A/N: Note this chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes of unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 21

(Fights-up-close): Near Applewatch

It was at least a full twenty-four hours since we left Anvil, and now I was here even after all that mind-achingly strenuous internal bickering over how to get out of this situation. Some thoughts were dropping out of my mind in my sleepy, jaded state, but the internal bickering continued none the less.

My vision seemed to ripple with my fatigue, and I could feel pangs of pain behind my eyes.

Every moment was an arena of two sides of logic, and of courage and cowardess. I tried to think of a way out of this, but with greater and greater frequency, I found myself lost in confusion and indecision.

Already I could see the Applewatch in the distance. This would probably be my last chance to run and disappear into the night.

I tried to think of a way out of this, but seeing that house brought back a series of intense, painful flashbacks.

I clenched my fists, trying to stand my ground at the fierce blast of guilt. I could see my own actions again, clear as day. The stabs. The screams. The terror.

When the memory loosened its grip, my spirit was in rags once more. When the intense pain was gone, all I could was let out a depressed sigh.

As the crickets chirped and cold breeze blew on us I noticed five new protrusion's in the ground on the left of the farm house that definitely were not there last time I visited. Pretty much all of this walk had been weighed down by heavy thoughts, but for once I was curious about something in the outside world. I hadn't even bothered using night eye during this journey, but, for the first time during this day long walk, I did.

With effort, which was becoming an alien concept to my operation in the outside world, I pushed magicka into my eyes.

The farm house became clearer, with its broken stone wall and its rugged, mountainous terrain behind it. I still couldn't make out what those protrusions were, though, even as we get closer to the house.

The house would be a refuge in the cold light, but it was evil's seduction: I knew once I was in there, I'd need to tell Mr. Lachance everything. I knew if I were to escape, this would be the last chance. Yet the three around me were all armed, and no doubt had stores of their own rightful fury.

We ignored the swinging gate, instead stepping through a huge gap in the stone wall, as if this house hadn't been humiliated enough. Now I was so close to the final confrontation with Mr. Lachance I felt sick.

I looked to the left for one last attempt to see a good escape route. Instead, my eyes met with grave stones. Five of them. That's what those protrusions were. One had a sword leaning on it. The Draconises. I felt cold again: colder than the night.

I looked at the gravestones longingly. I felt an odd urge to do something, anything, to pay my respects to dead, but I knew that wouldn't happen. Those graves would just be one more symbol of this melancholy night and all I couldn't do to fix the tragedies I'd created.

I looked back in the direction I was walking to find I'd nearly crashed into the front door.

Learns-fast grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him. I hated being touched at a time like this.

In a harsh whisper, he restated my orders. "You know what you have to do. Wait for the traitor to reveal himself, then kill him."

I knew what I didn't say to him now I'd never get to say to him.

"Why didn't you tell me the Imperials made us!?" I blurted out.

He stood there for a second, stunned and silent. I continued. "Why didn't you tell me we were their allies until they gave us money and left us alone? Why didn't we try to stop the slave trade!?" My voice was quivering again with signs of oncoming tears, but I didn't let that get in my way. It was time to settle this once and for all, to let the deepest wounds get inflicted or healed.

The expression on Learns-fast was wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, as if he just received a deeper blow than he'd ever expected.

Then, he spoke again, but his tone wasn't like the last time we got into an argument.

"I...I don't know what kind of insubordination you're trying to pull!" He said. The passion seemed fake "You are going to go into that house and destroy the traitor!"

I found myself quivering with emotion again. The soul-wrenching power of these moments seemed like too much to take.

"And how do you know I will!?" I exclaimed. I wondered for a second if I'd crossed too far by hinting at my passive-aggressive intentions.

He pushed my chin up to look at them, and I felt a surge of rage that made me instantly cast his hand aside. I took a step back. I put my hand by my sheath, but didn't dare unsheathe my weapon.

"If you don't?" He asked, sounding almost amused. "Then the Dark Brotherhood falls. Then what, huh? Where will you go? What will you do? You can't survive without us, your only life is in our ranks."

At once I felt very cold again. Those words sounded familiar.

Then I realized I'd heard something like them during my third Dark Brotherhood contract:

Where will you go, huh? What will you do?" He stopped for a second, as the words sunk into the three of us, with nothing by the crackling torch fire to get in their way "You can't survive out their Dreth, you're an animal. You belong in a cage."

It was true enough. Once you were an outlaw, it was hard to make a normal life.

I could see now that this was the other side of our motivation. When we didn't care for 'justice', this is what they told us: we needed them. I began to feel sick again.

As I stood there, not sure what to do next, Learns-fast lost his patience, grabbed me by my right arm, then swung opened the farmhouse door and pushed me in.

I caught only a brief glimpse of black robes before whipping around to run back out the door, but Learns-fast had tightly shut it immediately after I'd been pushed in. The noises I could hear outside seemed to indicate he was locking or blocking it somehow.

