A/N: I decided to have extensive memories seperated from the rest of the text by lines. Keep in mind, unless it says the name of a character above the line, it is not a prespective change. The same will not be true for dreams, however.

Anyway, here's where a pretty major component of the plot is introduced. I just hope my ideas aren't a little too weird. I admit its a risky path for this story to take, but hopefully it will shape up to be interesting. Plus, taking liberties becomes pretty important when writing a story about the Dark Brotherhoood questline.

(Mathieu Bellamont): Outside of Chorrol

I was close now. I'd pinned his location down to the exact city. Even so, I knew this wouldn't stay so easy. In the maze of buildings Chorrol would provide, his path would become much harder to follow. For now at least, as he walked the last road to Chorrol, I felt secure about this. I had accomplished quite a bit by following him this far.

It was times like this when all the wrongs they'd done to me came back. Their pompous disregard for my feelings, the selfishness of the Dark Brotherhood, and the rage it caused me, and how helpless and pathetic I'd looked to them for so long ago:

First it was the gasps down stairs. I had felt that the darkness would hold mysterious terrors that night, and now it was undeniable.

I wondered if I should stay in harmony with the silence by staying in bed, or find harmony with the shadows by hiding under it. Though I didn't remember exactly what drove me to do so, I chose the latter.

In a daring moment, I had gotten out of my bed. A shock went through my body during the brief time I was out in the open, vulnerable to what ever the terrors were, my mind rushing with all the pain and fright they could cause me. I crawled my way under it in fear, feeling the closest thing to relief I could. Then there was heavy running up the stairs. Two sets of feet. A true threat was approaching. Who, or what it was, I still didn't know. I knew, though, that after this, my life would never be the same.

I couldn't imagine what was happening. It was like the fabrics of reality were ripping apart to reveal the evil behind them that had been watching and waiting for me, smothering me in a sea of unknown so I could die looking pitiful. I wondered if my life was already at someone else's mercy, and what that last moment would feel like.

My door burst open. I could see a set of feet. I recognized Mother's shoes. Was I to die as a child, slaughtered helplessly, giving into a monster? The suspense was torture. I could only imagine what had chased her all the way into my room.

"No! Please Lucien!"

"I'm sorry, Nicolette, but I've already told you too much. If you had joined the Dark Brotherhood, this wouldn't be necessary. Now, however, I can't risk you telling anything." Daddy.

Then there was a sharp, metallic whoosh. That was the end of her life, and beginning of the life I knew now.

From that point forward, my hands felt like they were glued to weaponry. Vengeance had become the point of my existence, and the measure of my worth. My heart had hardened, and my fists only felt natural clenched. At this moment, however, I could embrace my hatred, because I knew I'd see results soon enough. Normally recollections of Mother's death only caused me sleepless nights, but now it was a useful fuel. I would make her proud.

(Champion of Cyrodiil): Chorrol, Arborwatch Bedroom

Finally the screams were gone. I was back outdoors, yet each second carried more unthinkable pain for Mankar Camoran's victims, even if I was not there to hear it. Yet even with all the passion I felt towards destroying the Mythic Dawn, I couldn't deny the seductive beauty of his "Paradise". Peace so close, yet so far.

This whole time I'd been fueled by a blunt urge to destroy Camoran. I couldn't hate him: he decieved himself into believing what he'd done was right, but I couldn't feel compassion for him either. I didn't want to see him in pain, yet I wanted to see his doom to no end. I wanted to meet him and beat him in battle, almost a gamey urge for competition, but coupled with the highest forces in the universe counting on me.

The tree branches swayed, and the sun continued to shine its golden light in eternal twilight. The entire scene was mystically placid.

But a question danced in back of my mind: was this divinity I was looking at, feeling, experiencing? It seemed to have a calming power considering the severity of the horrors I'd witnessed here, and the works of Mankar Camoran seemed to pale in comparison to that of the Nine. This "Paradise" could be defeated, but could I really take the Nine Divines seriously after seeing such a display of power from these Daedra worshipers?

