Snow had drifted up against the door to Falion's house, and it took some digging before Athene could fight her way inside. There it was cold, the hearth long unused. Fruit rotted in a bowl on his table. The entrance to the basement where he'd held Athene during her vampirism was hidden again beneath a worn rug.
She'd travelled through the night, so the first thing she did now was shake the dust off the bed and settle in to catch a few hours sleep. The place was so still she felt sure she'd notice if someone came in. Her sleep was ragged but necessary, the smell of apothecary herbs and straw bringing back awful memories that stained her dreams. But when she woke she felt better.
The first thing she saw was the book by Falion's bed. Immortal Blood. She'd never heard of it, so she reached out and started leafing through. It told the story of Movarth Piquine, a scholar of vampires who questioned the anonymous author until it turned out the author himself was a vampire, and fed from him. Grim reading, but it made sense considering Falion's interests. Nothing was revealed about Movarth's fate, but Athene knew from Babette that he lived in the area, now a master vampire with a coven of his own.
If only Falion had known, when he left that book lying around for his apprentice to read, that she would end up in Movarth's lair as undead as the author.
But then, knowing Falion, perhaps he wouldn't have acted any differently.
Athene could not judge Babette for allowing Agni to remain with Movarth. She'd had few options, and it was certainly one of the safer places for the girl to hide until another cure was found. More, Athene had little leverage to judge anyone about anything, considering she was the reason behind Agni's predicament.
She'd fed from the girl and nearly killed her. There, she'd admitted it to herself fully. The guilt that flooded through her was an integral part of her decision at the Nightgate Inn, when she'd realized how poorly suited she was to return Ulfric's axe and start his civil war in earnest.
Loose end number one? Agni. An innocent—or she used to be.
Athene wanted to get out of Falion's before Morthal woke, and before Jonna had a chance to notice and wonder that someone had entered her brother's house. Did Jonna know Falion was dead? Babette had been vague about a lot of things. It didn't matter. The snowdrift outside would give Athene away and she didn't want to answer questions. She scoured the house for anything that might be useful, found a few potions of Cure Disease that hadn't gone off and a silver dagger, and headed out.
An Imperial soldier stood outside the barracks near Highmoon Hall, so Athene went the other way. She walked down the docks until she had to step off through marshland and around the pool that surrounded Morthal. The city was nearly beautiful in early morning light and mist, and it certainly gave her room to move without being seen. No wonder it was infested by vampires.
She remembered the rush of strength she'd felt during her short time as the undead, and it occurred to her it wasn't totally unlike the sensation of wearing the Jagged Crown.
Movath's lair was where Babette had described, a short obvious walk from Morthal and not at all disguised. Bloody remains littered the ground outside, promising even more vicious delights within. That Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone did nothing about this place supported the locals' worries about their safety. That there were any locals remaining spoke volumes about Movarth's control over his coven.
It was this control that Athene had to trust as she readied the silver dagger and stepped into the cave.