I was stuck in here, forced to confront Mr. Lachance. My heart was pounding. I had to think of a lie.

Yet when I turned to face "him", I jumped, startled. I was facing a woman. She was another member of the Black Hand, judging by her attire.[arquen didn't know

"Silencer, at last you've arrived!" She said, her voice filled with a pure and confident sort of happiness "Fear not for the crisis that has threatened the Dark Brotherhood has finally come to an end!" She exclaimed.

This was unexpected, and that meant...hope. There was a spurt of euphoria in the warm house as I saw I might not have to confront Lachance after all. But before I could process the situation any further, she continued, extending her right arm for shaking while her left was tucking something black by her side "I am Arquen, Speaker of the Black Hand." she said, smiling. Her presence seemed oddly...soothing. "As you can see we have dealt with the betrayer, Lucien Lachance! No longer will you serve as his puppet!" She smiled with a sort of spiritual warmth that permeated the area. I wasn't sure what she meant: I couldn't see the rest of the house with her infront of me, but in this case, I would embrace any change from the expected.

Then she harshened her soothing voice "Its seems Lachance wanted revenge against the Dark Brotherhood for some reason, and hired you to do his dirty work!" Lachance was a renegade...I didn't understand it all yet but any deviation what I'd expected to find here made me feel a euphoria pure and true as any. "But now, we can begin anew! I bestow upon you the title of Speaker. You will take Lucien Lachance's place on the Black Hand. Welcome!" She held out something large and black in her left hand. I now realized what it was: neatly folded black robes.

I grabbed them. They were delightfully soft.

She continued, but this time her tone mournful, and her eyes towards the floor. "As you know, the Black Hand is in a state of disarray. Lachance ordered you to kill us off, one by one. We six, including you, are all that remains of the Black Hand." Then she looked back up "Even worse, you killed the Listener! The Black Hand without a Listener is like a hand with no thumb! Even the Listener's successor is dead!" But her voice was not accusing. It was empty of anger. I felt safe and unjudged in this Dark Angel's company. Then she continued with a level-headed excitement "So, we have no choice but to invoke an ancient ritual! We must wake the Night Mother from her slumber and seek her guidance!"

I could feel an excitement start to encroach on me at the words as a fire crackled comfortingly somewhere in the house.

But there was nagging sensation there was something ominous hidden away in those words.

Then it began to come back to me. The traitor was going to kill the Night Mother.

Suddenly I felt a sinking sensation. The decisions were not over, the death was not over, and the betrayal was not over.

Then she continued, but most of her words I tuned out. I only recalled "Take time...change into your new robes and make...minute preparations. Then we will away...home." I nodded, despite that half her words had been drowned out by flash-backs of the traitor's plan and its implications.

Then, as Arquen stepped away, I saw something horrid. A naked body, hanging upside down by its feet, mutilated in the most gruesomely creative ways.

I could feel sickness start to creep up on me at the sight. My skin was crawling.

"As you can see, we have dealt with the betrayer, Lucien Lachance! No longer will you serve as his puppet."

Seeing my former master degraded in the deepest way possible, confusion and fear began to flood my mind. My mouth began getting wet as I tried to hold my stomach. It took much concentration to do so.

Arquen pointed a hand, palm up, towards the horrible sight. "When we confronted Lachance he tried to defend himself, tried to declare his innocence, but we would not hear his treacherous lies!" Then, shifting to a sort of gleeful enthusiasm, shot her fist into the air and said "As you can see he was no match for the combined power of the Black Hand, even weakened as we are!"

Trying to hide my shock and show them what they expected, I stepped in a bit closer, in a mix of disturbed repulsion and morbid curiosity. I knew this was all moving too fast. I wasn't meant to advance so quickly, and now I was being exposed to things I simply wasn't ready for. To think that Lachance's soul had once been in that horrifying mess of a human body.

Hell was returning, in a very different form.

What did this all mean, though? I had expected to find Lucien in here alive, waiting to hear what I'd learned about the traitor's identity.

And what did Learns-fast's orders mean now?

"You know what you have to do. Wait for the traitor to reveal himself, then kill him."

I hadn't taken much meaning from his words at first, but now they seemed to fit perfectly with the scenario at hand. Did he...know this was what I was going to find? I noticed my stomach was aching now, and my breaths had become shallow.

I slowly advanced towards the body.

Suddenly the words of another Speaker caught me off guard. "Greetings, Speaker. I am Belisarius Arius." A man to my left said. I turned to around to see Cyrodiillic looking face, coated with whiskers, smiling subtlety at me. He extended his hand to shake, and I complied, though he did all the shaking.

Then I felt something touch my right shoulder. I turned to see a Dunmer face. His voice had a prominent thick foreign accent "Our troubles are almost at an end, Sister. Soon we will visit the Night Mother and she will surely guide us." They were all gentle and friendly, the Dunmer especially, which was heart-warming after what I'd read about Morrowind. Even in the presence of the gruesome scene, his words seemed oddly effective at comforting me. There was a certain...gentle eloquence about the Black Hand, something that made me feel safe.