Only once had I seen the power of the Nine clearly displayed, and that was when I was sent to the Imperial Prison under such mysterious circumstances. Though that occurrence fascinated me at one point, it now seemed cheap and tacky, seeing all the Daedra and their followers were capable of. Now the Mythic Dawn seemed like an entirely new enemy. At first I figured them for a bunch of fools over-estimating their own power and intellect. Now I wondered if that is what we had been. If I lost this battle, that would certainly be the case.

I could see a branching path emerge as I continued up the hill. All of it was my enemy's territory, maybe his very being. Here I was a defile, a sinner. The thought weighed on me heavily, but I felt it was already too late to turn back. If the Daedra were truly worthy Gods, they should be able to defeat the likes of me, a mortal. Is that why Camoran wanted to meet me? To battle me to test his theory? I could sense glimmers of knowledge in his words. Maybe our minds had something in common.

Regardless, I was fighting against powers I couldn't fully comprehend, yet they comprehended me and my kind just fine. They knew how to seduce a mortal, how to make us feel fear, and how to turn us away from our rulers. They truly did look more like gods than the Nine Divines did, but I didn't want to consider that all this suffering may have indeed been the divine plan. Such a thought seemed to mar the entire universe. But did Mankar Camoran think me to be part of his plans? He said he wanted to see me, and I saw no reason not to obey.

Finally, I came to the T-junction. I took the path to the right, noticing a beautiful white gold building. I had seen ruins like it throughout Cyrodiil, but never thought of them as more than vestiges of a more primitive civilization. Now I saw something new in them: a deeply moving beauty and power. I knew I'd never look at anything the same way again now that I'd seen this "Paradise".

There were two robed figured standing on the steps to the palace. Both of the robed figures were walking to me, gracefully. They wore the uniform of my enemies, and I could feel an inner push to destroy them, but I did not. I needed to see why Mankar wanted me. I walked towards them as well. I did not let my posture indicate aggression or submission. I let them make the judgements. I felt like a child in their presence.

Then I recognized both faces. One I recognized from the Mythic Dawn shrine, when I'd tried to save the Argonian prisoner. The other was the agent who'd killed Baurus, when I still figured the Mythic Dawn for simple, over-confident maniacs. Now, here we were, enemies in war, meeting together as I wondered what they saw in me. It was all moving in a bitter-sweet way, beneath all I felt against them.

Then she was close.

"You did not expect to see me here, did you?" She asked with only a hint of anger. I didn't speak. I felt like a mere pawn right now, thrown around by currents of divinity, and was grateful she showed such unexpected mercy, considering what I'd done to her. She spread her arms and gestured to the world around her. "You have no grasp of the power my father has at his command!" I didn't protest it in the least. Even she couldn't accurately capture the truth of her words. Then, in a silky tone, as tauntingly peaceful as 'Paradise' itself, she spoke the words "Come. My father is waiting to welcome you to Carac Agiala."

Mercy? Forgiveness? A ploy? What was it? It was like a dream overlapped by a nightmare here in "Paradise". No. It was like waking from a dream, from the insignificant Tamriel to see the universe in its fullness, and to feel its vast, soul-stirring power. All my life in Tamriel now felt insignificant. A pass time. Practice for this moment, maybe.

I followed her into the palace, submissive towards my enemies for the first time ever. I had once felt unstoppable, but now it seemed like I was already their servant.

I was not yet even in the palace, and already I was filled with painful worries. Could I really defy him, even with what might become of me if I were defeated? Yes, because if I succeeded I could save countless others from the same fate, but it crushed me to know the risks my heroics carried, and the pain my strength could cause me.

She touched the door to the palace. The crystal-esque pieces of it lit up, and it opened on its own. I'd seen and realized so much here. In a dreaded sort of way, it seemed plausible this was indeed the place souls belonged. Tamriel felt comparatively...artificial, waiting for true divinity to find it. Its people had always drifted aimlessly looking for the answers they should already have had, while the Mythic Dawn seemed to have learned these answers. Why did the Nine leave their supposed creations with so little knowledge and power, while Mehrunes Dagon gave so much to his direct followers?

