.

ROË

Bloodstone Chalice

Castle Volkihar

"About time you came to." Roë immediately recognized the amused voice before she could see who it came from. She'd blacked out after being bitten by Serana's father, the same Serana who was sitting next to her, judging from the direction of the voice.

She opened her eyes, and though she lay on a soft surface, it wasn't a bed. And there were low wooden walls next to her. As if she was in a box.

No, not a box.

When she realized, Roë immediately sat up straight. "I'm in a coffin!"

Serana giggled. "It's a little bit of atmosphere-making from father. He thinks it's more appropriate if we sleep in coffins."

Roë couldn't get out of the ghastly thing fast enough, almost tripping over the wall of the box when she launched herself out of it. "Cack! You call this appropriate?" she snapped. "It's... fucking morbid!"

Serana shrugged. "Hey. We're Vampires."

Roë sat down on the floor and slumped. "No need to remind me."

"Come on," Serana said, rising from her high-backed, padded chair and holding out her hand. "Don't be grumpy. I told you it'll get better, and it will. Don't you feel different now?"

Come to think of it, she did. The empty feeling of deadness wasn't gone, not at all, it was still the same as before, and she still felt sad, melancholic and forlorn, but her body felt different. Even more powerful than before. It was as if she could feel the blood circulating through her veins, even though her heart no longer beat. It was a feeling of threads of throbbing power flowing through her, so strong it almost hurt.

"Now you've got our eyes too," Serana remarked. "Makes you look a lot more impressive."

"I don't want to look impressive," Roë said quietly. "I want to look alive."

"Oh, stop belly-aching. You just need to pull through in the beginning, and then it gets easier."

Even though she should have felt furious at Serana's condescending minimalization of her feelings, the other woman's confidence and cheer put her at rest. She didn't know how Serana did it, but she always had a calming, soothing effect on Roë, and Roë was glad for it. Glad she had a friend.

"My father wants to see us as soon as you're feeling better," Serana said, still sitting casually on the padded chair, but Roë could tell she was more tense than she wanted to appear. "Probably to give you the opportunity to thank him for his gift."

"Let me guess," Roë said with a sigh, sitting down on the chair opposite Serana's (this one wasn't padded). "I get to thank him by doing something ridiculously dangerous for him?"

"Not necessarily," Serana said. "My father said his gift was a reward for returning me, and he meant it. He's a lot of things, but what he is not is a man who doesn't keep his word."

"At least," Roë said, fully aware that she was being a cynic, "not until it would serve his plans to do so."

Serana only shrugged. "He's a pragmatic man. Come on, let's go see him. He'll probably offer you some kind of proposition, and he'll try to make it sound like the best offer you've ever had, but apart from embellishing the deal, he won't force you. You're free to refuse." She gave Roë an urgent look. "Remember that. You're free to refuse."

"Right."

Lord Harkon sat on his throne of stone, in that slightly slumped pose that all nobles in Skyrim seemed to adopt when sitting on their chairs. He cracked a wide smile when he saw them. "Ah. My wonderful daughter returns, as does her saviour. Tell me child, how does it feel? Different from the muddy paste that ran through your veins before, no?"

Roë couldn't understand how the man could spend his days sitting on this stone chair, in this dismal, gray throne room, the only colour coming from the red fountains sending their liquid up through their spouts, and back down into rippling basins. Roë wondered if it was blood, and realized it probably was. It certainly smelled metallic enough. It was another thing she noticed: even though she no longer breathed, she was still, somehow, able to smell things, and even more sharply than before.

"It feels... more potent, yes," Roë said quietly.

Lord Harkon set a bout of laughter free. "More potent, indeed. Believe me, child, you will see and feel the extent of its potency yet, and it will amaze you."

Roë felt a boot gently nudge her in the shin, and when she looked at Serana, her friend gave her a compelling look. Oh, right!

"Lord Harkon, I would thank you for the gift you have bestowed on me," she said, not really meaning it. No amount of gifts could take her emptiness, her deadness, away. But she had to act the part, she was at the court of a de facto king after all. And even with all the deadness inside, his charisma didn't entirely miss its effect on her. He was charismatic, magnetic even, which was probably one of the reasons he'd gathered such a big coven here, all standing ready to do his bidding.

His smile widened, his ego clearly appeased. "It was your reward for returning my daughter, child. No gratitude is necessary." Except it was. "Now, for the reason I summoned you here. I would make you a proposition, if you are interested?"

Dismissing it out of hand was certainly not advised, even if she had no intention of taking the opportunity. "Uh... I'm listening?"

"Perhaps my daughter has already told you what we are setting in motion?"

Roë briefly looked to Serana, whose face was unreadable, and then back to Harkon. "No, Lord Harkon. I... all I know is that Ser... Lady Serana needed an escort back to her father."

"Good. It would be unwise to reveal too much before we have even started."

"Not to mention the fact that I can't tell her anything if you don't tell me anything," Serana interrupted sourly.

"All in good time, my lovely daughter," Harkon brushed her aside. "Our more immediate goal is the restoration of an old artefact. The Bloodstone Chalice."

Serana gave a humourless chuckle. "Should have known that thing would be involved at some point."

"Indeed." He turned back to Roë. "It needs to be refilled. But not just with any old slop. It's an errand that might prove... dangerous."

She didn't care for any errands, dangerous or no. She really wanted to crawl inside a cave and lament for years and years. "And if I refuse?" she asked, making sure to err on the side of caution.

It was unnecessary, because Harkon simply smiled broadly and said, "Then that is your right. You owe me nothing. My gift has brought you into the fold, but it was merely a gratitude for returning my precious daughter to me. You are not indebted to me in any way."

Roë wasn't an idiot. He was clearly laying on the guilt as thickly as he dared. By saying she owed him nothing, he was obviously trying to exploit the magnanimity-angle as much as possible. Because how could you refuse a man who so selflessly gave you supposedly immense power? Funny thing was, it actually worked, to an extent. Even though she knew it was manipulation, she really did feel compelled to accept the offer. Still, though, whatever these Vampires were planning, Roë felt it would only lead to more monstrous things, so she said, "I again thank you for your gift, Lord Harkon, but... sadly, I must decline." She didn't recall where she'd become so habituated to speaking formally... maybe that had come with the gift too?

"Your response saddens me, child, but I am nothing if not an understanding father. Will you stay for a while longer, though? Time is the only thing we have an eternity of."

"I uh... I'm sure I don't have to leave just yet."

"Good. Good. In that case, my daughter, you will have to complete the task alone. Unless you'd like a retainer with you?"

Wait, Serana was going too?

"No thank you, father," Serana said cynically. "I trust your 'retainers' as far as I can throw them." The temerity she said it with made Roë keep utterly quiet, but Harkon merely laughed.

"Indeed. Connivers, the lot of them, with some notable exceptions. Orthjolf and Vingalmo are especially treacherous." He spoke to both of them when he said, in a low voice, "You would do best to be wary of them. They will surely not welcome your return."

"I... don't understand?" Roë dared to ask.