But I had to remember I wasn't safe, and I couldn't remain comfortable for long.

I turned to see yet another Speaker who had joined the greeting party. He appeared to be the youngest of the crowd. He shook my hand briskly, but I was starting to get enveloped in my own world of thought as I reflected on all the unexpected occurrences I was witnessing. "Hello, fellow Speaker. I am Mathieu Bellamont! Welcome to the Black Hand! So nice to see you're in one piece!" It felt genuine. Then he pointed to Lachance's body, but I was so lost in thought as he spoke I was only able to recall "You...some time...admire his corpse...a thing...punctures and slashes...poetic."

I remembered Arquen's words: "We six, including you, are all that remains of the Black Hand." There was one more Speaker. I turned to my left.

There was one more figure in Black Hand robes. He was still in a far corner of the room, aloof and looking down.

There were four men here. That meant four potential traitors, but I was already looking at the most likely betrayer.

We were about to go to the Night Mother: it fit with the traitor's plan perfectly. Any dreamy lull in the action would soon be over.

I ached as I remembered I had already pledged to help the traitor. I had to remember the horrors the Dark Brotherhood was built on top of, as painful as it was to know I'd be betraying the only family I ever knew.

I'd give him his revenge, though. I wanted some way to show him I didn't want to step on him any more. It was a depressing thought that it had come to this, but this nightmare couldn't drag on much longer.

I looked around the room for a place of privacy so I could change into my new robes.

(Learns-fast): Near Applewatch

I knew sleep would feel so good now. For the first time in too long, I could feel content. Even if there was still a lot at stake, it was out of my court now.

Fights-up-close was out off my hands. Her anti-Argonian-Royal-Court rantings made me nervous during our walk to Applewatch, but now that we were done with her I was sure I could convince the others it was just crazy talk. I could finally relax.

"Where are we going now?" I heard a voice from behind me ask. It was Cleaver. Odd he'd taken so long to ask that question. He'd been silent since I tossed Fights-up-close into Applewatch.

"To bed." I stated dryly.

"In the morning..." He added in a gravely tone. It was evident that the exhaustion was weighing on him too.

It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what he meant: where would we go after we woke up. Then I realized that even when I understood what he meant, I didn't have an answer.

The fatigue washed away as the dilemma entered my mind.

Obviously Surveys-from-above would return to Black Marsh. But what about Cleaver? Should he return to the Cheydinhal sanctuary and hope it would get reoccupied? No...that seemed ridiculous. Besides, I'd had enough of the Dark Brotherhood for a while.

"We're going back to Gideon." I said.

We continued to walk down the path. It had been a tough day, but in some ways it was nice to shake things up a bit. Hell was repetition, and repetition was what I had when I had been trailing Lachance with anger dammed up inside me, waiting for him to do mess up. The more I remembered the weeks I'd spent trailing Lucien, the less guilt I felt about my decision to make the Black Hand believe he was the traitor. Now I was feeling mix of hearty exhaustion and satisfaction as the crickets chirped and the stars shined all over the clear night sky.

Then I heard some unexpect words from Surveys-from-above "Wait, both of us?" He asked after the mysteriously long delay. It took me a few second to figure out what he meant, but then I remembered my previous statement ("We're going back to Gideon")

"Yes." I said firmly.

"Are you sure that's what Mr. Lachance wants?" He asked.

"Yes." I stated again.

Yet as I remembered Surveys-from-above and Cleaver still thought Lucien was alive, other ideas were starting to creep into my head to bring down my mood. They would wonder what happened to Lachance. Even in Black Marsh they saw Lachance on a roughly monthly basis for the sake of training. I froze a bit after the epiphany hit me. I couldn't keep what I'd done secret forever.

Then I continued to walk, but now my mood was significantly soured and my thoughts were starting to speed up again. I realized my stress wasn't over. When the Dark Brotherhood found out what I did they would...who knew what they would do? Whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.

I could feel my heart rate increase even though I tried to appear unphased. I was beginning to feel sick again.

They had seen Lachance vindicated. They thought I had told the Black Hand of Lucien's innocence. If Lachance was gone, they would be suspicious, and soon the Argonian Royal Court and Dark Brotherhood would begin to piece together what I'd done.

I was worn out by internal conflict and I imagined the ecstacy I could get by just going into denial. But no, I couldn't make the same mistake again and follow short-term satisfaction. That would dig the pit further.

As we got closer to the city, I wracked my brain for some way to cover this up, but made no progress. It was just like those mind-aching times right after we'd left Bravil.

I still couldn't imagine how to cover-up or justify my behavior.

Then it hit me: Surveys-from-above and Cleaver needed to die.

