Author's Note:WHELP. Three years or so later, here I am. And I am so, so flabbergasted that people have still been enjoying this piece. Honestly, I'm beyond words with gratitude. Thank you all so, so much.

Honestly, a lot has changed since I first began writing Dust to Dust. There's quite a few things I'd do differently, and since I've been in the roleplaying scene for a few years, Dust ends up going in a very different direction than I would have originally thought. But I'm happy with it, and maybe, just maybe, people here might be, too. So I figure, I may as well try my hand at a few more chapters, maybe even towards a proper, decisive ending.

Regardless of what happens from here, I just want to thank you all again, so much, for reading. While I roleplay more in the Skyrim and Fallout fandoms these days, the Oblivion era will always hold a special place in my heart, as will Dust in this period. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

The sun rose on Kvatch, and the people began anew.

Already, they were collecting themselves. What was left of families reuniting, possessions bartered and sold, spooked sheep lead back to their owners. The morning light gentled the ruined landscape, turning stark blacks into grays, gleaming off grass that had managed to escape unscathed. I watched from afar, hugging myself tight, separate from their tragedy.

I don't remember thinking much. My mind was blank. I was numb. I could feel Her, though, pulling and tugging me along, whispering inside me. Nothing mattered but getting to Her.

"How are you feeling?"

I didn't startle but blinked, dully gazing at the asker. The man from before – the Captain. Adamus. The name came automatically, unbidden but dredged up from memory. "...Fine."

"Are you ready to leave, then?"

I nodded and followed him when he gestured. Many others had left already – people who would flee to Anvil or Skingrad to start a new life, guards and villagers who had done all they could. The Captain was already prepared, his horse pawing impatiently at the earth, the guard who accompanied him mounting his own. We had discussed it when I awoke – or rather, he explained and I nodded. He had retired from the Imperial City and was on his way to Leyawiin when he'd heard of the trouble in Kvatch. He came to help, and now would continue South and would take me to Bravil along the way.

Safe transport. It was the best I could hope for when I could hardly think, hardly feel beyond the tug inside.

Our pace was silent and steady. Bellamont was gone – vanished with the soul gem, only an imprint left burned into my hand. The only voice I heard was my own, and her soft, cruel call. Phillada and his guard would chat together over campfire, but left me to my silence - only near the end of our journey did Phillada speak to me again in earnest.

"... Miss Dust."

I faced him blankly. He smiled, a crooked, frail curve of thin lips. "... Yes. In the Imperial City, all those years ago. I helped you with your bags, when you first arrived to – the University, wasn't it?"

I parted my lips, but several long moments passed before I could speak, my voice hoarse from disuse. "... Yes." I remembered, then. His aid, his kindness. There was a dull flicker of surprise that he remembered me.

A kind chuckle. "Couldn't forget a name like that. I thought I'd recognized you, but I didn't place it until now." His features creased in a frown. "... What brought you to Kvatch?"

I turned away. He sighed softly, placing a gentle hand on my back. "I – apologize. I hadn't meant to stir up memories. You've been through much."

I almost laughed. You have no idea.

"I hope you will find peace in Bravil, at least." He turned from me, facing onwards once more, down the muddied road to the city that called me.

Come to me.

Lucien would be there. I don't know how I knew – it was simply unquestionable, fact scrawled into my mind. With that came hope, another desperate scribble. Mother would be there.

Which mother?

The rain that had begun our journey followed us. By the time we arrived at the gates of Bravil we were sodden, the horses chafed from saddles against wet hide, our bodies aching and exhausted from the cold. Walking through the yawning gates as we sought out the nearest inn, I was torn – her words still hooked me, pulled me, yet my body felt on the verge of collapse. It was only at the urging of Adamus that I could ignore her call for a while longer, seek out warmth, food, a bed.

I wasn't seeking Lucien, then. But he found me regardless.

"Dust." I barely lifted my head at the hoarse, familiar voice. An arm around my own, then, pulling me close. Not comforting, not really. Possessive. But I took it, regardless, let my own strength sap and let him hold my weight. His voice tightened further as he spoke not to me, but behind me.

"I take it you brought her here safely." His voice was silky smooth and polite, but tightly knit, not a syllable unpracticed. "I must thank you, guardsmen."

"Only doing our duty." Phillada nodded, seeming to approve of my having met someone who recognized me. "You are family of hers, then? We found her outside of Kvatch. She doesn't seem to remember how she got there."

"We were separated, in the confusion." I was surprised by the brief tenderness of his hand on my head, fingers running through my hair, but surprise quickly melted into acceptance. Any shred of comfort, I'd accept. Any kindness, and anything to keep me thinking of what had happened. Of the tower and the cage and no, no no no. I forced myself to listen to their conversation, fleeting as it was.

"… and perhaps, sometime, I might see you in Leyawain." A fond, almost fatherly smile and Adamus patted my shoulder before turning to face his fellow guard. "The Nine protect you." Lucien's grip on my shoulder tightened. Only when they left did he relax, giving a low hiss before taking my chin, making me meet his eyes.

"We are seeing her, in three days time." His voice took on a roughness now, brow knitted. "Will you join us?"

Come to me, said the voice in my head. Soft, cool, motherly.

Mother, mother, mum.

"No."

A brow cast upwards, but he didn't protest. He sent me upstairs, to the room he'd taken – we would wait a few days, he said, for the other Speakers to arrive. Then a new Listener would be anointed, so soon after the last.

I didn't wait a few days. I couldn't.

Alone, without so much as a torch to light the way, I went to visit my grandmother in her tomb.