Now I could see my enemy. Mankar Camoran sat proudly at the throne, his body only a small part of the powers at his command. An odd mist sat infront of him. The two other Mythic Dawn agents, Raven and Ruma I now realized, were walking ahead. I could see a confident understanding and purpose in the way they moved, while mortals hesitated and wondered. I felt more and more pathetic the longer I stayed here, but every second, there was more pain and suffering back where I'd come from. None the less, I knew a mistake here might cost me eternity, so I tried to be as complacent as possible right now. I mimicked their pace, walking towards the man I'd declared my enemy. I was representing the Nine and the mortals in the world Daedra and immortals controlled.

As I came closer, Camoran rose gracefully. I went up the steps to his throne, and heading to the very plateau he was standing on, trying to make myself look as tall as possible in his presence, whether he summoned me here to serve him or fight him.

"I have waited a long time for you, Champion of Old Tamriel." He said, I finally stepped up right infront of him, but I wasn't kidding anyone. He was still taller than me, and he had power encompassing the very ground beneath me, while mine extended only a bit further than my body.

He looked down at me, his expression neutral, not needing aggression or fear to motivate his words, while I stood below him, knowing eternal suffering could come any minute. There was no way to comfort yourself with such a horrible truth. I was being pushed around by the currents of divinities. I had little say in the matters, and, even if I succeeded, I knew what I'd seen in this place would haunt me forever.

"You were the last gasp of a dying age. How little you understand! You cannot stop Lord Dagon! The walls between our worlds are crumbling. The lines now blurred will be erased, Tamriel and Oblivion rejoined! The Mythic Dawn grows nearer with every rift in the firmament! " He cried with an enthusiasm that was well-warranted "My vision shall be realized! Weakness will be purged from the earth, and mortal and immortal alike, purified in the refiner's fire!" He shot his fist into the air. He had undying confidence, while I was unsure about the very basics of the universe, lost and fearful in a world of wonder, unsure what forces were really backing me. "My long duel with the Septims is over, and I have the mastery. The Emperor is dead, the Amulet of Kings is mine, and the last defender of the last ragged Septims stands before me, in the heart of my power." There was a brief silence. I awaited Mankar Camoran's next words. I knew they would mean everything.

They arrived. "Your mind seems keen, and your heart seems strong, yet you submit yourself to the service of false-Gods and their unthinking mortals." His tone sounded like it was conveying on objective fact. Perhaps it was. With this power, he might have seen the most basics workings of the universe from angles others could not, turning belief into knowledge. "Have you perhaps mistaken your destiny? Your first encounter with the Septim pretender." I knew it wasn't a question. It was enlightenment, the stacking of knowledge, yet I still could not fully see what he meant. "Did you think yourself destined to carry his amulet? Not at all. You were the one crowned by fate to carry out the task of his death. You felt threatened, and though you denied your fate, you felt hesitance to protect him before the Mythic Dawn struck down the oldest living Septim, the blow meant for your weapon."

A bizarre feeling swept me at his implications. Had I indeed mistaken the purpose of my existence? There was silence as I thought about it, and the more cases I ran through in my mind, the more often it seemed to apply. 'Wow' was all I could think to myself. Mankar continued "And it was fate that brought you here to my throne at Carac Agiala, unharmed. You have proven yourself worthy in mind and spirit, friend or foe. Now you may turn your back on your false Gods, who have cursed you with death, ever impeding your progress and diminishing your true power. In Lord Dagon's service you may relish in and spread the gift of eternal life and know a world fit for your strength." There was silence. I began imagining it all in my head, calculating, examining the most basic levels of the world's mechanics. All this anguish, passion, triumph, defeat, journeying, maturing. Now I had come home? Would I suffer like the others? That seemed inevitable, whatever course I took. Now I had an opportunity to accept eternal life here. If I were to destroy Camoran, no such opportunity presented itself. I would suffer, but not like those in the Forbidden Grotto.

Then an epiphany came, pure and logical: Death was a failsafe. It ensure we could only endure so much suffering. The world needed it.

Though it was daunting to decide the fate of the world there and then, I had a bit of reasoning to fuel me, and that was enough.