Now I saw there was a solution, but I almost wished I didn't have any options. I ached at the thought of it: the difficulty of pulling this off safely, and the loss of two good agents after so many days of eagerness to bring them back would be hard, but it was the only way I knew to cover up my deeds and finally see the end of this mess. Both of those Shadowscales needed to die.

It seemed like it would take an extraordinary amount of willpower, but I knew that was all that was standing in my way. Willpower.

I felt a surge of pain as I realized how much I'd lost which I expected to gain. I once expected to have all three Shadowscales, Fights-up-close, Cleaver, and Surveys-from-above, back in my service: now I would have none.

I hated that little traitor Goes-in-heavy for putting me through this, and I hated Lachance for provoking me like this, but I never got the opportunity to kill either of those two. I was only getting the opportunity to kill two useful agents.

I hated this situation, but I knew I just had to do it. If only they weren't following behind me, then I could surely catch at least one off guard and make an easy kill.

There had to be someway I could pull this off without a serious risk of my own death. They were conditioned to trust me to no end, after all, whether or not that conditioning worked.

We continued to walk and I knew my window of opportunity was shrinking, but murder was an art as much as a science, so one couldn't rush it. I had to wait for a stroke of genius to come to my mind that could allow me to pull this off safely. If I didn't employ any sort of intelligent tactic to give me an advantage, I would definitely lose. I ached under the demands of the situation.

I felt frustrated at the barriers sleep put infront of my full cognitive potential as some thoughts fell out of my mind as I tried to plan. I felt useless in this state, but I needed to think of something before we got closer to Bruma. This was the best circumstance for murder I'd get: I was outside city walls in the least popular part of Cyrodiil, there was a steep slope to throw the bodies down to my right, and it was nighttime.

But now that we were so close to Bruma I was afraid these circumstances would soon end.

I stopped in my tracks. There was silence. The Shadowscales had stopped too. I turned to them, my mind still turbulent as this went, having no time to analyze the plan I'd formulated in a couple of seconds.

"You two wait here. I want to check on Applewatch one last time." I said, then started walking back the way I came.

Walk a long way back, then sneak up on them.

No, they'll hear you coming back, turn around and kill them now.

Kill them now? You don't even have a plan.

Either way, by now it was too late to turn back. I was too far away to execute the plan of simply turning around and killing them. In a way I was relieved that I couldn't make that decision. The word 'decision' seemed to have a whole new connotation for me now. If there was one word to describe my anguish, "decision" was it. I just kept walking.

Head all the way back to Applewatch, then turn around and start sneaking.

What makes you possibly think you could sneak up on them!? You don't have their training, their powers, or their equipment, and even they would have trouble with this type of task!

The coarseness and weight of life was coming back. Just when I'd acknowledged contentness, there was more tension and stress.

Shut up! You've already made your decision! Now is your time to plan! Your life depends on it. You'll be killed if you're not careful.

You'll be killed if you try this at all!

Just make your way to Applewatch first, keep your word.

The stress lifted. That was one more decision I could eliminate for now.

I continued towards Applewatch through the chilly night air. I passed familiar rocks and trees. I tried to imagine what the two Shadowscales were doing now, what they were thinking.

I just wanted to prolongue this stage of mellowness, because I knew once I got to Applewatch, I'd have to make my hardest decision yet. It may have been the last feeling of relaxation I'd ever get.

I noted every little intricacey of the world as I walked, trying to get the same kind of enjoyment out of it one could get looking at a fine painting, noticing the details. The sparkling stars, the waving pine needles, and the towering mountains.

But as I pushed my mind to appreciate these things, I only got brief feelings of pleasure before my mood sunk to compensate. The odds were against anything good happening in this situation, and pleasure here and now only reminded me that pain would be the next thing ahead.

Applewatch was already coming into view. Soon the turbulence would begin again. I could already feel encroaching discomfort.

My life had become so different it was hard to even recognize anymore. I'd killed my partener in the Shadowscale pact, I'd come to fear my inferiors, and I wasn't even sure if the seemingly invincible organization I'd work with my whole life could even survive the night. I wasn't ready to operate in this new world; I'd had decades to become accustomed to my old world.

When I made it to the gates of Applewatch, I turned around.

The decision I was making hit me with crushing force once again. This is what my life had come to.

The path ahead was shadowed, and its dirt was soft, but there was still so much to be afraid of. I could be plunging myself into something scarier than I ever faced: death.

But it doesn't need to happen. Let them live. Let go of these aggressive notions. Relax for another day.

Relax? You'll live in fear of the Black Hand if those Shadowscales live!

I didn't know if the turbulence would ever end, so I decided to start sneaking back in their direction. I'd be forced to make my decision soon enough

I recalled the Shadowscales I'd watch Lucien Lachance train. I tried to recall all the times I'd watched Hides-in-shadows, Stabber, Climbs-out-of-sight, or Fights-up-close creeping along, imitating what Lucien showed them, while I sat back and made sure things stayed orderly. They had been trained to do those kind of careful foot falls since they were five years old, and I had watched countless times; Surely I'd learned something from all that time too.