He leaned back on his throne. How the cold stone wasn't painful to sit on, Roë didn't know. "Child, Ortholf and Vingalmo are the only ones in this court about whom I can say with certainty that they'd rather sit on this throne themselves. They may look like grovellers, but I did not live for thousands of years to be fooled by their boot-licking. And they will be loathe to see their perceived positions as my right hands compromised." With a chuckle, he added, "Blood, after all, runs thicker."

Serana simply looked away.

"Perhaps..." Roë said, not sure why she was saying it, "... Serana could use my services for a little longer."

She couldn't read Serana's face, but Harkon stepped off his throne and spread his arms wide, a broad grin on his face. "Good. I knew you'd change your mind." Suddenly turning grave, he took Roë by the shoulder, leading her outside, with Serana following. "Remember, you will be travelling with what is the most valuable to me. And I know you will do everything in your power to keep her safe."

Roë did not misunderstand the warning.

"Speak to Garan Marethi. He can usually be found in the library, or the alchemy laboratory. He will provide the details of your labour."

"Understood, Lord Harkon."

"Serve me well, child," Harkon said finally, pulling her closer like a dear friend, "and all the glory of our kind shall be yours."

Roë couldn't possibly imagine anything about 'this kind' being even remotely glorious.

Harkon led them both outside, and said, in the doorway, "I have the utmost confidence in your success." With that, he closed the door.

"I'll bet he does," Serana said bitterly. Then, to Roë, "Don't be fooled by his caring father act. He's up to something, and he needs us, well... me, to do it."

"He... does seem to genuinely care for you," Roë attempted.

Serana's blazing eyes looked into Roë's. "Yes, I'm sure he cared for me during those thousands of years I was sealed away somewhere."

She had a point. But maybe time proceeded differently for him than for others. She'd heard theories that if people could live forever, eventually the years would pass at the speed of a blink. But maybe that was just blatherskite. "Look, let's just go see that Garan uh..."

"Marethi. Yes, let's." She looked back at the double doors. "I don't have a good feeling about this, though."

It was strange to see her so heavy-hearted. Seemed her bubbly personality had its limits. Roë didn't think it'd be good to push the issue, and they went back to the main hall, Serana telling her that, "the alchemy lab is on the west side."

In the main hall, two Vampires were bickering, exchanging words in loud and aggressive voices, right in the middle of the hall. Roë recognized the two, and remembered Harkon's words. Ortholf and Vingalmo. The two toadies, the schemers. They weren't being so subtle about it now.

As soon as they noticed Serana, they fell dead quiet.

"Please," Serana said with false amiability. "Do carry on, don't stop your conniving on my account."

"Lady Serana," the Nord Vampire immediately apologized, "Forgive us for our... vehemence."

"We were only in disagreement on how to serve our Lord best," the Elven Vampire added. By the Aedra, they might as well crawl on their bellies with how thick they laid on the grovelling.

"There's no need to quarrel," Serana said, still the embodiment of patient nobility. "Sit, drink. Our Lord will know what is best."

Bowing almost ludicrously deep, the two sycophants retreated to their seats at the table.

Serana crossed the hall, Roë in tow, to the alchemy laboratory. As they climbed the stairs, they passed the young Vampire they'd seen the day before. She was leaning against the banister, her arms crossed, and looked down at the hall.

When Serana and Roë passed, the young girl said, in her nasal and curiously accented voice, "I wish Orthjolf and Vingalmo would just get it over with and kill each other already. I'm getting tired of listening to them." Hastily, she added, "Your ladyships."

"I don't blame you. I'm already tired of it," Serana said, climbing the stairs, "and I've been here a day."

The girl chuckled in acknowledgment, then said to Roë, "Oh, Lady Roë?"

"Yes?" Roë tried not to show her surprise at being addressed so formally.

"Lord Harkon suggested you see Hestla, in the armoury. She has clothes more befitting your station."

"My st...?" Roë asked

"Thank you, Fura," Serana interrupted her, with kindness but definitively. "For your service."

"Of course." She went back to surveying the main hall, and Serana and Roë climbed the last step.

"Is she... making fun of me?" Roë asked quietly when she was sure the girl could no longer hear.

"Fura?" Serana asked, surprised. "No, she doesn't seem the type from the few chats I had with her while you were under. Why?"

"Just... calling me Lady and all."

Serana's clear, beautiful laugh rang out. "No, Roë. She's being respectful."

Roë blinked. "But... I'm not a Lady?"

"If you're ready to look in a mirror, you'll see that you are now."

Right. She still had that to look forward to. She'd look terrible, like all these Vampires here. Like death's heads, skulls with desiccated skin stretched over them. Deep grooves and bloodless colour.

"Oh don't give me that look," Serana said with a smile. "Do I look ugly?"

Roë had to admit that no, she did not. She was certainly more beautiful than Roë could ever hope to be. "No, Serana," she said, wanting to be jealous but only being able to feel her own inadequacy. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Oh you," Serana said, only slightly embarrassed. "Anyway, you might get a surprise if you see yourself." She took a mirror off the wall (didn't Vampires hate mirrors? Probably another fairytale) and handed it to her. "Go on, take a look."

Roë took the mirror, a gold-framed thing, as tacky as everything else in this castle. Her fingers didn't feel how cold it was, because they were equally so. "I... I'm not sure..."

"Go on. Look. You'll be surprised."

Roë hoped Serana wasn't just playing with her, or trying to give her a sharp shock to confront her with her hideous face, or anything of that nature.

"Come on. Trust me."

Roë closed her eyes. Even taking a deep breath was something which no longer had any meaning, but she did it anyway. Then she held up the mirror and opened her eyes.

What she saw would have taken her breath away if she still had any. She wasn't the gaunt, monstrous creature she'd expected to be, but still herself, except that her skin was like Serana's: pale but smooth and free of any wrinkles, scars or birthmarks. And her eyes, Y'ffre, her eyes. They too were like Serana's now: black orbs set with blazing molten fire.

The mirror slipped from her fingers and clanged into shards on the floor.

A few Vampires briefly turned their heads, but quickly resumed what they were doing. It probably wasn't the first mirror that had been shattered in this castle.

"My eyes... they..."

Serana nodded, with what looked like a hint of pride in her face. "It's the gift from my father. You're not just any Vampire now. You're... a noble Vampire, is the best way to put it. One of two."

"You mean three?" Roë asked, getting her faculties back.

"No," Serana said. "Only two Vampires have the power you have. You and my father."

"So what's... different?"

"The thing my father became? When he bestowed his gift on you? I can't change into that. Never wanted that power either."

Wait, what was she saying? "Serana, do you mean...?"

"Yes. You can. Harkon is the Vampire Lord. And now you are the Vampire Lady."

Wait, did that mean... "I'm not supposed to marry him, am I?"

"No, no. Technically," Serana added, "you're slightly above me in station." With a grin, she clarified, "but only slightly. And only technically. And I'd be really miffed if you acted the part."

There wasn't a hair on Roë's head that thought about acting all superior to Serana. To her, Serana was still the high-born noble lady, and she was just... some worthless dreg from the Guard. "Don't worry, I'm fully aware of what I am."

