Their first couple of days entangled with magic were rough, but there was hope for the third day.

Cura stretched in her bed, up bright and early, to be greeted by Serana outside her cell.

"Good morning, Cura. Sleep well?" Serana inquired as she leaned her back against the nearby wall.

"Oh! Hi, Serana! Yes, I slept well. How are you? I missed you yesterday!" Cura addressed the fact. "You missed some very... interesting occurrences yesterday."

"The Restoration teacher torturing Lucien, you mean? Yeah, things like that tend to get around." Serana crossed her arms.

"Very quickly, it seems." Cura mused with surprise.

"So, are you coming to Faralda's lesson?" Serana asked. "She's going to be guiding us in Destruction magic. Seems useful for hunting Dragons."

"Absolutely! Let's go!" Cura rushed out the door, and Serana hurried after her.

The Hall of the Elements was bustling with students willing to learn new, creative ways to smite their enemies.

J'zargo was predictably front and center in attendance, followed by Lucien, and Inigo was there as an observer, as well.

Faralda stood at the apex of the room, and she was beginning her lecture. She looked quite tired, but this only fueled her aptitude for Destruction.

Cura waved to Inigo, Lucien, and J'zargo before taking her place between the gray Khajiit and the Imperial. Serana stood behind her, as being taller, she could see over Cura's head as opposed to the reverse.

Faralda began to speak as she paced the floor, strategically avoiding eye contact with her students at first. "It is no secret that both the Synod and the College of Whispers have recently made inquiries as to the status of our College here in Winterhold. At this time, there is no indication that either group is aware of the other's correspondence. The College of Winterhold has thus far declined requests for direct meetings. This has been at the specific request of Arch-Mage Aren."

She turned to the students to offer an explanation. "Aren believed that although the initial communications were innocent enough, they were sent with a particular motive in mind. The Synod's harsh rules and draconian structure are maintained only by suppressing any opposition to their Council's policies. It is entirely possible that they look to our College here in Winterhold in order to find supporters for their organization. Likewise, the College of Whispers has long been driven by its desire to directly oppose the Synod. They focus on research banned by the Synod, such as Conjuration and Necromancy."

Lucien raised his hand. "I would suppose it was because of the Reformation of the Mage's Guild during the beginning of the fourth era, just preceding the Oblivion Crisis. I suppose outsourcing is the only way for them and the College of Whispers to study... shall we say... extra-legal things."

"Correct." Faralda pointed at him before continuing to pace and speak. "The College of Whispers hopes to learn that our College also supports these avenues of research. Thus they may claim that the Synod is indeed a political minority in the Empire and should be treated as such. Our actual position and policies are irrelevant. No matter the facts of the response, it will certainly be twisted to suit the whims of either group."

Cura was a little confused as to what she was getting at. The only banned thing was Necromancy, to her knowledge. Is she suggesting that the College is fine with it?

If that's the case, she owes Wuunferth the Unliving another visit.

Though, it would be hypocrisy for her to condemn it now after traveling with Serana for so long, and for joining the college.

With a sigh, Cura decided to let it go for now.

Faralda continued on. "Indeed, it has been jokingly suggested that we send the exact same response to both, which each will warp into support for their side. At present, these two groups do little beyond attempting to gain the attention and favor of the Emperor. They appear to have little interest in real study and research for the sake of gaining knowledge. Arch-Mage Aren believes that their conflict poses a significant threat to the autonomy of our College, and I concur. Falling in with either would threaten to draw much unwanted attention to our College. If either group goes through less official channels and attempt to contact you directly, please refer them to the College's Master Wizard. Say as little as possible so as to avoid compromising our neutral position." She folded her arms behind her back. "Is that understood?"

She heard a series of resounding 'yes'es and various other form of confirmation, and was satisfied with it. "Good, now we can begin."

"So... what spell shall we be learning today?" Cura asked excitedly.

"A Wall of Flames to engulf our enemies?" Lucien asked.

"A great Ice Storm to chill out Khajiit's foes to the bone?" J'zargo asked.

Serana waited in silent anticipation.

"No, something even better than that." Faralda exclaimed. "Unbound Fire." She held up her hands and allowed molten liquid to form from her palms, erupting into the air into two split whirling vortexes of fire.

J'zargo nearly lost his mind at the gorgeous sight of intense immolation.

Cura's jaw nearly hit the floor. It reminded her of YOL TOOR, but if it could branch in two.

"Wow... we could do that?" Cura expressed her surprise.

"Of course we can, but J'zargo shall be the most distinguished!" J'zargo rubbed his hands together.

Inigo clapped his hands together and called out to Cura. "My friend, you can do it first! Do not let him psych you out!"

"Khajiit are not known as mages, so J'zargo has much to prove." the gray Khajiit expressed himself with great enthusiasm. "Bring on the spell!"

Faralda was a little bewildered as to what had just transpired, but she began to pass out the Spell Tomes. "When you unleash your destruction spell you'll have to tap into the most primal of emotions; rage. I want you to channel it into your flame, and allow the magic to feed from it."

"So, like your Shouts?" Lucien pointed out to Cura, as the revelation set in.

Cura smiled at J'zargo provokingly. "You're going to regret trying to compete with a Dragonborn at Destruction."

The class began to murmur amongst themselves, surprised at the revelation that she was the Dragonborn.

Serana laughed. "Indeed. You haven't seen her Righteous Anger before."

