Hey, sorry it's been like twenty years since my last update. Been super busy and confused about where I wanted this to go. But enjoy, hopefully I get the next chapter out way sooner! :)

"I hate to stall the mission," Verulus pants, trying to keep up with Vorstag and me, "But I need to take a rest. My shins are killing me." He had kept our fast pace for quite some time, but for the past hour he'd been falling back and stepping heavy. The most he ever walked in a day was probably from Understone keep to Markarth's market square.

"Shins are the least of your problems." Vorstag mumbles beside me. I narrow my eyes and hiss at him to be nice. So far nothing good has come from his interactions with the Arkay priest.

"Sure." I say looking back at his tired form and giving him a sympathetic smile. "We're about halfway to the cave anyway, now would be the best time to rest."

"What exactly is this cave we are going to?" He asks, trying, and failing, to not sound apprehensive.

"Reachcliff." Vorstag says flatly, not considering, or caring, if the priest was familiar with the forsaken place. I glare at him, accusing him for the hundredth time of not thinking before he speaks. His arched eyebrow silently responds, "Hey, he'd figure it out eventually."

"I see a settlement ahead." Verulus says with relief, as if we'd been walking for weeks rather than hours. "Closed walls, fireplaces, and brick." He says with a fond sigh.

I turn to him, alarmed by his idea. When I agreed to stop, I meant find a patch near the road and ration out food, not put ourselves into the hospitality of strangers. But then I remember Verulus is from a different world. He is used to people being kind and helping one another, to constantly being respected and aided due to his priestly title.

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea." Vorstag says with crossed arms, voicing my opinion.

"People cannot always be trusted." I add, glancing at the small houses at the bottom of the hill. I feel my face flush, immediately realizing the hypocrisy in my statement. Here I'm telling him to not to trust people while deceiving him myself. But we're not tricking him, the darker side of my mind argues. We do need his help to cleanse the cave. Just not in the way thinks. And he won't be harmed, hopefully.

Looking down I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling this scheme growing more and more complicated.

I turn back to look at the house cluster again. It's close to the road and appears have a farmhouse and a mine. They are probably used to people coming through and trading with them. I sigh, deciding maybe it wouldn't be too dangerous to seek their aid. Vorstag and I had already journeyed by the place twice, and it seemed decent enough.

"But maybe this once." I add after a moment. Vorstag scoffs at me, obviously miffed by me handicapping the mission to meet Verulus's needs.

"The cannibals are waiting for us you know," he hisses lowly in my ear as we head to the settlement. "If we put it off too long they may disband before we can kill them off." I try to ignore him, clenching my jaw stop a response. He was so insistent on getting this job done he was barley taking the time to think all of our actions through.

"This won't take long," I finally hiss back. "Besides, we are inadvertently putting him in danger, so we might as well treat him nicely."

The workers stop and warily watch us approach. One man, a middle aged Nord who was beginning to bald, steps forward with his burly arms crossed.

"Travelers." He says the greeting with suspicion, almost interchangeable with strangers. He looks us up and down, noting my and Vorstag's heavy gear with distrust . "I'm in charge of the Left Hand mine," he continues, cocking his head to the renovated dwarven homes that border the mine's entrance. "You cause us any trouble and you'll have to deal with me."

"We don't want to cause any trouble!" Verulus squeaks, popping out from behind us. The boy is tense and worried, but his priestly garments seem to quiet the landlord's fears. "We are travelling to do cleansing in the name of Arkay, but find ourselves in the need of a nice rest. Are your doors and tables charitable? If not, we can pay with coin."

I'm surprised at how articulate and convincing Verulus's words are. I should have figured he could preach well, being a priest and all, and his manipulation was admirable. He only subtly dropped in the god's name and didn't parade his status around. Though it could have been slightly polished, the tactic worked beautifully.

"My home is faith filled one," the landlord replies, "and we need all the grace we can get. The name's Skaggi Scar-Face," running a finger across a long, faded scar. "We can offer you a meal and a rest. Don't have much else to say unless you're interested in mining metal."

He leads us into his home, the stone of which echoes faintly of the Markarth but with a rustic, tougher flair. A woman with a blinded eye was inside and regards us hostilely as we enter. Her hand flutters to the knife at her belt. But, upon seeing us with her Skaggi, relaxes and warily welcomes us in.

"Hi there." she says, her good eye fluttering quickly over our rag-tag group, wiping her hand's on a tattered dress. "Is there…something I can do for you?" Though the question is for us, she directs it at Skaggi. There was something familiar about her face, but I couldn't quite place it. Maybe I had seen her in Markarth once before. Or maybe not. It hardly mattered.