"What you are," Serana said dead seriously, taking her by the shoulders, "is a kind, pure-hearted person. Who cares which womb you were plopped out of? And I'll tell you something else. What you are, is special. Don't you ever doubt that. My father saw it, and I see it. You're not just a nobody who was in the right place, at the right time. My father may be manipulative and overbearing, but believe me, if he sees potential in you, it's there."

"But – "

"Don't think for a second," Serana went on, her eyes still locked with Roë's, "that my father would have given you his gift if he hadn't seen the same thing I see. He would just have thanked you and sent you on your way. At best."

What was she talking about? "What potential? I'm just a girl from the Guard. A faceless uniform."

"No, Roë," Serana said, gentler now. "That's what you were. What you are right now, is the only person I know I can trust. The only person who wouldn't abuse the power you have."

"Well, I don't much care about the power." Carefully, and seriously nervous, she said, "But I do care about you."

She did. It was scary to realize, but it did gave her a small sliver of good feeling. She was still able to care about someone. And she really did care about this charismatic and impossibly beautiful person, who had every bit of the magnetism and people skills her father had, but who didn't use it to get her way, who didn't turn every conversation into a game of wits.

She dreaded the answer.

Thankfully, Serana smiled and said, "I've come to appreciate you too, Roë." Come to appreciate. It wasn't bad, but part of her had hoped for a complete reciprocation of the feeling. Because she needed to be cared about right now. But maybe that was just Serana's way of talking. Must be. "And I'm sure we'll work very well together."

"Well, if I'll be your bodyguard, will you be my long lost pal?" She joked.

Serana smiled warmly. "I already know I'll consider you a friend, given enough time. Come on, let's go see Garan Marethi. He's the alchemist of the castle. My father says he's adequately trustworthy."

"It must be a sad life if you have to constantly rank the people around you in terms of trustworthiness."

Serana nodded as they walked to the west wing. "Which is why I don't aspire to such lofty heights."

"M-hm," Roë said, adding an expression from her homeland. "High trees catch a lot of wind."

"Well put."

"Lady Serana, Lady Roë," a Dunmer Vampire greeted them when they came into the alchemy laboratory. It wasn't really a laboratory as such, more an abattoir. The body of a troll lay on a long wooden table, cut open, the insides stuck in jars and neatly labelled. Like every other room in the castle, the laboratory was lit by candles and torches, which the Vampires all used for lighting even though fire was far from their best friend. It was also 'beautified' with brightly coloured rugs and gold and silver decorations on the tables and cupboards. The colours were sharp, but it was apparently what the Vampires did to make the place at least a bit colourful. Roë didn't think it helped.

"Hello Garan," Serana said back. "Lord Harkon said to see you concerning the Bloodstone Chalice?"

The Dunmer was tall and gaunt, with a rust-coloured goatee and hair of the same colour tied into a tail on top of his head. The colour of his hair contrasted strangely with his ashen skin. Unlike Serana and Roë, and like the other Vampires here, he bore the monstrous aspect of Vampirism, sallow cheeks and stretched, leathery skin. "Indeed. I shall have to fetch it. Shall we?"

Serana nodded and the Dunmer Vampire took them back into the main hall, where they came across Orthjolf and Vingalmo, once again bickering, though quietly this time. When they noticed the other Vampire taking Serana and Roë somewhere, they immediately fixed their eyes upon him.

"Oh dear," Serana said quietly. "They probably have objections."

"So?" Roë said back. "Aren't you, well, you know?"

"Yes. But that just makes them hate me... well, us now, even more. They won't openly move against us, but... well."

"Right."

Orthjolf and Vingalmo, indeed, approached and came to stand in front of Garan Marethi.

"Excuse us," the Dunmer said, irritated by the obstruction.

"Care to tell us where you're leading our noble lady, Garan?" Vingalmo demanded to know. Roë didn't miss the singular use of the word 'lady'.

"I need to fetch the Bloodstone Chalice. Now can you just – "

Both Orthjolf and Vingalmo looked extremely interested. "Is that so?" Orthjolf asked. "The Chalice? Why?"

"What are you up to, Garan?" Vingalmo added. It seemed terribly respectless of them to confront the escort of their nobles so boldly, but Serana said nothing and let it play out.

"Calm yourself," Marethi simply said, not impressed. "It's nothing you should worry about. Lord Harkon's orders. Lady Serana and Lady Roë intend to fill the Chalice."

"Is that so?" Vingalmo asked, taking such a keen interest that it simply couldn't be anything else than suspicious.

"Yes, Vingalmo," Garan confirmed. "Our ladyships are off to Redwater Den."

"I see," Orthjolf said with a faint grin. "Do be careful, my ladies."

"Indeed," Vingalmo echoed the sentiment. "Best of luck."

They bowed simultaneously, as if rehearsed. It seemed Serana was right. These two would put their petty rivalry aside to sabotage the, to them unwelcome, new players.

As they walked back to their seats, Serana said, "You know, they might as well just have said 'and we will totally, certainly, absolutely stab you in the back'."

"Yes," Roë agreed. "They might be good at politics, but they're so transparent it's comical."

"Forgive me, my ladies," Garan said. "Perhaps I shouldn't have – "

"No, no," Serana assured him. "It's good they know where we're going. If they're going to pull a rotten trick on us, better that we know when and where."

"I see." Marethi didn't say anything more about it, probably because he knew how relieved he should be that his loose lips didn't get him into more trouble. "This way, if you please?"

Set in a niche in the far wall of the main hall, a chalice was set on a pedestal. It was larger than a regular drinking utensil, and looked to be made of dark gray granite, set with a pattern of jutting spikes and tips, even the rim. It was impressive, but didn't look very functional. The pedestal and the chalice upon it were secured by a portcullis.

"This is it," Garan announced. "The Bloodstone Chalice."

"Lord Harkon said it had to be filled with something special?" Serana inquired as the Dunmer fished in his pockets for the key to the mechanism.

"Indeed," he said, still checking his pockets. He finally produced a ring of small keys, and inserted one in the keyhole next to the portcullis. One turn and the gate clanged up, giving access to the chalice. "It requires water from a place called Redwater Den."

"As we heard when you told Ortholf and Vingalmo," Roë couldn't resist pointing out.

"Eh... Indeed," the Dunmer said, clearly embarrassed. "Deep in Redwater Den, you'll find the Bloodspring. It requires water from the spring. Once that's done, the blood of a powerful Vampire must be added to it."

"Define powerful?" Serana inquired.

"Any non-brute should do," Marethi answered. "The Lore is somewhat vague."

"Well, we'll see about that when we're back," Serana said.

"Very well. I must warn you though..." Marethi said, wringing his hands. "Redwater Den isn't exactly populated by... the more reputable members of human society."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Roë said. The power coursing through her veins told her she knew she could handle any humans in the way. Humans. No longer like her.

"I'm certain you will be," the Dunmer said with a shallow bow. "Now if I may be excused? The troll cadaver will stink up the castle if I don't get rid of it quickly."