I tried to simply focus on this task, and tried to block out the life-marring circumstances that made it necessity. I continued to creep, attempting the grace of a Shadowscale.

But once I attained some degree of confidence in my stealth abilities, the harshness of my objective came back to me with avengance. I felt a surge of fury at the circumstances that made me want to tare the nearest object to shreds at my misfortune. But I knew the fury was pain masking itself as an urge. I could only get satisfaction from destroying the abstract concepts which brought me to this point, and that could never happen.

The tree branches hung over me like demonic fingers. The mountains in the distance were like overbearing monsters. The vast night-sky symbolized my sense of loneliness.

The crickets still cherped, the stars still shined, and branches still waved in the breeze. To them, it was still the same world. To me, those were all components to construct a base for suffering.

I was so close now...so close to...

I didn't even want to repeat my objective in my thoughts. How could I ever have seen the situation I'm in coming? How could I have known Goes-in-heavy would defect? How could I have known Lachance would refuse to sanction a contract to kill him? How could I have known I'd end up killing two loyal Shadowscales? Another surge of fury came, telling me to quit the graceful sneaking and do something completely irrational. But I held it in.

I continued to sneak. I knew they'd be in view soon.

The pines rustled with another breeze.

Then I could see them again. They were both facing away from me, Surveys-from-above with his hands in his pockets. It looked like they were talking, but not fully facing each other.

I side-stepped to get behind a piece of shubbery, afraid they might turn around and see me.

I put my eyes close to the leaves so I could peer through the tiny spaces between them. The Shadowscales continued to talk, but I couldn't make out the conversation.

I had been stealthy. I was observing someone else's world, just like they did. Now I was ready.

But now...now is the time for my decision.

I could walk out casually, bring the day to a mellow end, shunning my more radical side. I could return to Argonia and live the rest of my days hoping that the issues with Lucien were simply dead and buried. If I was lucky, I could continue my career fully staffed and carry out my work as usual. If I was unlucky, I would one day find myself robbed of the comforts of the Argonian Royal Court, living as a lonely and pathetic fugitive or prisoner.

Or I could creep up, get close, and then rip through the calm and quiet of the night. If I was lucky, in several seconds I could snuff out the last traces of the crisis. I could return to the Argonia washed clean and fresh, living in certainty. If I was unlucky, the night would end with the feeling of cold metal puncturing and slicing my organs: I would be killed by those I'd raised, who I was once sure I had in the palm of my hand.

Both options brought me fear. But in that moment, the right choice seemed clear.

(Fights-up-close): Bravil

It was the first time I'd teleported. I could really feel the climate change as I found myself in Bravil's humid night air. I knew the ending to all this wouldn't be pleasant, but I was willing to show I truly wasn't like the rest. That brought up a lot of questions, but at least I knew I wouldn't have to wonder any longer.

"Behold the Night Mother." Arquen said, as she pointed a hand to the familiar statue. "The locals call this statue the Lucky Old Lady. They have no idea how lucky they really are, for this stone effigy masks the entrance into the Dark Brotherhood's most revered unholy – the crypt of the Night Mother herself." She said the words meticulously, subtly conveying their significance.

Ungolim, the Listener, this statue, the Night Mother. It all made sense now.

I stared at the statue. Now even that statue had been enveloped by this nightmare as it dragged through Cyrodiil.

"In a moment, we will begin. I will recite an incantation, and we can proceed down into the crypt and seek an audience with the Night Mother." She said, her tone oddly casual, a light smile on her face which glowed orange in her torch light. I didn't bother to return the smile. I was feeling so sick of all this.

"I know this is very overwhelming, dear child. Just follow along and you'll be fine. Now lets go see what the future hold, shall we?" She said in a motherly sort of way. I really did feel like a child here; I needed to be dragged along, I was confused and sacred, and this was moving too fast. I was out of my league, seeing things I wasn't prepared for.

As Arquen walked towards the statue I continued to reflect on all I'd seen. Now that I was in the Black Hand, it felt like I was working for a different organization.

Arquen's collected and motherly image seemed to be shattered as I saw her fall to her knees before the statue and clench her fists as if in prayer. Now she presented herself as insignificant and submissive as she recited the incantation.

"Unholy matron, we of the Black Hand beseech you, reveal yourself now most magnificent Night Mother, so that we may seek your guidance."

I saw the statue warping. An illusion of fatigue? No. The statue twisted and contorted, going from silky eloquence to grotesque deformity. With it, I thought I could hear a horrible sort of scream, too alien to pin to a body but terrifying enough to easily pin to an emotion. It was on the threshold of audible, but none the less hideous, like something produced within my own mind. This was what those tiers of our power-structure-pyramid hid. Immediately I felt like I was submerged in a hell that the friendliness of the Black Hand bared hideous contrast to. This was the horror behind the honor.