'No' was the word I had planned. I felt hesitant to put the words into the air, but did it on a moment's courage. "No." I said, violently shattering the suspense. My fate was sealed. I could feel an tingling sensation running through my body. The implications of the situation filled my mind nearly to a bursting point.

Mankar looked surprised, though not yet offended. I continued. "No. All you've granted them through your 'gift' is the ability to suffer endlessly. At least mortality can prevent that." Then I stretched out a shaking hand.

"I've come for the Amulet of Kings." I said. My voice quivered, revealing all the emotion I'd been trying to hide, but I'd appeared timid enough already. Now I was coming off as relatively strong. Now I could feel myself disconnect from Camoran completely.

"You came for the Amulet? Take it then!" He shouted. At that moment, I knew the eagerness to unleash destruction captivated both of us.

I immediately whipped out my sword, hearing a high pitched noise as it sliced the air. Not wasting a second, I reversed the pulling motion into a swing. A weak swing, but enough to cut through flesh. Yet I realized I had it unsheathed no sooner than Camoran had taken his staff from his back. Camoran blocked the swing immediately. The metal and wood collided. A fury overcame. How dare he deny me this! "I welcome the contest!" He yelled.

I rolled out of the way before he could release any magic from the staff. His two children had already summoned armor. I knew now I was fighting to change the very fundamentals of the universe, a cause with utmost meaning, granting me the utmost passion. Without exaggerating, I believed I was witnessing the most dramatic moment in history.

I swung my sword mercilessly as his daughter approached. She was charging mindlessly, nothing but a small dagger in hand, while I was desperate like never before to protect every inch of my vulnerable mortal flesh, and damage every available inch of theirs. My first hit made contact with her armor. I hated myself for the clumsy swing. I moved as fast as I could backwards, trying to avoid the impending doom. She continued to charge, a manifestation of my greatest fear. "You fool!" She cried ecstatically "I am immortal here!" My next slash managed to contact her dagger holding arm. It had a solid effect, cleanly taking off half of her arm. It was satisfying enough to see her spill any blood. That made make my path just a bit clearer to the source of my rage and panic, her father. Her brother was still presenting imminent danger to my right, though. A large daedric claymore, ready to destroy everything that kept me from the fate of the others in the garden, was coming down towards me. Fear exploded throughout my body, as well as guesses of what its contact with my flesh might feel like.

I rolled to the side, his claymore hitting the stone floor of the palace instead. Yet I was on the ground with my enemies in a position of advantage, undeterred by ideas of mercy.

I scrambled to my feet, barely recovering my balance, and charged towards the blue robes of Mankar Camoran with a solid urge to destroy and set the world right. It was a cause so pure it washed away any hesitance.

A red magical projectile was shot at me, noiseless and carrying no wind. It missed. That was his first, and perhaps last blunder. I continued forward, my passion pure, excitement building up inside me that I might finally be able to destroy him, and, according to Martin, destroy all of his "Paradise".

Yet my strike was not met with Camoran's flesh. To my grave disappointment he'd executed and successful block again. I felt so mindless. "Old Tamriel still has some fight left in her!" he cried. He couldn't have been more right. That's all Tamriel had in her before I left, and that's all I had in me now. He was a manifestation of smug evil to me at that moment.

My sword broke free only to meet with another hindrance. Mankar's staff became a blur as I felt a hard blow to the side of my face. The shock rang throughout my head as I stumbled to the side. The pain seem to shoot through the center of my brain. I put up my shield to block his next shot, a success, but I could feel the pain growing in the area I was hit. It had been a merciless blow, just like everything else in this fight.

"Your efforts are in vein, mortal." I heard from my left. I did feel like I was astonishingly in over my head from the very start, but now I'd exhausted all other alternatives. I knew I wasn't yet losing, and I was all to eager to demonstrate what I was capable of some more. I had to cling onto the last iota of hope for Tamriel.

