The world outside and I were at odds when I passed the city gates and headed Southeast. I was a spitting black storm, crackling and rumbling inside, but the sky above Cheydinhal was flawlessly blue. Not a cloud above me – even the flowers seemed to raise their heads upwards, cheered by the soft, warm breeze carrying their scent.

But none of these were the flowers I needed, not out here. The target – my target, though the thought made my stomach curdle – was a notorious skoomahound at his parties. Only natural he'd overdose at some point, and it was our job to make it appear as though he had. Simply pushing more skooma on him was too chancey, though. We needed to poison it, to make it appear as though his body simply gave out after years of abuse. Something that would mimic the signs and death of a skooma overdose, and something he wouldn't detect even in the sweetness of his favoured drug.

So with Luke at my side I left the road, trailed off into the high grasses and nodding wildflowers. All bright and vivid in shades of cream and gold and smatterings of red on a lush canvas of green. Still my step didn't slow, not until puffs of violet caught my attention.

Rhododendron, playfully round save the softly pointed stamens poking out their noses from the hearts of the blooms, surrounded by laurels and holly bushes. The smells were heady, pleasantly dizzying. Slowly, the storm in my head died away.

I'd forgotten how much I loved this, how much I'd missed it these past months. Long walks through the dense forests, not just for reagents but for pure pleasure. The way the breeze made the grass seem like a green wave, the dappled spots of sunlight that reached down, shimmering and shifting. Luke too seemed cheery out here, briefly disappearing past the trees, then back to my side, almost running in circles from his excitement.

Ultimately, though, I knew I had a job to do. Even finding these purple flowers wasn't enough – bitter, their poison would be detected in the skooma. No, nature presented an easier solution in the constant hum of fat bees, legs dusted with pollen.

Mad honey. The poison present in these flowers was taken by the bees to their hive, tainting their honey, making it nearly as lethal. It wouldn't often kill alone, but in tandem with the skooma, it would be more than enough for our – purposes.

Don't think about it. Just – concentrate. Focus on the task at hand.

Where there were bees, there had to be a hive. I followed them in ever-growing concentrations, Luke occasionally snapping at one that would alight on his nose. Yet – nothing. It made no sense – there had to be a hive. Where else would they all be going?

I caught a flicker of movement – another trail of them, buzzing and fluttering. Not up, towards the trees, but down.

What?

I tested my footing on the slope and began to creep down the incline they followed, digging my boots into the crumbling dirt. Yes – yes, there was an opening, small but definite, that they were flocking in an out of. A sort of grate at the bottom of the little hill, ornate rusted metal amidst white stone, peeking out of the grass. An Ayleid ruin, it had to be, but why would bees live in a ruin?

Either way, the hive had to be in there.

"There's got to be an entrance." I stood, Luke perking up at my words. "Somewhere, anyway. Come on, mutt, let's get looking for a way in." I started in circles around the grate, watching for the glare of white stone amidst green. Occasionally I'd catch glimpses, the rise of stone above the grass or embedded in the hillside, but always inaccessible.

Just my luck.

Suddenly Luke was on his paws, lurching ahead of me towards a river through the trees. I knew this one – it wound up to near the city gates, where I'd go to wash my laundry, but we were headed the opposite direction along it, Southbound. For the second time he was leading me on a chase, but this time I decided to give it a chance.

Cursing my slippery foothold on the ground and stumbling into trees, I followed

The rush of the river grew louder, widening from a brook to a proper stream, reeds and bulrushes crowding around the mouth. Luke splashed through to the other side then stopped short and began to howl, sending nearby birds fluttering away in alarm.

"Dammit!" I clambered after him over the rocks in the river, growling when one of my feet managed to slip and sink beneath. Just a matter of time until it chafed, and the unbearable squish of my now sodden boot, this had better be worth it –

As I came up behind him, I received a clod of dirt in the face for my trouble.

I sputtered through it, wiping it away and spitting out little bits of mud and blades of grass. "You overgrown, hind-sniffing, poor excuse for a – oh." The trail of insults died on my tongue as I saw what he'd revealed. A door – what looked like a stone block from beneath a pile of fallen leaves and sifted dirt was actually an entrance, a small alcove that would lead into the ruins below.

I wasn't an adventurer. I met them sometimes, even heard some of their stories. They'd boast at the inn or my shop, buying potions for night vision, stamina, regaling me with tales of undead and traps and treasure. Seeking artifacts, hunting minotaurs and trolls for rare reagents – I'd always left those tasks to the better equipped, the stronger, the smarter. I was just a scholar, an alchemist. I belonged with my tomes and my cauldron, not slinking into underground ruins in search of poisons.

Then again, it seemed a lot of what I knew about myself would be changing.