But the disturbing display had a practical purpose: a hatch was revealed at the foot of statue. Arquen got to her feet and opened it, then positioned herself as if climbing down an unseen ladder. The rest of the Black Hand members also began walking towards it, single-file.

I let all of them go ahead of me. I felt no more urge to be quick or assertive than I did during the trip to Bruma. I was just here as fodder for the traitor's revenge.

As I waited for everyone else to pile in, I thought about how different the Dark Brotherhood felt now. First it was about justice, then it was about darkness, then about the unholy. Maybe if I had advanced at normal speed the change would have been so gradual I wouldn't notice, but I didn't advance at normal speed, did notice the change, and probably wasn't supposed to. I wondered if I would have changed too. I'd seen just how fragile my own mind was recently.

When they were all down below the statue, I walked towards the hatch. I tensed at the thought of the acute pain and discomfort when the traitor's blade would sink into me, but I felt like my deeds were inflicting physical blows on me on their own, and at least any pain the traitor could cause me was finite.

I looked down the hatch to see a weathered wooden ladder. It lead a short distance down to a floor of sand and rock.

I positioned myself and climbed down the ladder. As I climbed, the hatch shut by its self. I could see orange torchlight bathing the rocky "walls" and sandy "floor" of the almost liquid looking interior. I could hear a female voice, sounding super-naturally distorted, as I climbed.

"What is the meaning of this...desecration? Who has disturbed my ancient slumber?" She was outraged. I'd been almost desensitized to scorn and hatred already, and soon all that kind of pain would start spilling out and ravaging the Black Hand.

As my feet touched the sand I turned to see a ghostly figure of a woman. Arquen was facing her. Ahead, there was some kind of altar, with a skeleton laid on top of it.

Arquen, her eyes glassy, pleaded "Dearest Night Mother, most unholy matron! We beg your mercy in this our time of need!"

"Ah yes," the Night Mother said with a tone that was both cold and harsh, all my reverence for her now completely rubbed out "the Listener now kneels by Sithis, as does his successor. There is a traitor amongst you."

"The traitor is dead, dear Night Mother. Anoint one of us your Listener so we may restore the Black Hand!" She pleaded. I knew she'd made a mistake when she corrected the Night Mother. This situation was going to explode in more ways than one.

"Foolish little girl!" The Night Mother scoffed with disgust "Lucien Lachance served Sithis to his dying breath! The Black Hand remains tainted by betrayal! Restoration is impossib– "

Her rant was cut short. Before the Night mother could finish, there was a thud and a cry of pain from somewhere behind us. As we turned around to look, I saw one of the Speakers lying face-on-the-floor. There was an expanding bloody spot on his black robes as he released one last muffled grown. His torch was on the ground, still burning. Mathieu Bellamont was constraining the Dunmer Speaker, a knife to his throat, already soaked in the blood of the other victim.

Mathieu. That was surprising. Just like before, I had been deceived. Once again, my old perceptions were washed away and replaced with surreal new ones.

Mathieu's hand was noticeably shaking. I knew what had been building in him for all these years. It was actually a relief to finally see him snap after reading his diary.

"Enough of this. You will all suffer for the pain you have caused me." His voice quivered, as the disturbing memories I'd read about were once again floating through the air. There was a moment of stoney silence as we awaited any potential demands. My breaths were shallow and my muscles tensed as I listened closely.

It was difficult to estimate how long that intense waiting went on, but it seemed even Mathieu realized there was nothing he could hope to get from demands, because he only wanted one thing: revenge.

Shying away from any attempt to adequately capture his hatred in his words, he simply said "I will destroy your Night Mother, and the Dark brotherhood will fall!"

Mathieu gave the 'hostage' one last look, a look of utter disgust, before savagely slitting his throat and throwing him to the ground as if eager to rid himself of his foul body. The Dunmer made what little noise he was capable of as his blood dyed the sands of the crypt.

Now, I was wondering who would be next. My muscles tightened as I prepared myself for my last moments, imagining the pain and discomfort that would await me, but concentrating hard on not fighting back. I didn't care about the loyal members of the Black Hand, though: I was in my own world.

But before I could reflect anymore I could see he was not charging at me. He was charging at the Night Mother. Thoughts rushed through my head. Can he really kill her? What if she dies? Will anyone intercept him?

Then, in a blur the traitor was put to a stop.

Bellamont had been stabbed. Arquen withdrew her dagger from Bellamont's back as he fell forward, his face in the sand like the others, right at the feet of the Night Mother.

I was still alive. The room was filled with silence as the shock sank into all of us; the Black Hand was down to three, myself included, and an attempt to murder the Night Mother had just been foiled. And, incidentally, I had been wrong about who I'd assumed was the traitor.

Now the traitor was at peace, and I could find comfort in that, but I was still deep in a nightmare. That, and the traitor had failed, which I hadn't expected.

Yet only two more lives stood in the way of the total destruction of the Black Hand.