"These are missionaries of Arkay." Skaggi said with a tight smile. "We've offered to share a meal and give them rest. Missionaries, this is my wife Sosia."

"We have indeed." Sosia says, raising her eyebrows cynically. "Arkay may finally come and help us if we give him charity."

"Don't mind Sosia," Skaggi says to us, specifically looking at Verulus. "She's been a skeptic for some time now."

"We thank you, kind Skaggi and Sosia," Verulus says with a small bow and folded hands. For a moment I felt out of place and was tempted to do the same. He was so in tune with his role in the world, so at ease and peace. "Arkay will not forget your kindness."

"Thank you for your words, priest, but the gods have never looked our way," Sosia grumbles, grabbing wooden bowls from a pantry and ladling them with a recently brewed vegetable soup. "We have prayed many times, worshiped at the shrines even, but our land is still plagued with those damned, heretical Forsworn. If the gods haven't answered are prayers thus far, do not judge me for doubting they will now. Please sit."

I grow tense at hearing the name of my ancestral heritage, and I'm awkwardly left standing as the others take their seats. Sosia sets a basket of bread at the table's center. "Sit." She says, eyes wide with a curt nod at the chair.

Shaking the blank look off my face, I quickly sit down. I feel myself grow red as Vorstag looks sympathetically at me, the weight of my secret weighing between us. Though they were once my people, the memories of them leave a bitter taste in my mouth. When I try to remember the good, such as my father giving me piggy-back rides and my mother cooing the by my bedside, it becomes poisoned with the evil they did, the evil I did. I see my mother gutting animals alive, their hot blood spraying across an altar, I see my father donning the briarheart headdress and bellowing in camp for revenge upon my mother's death. I see myself standing over that young woman about to cut out her heart.

"The soup is wonderful, lady Sosia." Verulus says in a perky voice, cutting through my stream of self-loathing. "They do not make it like this at Understone Keep. I swear, dust and grit ends up in everything when your home is in the side of a mountain."

Sosia smiles coolly, though speaks with genuine friendliness to the young man. "When you work in the mines all day, you learn to appreciate how nice a clean home can be." Then nodding at the lukewarm pot, "Please, help yourself to more."

The rest of the meal is pretty quiet besides Verulus thanking the couple every other minute. We eat the food quickly, not wanting to overstay our welcome.

Suddenly, the iron faced door flings open, letting in sounds of anguish and hysteria. We all jump to our feet with our hands on our blades, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Except for Verulus, who I see from the corner of my eye fling himself to the floor.

"Pavo!" Skaggi exclaims, as a man manifests in the doorways. "Trolls blood, what happened to you!?" The dark-skinned imperial pants, grabbing the doorway to support himself from falling, the other hand clenched on his side. Blood seeps through his tight fingers and spreads across his dirty miner's uniform.

Pavo staggers forward, "Forsworn…they attacked Kolskeggr. We're the only ones left!" Sosia rushes to their friend and guides him to the bed. "They—they followed us! I'm sorry…"

I'm the first one through the doorframe. Over the rise of a cliff, I see them. About a dozen of the animal bone clad warriors look over, raising their barbed weapons and drawing arrows. They leap down, howling for their daedra and thirsting for blood.

The three of us rush forward, weapons drawn and battle blind. Forsworn or not, these people have made themselves my enemies.

As we clash, a large, bloodied orc bursts from the dark mine, leading two other miners with him.

"There, up on the ridge!" He bellows gesturing to the Forsworn, beginning to go berserk. "Kill the witchmen!" The miners restlessly gather, fear in their eyes and nervously grabbing their pickaxes. Gaining resolve, they join the chaos.

I engage the shaman among the fight. She bares her filed teeth at me, hair and eyes wild, and crouches her lean, loosely clothed body and begins to summon a flame ball spell.

"The Forsworn will claim what is rightfully ours!" She hisses, letting the flame ball fly. It crashes into my ward, flaring harmless tendrils around me.

"A Breton Mage!" She spits in disgust. "You betray your people! You shall die in the name of Hircine!"

I flick my hands out and the ward dissipates. "No," I say, hands sparking, "it's your kind defiles our race."

I shoot the sparks forward and she cringes as they electrocute her bare skin, trying to heal herself. I do not let up, caring little about my magicka reserve running dry. She quails in pain as I approach and I draw my father's blade. Her eyes grow wide and she breathes her last as I slit her throat.

I whirl from her crumbling, blistered body, feeling light in the head. I pull my iron sword from my side, ignoring how it quivers in my palm, and charge the dual blade ravager taking on Vorstag.

"Having fun over there?" He grunts, as he blocks the dual wielder's blows with his great sword.