"Of course," Serana said. "Thank you Garan. We'll figure out what to do with the blood. We'll give some of ours if necessary."

"Speaking of which," Roë said, "I... think I'm getting..."

"Not now," Serana said, gentle but clear. "Let us not keep you from your troll, Garan."

Another curt bow, and the Dunmer walked off.

Serana turned to Roë. "Hungry? Sorry to quiet you, but better not mention it in front of the others."

Roë had postponed it as long as she could, the need to admit she was starving. She knew what she needed but hated that she needed it. "I think I need... yes."

"We have thralls in the dungeon for easy feeding, but... I don't know if you're ready to feed from a human yet. You might lose control and go too far. Even though they're thralls, you might still kill them during feeding, and well, I already told you why that might be bad."

"Right."

"Don't worry, I know what to do." She turned back towards the main hall and asked a Redguard Vampire, "Namasur? Do you still have some bottled blood?"

The Vampire rose and bowed. "Certainly, Lady Serana." He strode off towards the kitchens and came back with a pouch that held vials of red liquid. Pride was unmistakable on his face when he held the bag out to Serana and said, "There's plenty for all."

"Thank you Namasur." She turned back to Roë and informed her, "Namasur even keeps the blood at temperature to make it feel more... like the real thing."

Roë held up a vial of the clotted red liquid, and even though her stomach should have turned at the sight, she unstoppered it and knocked back the entire vial, the warm, sticky blood gulping down her throat as she swallowed over and over. She didn't even speak when she took the other vial Serana held out and emptied it the same way, disgusted with herself but unable to stop.

The blood spread through her body like a warm, soothing flush, and then the moment of bliss was gone again.

Serana stood grinning at her. "Wait 'til you feed off a live victim. Namasur's blood is excellently prepared, but there's nothing like a pumping, living artery."

"I must admit," the Redguard said, "Lady Serana speaks the truth. Nothing can compare to a living victim."

Roë figured that was why it was so dangerous at first. If this already gave such a rush, imagine what living blood might do. The tip of her tongue caressed her incisors without her realizing, but Namasur picked up on it, laughing loudly. "See? The very thought of it is stimulating."

They thanked the Redguard for the vials, taking a few with them after he insisted, saying it was 'for the road'.

The night was nearing its end, Roë realized as she saw the slivers of dawn's light fall in through the windows. The journey to Redwater Den would have to wait.

Roë refused to sleep in a coffin, despite Serana's facetious insistence and repeated joking insults as to her stage of infancy, just lying down on an old canopy bed in the corner of one of the old, dusty rooms no one ever used. Serana placed a blood vial on the night stand, "in case you get hungry." Briefly, she had the urge to ask Serana to keep her company, but she didn't. Serana had simply said she'd come to wake her in the evening and wished her a calm sleep, then left.

Despite all the melancholy and sadness whirling around in her head now that she was alone again and no longer distracted by people talking to her, her eyelids fell closed and she drifted into sleep, dreamless, as it would be for the rest of eternity.

The first thing she saw was Serana, sitting on the bed and looking down on her. The first thing she felt was emptiness. Another day in unlife.

"Hey there," Serana said gently. "It's a lovely night tonight. Lots of snow and ice."

"Great," Roë groaned. Oh how she missed that feeling, that urge to turn roll over one more time, wrap herself in the blankets and enjoy that state between waking and sleep. There was none of that now. Just pop!, awake.

Serana held up the vial, empty except a few red dots of blood. "Good thing I put this here."

Roë didn't even remember gulping it down during the day, but she must have.

"Come on, fearless bodyguard. Let's go make my father proud."

Roë doubted that any bodyguard could protect Serana better than she could protect herself. "Right. I'm ready. I guess."

They passed by a Vampire named Hestla, as Lord Harkon had suggested, and the Nord armourer took her measurements, telling her she'd have some better protection ready for her in a few days. She was helpful, if a bit sour.

Orthjolf and Vingalmo were nowhere to be seen when they left, but Garan, Namasur and Fura did wish them good luck, as did the Vampire who'd first fetched Lord Harkon when they'd walked in the first time. Modhna, Roë believed her name was. They all acted with clear deference toward them, but it didn't feel insincere. Then again, traitors and backstabbers always seemed sincere.

As they left, Serana imparted another piece of advice. "By the way, Roë?"

"Mm?"

"You look almost completely human now, and while you're like this, humans can't even see your eyes, apart from getting a vague sensation that something's wrong. But if you ever want to terrify a human, or a group of humans, you can always let the illusion fall and return to the look you had before. You know, the monstrous look."

"You mean... this is an illusion?"

"No," Serana said, weighing her words. "Not really an illusion. Just... another aspect."

Roë didn't want to think about it, didn't want to feel sad that this regal exterior was just a façade. She was too tired to grieve over it.

They took the boat back to the mainland, this time both of them rowing, and from there to Redwater Den, in the Southeast of Skyrim. It was a long trek, and they had to stop and rest several times, feeding off animals to keep their strength up. Serana insisted it was too dangerous, and that she'd show solidarity by not feeding on human blood. The animal blood sustained them, but it didn't give the rush that human blood did. Roë, despite herself, felt more and more anxious to know what it felt like. During the walks, Serana imparted all the advice she could, about Vampires, about Castle Volkihar and the inhabitants she'd shallowly gotten to know. At a certain moment, when they were walking in the faint light of dusk, after rising from their sleep in a cave, the conversation wandered to the spread of Vampirism and how it was passed on.

"Serana. Who made you a Vampire? Your father?"

Serana hesitated to answer. "In a way, yes."

She usually wasn't so evasive, giving answers to all Roë's questions without inhibition, but when this topic came up, it seemed she didn't want to disclose much. Still, Roë asked, "In a way?"

"Yes. He didn't claw or bite me, or otherwise infect me, but... it involved a ritual. Molag Bal was involved."

"Molag Bal? Like, the Daedric Prince?"

"Yes," Serana said, stopping and setting her blazing eyes on Roë. "The Daedric prince of domination and enslavement. The King of Rape. That Molag Bal. So you can imagine the ritual wasn't really... a suitable topic for the dinner table."

The memory looked like it summoned immense pain, Serana's good cheer gone, replaced by a tormented expression. "Was it... I mean... did it..." Roë cursed her own fumbling.

"It was degrading," Serana said curtly, her eyes flashing. Her lower lip trembled, in anger or grief, Roë couldn't say. "Beyond degrading. And that's all you need to know. And before you try, let me make it clear that you are not allowed to ask any further."

"I'm sorry," Roë immediately apologized, distraught at seeing her friend in such pain. "I didn't mean to – "

"I don't care what you meant to do. Just... don't ever mention it, or ask about it again, got that?"

"I... yes. Sorry."

Serana sighed, realizing she'd been undeservedly rotten. "Look, Roë. I know you mean well, but not everything needs to be talked about. Some things just need to be... pushed deep down. So deep they can never surface again."

Roë knew it was stupid thing to say while she said it. "I'd... really like to hold you."

A feeble smile was all she got. "I don't need to be held. But thanks for the offer."