"So, at last we find peace." The Night Mother said, as if unphased by all the brutal carnage around her. I was really growing to hate her. "Together you three shall make the thumb and finger of my Black Hand. Enough to pinch and grasp, so we may begin a new."

She turned to her left, towards the aloof Speaker who I'd originally suspected of treachery. "You, Champion, once blinded by the searing light of the Gods, you saw their wrongs and came to heed our teachings. You gave us knowledge no one in our history could!" She exclaimed "You will let us pierce deep into the hearts of our enemies! You will be my new Speaker, to spread our unholy word to all murders who might be our recruits."

Champion? Light of the Gods? That was a deep, discouraging blow for the world. Tamriel's greatest hero was in the Black Hand? No. I was jumping to conclusion. "Champion" was a respectful term for a hero in this language. The odds were...

"You, Arquen," she said with a sort of enticing voice as if her anger had never occurred "You will be my Listener. You have managed your sanctuary well, brought in more murders than any other Speaker, and traveled across Tamriel endlessly in my service!"

Then, the Night Mother turned to me. I was the farthest from the crowd, disconnected spiritually and physically, not eager to partake in the ceremony. She began to walk in my direction. I was staring right at a deity, but all my respect for her had been ebbed away. Being in her presence would have been a fantasy a couple of months ago, but now it was a nightmare. Now she was the symbol of what I would fight.

She stopped infront of me.

"And you," she said, with a quiet fascination in her voice, her words gentle like Arquen's "I have been following your strange journey through the Dark Brotherhood, young one. Your killing of the old man Baenlin...the execution of Adamus Philida...the way you stalked and murdered every member of the Draconis family." I could feel myself getting sick as the thoughts began to creep up on me again. "You will be the Silencer to Speaker Arquen. You possess strength and cunning and a heart as black as midnight!" She said excitedly. You don't know me. "You were marked by Sithis the moment of your hatching!"

I quivered. I felt filthy here, in this crypt, hearing these words. I was being treated like a monster. And why not? I had acted like one.

I still felt that guttural pity, that strong connection to the traitor again. The cruelty of his situation was as solid as any. And now, just two more lives and I could end this nightmare for everyone. I just needed one more burst of fury and then I might never feel fury again. A bit more fighting and there would be no more Dark Brotherhood.

"Silent?" The Night Mother asked "Good, for now is the time to m–"

"No." I interrupted, the eroded words clawing their way out of the heavy thoughts that lay on top of them. My hand began quivering more violently than ever. I had done horrible things, but this was the chance for redemption. This was the time to continue the fight of the martyrs like Bellamont, Goes-in-heavy and Philida. I would proudly stand by them in spirit. Now the pain of the recent days was resurfacing, but so was my old, confident battle spirit.

"What have you said to me!?" The Night Mother asked in a voice coarsened in fury.

"No," I repeated slightly louder "I'm finishing his job!"

I quickly and passionately unsheathed my dagger with a feeling of infinite energy. I ripped off my facade of a loyal Dark Sister. Now I could feel my troubles float away because they were converted into an objective.

I charged at Arquen, knowing I'd never be able to fully express the destructive passion within me. The cause was flowing through every fiber of my consciousness.

I tried to stab hard into her chest, but Arquen was ready. She knocked my arm aside, and attempted a stab of her own. I arched my back to avoid it then instinctually changed tactics and delivered a punch to her face, focused on little more than letting the destructive power flow out of me with as few interruptions as possible.

I tried to stab her while she was still somewhat stunned, but her left hand intercepted my right hand. She attempted the same, but I intercepted her hand as well. We had come to a furious stalemate. Being held still for even a second multiplied my fury. I didn't fear this fight: I would gladly spill blood, even if it was mine, but it was being held back that I couldn't take.

Digging my feet into the sands of the crypt, knowing this battle would change everything not just for me, but for the world, I did my best to push her back, hopefully getting her to stumble along the way. But as I did I became conscious of the danger that lay behind me; I figured "Champion" would try to do something.

Two potential outcomes rushed through my head. Either I would be feeling the acute discomfort of cold metal in me, or the last of the Black Hand would be killed and the world would be liberated from stomach-turning crimes it committed.

Her face was contorted in all sorts of ways as she tried to put up some kind of resistance, but it didn't work. I was ever so slightly stronger physically, and worlds stronger in purpose, and was pushing her back. Soon, she would stumble over the steps to the altar on which the skeletons lay.

Then, she did stumble on the steps. She fell back, and I fell forward, but her head hit the stone with a sharp crack and a grimace on her face, unlike me. My fury was leaving its mark, and it felt good to have a real cause again. Her grip didn't loosen, but I didn't waste an instant that could be put to use of releasing my destructive energy.

I put all I could into pushing my dagger forward while keeping her's back, and slowly it was working. Slowly the suffering they'd inflicted was coming back to them by my own hand. There was light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. Just one more surge of pain and suffering on their part for the world to finally bask in light.

