The first thing Velthorn became aware of was the deep ache in his side and head. Then there was the intense cold, laying over him like a lead blanket. It burned his throat, nose, and lungs as he inhaled. It was also very, very dark.

He pushed himself up off the stones and broken planks of wood. His side protested, sending several bolts of pain through him. Gasping, he got to his feet. He groaned again as the Mark sparked for several seconds before going silent.

Feeling his way in the dark, his fingers met stone. A wall, in fact. And here, a torch. With the slightest effort, Velthorn lit it.

Lying a few feet from him was Volyn. The vampire was on his front, cheek pressed into the ground and arms awkwardly under him. He was breathing softly, which relieved Velthorn, because one of those broken pieces of wood had speared into the vampire's side.

Velthorn hobbled to the vampire, noting the pain in his left leg. He also knew he must have broken a rib or two in the fall. Every movement, including breathing, hurt.

"Volyn," the elf said, kneeling by his fallen companion. He touched the vampire's shoulder. "Volyn."

The dark elf stirred, eyes blinking open. Almost immediately, he grimaced. He looked back at himself and saw the wood protruding from his side.

"Damn it," the vampire hissed.

"Let me help," Velthorn offered.

"Do it quick, yeah?" Volyn laughing breathlessly.

The piece of wood jutting out was about a foot long. Carefully, Velthorn grasped it, though it still had Volyn biting back a whimper. The vampire clenched his teeth and rested his forehead on the ground.

"On three," Velthorn said. "One. Two." And he torn the thing out, making Volyn snarl like an animal. "Three."

Once more, Volyn chuckled humorlessly. "Thank you."

"The wound is healing."

It was. The flesh was pulling together, but then it stopped. Although it was no longer bleeding and it was no longer a gaping wound in the vampire's side, it was not fully healed.

"I need to eat," Volyn confessed, "But we'll worry about that later. This is good enough."

The vampire stood, then helped Velthorn to his feet.

"We should find an exit to these tunnels."

"Yes," Volyn agreed, "Although, I can hear the wind outside. It's quite intense. And I believe it's nighttime."

"If there's a blizzard out there, we'll never find the others," Velthorn said.

"Let's focus on finding a way out first," the dark elf said.

Velthorn was almost too exhausted to nod and Volyn saw this. The vampire wrapped one arm around the other elf's waist and pulled his arm around his neck. Velthorn didn't protest. They started walking.

The tunnels extended quite a ways, but were straightforward when it came to direction. There were only two ways to go, really. Forward or back. Most of the floor was covered in dirt and rubble from where the stones overhead had fallen away. The air was cold, even here.

With their bodies pressed together, Volyn could feel the elf shivering. As a Volkihar vampire, the cold was nothing for him, but for this skinny little thing?

Eventually, they found the end. The wind howled by, carrying snow and icy cold into the entrance. Velthorn shivered hard as they went close.

Looking intensely at the snow, Volyn said, "I could clear this weather up, but I'm not sure I should. Using a Shout so soon after that avalanche might cause another," Volyn said.

"Don't risk it," Velthorn replied, shaking his head, "We can find the others in the morning."

Volyn nodded. "I'm going to sit you over there, then look for something for a proper fire."

There were two other tunnels here, but both had been blocked by cave-ins. Still, it was a little more out of the way of the wind.

The vampire set Velthorn down against the wall. The elf held the torch close to him, trying to get as much warmth from it as possible. His fingers and ears were numb.

Volyn ventured out into the blizzard. He couldn't see much, but there was something in the distance. The snow was knee deep and hard to trek through, but at least he knew he wouldn't get frostbite.

When he'd first started adventuring across Skyrim, he'd been like Velthorn. Mortal and constantly cold. Most nights he'd taken shelter in caves and prayed the wildlife wouldn't eat him as he slept. It had been a blessing when he'd gotten infected.

Finally, he reached the shape in the distance. There was an abandoned wagon here, covered in snow, but perfect. He wheeled it back, no small feat in this weather, and smashed it to pieces inside the tunnels.