Roë swallowed a remark that maybe it wasn't about what Serana needed, and just said, "Alright. But if... well, I'm here for you, okay?" It sounded so disgustingly clichéd and sappy.

"I know. Let's move on."

On they moved, further southwest, to warmer climes which made the night feel a little less like an unending torrent of ice cold needles, until at last, they stood in front of a run-down hunting shack, Roë looking over Serana's shoulder at the map she held. "This is it. Pretty sure."

"This?" Roë asked. It was hard to believe. Nestled against the mountain ridge stood a collection of wooden planks, which could, with a lot of effort, be called a ruined hut. Weeds crept up against the crooked and rotten planks, and a big web of dry rot had crawled across the side wall, looking utterly repulsive as dry rot always did. Even in the pale pre-dawn light, the dry rot looked a deep rust coloured red, like tendrils of putrefied blood. "It's a dump."

"It is," Serana said, her eyes mischievous. "But you and your keen Bosmer sense navigated, so it's only your own map-reading that you're drawing into question right now."

"Hmph. Well in that case, I'm absolutely, one hundred percent certain that this is the place."

"And you're probably right. Look, over there." Serana pointed at the side of the shack. Half-buried in the weeds sat a dozing sentry, wearing only dirty breeches, his back to the rock wall. Even from the distance they were at, Roë could clearly see his emaciated frame and the dark rings around his eyes. She'd seen that look before, when she'd been part of a squad sent to crack down on a skooma smuggling ring, back in the Guard. This was a user, the open sores on his gaunt ribcage told her enough.

"Looks like a user," Roë said to Serana. "This is probably a skooma den."

"A what?"

Roë looked back at Serana. "Skooma den? You know, a place where people drop skooma and then spend a few hours with their heads in the clouds?" Then she remembered Serana had been in stasis for so many years. "Wait, there probably wasn't a thing like skooma back in your day, was there?"

"I... don't know. There were addictive substances, this one probably just had a different name."

"Yes, well. Is it alright if I take the lead on this? This... isn't the first magical fairy land I go inside."

Serana grinned. "Weren't shy of a few scoops of powder back in the day, were you?"

"Tch, no," Roë replied, annoyed. "I took down a few rings, back when I was in the Guard." With a sigh, she added, "so long ago." She'd give anything to be back there now, walking pointless patrols and being stuck in the squad chief position, without any opportunity for promotion. At least she walked those pointless beats in the sun.

"The lead's all yours, fearless bodyguard."

"That's lady fearless bodyguard to you."

Serana grinned. "What did I say about being well miffed if you pulled rank?"

"Your fault for being sarcastic. Alright, I'll go see about getting us inside. Maybe it's best if you wait out of sight?"

"Sure. Might want to hide that shortsword on your belt though. The one with the emblem of the Guard?"

"No, no. I've got a plan."

Roë walked up to the dozing sentry. He was far away in dreamland, because he didn't even wake when she was two metres away. "Oi," Roë called out, startling the skooma-hound awake. He fumbled for his spear and when he'd gotten hold of it, he got to his feet, standing in front of her, his legs wide and his spear raised.

"What do you want?"

Roë crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think I want?"

"I... don't know," the man stammered. He even had sores on his head, visible through his short-shaven hair. "I'm just a hunter, living uh... on my own out here."

"Look, let's not make this more embarrassing that it already is. I'm looking to buy."

"Buy... buy what?"

Ugh, these guys were always so stupidly tight-lipped and evasive. "I thought I said I didn't want this to get more embarrassing? Skooma. I want to buy skooma."

"I... I got no idea what you're talkin' about," the man kept denying. Roë saw his eyes go to the hilt of her shortsword. Good, let him see it. All part of the plan.

"Look, I'm telling you again, cut the theatrics. I'm looking to buy skooma, so let me inside to talk to the seller."

"You're fuckin' stupid if you think I'm letting you in. You're from the Guard. I don't know which one, but that's a Guard emblem right there." His eyes went to her sword.

"Yes, so? Don't tell me you never deal with the Guard. The only reason you people operate is because we let you."

"How... how do I know you're not just going to arrest me?"

Roë rolled her eyes. "Because I'm not here with a small army, you dimwit. Now what's it going to be? Are you going to let me in, or do I have to shove that spear up your ass and explain to your boss that you tried to stop him from earning piles of gold?"

That did the trick. The sentry looked uncertain for a moment, then caved. "Fine. But one wrong move and I – "

"Yeah, yeah. Got the buyer with me."

"Uh... sure. Whatever."

She turned and motioned for Serana to come over. When she did so, Roë repeated, loudly enough, "This is the buyer. You don't insult her by talking to her directly. You talk to me, and me alone. That clear?"

The man made an irritated face, as if he was angry at being woken up. "Shyeah, sure man."

With that, he led them inside, opening the door, that nearly fell out of its hinges, with a key that looked like it was made during Serana's time period. They probably could have broken down the door with a single finger, but this was preferable. The sentry was a worthless wretch of a man, but that didn't mean that dull rusty spear couldn't find its way to someone's sternum. She'd learned that very well in the Guard. Cocky young Guardsmen just out of training, thinking they'd teach some petty criminal wretch some manners, because what danger was a skooma-addled sod armed with only a rusty hunting knife? They didn't understand that an enemy with nothing to lose was the most dangerous one of all, and no amount of bravado could protect you against a knife in the kidneys. One of them, a young lad, had even been stabbed by a beggar who'd used an old arrow as a weapon, sticking him in the bowels. The infection hadn't killed him, but from then on, everyone heard him moan in agony every time he sat on the shitter.

So no, this was much safer. They could always see what had to be done once they were inside.

"Weapons sheathed, man," the sentry said. "No trouble."

"Yeah, yeah." Roë would have no trouble unsheathing her weapon fast enough if she did want to cause trouble, and the crossbow on her back would be ready even faster. As for Serana, Roë suspected she didn't even need a weapon to send the inhabitants of this entire den to skooma heaven.

The sentry led them down a hatch and through the den, and it looked every bit as bad as the ones Roë had seen before. Addicts lay on cots, groaning or mumbling to themselves, knocked off their feet on skooma. Some had expressions of utter bliss, but most, the ones with the biggest sores, bore faces of agony. As if their drug hurt them more than it gave them relief. Which it probably did. Roë had to look away when she saw a bare-breasted Breton girl lying completely sedated, with a three-year-old child cradled in her arm.

They walked the gauntlet of misery in silence and were brought before a woman who sat behind a counter, locked and gated. There was only a small slit through which product and gold could be transferred. She had half a mind to just shove the business end of the sword through the slit, but they had to be cautious. These places were usually well guarded, even though there were no guards in sight.

The dealer was Dunmer from the looks of her, her hair worn up in two messy, tied-together braids. Despite the whore-like clothing she wore, she didn't look like a user. There were no sores, no dark rings around the eyes. It made sense. Never get high on your own supply.

"What do you want?" the woman grunted, setting aside the stack of septims she was about to weigh. Behind her was a bowl filled with skooma... but it had an odd red colour, not the crystal white it usually had. This probably had to do with the liquid from the spring inside the cave that Garan Marethi had spoken of. This scum had actually built a skooma den on top of the Bloodspring.