But as my knife got inches away from her throat, she released her grip, then rolled away in a flash. The move threw me off. All the strength I was putting into slowly moving my dagger towards her throat now came out uninhibited, causing me to stab knife into the stone.

My fury grew greater with the failure. Any success on her part was an affront to me.

I sprung up and threw my arm almost blindly in Arquen's direction.

This time, there was a different kind of resistance.

I'd stabbed her. The awkward twisting motion I'd used to get the quick stab forced me to fall with her and let go of the dagger that was now lodged in her back, but it was probably a kill. We both fell onto the coarse, sandy crypt floor. I immediately got up, eager to continue to fight, my heart pounding, heat and the smell of sweat in the air around me. I could feel some burning from the scrapes against my scales, but I ignored the interruption to my fury as best I could. One more Speaker.

Oddly, though, the Speaker's sword was sheathed. The Night Mother stood staring at me.

"Fool! What are you possibly trying to accomplish!?" she said, her voice seething with fury "With us you could have had riches! You could have had infamy!" She advanced a bit, ghostly fists clenched. Could she even punch? As I seethed with outrage, quivering and eager to get back into battle, she stared at me as if expecting something. Then, after a couple of seconds, she whipped her head towards the last Brother "Kill her!" She demanded. He jerked slightly as if surprised. None the less he reached for his weapon.

I realized my blade was still in Arquen's back.

I backed up, grappling briefly with my balance, then tried to bend down to pick the dagger up. Without the dagger, I was totally hopeless.

Yet as I reached for the dagger, I felt a sharp gust of win by my hand, and a flash of shiny metal. For a split second, I wondered if my fingers had been cut off. But no, it was just a very close call.

I back-flipped to get more distance and lower the probability of a slightly closer swing hitting me, but when I was on my feet again, I could see he was advancing with obvious, blunt, and brutal dominance gained out of nothing more than the weapon in his hand. I could easily imagine his katana cutting through me. That long, thin piece of metal made him unstoppable under the current circumstances. A feeling of hellish terror began to envelope me.

I pushed the Shadow energy to the surface of scales. I knew I was completely invisible, but that didn't stop his terrible charge. Two instincts battled: one was to try to move away as fast as possible, the other was to keep hold of the Shadow energy by not doing so.

I managed to turn around to face the ladder behind me without shaking off the Shadow energy, then with a degree of extraordinary grace necessary to stay invisible, I grabbed the highest wrung of the ladder I could reach and pulled myself up. I curled my legs as high as I could. Blood seemed to rush to my head to a bursting point and I was quivering with the strenuous grip, but I'd made it, and managed to keep the Shadow energy despite the circumstances. I knew it took a rare Shadow to pull of a feat like that.

Then I heard a swoosh and a blast of wind below me, no doubt the last Speaker taking a swing at my previous position

"Think of who you're dealing with! You don't stand a chance!" He said, though it sounded more like an expression of frustration than self-satisfaction.

My face was feeling hot as I continued to strain my muscles to stay up there, and I knew I couldn't hide for long, so I ungrasped the wooden rungs and sprung backwards.

Then I was in the air, looking down at the hood of this mysterious fighter, sinking towards the ground.

When I was almost to the ground, I wrapped my arms around his neck. My legs gave way when I landed, so we both fell to the ground. I was on the bottom, and I was received most of the pain from the impact, but I had him by the throat, even if bare-handed.

I tried to wack his legs with my tail, grasping at any opportunity for destruction that presented itself. It resulted in limited success, but that wouldn't kill him. I grasped his throat hard in a choke-hold.

But a second later there was an odd sensation sending shockwaves throughout my body as his body glowed like lightening. During the intense and painful sensation I released my grasp without realizing it. He rolled to the left and stabbed his sword into the sandy ground to prop himself up.

I rolled in the opposite direction, but when I tried to get up I found myself tossed around by my own momentum. I was stumbling backwards. I might be feeling cold steel in my gut any second. While still hunched over, the back of my head made harsh contact with the cavern walls. The impact caused me to jerk forward, followed by an intense pain. I nearly fell on my stomach. I supported myself with one irritated palm, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the Champion's legs.

I knew by the time I stood, he would be ready to cleave me. I knew I couldn't get away with another roll. I knew I would lose.

My spirit fell, and another sensation started to envelope me. I began to feel a horrible sinking feeling. I didn't know what the afterlife brought. It was a terrible feeling, yet...I knew I should make this easier for both of us.

Instead of getting up, I let myself fall back to the ground, the back of my neck intentionally exposed.

My eyes in my hands, I waited in blackness for the final moment. I wondered if I'd feel any pain, or if I'd feel my world deteriorate into an incoherent mess for the split second it would take my brain to lose its functionality, or if it would all be over instantly. And would I find myself in the Void? Would I be in Sithis' favor? Obviously no one lives to tell the tale of what the last moments are like.