Holding my breath I pushed against the door. It slid in the mud, then ground against the stone floor inside, sunlight only revealing the first few feet of the hall beyond. It wasn't difficult to squeeze through even when the door jammed halfway, though poor Luke had more difficulty. After some negotiating we were both inside, staring down towards the end of a shadowed corridor.

I tapped my fingers in rhythm with a memory of a drum, summoning up an orb of light to illuminate the way. The light shimmered on ancient stone that seemed to hum, a soft rumble almost constant in the ambience around me. Dripping, too – distant droplets hitting stone, the squelch of my boots and Luke's claws clicking. All this noise, and yet the place was so silent. How long since it had been touched? Had an adventurer passed through here recently, or was I the first in centuries to descend?

All this sound, blending into the silence, but no buzzing. I walked on, rounding a corner and passing a little intersection where a sort of lamp shone, ancient crystals glistening within, emanating an eerie blue light. The bees had entered from North of where Luke had taken me – I made my way down that hall, almost holding my breath.

No sign of danger, thank all gods. The thought made me pause, then grimace. Thank the gods for what? For putting me into the hands of murderers and madmen, making me consider becoming one of them? I felt my teeth clench, rotating my jaw as I realized I'd been holding it tight. Then – buzzing, yes. I was sure I heard buzzing now, a constant hum. Luke gave a low growl at my side, slowing his pace, but I ignored him and walked on. Served him right if he'd gotten stung on the nose before – perhaps he'd learned his lesson.

My nose was tickled by new smells amid the staleness of the ruin – the sweet perfume of Rhododendrons, almost as thick as outside. The buzzing hit a peak, constant now. I was close, I had to be –

Closer than I had thought.

I blinked in the sudden brightness of the next room, a wide space, alcoves filled with all manner of planters and pots, all of them boasting the violet plant. Above me magickal lights shimmered, fading and growing, mimicking real rays of sunlight. And center, where the bees flocked, were rows of apiaries. Manmade beehives, humming with activity.

Beekeeping, here?

"Why would anyone – " I criss-crossed between the hives, bewildered, watching now as the grate that had led me here hummed with bees on their trips, back and forth to the apiaries. It was a magnificent project, but in the middle of a ruin?

Luke's snarl brought me out of my bewilderment, staring at where he stalked crouched and snapping towards the hallway. Was there – I pressed myself against the nearest wall, fumbling for my wakizashi. Something – an undead, a conjure?

No – voices.

"Get down, beast!" A sharp rasp, then howling. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs, my grip white-knuckled around the blade. No, people. The people who had made this here? I winced at a pained snarl from the hound.

He needed me.

A snarl of my own and I rounded the corner, blade drawn. As I did, there was a scream – Luke had brought down one of the approaching strangers, jaws locked around her forearm. One leapt for me and the world came crashing down to the floor, a thick forearm jabbed under my throat, my head cracking against stone. Spots of light pinpricked in front of my eyes, ears ringing as I fought back, trying to bring my blade up and towards the stranger.

The stranger – I was the stranger to them. Intruding on their work. Guilt bubbled up hot in my chest, realization. "I don't want to fight! I don't – "

Then my head exploded in pain. There was movement – I didn't actually see it, but the man atop me must have punched me. I lay prone for a moment, blood welling in my mouth – then he was gone. I blinked in confusion and tried to sit upright, spitting up copper. Luke, Luke had tackled the man and had him now by the throat, prepared to rip it out entirely.

A hand in my hair, dragging me upwards. "Call off your beast!"

I gasped for air, vision blurring with pain and tears. One of them was listening – I could reason with them, I could still explain. "Luke! Off, boy! Leave him alone!"

A growl in response. Luke rose his head and glanced back at me, eyes near aglow with fury, before slowly stepping off the man. The man rose and clutched at his neck – bleeding freely, but mercifully intact, and growled. The hand in my hair dragged me further onto my shaky feet, then there was a blade at my throat.

"You are after the blessed honey."

"I – yes, yes, but I didn't know it belonged to anyone." I tried to sound confident but humble, contrite and forgiving all at once. A misunderstanding, all of this was just a stupid misunderstanding. What soothed misunderstandings best? My fingers brushed the purse at my side. "I – I can pay you for a sample. I don't need much."

Laughter. The dagger lowered from my throat to the purse, jabbing in and dragging downwards. Ripping, sharp snaps as the stitching and burlap tore, clattering as the Septims hit stone. "We don't need your two-faced gold. We don't need anything but the honey." Luke growled once more, moving into a position to pounce, then suddenly whining – frozen in place, joints locked, momentarily bright with a greenish glow. Paralyzation.

"Luke!"

