Something burning. My nose twitched as I lay in the snow, nerves frayed and raw, head pounding, light bleeding at the edges of my sight. And cold, beneath me, cold and wet. The stench…

Bellamont.

Or rather, what had been Bellamont. Reduced to something that even still looked terribly human, features contorted into a face of anguish, flesh blackened and charred, his robes still smoking. My stomach lurched and I pulled myself away, crawling backwards, eyes wide and stinging from the rising smoke. I dragged a hand across my face before retching in the snow, gasping for breath.

Oh. Gods.

Mum.

I ran back into the house, squinting through the darkness, my voice hoarse. It was like I'd swallowed a flame - the inside of my throat was scorched, and every breath hurt. "Mum? Lucien?" Please be alive, please be alive, please….

"Dusty?" A familiar voice and I sobbed with relief, collapsing next to my mother, wincing at her torn and exhausted face. "Sweetheart… I thought… thank Sithis, how did you…"

"Shh." I whispered through tears, moving my gaze over her body and cringing at each wound. A gash in her stomach, her legs twisted from the brunt of the traitor's blade. "Save your strength, maman. Let me heal you…"

"Help Lucien first." Mum grimaced even as the spell began to cascade from my hands into her flesh. "I can wait, love. Get him down…"

I nodded dumbly, gripping my blade and trying to hold back the sickness that threatened to overwhelm me as I gazed up. Lucien - whether unconscious or in shock, I couldn't tell, his eyes only gaping holes. I clenched my teeth to trap a sob before readying the dagger, cutting through the ropes, supporting his weight as best I could as he crumpled. His body was laced with smaller wounds, shallow wounds meant to cause pain, not to kill. I renewed my spell, concentrating and feeling the tug from my energy as the spell fled to each of the wounds, sealing, knitting, weaving -

But his eyes. His eyes, I could never fix.

"You're alive, at least," I whispered hoarsely as I drew my hands away, watching his chin fall weakly to his chest. Stay alive. I moved back to mum , grimacing - she'd tried to move and twisted her legs further, and gazed up at me with an expression of mixed amusement and anguish. "Mum…"

"I know, darling, I just hated being helpless. Can you…?"

"I'll have to set the bone, first." Memories of papa's lessons, of putting Sirius's shoulder back into place after he fell off a horse. "…This is going to hurt." Mum nodded and only grit her teeth as, slowly and tentatively as I could, I began to move her legs. She was in pain - terrible pain, but she only allowed herself to whimper and curse. At last it was done and I let my magicka wash over her, soothing the ache and weaving the splintered bone, healing where it had punctured through flesh. Exhaustion tugged at me as I finished, utterly drained.

"Thank you, cherie. Lucien…?"

I couldn't hold back any longer and I gave a choking sob, gazing at mum and gnawing my lip. "H-he's alive. But his eyes - mum, the bastard took his eyes."

"Speaker?"

I whirled on my feet, dagger at the ready - a tall silhouette stood at the doorway, own blade drawn. But mum's hand on my ankle stopped me, her voice calm in the peace of healing. "It's alright, Dust. Lucien's Silencer."

"Blanchard?" Lucien spoke at last and I felt my knees grow weak with relief, even as his voice, rough with pain, made me cringe. "Is that you, Silencer?"

"Yes, Speaker." The man - Blanchard approached his master, kneeling to try and help him to his feet. "Sir, the traitor - I have proof, but the Listener, the Listener is dead."

Silence. The room seemed to grow colder, until mum spoke. "When was this?"

"Just before my Speaker was declared a traitor," Blanchard breathed, gazing at Lucien with a mixture of anger and fear. "He was long dead when I found him. The traitor, Bellamont, he assumed his writing and took his place to name you traitor…"

"…And then sent us running here." Lucien nodded, leaning slightly on Blanchard and dragging a hand over his bloody face. "He planned all of this. And the Listener…"

"We must find the others." Mum stood shaking, using my shoulder for support. "We must prove our innocence. We must speak to the Night Mother and cleanse the Brotherhood of this infection."

"So we must. Where are the other Speakers, Silencer?"

"They are gathering in Bravil. To lay our Listener to rest, to anoint a new one."

"Then we must go to Bravil." Mum nodded, her hand clenching tight on my shoulder before going limp. I barely caught her, struggling to support her weight as she groaned. "Damn it all…"

"Mum." All the strength that had been in me fled, and I gave little more than a whimper. "You and Lucien need rest. And we have no horse, Shadowmere is - " Lucien's head jerked towards the sound of my voice, and I winced. "…She…she's gone."

"Shadowmere, gone!"

"There was a Dunmer, riding her. I intercepted him and he dismounted without struggle. She's outside, Speaker. She must have run from the fire in the barn and been stolen." I nodded dumbly, playing along with what Blanchard believed truth. Lucien exhaled through his teeth, a sound of relief and annoyance.

"Good. Let us waste no time."

"But…" I trailed off, my argument sent uselessly off into the sky like the billowing smoke as we stepped outside. Even still the stable burned, Shadowmere and another horse near our door, the stench of cremation still thick and suffocating in the air. But Bellamont was gone. "…Where did…"

"I threw the body in the fire. It will burn to nothing." Blanchard moved to the fire, casting a spell to shield him from flame before grabbing a stick of burning wood and tossing it towards the cottage. It smouldered before beginning to burn, climbing slowly up the wall. "There will be no trace of what happened here."

"Hah." Mum laughed quietly, a small smile curving her lip. "Lucien taught you well."

"He did, Madame." Blanchard moved to mum, glancing at me before helping support her weight. "I'll go with her. My horse doesn't trust anyone but me. You take our Speaker, on Shadowmere."

I nodded. Lucien stood by the door, arms crossed, all for the world himself if it weren't for the deep shadows creased into his face, into the gapes of his eyes. I moved to him - before stopping, frowning, my foot hitting something small and hard.

…The soul gem.

A black soul gem. Glancing to see Blanchard with his back turned, helping my mother, I knelt and scooped it up from the snow. It tingled with power, with the song of human life. I shuddered, but - but I couldn't put it down. I slipped it into the pocket of my robe before moving to Lucien, wordlessly taking his hand and leading him to Shadowmere. He moved unsteadily, and hand over hand, bodies close, I guided him onto the mare until he was astride. I expected him to brush me away, stubborn and proud - but what did pride matter?

I moved to sit before him, clutching the reins, watching as Blanchard with my mother resting against him began to move. The stable smouldered to ash behind us, flames devouring the barn. Soon, there would be nothing except black coal against white snow.

Some know Sithis as darkness, utter black, and cold deeper than ice. But I know it as fire - fire and heat and purest white, all-consuming. And through it, opposite and same, separate and intertwined, a sweet, motherly voice.

Come to me.