I reoriented myself to find I was a third of the way up a stair case to the palace balcony. Raven, still slighter lower than me, attempted another swing at me with his claymore, this time swinging and to the side so I couldn't evade him the same way as last time. I jumped, his claymore meeting air again. His sister was behind him, trailing bodily fluids from the wound I'd inflicted, but welcoming their free flow none the less. She had simply pried the dagger from her severed arm and transferred it to her remaining hand. She was immortal, after all, and not long after her blood loss reached lethal levels, she would come back with a crisp, new body. I had almost everything to fear, they had almost nothing to fear. Even so, I tried ignore them at the moment. My focus was on their father. I would kill him, and put a stop to this blatant evil. I would make the most significant shift for good ever.

I charged again, this time attempting to stab. Yet I was too eager, stabbing too quickly in my desperation. I was just out of range, and timely back-pace of Camoran left me with nothing. How I yearned to feel the metal contact flesh. I moved forward again and attempted a swing, immediately resuming the destructive momentum within me, but it was blocked again. It seemed so...cheap that he was always able to escape death that way. I braced myself to dodge. Already the last hit to side of my face felt like it had left an imprint.

But no swing came. There was only a distant rumbling. Time seemed to stop. There was silence. I could hear no movement behind me, and see none in front of me. Even I was frozen, baffled by my enemy's response.

"The last gate has been opened. Our victory is complete." Mankar announced. "Your cause is lost." This terror had swallowed up all hope and I was at the center of divinity, hated by it. The truth smothered me. "To destroy me would be to destroy all of Tamriel." He said with a smug smile.

All you've granted them through your 'gift' the ability to suffer endlessly. My own words came back to me. The blunt and harsh truth was in front of me. I would have to cast Tamriel into eternal blackness. Every cause was truly lost. That was the best the world could hope for: nothing at all.

Immediately my mind rushed for some other solution, but all I found were more reason to indeed do what Mankar Camoran was pompously assured I would not. What had life before this moment been like? More suffering. Nirn served as only a medium for injustice. The amoral prospered, while the virtuous were bound by their own restrictions. The heros faced war, while the cowards stayed safe. Though the truth hurt me at the deepest levels, it was clear. Creation itself had been a mistake, regardless of who was behind it.

"So be it." I said, hating how the words felt in my mouth, and in the air of 'Paradise', acknowledging the crushing epiphany.

Mankar Camoran was off-guard, and I quickly stabbed him. He grabbed the wound with a stunned silence. I was approaching the last moments I'd ever know. There was silence from behind. I had just done the final good the world would see: Its own destruction.

Mankar fell to his knees, his expression still conveying infinite shock. He was right, I had breathed the air of false-hope. The only way to stop the propagation of injustice was to get rid of its breeding ground. As he got closer to the ground, closer to death, I suddenly felt unbearably lonely, but the cold hard logic of it was clear: I had made the right choice.

I stood quivering, waiting for the last of his life to leave his body, the pain of knowing that the universe was better off dead growing in me. But there was no regret. The pain would be over soon.

Then darkness swept, flooding from the spot of his corpse, began expanding outwards . Yes, little more than a second and I would be there, in the darkness. No more forces pulling me in any direction. That was eternity.

Soon I could see naught but darkness. I looked down. My own body was gone. Behind me, Raven and Ruma were gone. Yet I was thinking.

Then, amid the seeming nothingness, I heard a motherly voice. I could take it in fully, no other distractions.

"Do not be fooled by our convolution. Come to me, and we will set the course for our true goal once again together. We need only..."

Then everything around me began to fade, fast. Or rather, everything around me started to emerge, to become. Reality, color, light, and chaos were coming into being.

The abrupt change left me feeling disoriented. I laying somewhere, a cold sweat drenching my body. I was back in this awful place; reality.

My eyes took a bit of time to focus, but I noticed a dark anomaly.

"The information you have provided us with has indeed proven useful. Adamus Philida is dead. You are now part of the family." A man...Lucien, I realized, said, smiling. His smile was a tell tale sign he was another person who fed off the injustice of the world. He was not burdened with examining the problems on which the very foundation of Nirn was built upon. It took me a few seconds to remember exactly what he was talking about, after my rude awakening. I struggled to keep my eyes opened.