"You two, tie it down. And you," I was roughly turned and slammed against a wall, head spinning. Now I could see their faces properly. The first was a Dunmer woman, staring sourly while clutching her bleeding arm, only reluctantly moving to bind my poor Luke with her wounded partner as he uselessly struggled and snapped. The other was an Argonian, eyes a sharp yellow and pinned to me, as I was pinned to the wall. Yet no one held me there – only force did. Magicka, from his hand. He came in closer, giving a flicker of his tongue.

"How did you know about it?"

"I followed the bees. I'm an alchemist, I don't mean any harm." I didn't dare struggle against his spell, wincing as ropes were lashed around Luke's forelegs in the corner of my eye. "I didn't realize that they were coming to an owned apiary. I mean, it makes no sense." I tried to reason with him, slumping against the wall, my words stumbling and stuttered. My head throbbed, something warm trickling down the back of my neck. "Y-you have to confess, as - as brilliant as the idea is, having it here is mad."

At that he leered, coming closer still. I could feel the wet heat of his breath, the tremble of it from his dark laughter. I could smell it – rancid and rank, stinking of foul meat, of blood. For a moment I thought of the traitor, hovering over me, breath wet with the same stench, wet with saliva and what remained of Lucien's eyes. I gagged, and what parts of me could tremble under the force of his spell did.

"You're more right than you know." He dragged his tongue along his teeth, eyes fixed on me. "We'll open your flesh, shatter your bones and spill your brains. All of those will be for Sheogorath. Your eyes…" I hissed, shrinking back as he raised a claw, bringing it to graze the delicate skin of my eyelid. "Those will be for me."

Sheogorath? Cultists, they were cultists. Like those around the shrine but cruel, turned on me. I breathed raggedly, shaking my head, pressing myself against the wall harder still to avoid his touch. Sheogorath…

"Sheogorath! I've spoken to Sheogorath!"

He paused. Even the two struggling with Luke as he thrashed stopped in their task to stare at me. The Argonian tilted his head downwards, all amusement lost. "Do not speak of things you don't understand. You lie and I'll chew your tongue down to gristle."

"No! It's true! In the swamps, near Leyawiin, I met him. I ran under his shrine and he spoke to me, I lived with the cultists there until someone found me."

Luke now tied, though still snapping and thrashing like a landbound slaughterfish, all three of them stared at me.

"She's a liar. I can't smell if she speaks truth and I hate it, she smells like cities, I hate that." The Dunmer hissed while she glowered, lip curled up to show teeth. The man, an Imperial, only sneered and shook his head.

At last the Argonian spoke again. "And what did He say to you?"

"He said – " I wracked my aching brain to remember, spilling brains, no don't think about that, concentrate – "He said I have colour to me, his spark. Th-that he's already inside me and I've already lost, but that we should play anyway. Please, I'm just here for the honey."

Silence, save the sound of the hound's struggles. My own breathing filled up my head, louder and louder, hotter and hotter until I thought it might burst. Then laughter, rasping laughter from the Argonian. He slackened the magick binds enough that I could slump, muscles souring from being tensed so long, so hard.

"Bring her a taste."

What? My head shot up in alarm. The woman rose and moved to one of the hives, bringing out something silvery and shifting there for a moment. Vision fading in and out in a blur, I couldn't properly see her actions, but I could guess. Fetching the honey, the honey I was supposed to kill a man with.

My gut contracted tight.

She brought over a small spoonful, glittering gooey gold. In any other context, it would have looked delicious, but now my tongue curled and my teeth clenched at the thought of consuming it. Even that small amount – it wouldn't kill me, I knew that much, but with all these rhododendrons the honey would be potent and pure. Hallucinogenic, dangerous.

"Open wide."

My jaw wrenched open against my will, tongue pinned uselessly to the bottom of my mouth. More magicka, using my body against me like a tool. I weakly protested with a whine, but she didn't slow, spooning the honey into my mouth and onto my tongue as though feeding a stubborn child.

My jaw snapped shut, pinned once more. Suddenly her fingers clamped around my nose, blocking off air. A hiss. "Swallow it."

I fought for a moment, growling, but it was only seconds before my lungs burned for air. I swallowed. It stung going down, somehow bitter yet still masked by sweetness, singeing along my throat. Only when I'd forced it all down did the grip on my nose release, my jaw allowed to hang. I gasped for air, head spinning.

"Good. We'll see what happens." He sounded smug, backing off and surveying me with a tilt of his head. The woman only glared. "How do you feel?"

I blinked, sinking further as his magickal grip lessened to the point I could almost move on my own. I would have if not for the throb of my skull, the tilting and whirling the world around me seemed to have taken on. My words came out thick and stupid, dully spoken. "I feel like I'm going to faint, actually."

I was right.