven't heard of Mannimarco," the old Nord stated. "The Underking, more understandable. Something of a touchy subject, especially back in the days of the Septims. Nowadays, however, it's more open to discussion...for those who know about secret things."

"Tell me about this Underking," Serana stated.

"That's...uh...not a very easy answer to give," he replied. "Some say he was some kind of...compound of several people. Among them Wulfharth the Undying, Talos' battle-mage Zurin Arctus. Whatever it was, it was behind the Warp in the West in the last era. Other legends say that it was the power behind the Septim throne."

"Can we get back to the real reason we're here?" Jonna stated. "All of this nonsense about compound people's giving me a headache."

"I know, it's enough to make your head spin," Wuunferth stated. "Even for someone as studied as me. Anyway, you were at least right in assuming necromancy was involved in whatever you found. However, I have a feeling why you're here."

"Oh?"

"The killings, right?" Wuunferth stated. "I may spend all my time up here, but I'm not blind. There's a pattern going on with these killings: the first one was a wash-maid from Candlehearth on a Loredas of Last Seed, then the Shatter-Shield girl on a Middas of Hearthfire, and now the wicked girl on the Morndas of Morning Star. I'm certain he'll attack again on a Sundas of Sun's Dawn."

"That's six days from now!" Jonna stated. "Surely he'd strike before that."

"It's an educated guess," Wuunferth replied. "Feel free to watch the Stone Quarter. I'll ask Jorleif to give notice to the guards not to arrest you: you know how nervous they can get seeing someone at night, walking the streets, without a torch or lantern."

"Thank you for your time, sir," Serana nodded. She then turned back to Jonna as they left his chamber. "What now?"

Jonna sighed. "Now...we wait."

(AN: So this chapter definitely got interesting the farther along I started going. Making our heroes take action rather than just sit around and wait for something to happen makes me more invested in writing the story. Of course there's plenty of stuff happening in this chapter: important stuff.)

(I had to remind myself, when planning this part of the story, that Crixus had already killed Nilsine and therefore Tova would have killed herself by now. Also the part about Serana resurrecting Susanna with her necromancy was sort of my Numidium refutation against a very cringey moment in Torchwood's first episode. Sorry for those of you I may have offended with that, but there's definitely an afterlife in this world!)