While he'd been gone, Velthorn had created a ring of stones for a firepit. He placed the broken wood in the ring and the Dalish elf used the torch to light it. The wood was wet, but eventually caught.

Practically groaning in relief, Velthorn went as close to the fire as he could, thrusting his hands over the flames. He was wearing gloves, but the leather was a poor insulator. He stripped them off and tossed them to the ground.

"Thank you," the elf said.

"You're welcome," Volyn replied dismissively.

"I mean it. You saved my life back there," Velthorn said.

"Someone had to do it. You were prepared to die for everyone," the vampire told him, shrugging.

Velthorn looked at his marked hand. The Anchor, as Corypheus called it.

When he'd first woken to find this thing on his hand, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Then to find it could close Rifts? His confusion and suspicion only grew. It had to be magical, he knew. Those crackles of energy it often gave off were magical discharge.

But what kind of magic? It wasn't like anything he'd felt before. It felt older. Almost like the magic his Keeper used when Arianni had become sick with the Blight, but even older than that.

So what did that make the orb Corypheus was carrying? And why did his magic feel so different from the magic of the Anchor or the Rifts, or even of the Breach itself? The magic Corypheus had been using felt…wrong. Corrupted. Like red lyrium.

So what did that make red lyrium, then?

Too many questions and very little answers. He needed to get this information to the others. He needed to speak with Solas or Dorian or even Vivienne. Perhaps they might have some insight or theories.

"You know, you really are the hero they deserve," the vampire mused.

Now drawn out of his thoughts, Velthorn gave a pained laugh, and grimaced as his ribs ached. "No I'm not. Any one of those Templars could snap me in half and then I'd just be a dead knife-ear to them."

"It isn't about your fighting prowess. You have a hero's heart. Hero's blood. You genuinely care for the people. That was something I could never really do. I can pretend. But I don't care for the masses."

"Why not?" Velthorn asked curiously.

"I don't know. There are a few individuals I've known that have earned my respect and devotion, but for the most part, I just don't care. People pass in and out of my life. Some, I miss. But most, I look back on and don't even wonder what became of them. I do not mourn the dead and I do not go out of my way looking for friends."

"That sounds lonely," Velthorn said.

Volyn shrugged. "I don't get lonely. I have a small family of…like-minded individuals."

"A family? I have a feeling you aren't talking about a wife and children," the elf said with an amused smile.

The vampire laughed. "Definitely not. No, I'm an assassin by trade." He monitored Velthorn's reaction.

"I can't say I'm surprised," the Dalish said, "You are very efficient at killing things."

"Everyone has their talents. Besides, you've become quite good at it yourself."

"I suppose I have, haven't I?"

Volyn could see the exhaustion setting in now that the adrenaline had completely worn off. Velthorn looked as if he could fall asleep sitting up.

"I believe I have the strength to heal some of your wounds. Then you should rest," he told the elf.

"What about you?" Velthorn asked.

"I'll be fine. I need to eat, but I'll be fine. Vampires are resilient."

"If you're sure…"

A warm, golden glow surrounded his grey hands and he angled his fingers toward Velthorn. Instantly, the Dalish elf felt better. The magic was different, obviously from another world, but it was recognizable as life magic. It was warm and pleasant and made him feel even drowsier as the pain eased.

It was obviously a struggle for Volyn to keep the magic flowing. He was concentrating, his brows knit. His hands, normally so steady, were shaking. The intensity of his expression was worrisome.

After about fifteen seconds, the vampire was forced to stop. His chest heaved and his breathing came raggedly. A hand stopped Velthorn from moving to help.

"Are you all right?" the elf asked.

Volyn answered in a gruff voice, "Just…hungry." He took a moment to compose himself. "Now sleep, before I make you."

"Threatening me now?" Velthorn said, readjusting himself to lie back against the tunnel wall. "You won't eat me while I sleep, will you?"

Volyn chuckled.

Before long, Velthorn had nodded off. Even with the healing, bruises were appearing on his face. Both of them were going to be hurting in the morning.