"What do you think?" Roë said back. "Buy, of course."

"How much?"

"Well," Roë said, "We'd have to see how your product is made, first." It would be a good opportunity to get to the Bloodspring.

"Out of the question." Oh. There went that plan.

Still, Roë insisted, "They told me this red stuff was good, but I'm not passing it to our buyer here unless I know what's in it."

"Are you deaf?" the dealer snapped. "Buy or get your well-groomed asses out of here."

In a way, the dealer gave Roë what she wanted. Without another word, she drew her sword and stuck it through the slit, impaling the dealer, cracking her sternum and puncturing her lungs and heart. Nailed against the cupboards behind her, the dealer opened her mouth, gasping for breath, and then her eyes glassed over. As she saw the woman die, Roë realized this was the better outcome. For all the lives this wretch had ruined.

"H... hey now," the sentry shouted, but before he could bring his spear to bear, Serana made a swift, almost nonchalant movement with her hand, and the air around her fingers coalesced into a viciously sharp icicle, which flashed towards him, striking him in the shoulder, tearing the flesh open and severing the tendons, blood spraying against the far wall as the icicle followed through and shattered.

"Out," Serana simply said, pointing toward the exit. The sentry, thankfully for him, nodded his head with a sullen expression, his right arm cradling his right, and lurched to the exit.

"That was humane," Roë remarked.

"He's a victim as much as anyone here," Serana said, sweeping her hand over the addicts.

"Unlike this one," Roë spat as she looked back at the dealer, now slumped to the ground in a pool of blood, her dead face still surprised. The sight made her body scream with hunger, so she went around the booth, cracked open the lock with her sword, and dragged the body out, sinking her teeth into it to slurp out the last cooling mouthfuls, crushing the larynx between her teeth. She closed her eyes, feeling the tiny wave of euhopria and swallowed.

In a way, they were no different from the addicts here. Always chasing the next rush.

"There's some blood on the walls you can lick off?" Serana said with a grin, pointing to the spatter made when the ice bolt had torn the sentry's shoulder open.

"No thanks," Roë said, wiping her chin. "Addict blood. I bet it's tainted to the point of poisonous."

"Probably," Serana muttered. "Though there are Vampires who explicitly chase addicts and only feed off them. The rush of living blood isn't enough for them."

"That... sounds disgusting."

"It is. Now, to the spring. I'll bet it's past this locked door."

Roë was already going through the pockets of the dealer, and fished out a small key. She held it out to Serana, who took it, and then loaded her pockets with gold. When Serana gave her a questioning look, she said, "Hey, your father has to pay for his tacky furniture somehow, right?"

Serana snickered, then opened the door. "This goes further down. Best stay quiet."

They crept forward, down a narrow hewn staircase, and at the end, they found themselves on a circular balcony overlooking a large cave room. Two figures stood in the middle, one tall and regal, the other hunched and submissive. They threw long shadows, standing next to an illuminated spring that had red water bubbling up inside of it.

"Lord Venarus," the smaller figure asked, "With your permission, I would add slightly less of the spring to the skooma. It seems to have gained a bit in potency."

"Ugh," the taller figure grunted. "I wish we could depend on this damn spring not to fluctuate all the time."

"So would I, Lord Venarus."

"Very well, go ahead. Too much and the skooma turns bad anyway."

"My lord," the servant asked meekly. "It... seems somewhat strange to me that you don't simply drink the water?"

The tall man shrugged and said, "It's not actual blood. Looks like it, but it isn't. It gives people who drink it a powerful rush, but it also gets you pretty messed up. It's some kind of profaned spring, apparently. That's why we're putting it in the skooma."

"Ah."

"So go ahead, take the spring water ratio down a notch. Not too little though, we don't want to end up with weak skooma."

"Certainly, lord."

"Now then, I must return topside. It's calm at this hour, but that doesn't mean I should leave our dealer unguarded."

"As you wish, my lord."

"He's coming up," Serana whispered. "He's a Vampire. Powerful one too. We have to surprise him."

Roë said nothing, simply took her crossbow off her back.

The Vampire called Venarus strode up the stairs, a quarter away from them, to ascend to their balcony. Roë kept her crossbow ready, and when he had reached the apex of the stairs, she popped up from behind the balustrade and shot.

The Vampire reacted with extreme reflexes, jerking his torso out of the way so the bolt harmlessly impaled his shoulder.

"Cack!" Roë growled, lowering the weapon and sliding another bolt out of the quiver at her side.

"No time," Serana shouted, launching herself forward, another ice knife forming around her fingers. She launched it, but again the other Vampire dodged the attack, and this time it was he who went on the offensive, lunging at Serana and catching her by the throat in mid-air, his speed and power reversing her direction and sending her smacking into the ground on her back, her attacker on top of her.

Roë charged them both, but before she could reach them, a small, spindly creature struck her in the side, knocking her over. She kicked the thrall off her and scrambled to her feet, towards Serana who was still pinned under her attacker, and who was about to get her heart punctured by the sharp knife the other Vampire held up.

Roë launched herself at the Vampire, crashing into him and knocking him off balance, though Serana remained trapped under him. She got a hard kick to the jaw as Venarus tried to keep her back, but she raised her short sword, ready to stab the boss of the skooma den in the back, through the ribs, and into the heart.

An enormous pain exploded in her abdomen, paralyzing her in mid-movement. Looking down, she saw a sharp blade protruding from her gut, and as she looked on, it was pulled back out and it came through again, and went out and came out again, its bloody end tearing away a flap of her leather armour, and Roë looked on as several loops of her bowels fell out, swollen ropes of bright red and purple, shot through with thick red veins. She stood hunched over, her mouth wide open, her guts dangling out between her legs.

The tip of the blade disappeared again, but an icicle flew past her ear, there was a wet thud followed by a tapered gurgle, and the knife didn't come back.

Though her muscles still worked fine, Roë still fell flat on her ass, in pure shock at what she saw, her insides in her lap.

"Roë?" Serana's face appeared before her. "Roë, can you hear me?"

She tried to speak, but couldn't. There was so much pain, and especially, so much shock at seeing her own insides falling out of her.

Looking on as a spectator, she saw Serana's face turn away, and suddenly a sack of ice cold skin was pressed against her mouth. "Drink."

Though Roë no longer had control over her actions, her vampiric instincts took over and she set her teeth into the throat of the dead Vampire, robotically drinking up the cold blood. As she did so, she could feel even more pain as Serana's fingertips picked up her wet, bloody guts and simply pushed them back in, stuffing them back inside through the bloody window in her abdomen.

On she drank, and she could feel the pain slowly lessen, and the skin and muscle of her abdomen knit together. When the Vampire was completely drained, her teeth let go of the throat between them, and she fell back.

Again Serana's face appeared, above her this time. "Got a bit of a scare, did you?"

"Yuh... yuh... yes."

