Shadowmere scented blood when they were still a good way from the Falkreath. Athene reigned her in and scolded a while, then realized it would do no good. If the horse had half a chance she'd run through the sanctuary, a spectre of vengeance. So Athene apologized and tied her up near a fort, promising to return as soon as possible.

The glowing red eyes were more hurt than angry. She tried to ignore it and hurried on.

She had no doubt Maro had told the truth. The man had scarpered by the time she'd cut through his soldiers, and even the fact that she'd survived told her what she needed to know: the best of his guards were here, at her sanctuary. They'd gone on ahead and she was too late.

Stop thinking that way, she told herself. What good does it do?

What good would it do to think positively?, her mind snapped right back.

She was going mad. Mad as Cicero. She wouldn't know anything until she saw it. Couldn't know–

Voices carried through the woods. Athene dropped down and listened to the Penitus Oculatus, and realized a whole new layer of hate.

"Is that all of them?"

"I think so. Should we go on in?"

"They can take care of it."

"You afraid?"

"Of a dungeon full of assassins? What's there to be afraid of? Ha ha. Er."

"Yeah, yeah. Well… Maybe we should stay out here. Keep guard in case someone else arrives."

"Good idea."

"What was that?" One of the guards leaned into a bush by the side of the clearing. 'That' had been a stone Athene threw.

The other guard made no sound as he was pulled back out of the clearing, dead in seconds.

"Huh. I guess it was nothing. Hey, I… Hey. Where'd you go?"

The second guard saw Athene coming, but he didn't have time to drawn his sword before he was down.

Festus Krex greeted her at the black door. His body greeted her, pinned to a tree with dozens of arrows, arms up and face grotesque with fear and blood. Athene closed her eyes, gave herself one moment to mourn, and then went for the door.

Someone had told their enemy the password to get in. Again she thought of Cicero, kicked out of the club, abandoning the Night Mother. But the Night Mother was still there, inside–or she had been. Athene had let Cicero live. Was this how he'd repaid her? She still didn't buy it. If nothing else, it made too much sense. If Cicero was going to take his revenge it should seem more… insane.

Through the black door it was an inferno. The heat threatened to melt her armor to her body, curling the ends of her hair and stabbing into her eyes. How long could anything survive in here? Was that it, then? They were all dead?

The sounds of battle beyond the entryway led her on.

She took down two more guards, then saw movement through the flames. A werewolf battled with four guards, and killed three before the last stabbed him in the heart. Athene finished his murderer and checked for signs of life, but Arnbjorn had gone on to Hircine's hunting grounds. This time she didn't give herself a moment to mourn. This time she raced on and found Gabriella's body beside Lis, the woman and the spider both crushed and bloodied.

A shout from the kitchen told her Nazir still lived. For now.

Running through flames, Athene hoped Babette hadn't yet returned. She was also glad she'd given away that particular gift. She felt baked already. With vampire blood she'd be toast.

Nazir had been backed into a corner by the bedrooms. Athene slashed her dagger through his attacker and locked eyes with the Redguard.

"Thank you," he said, sounding oddly calm.

"We've been betrayed."

"I noticed that."

"It wasn't me."

"I believe you. Let's talk about it later, shall we? I miss Hammerfell's warmth, but this is a bit much."

The way she'd come was blocked by flame. They pushed forward through the sleeping area and came to the room with the Night Mother.

"Dammit! There must be a way through," Nazir said.

Athene was looking at the ground. There were three dead Penitus Oculatus, and one other body.

"Any ideas?" Nazir was asking.

No, no ideas. Nothing came to mind because the last body was Veezara. His scales were nearly black and his eyes were slit, seeing nothing but the void. Veezara, her friend. Suddenly issues of trust seemed small. Suddenly the idea of friend was very simple, easy, and lying dead at her feet.

The coffin that held the Night Mother was open. Athene drifted into her mother's embrace and begged for silence and darkness and oblivion.

The coffin slammed shut around her again.