The vampire settled himself in for a long night, leaning against the tunnel wall and crossing his arms over his chest. He kept his senses open for anything coming their way and tried his best to ignore the gnawing, insistent hunger.

The storm had died down considerably by the time daylight began to flood the tunnels. Velthorn groggily opened his eyes, immediately flinching at the pain all over his body.

Volyn's eyes were closed, but he was awake, if only just barely. True to his word, the fire was still burning, though it had been allowed to dim.

"Is it still storming?" the elf asked.

"Not like it was. There's enough visibility to search," the vampire answered. Slowly, the dark elf rose to his feet.

"You should have woken me so you could rest." Velthorn winced as he straightened himself. Volyn had done what he could, but there was still extensive bruising. His whole body ached.

"As if I could sleep with that thing's face in my mind," Volyn replied.

"True enough." Velthorn's stomach groaned. The elf realized he hadn't eaten anything since the morning before. There simply hadn't been time.

"I feel the same," Volyn said with his usual, casual half-smile.

Despite the casual nature, Velthorn could see it on his face. If it could be described as anything, it would be as pure need.

"You know, I wouldn't be opposed to…giving. You saved my life, and healed my wounds despite your own."

He knew it was something akin to blood magic, but that didn't bother him like it did most. No magic was inherently evil, and so long as no one was really harmed, he didn't see the problem.

Orange eyes settled on him. "You're sure?" Apparently, he wasn't in the mood to argue.

Velthorn nodded. "Is the wrist all right?"

Now Volyn nodded, and he crossed the space between the two. The dark elf settled himself on his knees as Velthorn rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. Volyn carefully took hold of it, not sure he could control his own strength.

Velthorn was surprised at how little it hurt when Volyn bit him. There was a pinch, and the uncomfortable feeling of blood being drawn. But the pain was non-existent and now there was a strange, warm sensation. All discomfort was gone.

Velthorn was equal parts disgusted and fascinated. The vampire's lips were cool and dry, and gentle, like his grip. The elf knew Volyn could crush his bones into powder, yet he held his arm as if it were made of porcelain. Maybe that was why he did it.

He wasn't sure how long the vampire held on; it couldn't have been more than half a minute. When he took his mouth away, Velthorn was surprised at the lack of blood or a wound. Clearly there'd been one; he'd seen those fangs come down on him.

Volyn sat back, looking contented. It took him a moment to focus on Velthorn's face.

"Thank you."

The elf nodded. "Now, whenever you're ready, we should go."

It was still freezing when they went out into the snow. By this point, it was knee deep and extremely difficult to wade through. Most of it wasn't solid and still quite powdery. It found its way into their clothing and the cold bit at Velthorn's skin.

"There was a cart out here last night, but I didn't see any fresh tracks at that point. Of course, the blizzard would have covered them up within moments if there had been any," Volyn said.

"Haven should be that way," Velthorn reasoned, pointing behind them, "So we should head up the mountain and away. There's a pass or something over there. We should head for that. It would've served as cover in that storm."

Easier said than done. The deep snow slowed their progress considerably and after just twenty minutes, Velthorn was exhausted and nearly frozen. He summoned a flame to his hands, if only to warm them for a few moments.

An hour found them in a small, dense copse of pines. They looked like miniature mountains under all that snow. The important part in them was that there were firepits here, old enough to have been covered, but recent.

"We're headed in the right direction," Velthorn said.

"Seems so. Let's keep going."

Despite feeling as though his feet had turned to ice, the elf nodded in agreement.

Hunger and fatigue was getting to him. More than once, Volyn had had to drag him out of a pile of snow he couldn't manage on his own. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep, but he knew he needed to keep going.

If he stopped now, he would never get back up again.

"Not much longer. If we can't see them from that pass, we'll take a rest," Volyn said.

Velthorn didn't have the energy to respond.

The mountains engulfed them, casting a shadow over everything. Velthorn looked up and all he could see was the rocky faces of the mountains. Volyn kept him moving, pulling him forward.

They came over the ridge and Velthorn could have wept. He fell to his knees, relief flooding him. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

There they were; his friends and allies, alive and well. It was more than he had hoped for.