"The Black Hand is quite pleased with your admission into our family. You have proven yourself worthy to join the Dark Brotherhood." It was slowly coming back after returning from the dream. The decision I'd made back in Mid Year. The talk with Chancellor Ocato. What I'd told them about Adamus Philida. I continued trying to poor over it all. I was one step closer to my new cause, a cause I hardly wanted to think about. He was ignorant to all that was rushing through my head. The dreams, the research, the bitter wisdom, and the suspicion. I was already surprised by how eagerly they welcomed someone like me into their ranks "But know this," he continued "Every Dark Brother or Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis." Chaos, doom, and discord. The

words left me with more to ponder, unfortunately. Chaos is exactly what turned me away from the teachings of the Nine and Mankar Camoran once and for all. It was the mark of evil. Yet the void as well? No, I couldn't turn them away now. The blood had already been spilled. Whatever happened, I'd have more influence from inside their ranks. The words from the dream came back to me. Do not be fooled by our convolution. I knew what they meant. The Dark Brotherhood was not always so focused on sadism, or, incidentally, profit.

Though I hesitated briefly, dreading more food for thought, I knew it was my duty to ask. "And who is the Night Mother, really?"

"We praise our Unholy Matron. From her shadowed womb we were born. From her breast we suckle malice and pain." He seemed to be savoring every word "She loves her children, you see." He finished with a smile. His answer was vague and discouraging. I was unsure how to respond. I knew he was the enemy, but I couldn't say the same about the organization itself. The complexity of it all frustrated me, dragging on the anguishing hours of my waking life. No words came to me.

"You prefer silence then? As do I, dear child, as do I. For is silence not the orchestration of death, very symphony of Sithis himself? Ironic, then, that I come to you as Speaker for the Black Hand; one of many individuals who are interested in you. Indeed, Speaker Uvani has consented to meet with you, and has traveled to Bruma for this special occasion. Now listen closely. Directly west of the town gates to Bruma lies Olav's Tap and Tack. That is the Inn at which you will meet Speaker Uvani, so the Black Hand can discuss your future. He tells me he needs no less more than two days to make preparations. You will meet him there, am I correct?" Joining the Dark Brotherhood...a guild of paid assassins. The idea rang with uncertainty in my head endlessly, but no, I'd proven the circumstances justified it so many times. I had to answer before I changed my mind.

"I accept," I said, though the words seemed to hurt my throat. I was joining to fight for a cause I could hardly stomach. Even when I was part of their family, I couldn't have felt more lonely. I had a duty to show them no compassion. They were the convolution, hindering the Dark Brotherhood's true goal, shifting its focus to their own agendas.

"Splendid." He said smoothly "Now I'm afraid we must take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I am eager to see the benefits your fame, experiences, and talents may bring us. Welcome to the family." I was now deep into an amoral criminal organization. Deep in enemy territory, another stage of my anguishing journey.

He turned to leave, all but his hands shrouded in the pure black of the robes. His back was turned. The idea to kill him now popped into my head, but I quickly reminded myself of my reasons for joining in the first place. These days, just about every bizarre idea seemed to pop into my head, because the righteousness path had become so hard to detect.

I could hear his feet drop down the stone steps as I sat in bed to ponder thoughts he likely never expected in my head. There was so much about me people would never have expected. I envied them for not having to deal with this turbulence in their life like I did, and hated that most of them were probably exempt from this suffering simply for their cowardice. I hoped it was something else, maybe their faith in the false divinities. Maybe that was the knowledge that hurt me: I knew our creators weren't divine: Everything the Nine let happen during the Oblivion Crisis proved that to me. I had to hope that was the case, at least. I would hate to believe the people I was close to were just cowards.

Then my thoughts came back to the dream I'd had. I was still trying to weed out real memories from fiction, my mind still not working at its full potential due to the untimely awakening:

Obviously Camoran didn't manage to totally erase the lines between Oblivion and Nirn. Obviously Nirn wasn't destroyed, since I was still here, but I knew that dream, like so many others, had been nearly identical to what actually happened there. Mankar's ex-Lieutenant had been there when it really happened, and Mankar had been killed before I could have been horrifically enlightened to the unjust mechanics of the world the Nine created. But beyond those minor details, from what I recalled, the dream was accurate.