"I can imagine," she said cheerfully, still hanging over her. "Not every day that you see your own plumbing like that. Don't worry though. You're healing just fine. It gets easier, but the first time you're really badly injured, you're all like, 'what the shit just happened to me huuuh haaah huuuh I'm gonna die!' and stuff." She chuckled. "But you're a Vampire now. You can take a bit of guts tumbling out. Good thing I got this bastard off me in time though. The next one could have gone through your heart and then I'd be stuck without a fearless bodyguard."

"Ye...h. L... lucky."

"Oh come on you big baby. It's healed over already."

"Who... wh..."

Serana pointed at a dead, skinny man wearing one-piece work suit with the top stripped down and tied together at the waist. "Thralls are pathetic, but they can still stab you in the back if you ignore them."

"C... cack. Bastard."

"Indeed. Now come on, let's full our waterskin and leave this miserable place." She held out her hand and Roë took it, feeling her senses return. Serana helped her to her feet, and when she looked down at her belly she saw, indeed, that the skin was smooth and immaculate again, despite the torn, bloody flap of leather hanging loose. Without realizing, Roë scooped up the remaining rivulets with her finger and brought it to her mouth, sucking the blood off it. It was weak and made her stomach turn. Right, Serana had said it was pointless to try and drink one's own blood.

Next to her lay the thrall, a rapidly melting ice knife in his eye socket, while the Vampire lay on the other side, now drained, his own blade rammed through his breastbone.

With a chuckle, Serana said, "Seems he underestimated my disarming personality."

"Th... that was painful, Serana," Roë managed to quip.

"I know. I'm here all week!"

As Serana let the waterskin fill with the red water and bubbles popped on its surface, Roë regained her wits and strength, and even though she didn't believe it, she felt like normal after a few minutes. Well, what passed for normal in this state anyway.

"There we go," Serana said. "Refreshments for my father's court."

"Didn't we still need to add the blood of an ancient Vampire?"

"We did," Serana said. "And we had one right here, but since you drained it all," she grinned, "we'll have to improvise. We'll see later. I could always give some of mine, loathe as I am to part with my prime vintage. Or some of yours."

"Uh... we'll see."

"Don't worry, I'll give mine if it's really necess – "

"Ah, such a shame," an unfamiliar voice called out from the balcony above.

"Yes, how unfortunate," another added. It was one male and one female voice. "That little accident you two had here. Lord Harkon's new favourite, and his uppity cunt of a daughter, dead so soon after joining the family."

There were two Vampires standing on the balcony, both armed with crossbows trained at Serana and Roë. One, the male, was a Nord with a shortly-clipped beard, the other looked Imperial, with a narrow face and an even narrower mouth.

"But Lord Harkon will be relieved that we were here to take the Chalice back to him," the Nord Vampire said, his voice dripping with malicious glee. He had a second crossbow on his back, giving them an additional shot in case of a miss. This was bad.

"You're making a big mistake, Stalf," Serana warned. "You too, Salonia. Put your weapons down now and we'll forget this ever happened." Serana's cheer was gone, and she now looked positively threatening.

"Ah, sadly, that won't happen," the female Vampire laughed. "Vingalmo and Orthjorn were clear: no competition. It's the end of the line for you." So that was where it came from. So much for knowing when they'd play their dirty move. Still, Roë hadn't thought they'd go as far as to actually want to kill them, and she could tell Serana hadn't either.

"My dear Salonia," the male said, "To you the honours. Which one do you want?"

"Hm, difficult question. The pretentious mongrel or the snooty daughter. Choices, choices..."

Roë looked around frantically for a way to escape, or an opportunity to reverse the situation, but she didn't see anything. They were trapped, pinned by an enemy shooting from an elevated position, with no cover. As the drill chief in Roë's training had told her, an arrow coming from such a position meant you had to consider a new career as a party-snack.

"Are you two insane?" Serana protested. "Do you have any idea what my father will do to you? He's no fool, he'll know what you've done."

They simply ignored her, and the female Vampire brought her weapon up. "I think it'll be the snooty daughter. See how pretty you are with a bolt in your brain. Hold still, I'm about to paint your picture." She took aim, but her weapon didn't release. "Agh!" she cursed. "My crossbow's jammed. Stalf, give me yours."

Roë knew what was going on, and it would be their salvation, but Stalf clearly didn't, rolling his eyes and passing the weapon to his associate. And of course, the supposedly jammed weapon promptly went up again, towards Roë and Serana, but Stalf's mouth fell open when he saw his own weapon aimed square at his heart.

"Go on, Stalf. Put down the crossbow and go and join them. This picture will be much prettier with you in it."

"This isn't what we agreed," Stalf protested. "What are you doing? We're taking back the Chalice together, that was what we discussed."

"You fool," Salonia scoffed. Roë tried to move, but the crossbow in her right hand stayed unerringly locked on her. "You didn't think I'd let any of you walk out of here, did you? Vingalmo wants you all dead." She nudged her chin at him. "Take the crossbow off your back, slowly, and put it on the ground."

"You know, Salonia," the Nord said, sounding unimpressed. "That's just fine. Orthjolf told me to get rid of all of you anyway."

The next moment, everyone came in motion at the same time. Stalf threw himself to the side, and Salonia's bolt missed him. Roë did the same, and the other bolt clacked on the stone between her and Serana. Darting up the stairs, Roë saw Stalf's boot shoot out, kicking his former associate square between the legs. An ice knife shattered on the balustrade in front of them. Serana clearly hadn't had the training Roë had, despite all her power.

Roë took aim and released. The bolt flew mostly true, catching Stalf between the shoulder blades but missing his heart. Serana was still at the foot of the stairs, and Stalf and Salonia quickly agreed, "these two bitches first!"

From his prone position, Stalf took the crossbow off his back and released, Roë diving flat just in time to make it zip over her head. She heard a cry of pain behind her, and when she whipped her head around, she saw Serana go down, clutching her face, blood spurting between her fingers.

She looked back towards Stalf and Salonia, and the next moment, her vision turned red. Unbelievable agony tore through her as she felt herself rear up, spread her arms and change. She felt her skin burst off her, her lower jaw break and crunch to become a vicious underbite, and the next moment, she was no longer in contact with the ground, hovering above it like a terrifying death goddess, majestic in her hideous monstrosity.

Through a haze of red, she saw Stalf's and Salonia's faces, contorted in terror. Salonia slowly backed away, holding her axe out in front of her, while Stalf scampered back on his backside.

When you are above the ground, you are at your most powerful. You command deadly and destructive magicks, and you can tilt the earth to its side with your power.

Roë didn't know where the voice came from, only that it was female, and though sounding like that of a child, it belonged to something or someone many times greater than her. And that it told the truth.

She hooked her right hand into a claw, and the magick came naturally. She pulled Stalf up, first to his feet, and then in the air, drawing him closer, making the energies around him tighten and squeeze, constricting him as he hung suspended, kicking and struggling. She felt her upper lip pull back from her terrible fangs, and tightened the energies further, feeling bones snap and crunch as the worthless mutt who had hurt beautiful Serana was crushed to death. She heard an inhuman roar rise from her throat as she clenched her hand into a fist, and Stalf was flattened even further, blood running from his ears and nose. Roë jerked her fist toward her and the energies wrung, twisting Stalf's still-screaming body like a towel, contorting it, and in an explosion of blood, bones and muscle, Stalf burst apart from the pressure, his eyes forced out of his skull and right after, everything else in his head, as the ground was showered with the ruin of his internal organs. Through a haze of red, Roë saw them fall, torn blobs of flesh with fragments of vertebrae in between.