I slash at the bone covered man as his blades slide off Vorstag's, causing him to fall back and tumble across the rocky ground. "How many times have I've told you not to take on dual wielders with a great sword?" I asl sarcastically as we rush the fallen man. "You always get stuck defending."

"I was doing quite well, thank you." He says, stabbing the man through the abdomen. "They sure don't wear a lot of armor." He says, sliding his blade free. "But that makes it easier for us, I guess."

"They can move easier that way," I say turning from the dead body, "And they rely on the shaman for magical protection and healing. But she's been already taken care of."

We run into the fray of miners who violently hack at the exposed shoulders and chests of the Forsworn fighters. Though none have fallen yet, their miner clothes do little to protect them well, and I can already see red lines of blood soaking through.

"First you, then all of the reach!" One Forsworn calls, brandishing his barbed blade like a stave. Vorstag easily slices him in two. It's a gruesome mess, but a few more fall. Amongst the din of screams and clanging metal, I hear a deep breasted woman shout. "Kill one of us, and three more take their place!"

I turn in horror to see a new line of Forsworn warriors and arches lining the ridge. And an ice spike flying straight at me.

I leap out of the way, but it cuts into my side, crunching through my light armor and sticking painfully in my like an arrow. I gasp inwardly, a cry forming in my throat.

"Saber!" I hear Vorstag yell, panicked from behind, followed by more clashing of metal.

I feel my blood freeze around it and I fall to my knees, hands shaking and hovering over it as I quickly decide what I should do.

I need it out of me.

Breathing heavy, I conjure up flames, quickly melting the ice rod. But I'm not moving fast enough. The burly shaman is boring upon me, a wild and hungry look on her dark face. She brings her hand up, a long icicle forming. And I turn my flames on her.

She screams as she blindly falls back, grabbing at her seared face. A blurred figure launches across my vision and latches onto her staggering form. The figure brings up a knife and slashes the shaman's throat, spraying her blood everywhere.

The shaman falls, revealing a seething Sonia still brandishing the knife. Both her eyes, the good and bad, are wide and wild.

I nearly retch. I remember where I'd seen her before.

She runs to me and pulls out a red flask. "Drink up, soldier," she says as she joins the growing battle. I down the potion quickly, nearly choking due to my shock.

I could never forget those eyes. She was the Nord I was to sacrifice all those years ago.

XXX

The invaders lay scattered across the courtyard. The only casualty on our side was Pavo, who was unable to recover from his injuries. I hold my wound, trying my best to heal it without draining too much energy, and watch as the others drag the dead Forsworn into a pyre.

The Forsworn.

I shudder at the old memories. I thought I'd been freed from their bind over me after I released my father's soul. I spit some blood from my mouth bitterly. Seems Hircine was not done with me yet.

Verulus stood over the dead man's body performing prayers of Arkay to send his soul peacefully to the afterlife. The young priest was pale and I assumed, though he was used to death, that he'd never been around such a macabre scene. Though he'd not helped in the fight, he'd proven himself to the villagers by performing healing magic on the injured. But he'd taken it hard that he could not save Pavo.

Gat, the berserker orc, stood close by him now. There a deep etched frown on his toothy face as he watched the priest sprinkle purple powder across his friend's lifeless body and then set it aflame. "We hired someone to clear them out," Gat rumbles, referring to the Forsworn. "Guess they didn't do a good enough job. Just like skeevers. Kill one and three more take its place."

I walked away, too upset by my own problems to sincerely share their grief.

"Hey, are you alright?" Vorstag was beside me.

"It'll heal." I reply bitterly. "I've been through worse."

"That's not what I meant, Saber," He says softly. "I know this was troubling for you. But remember, you're not one of them".

I look down at my stiff, crossed arms, jaw clenched and trying my best not snap at him. I didn't want his reassuring words right now, but I felt like I hadn't seen him, this side of him, forever and I didn't want to push it away.

"I know. But I was. I was no better than, than this." I gesture back at the burning bodies and mourning miners. "This is why I didn't want to come back to the Reach. No matter how much I try, my past always comes back to haunt me."

"Saber," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't of pushed coming back here, especially since I knew about your history."

"Stop." I say closing my eyes and shrugging him off. "It's not your fault. Hell, it's not even mine." I turn back to the charred Forsworn bodies. "It's theirs."

"Don't do this." Vorstag exasperates.

"Don't do what?" I hiss, nostrils flaring.

"Wage war on them." He answers. "Don't dig back into your past. Just move on with your life. We have a bigger purpose now than killing a bunch of pagan rebels."

I look at Sosia, leaning against her husband, body rigid with hate and pain.

"I'm not doing this for me."