It wasn't the first time I'd had a dream about Paradise: those hours in Paradise had been burned into my mind. It also wasn't the first time I'd heard that motherly voice at the end of a dream either, though she had different words each time. My dreams seem to be there to remind me about what I'd learned. I was always "re-enlightened" by the end of them.

The occurrence at the end of this latest dream really fascinated me, though. If the lines between Nirn and Oblivion had really been erased, would killing Mankar Camoran have destroyed everything? I considered this for a second, then decided it couldn't have happened that way. Oblivion obviously survived Camoran's death, given that portals to Mehrunes' plane opened up in the Imperial city. Paradise was somehow separate from Oblivion. None the less, it was a profound moment. And it raised another question...did Nirn have an anchor?

I laid back down. Rain continued to pour as I reflected. There was something in the situation I could take pleasure in, for once, at least. The grueling months of decision making had finally come to an end. I was in the Dark Brotherhood.

It had been enough of a struggle deciding whether or not to contact the Dark Brotherhood to kill Valen Dreth. He had taunted me about his plans for after his release; crimes that would bring him wealth and power, yet I had no proof to show to the guards.

I had been reluctant to supply the Dark Brotherhood with money for the contract. Only after I'd proven to myself countless times that it was right did I finally contact them. During that time, I thought constantly about the nature of their line of work, and about death. That's when I was enlightened, though I knew the ideas of my enlightenment had been brewing in the back of my mind ever since I was in "Paradise".

When I asked about joining they gave me the proposal for membership: to gather enough information on Philida to determine when he would be relatively vulnerable. Learning such things were easy; they'd never suspect the Champion of Cyrodiil's innocent questions to be used to murder an Imperial Legion Captain. It was trying learn about the Dark Brotherhood, and sifting through that knowledge to decide if they could truly bring me closer to my new mission, which seemed far more brutal. The stress, the uncertainty, and constantly having to remember the horrible place Nirn really was is what made it so hard. But the information I gathered was useful. I learned of their top-notch training, of their reverence for the Void, and their changes over the centuries. They weren't always a business.

Finally I decided to tell them what I'd learned about Philida's location. Now Philida was dead. It had probably been reported in the news already, though I felt reluctant to stare my deeds in the face.

I climbed may way back under the covers and closed my eyes. Tranquil darkness. A vision of the future.

(Mathieu Bellamont): The Great Oak, Chorrol

Now I had a decision to make. Follow Lucien to his next location, or see what he left under the tree? On one hand, I'd only have one chance to follow him. On the other, he would probably just be heading back to Fort Farragut. Which would allow me to bring them more pain, to eliminate the vile piece of my family history once and for all, to redeem myself from being a victim, to strike a new fear in their wicked hearts? My heart was pounding as the thoughts of revenge came back. This was the right time for them, though. I'd suppressed them beneath a level of tension and false-friendship before, feeling invalid guilt as I forgot my true mission. The injustice of what they'd done to me was so hard to face before now, before I felt fully confident. Now I could face it eagerly, though, because I knew there'd be progress soon enough. But what should I do? That was the answer I needed.

I decided to check what he'd left under the tree instead. I surveyed the area, and, seeing no one, stepped out from my shadowy hiding spot.

The wakefulness and guttural passion grew greater as I approached, as well as an odd apprehension. The spirit of the fight was coming to me again as I arrived at the Great Oak. The passion to bring about that one day when the Dark Brotherhood would have to face down someone in a fair fight, when I would be able to release years of rage I'd locked away, was coming back, and to spy on them made me feel so free. But there was an odd apprehension standing in my way which I needed to wade through.

I felt through the nearby bushes until my hand came upon something. It was a sack, and under it, a piece of paper. I lifted up the sack, noticing its heavy weight for its size. There was a piece of paper under it. I lifted that with my other hand, straining my eyes to make out the letters through the fuzzy darkness. My heart began to beat faster. I read the words of my enemy. It was a thrill to spy on them like this:

If you are reading this, the entire Draconis family is dead, and you are not. That is quite an accomplishment. But your work as a Silencer has just begun.

Your next assignment brings you to the Imperial City. Your target is a member of the Black Horse Courier staff, Agacia Amelius. I have been unable to pin-point her exact location, but she will surely be found in the Black Horse Courier offices during working hours, and be of little danger even if confronted directly.