Salonia had watched the entire display in horror, and now she fell on her knees, begging for her unlife with words that Roë couldn't even hear.

When you are in contact with the ground, your most primal power surfaces. Your claws become scythes of death, tearing your enemies apart, ripping them limb from limb and bathing you in their life-giving blood.

Roë's clawed feet touched the ground, and enormous power surged through the muscles that bulged on her bones. She felt her claws turning from magickal conduits to pure sharp death. Salonia was still begging, but Roë didn't hear. She cleared the distance to her prey in two leaps, squashing what was left of Stalf's insides, and her claws shot out, the first swipe taking off Salonia's nose and upper lip, tearing the skin and cartilage off and exposing her white upper teeth and nothing else but red. Her other claw followed up, striking her in the side of her face, removing her ear, cheek and one eye, the pressure popping it and turning it into a burst grape of milky white.

Still she sat on her knees, and Roë's murderous blood rage continued, the next strike tearing open her chest, ripping her clothes and skin away, exposing a bloody rib cage and lifting her off her feet. As she was hoisted into the air, another claw strike came, ripping away her abdominal muscles and tearing out her bowels, sending them flying through the air, over the balcony, and down to the Blood Spring. Salonia squealed like a pig, and her squealing was ended when she reached the apex of her flight and came down again, Roë's last claw strike hitting her full in the side of the head, the sheer force breaking her vertebrae and tearing the skin, muscle and tendons of her neck, batting the head clean off. Salonia's body hit the ground, the blood-soaked robe making a wet slap as she came down. The destroyed head thudded down the stairs and rolled halfway to the Blood Spring before coming to rest.

It was done. Roë knew it, and the creature she had become knew it too. Her vision turned black and her world was only pain as the bones broke again, rearranging themselves into shape, and her skin pulled taut, the pressure again shrinking the muscles beneath it.

Cold was the first thing she felt when the pain was gone. Cold air caressing her skin. Her eyes were still closed, and for a moment, she thought she was in a safe place, just her, the outside world no longer existing, only the cold wrapping her in its chilly blanket.

"Roë?"

Serana's pained voice broke the feeling, and she realized she was in the cave beneath Redwater Den, lying in a pool of blood and guts, and completely naked. She opened her eyes to see the shreds of her clothes lying scattered, torn off her body by her transformation. Her skin was slick with blood.

"Roë, are you alright? I can't see."

Painfully, with her vertebrae still crunching, Roë raised her head to look at Serana, sitting on her knees and one hand, the other holding her bleeding face. Between her fingers, the stabilizing feathers of a crossbow bolt stuck out.

"I'm... I'm fine, Serana. Are... are you – "

"Oh, you're alright," Serana breathe. "What a relief. Can you... can you get me some blood? I think... I think I'm blind."

Roë tried to get up, slipping on the blood-slick stones, managing to get to her feet after a few attempts. Her bones still ached, but the pain was slowly fading. It was only now, when she looked down at her blood-smeared body, that she fully realized she was completely naked. Looking around, she quickly tore Stalf's cloak off the remains of his shoulders, wrapped it around herself, then tied it with Salonia's belt. It would serve to guard her modesty until she could get Serana back on her feet. She had spare clothes in her backpack, but the straps had flown off when she'd transformed, and rummaging around in it would take too long.

Dragging Salonia's carcass to her friend, Roë said, "I'll be right there, Serana. This one will have some blood left." She was hungry like a daedroth, but her friend needed it more.

"He got me good, didn't he?"

"Yes," was all Roë could say. "Yes, he did."

"And from... from the sound of snapping bones and t... terrified screaming, I'll assume you showed them... the power of the Vampire Lord?" Serana still sat there, and though she was obviously in enormous pain, her tone was still very lucid apart from the occasional stammer.

Roë pulled Salonia's headless body up to Serana's mouth, but her friend shook her head. "Bolt needs to be out first. Can't heal when it's in there."

"But – "

Serana didn't hesitate, simply stating as a trivial fact the words Roë dreaded to hear. "You have to pull."

"Serana, I can't – "

"Come on, you softie. Just wrap your fingers around the handle and pull."

With a pained face, Roë carefully touched the bolt with her fingertips. "Move your hands."

Serana did, and Roë's face became even more agonized when she saw the damage the bolt had done. The thing had gone through one eye, then exited through the opposite temple. The rest of Serana's face was a bright red mask of blood. "Come on already, unless you want to do like Salonia and paint a picture."

"Sorry, sorry," Roë said. Wrapping her fingertips around the bolt, she closed her eyes and pulled.

Serana let out a short scream, and she heard the wet scraping of metal on bloody bone, and then the thing was out. She opened her eyes again and saw Serana sitting on her knees, her hand again over her face.

"Name a Bosmer god," Serana said simply, her jaw set.

"Wh... what?"

"A Bosmer god," Serana said again. "Name one."

"Well, Y'ffre is our main – "

"Y'ffre's balls that hurt!" Serana shouted abruptly. Then, more quietly, "Blood please."

Roë held the stump of Salonia's neck near her face, and Serana's hands shot out, grabbing the carcass and letting her fangs sink into the torn flesh.

"Uh, by the way, I don't know if Y'ffre has balls. We Bosmer can't even agree whether it's a male, female or sexless spirit," Roë pointed out quietly as Serana drank and the sunken space behind her eyelid slowly retook shape.

Serana simply shrugged and drank on. After a few more hard pulls at the cadaver, she dropped it and opened her eyes. They were back to the way they were, full of fire. "Nice get-up," she said with a grin, looking down at the stained brown cloak wrapped around Roë. "Very... ethnic."

"Shut up," Roë grinned back. "It was that or you'd have to spend several more minutes with a crossbow bolt in your face while I ransacked my backpack for my spare clothes." There were plenty of stories about shapeshifters, like werewolves and whatever, but none of them mentioned the inevitable after-effect of finding yourself back in your own body without any clothes on.

Serana stood up and surveyed the carnage Roë had wrought. She whistled between her teeth and said, "And you were squeamish about pulling a bolt out of my face?"

"Yeah, um... it just happened."

Serana put her hands in her sides, her eyes still on the slaughter scene. "Well I hope you never get that mad at me."

"How could I ever?" Roë said. "You're..." she swallowed the rest of what she was going to say.

"Your armour's gonna need some new straps," Serana pointed out when she saw the breastplate lying in the blood pool, split at the joints.

Roë had found her backpack, which had also flown off her when she'd shifted. "Yeah it... didn't go back to normal like the rest of me."

Serana turned back to her. "I'll head upstairs, let you get your clothes on."

"Alright."

She went up, and called over her shoulder, "don't forget to bring the waterskin."