When Agacia lies dead, journey to the city of Bravil. In the backyard of the chapel, behind a bush, you will find your reward for the Agacia contract, as well any further assignment I might have.

As I held the document, my hand was quivering with the lust to meet my enemy again. Somehow, this letter must have presented a weakness. It reminded me of the time I'd found the latest status report on the Black Hand from the drawers in Belarius Arius' desk.

Then an idea came to me! I realized this was an opportunity to truly advance the cause, and perhaps make the first significant contribution to the battle I'd enlisted to fight. I could give the Silencer a new target, or perhaps even targets, here and now. I immediately took off the pouch I strapped to my side and shuffled through it for a quill, ink, and a piece of note paper. The idea began flowing freely out of me. I was driven by a passion I knew I couldn't sleep or eat again without releasing. This was an opportunity for justice, and my cause was coming back to me like the day I'd declared it. I was driven by a stronger force than ever, all the wrongs they'd done to me and others were coming back. Soon they'd meet a similar fate.

(Learns-fast): Applewatch

Cleaver was the only one who could see the house from a distance, and that was because of his magical training. I was watching him closely, and I guessed the same was true with Surveys-from-above, though I didn't dare look away to check. My muscles were tight and my stomach was feeling acidic with tension. I felt wrapped in hesitance. Fights-up-close had managed to kill the entire Cheydinhal sanctuary, and now she could be hiding anywhere in the vast darkness and silence of the night. Eyes could be upon us from any direction, waiting to reveal themselves in a moment of our terror. While the older Shadowscale could see through the darkness, I only had a torch.

I startled myself once again as another step met nothing, my foot falling into a small hole. A jolt shot through my body before I pulled it out again. The scare shook me up quite a bit, as frightening thoughts had been going through my head already.

Thankfully, I'd only have to walk a bit more distance than I already had, assuming our next stop was Bruma, to end this torture and get some sleep. It would be pure bliss to get back indoors right now.

We all had our weapons drawn. In truth, I was secretly hoping she wouldn't show up. Trying to capture her now was an idea that worried me. I was afraid the others might kill her out of fear, possibly even hate at this point. I wanted to find Fights-up-close eventually, but strongly desired it happened under different circumstances.

"Almost there." Cleaver assured us. I didn't respond at first. I was afraid of disturbing whatever balance was keeping him level-headed at the moment. I was counting down the time until I could get back into a city, or to be specific Bruma.

"Tell us if you see any movement." I finally said, knowing Fights-up-close could be almost anywhere within the vast shadows, watching the light we carried. She had a mind cunning enough to warrant fear, and everything I saw seemed to translated into a potentional hiding place for her. I was certainly wasn't comfortable having her roaming in the opened here, working for Lucien Lachance for who-knew-what kind of purpose. The night held as much mystery as the situation itself. I kept my dagger out, ready to kill.

Now I could make out a stone wall. Good. This was probably the house. Any form of civilization was nice. I relaxed a bit.

"There's an old woman's body up ahead, in the fields." Cleaver said in a monotone voice, obviously trying to hide some emotion, emotion which probably had nothing to do with the old woman. Indeed, we'd been beaten to the location. As he continued to walk, I could tell he seemed to be leading us to that field. I kept the presence of my dagger obvious, trying to intimidate any potential attacker as bluntly as possible. If only my eyes could be see every angle at once!

In an orderly and fluent procedure, taking our mission seriously as I expected, he bent down to check the body's temperature "She's cold. I don't think it was a recent kill." That meant Fights-up-close had probably come and gone. Blissful relief came over me. The night seemed a bit less terrifying. He fished through her pockets, as I kept extra careful guard, knowing we had one less Shadowscale handy. "Nothing." He said.

"Let's search the house." I said, feeling far freer to speak. The fact that Fights-up-close had probably come and gone already provided me with plenty of relief, making the night seem a lot less terrifying.

I knew finding Fights-up-close would be a difficult task, but it was nice to know I could put it off for tonight.

Somehow we needed to get a step ahead of her.