Faralda could sense the tension brewing between the Breton and the Khajiit in the air, and tried to intervene. "All right, you two. That's -"

"You and me in the courtyard, now!" J'zargo demanded of Cura. "We shall see who will get it first! J'zargo has fixed his life around studying Destruction! J'zargo will never lose to the likes of you!" he spun around and stormed out in a huff.

Cura looked at her friends for advice.

"Show him who's boss, Candle!" Lucien exclaimed. "I'll be right behind you!"

"Yes, my friend! Kick his furry behind back to Elsewyr!" Inigo laughed.

Cura nodded in response and followed the frazzled J'zargo outside.

"You're rooting against another Khajiit?" Serana looked surprised by Inigo's assertion.

"I just want to see a spectacle!" Inigo laughed in response as he hurried outside, and the rest of the class, including Faralda followed suit.

Cura and J'zargo took positions directly opposed to one another.

"I will show you, Breton! Your people are overrated!" J'zargo snapped.

"Well, it's a good thing Mirabelle, Colette, Phinis, and Arniel weren't here to hear that." Faralda remarked.

J'zargo quickly read the Spell Tome and it burnt itself out within his grasp, and Cura quickly did the same.

"You may have a big mouth, but J'zargo has finesse!" the Khajiit mocked the Dragonborn as fire began to light his hands.

Cura said nothing. He was a pest, nothing more. Her hands glowed with luminous blue energy.

Faralda stood between the two of them, in the line of fire. She raised up a hand. "I declare the victor to be the first to inflict a burn in this duel. It will go no further than that. Understand?"

Cura and J'zargo both nodded and focused on one another with great intensity.

Students in the courtyard began to gather around to see the spectacle.

"Hah! They have all come together to see the 'Dragonborn' fail!" J'zargo mocked. "What do you say to that?"

"I say do your worst, kitty cat!" Cura goaded him back.

J'zargo hissed and lunched a pair of flame torrents her way.

Cura held up her Greater Ward and held it firm, causing the fire to arc around her and form a near heart-shape behind her from the crescent trails in the snow.

The students stepped back to avoid contact with the onslaught of flames.

"Come... onnnn!" J'zargo growled furiously as he continued to charge more and more fire onto Cura.

Serana clicked her tongue at the display. "She'll easily outlast him. I don't know what he's trying to prove with this."

"Perhaps he wants to prove it to himself." Lucien mused. "If he could break the Ward of a Breton - or half-Elf in this case - who is proficient in Restoration, and outlast her, he could boast a measure of magical strength unprecedented in Khajiit."

"Not going to happen." Serana shook her head.

Cura continued to hold up her Ward. "Is that your best? Huh?" she snipped as she gave her Ward a forward push, much akin to a shield bash, and derailed the stream of fire as J'zargo slowed down to recuperate.

Faralda was on edge with fascination.

"Finish him!" Inigo shouted from Cura's corner.

The Half-Elf obliged, charging her own Unbound Fire with as much rage as she could muster without it becoming lethal.

Markarth. Battered Tyrannus. Lydia. Thonar. The destroyed Hall. Mutilated Tolan. Vampire Carcette. Harkon's treatment of Serana. Molag Bal. Alduin.

That was all she needed to rekindle her blind fury.

"GrrrrAAAAAAAHHHH!" Cura roared like a Dragon as she thrust both hands forward and sent a vicious cyclone of connected flames at J'zargo.

More still, the fires seemed to take on a form akin to that of a screaming Dragon as they soared through the air in scrambling waves, fascinating and terrifying the onlookers.

Instantaneously, her anger converted to horror as she feared that she may have gone too far.

J'zargo's eyes widened with terror as he held up his Lesser Ward on instinct as the flames rushed towards him.

"STOP!" came a loud masculine voice as a large barrier was thrust up in front of J'zargo, protecting him from the violent wildfire.

Savos Aren stood some distance away and quickly approached the scene with Mirabelle at his side, lowering her hands with an exhausted sigh of relief.

"What on Nirn is happening here? Faralda, please do explain!" Savos demanded.

"The students are having a friendly duel." Faralda explained.

"If you consider that to be friendly, I would certainly hate to see what you would consider hostile." Mirabelle remarked.

"The safety of our environment is paramount, Professor. The courtyard is no place to duel." Savos reminded her. "Destruction magic is fine if tempered with caution. We must keep the safety of our college as our top priority." He turned to the large crowd around them. "Everyone, the spectacle is over! Return to your studies at once!"

When the spectacle drew to a close, Savos beckoned Cura and J'zargo to follow himself and Mirabelle.

Lucien, Inigo and Serana exchanged concerned glances.

"Uh, oh... that definitely is not good." Lucien remarked, feeling empathetically nervous for his friend.

Cura and J'zargo were called to the Master Wizard's quarters, where Mirabelle and Savos awaited them.

"Arch-Mage, she started it! Khajiit was minding his own business when the Breton challenged him to a duel!" J'zargo lied.

"What?!" Cura snapped. "I was minding my own business and you thrust that fight onto me! You know in Skyrim you can't refuse a duel!"

"She lies!" J'zargo expressed anger. "Kick her out of the college for our safety! She is most dangerous! She wanted J'zargo dead! You saw the hellstorm she unleashed!"

"Mirabelle!" Cura called out to the Master Wizard. "You must know that I'm telling the truth! We learnt that spell in class, and this... insecure baby challenged me out of the blue!"

"Insecure baby?!" J'zargo scoffed. "If that is the best you can come up with, Khajiit is clearly the one with the most wit here."

"Whatever the case is, you'll have to keep your distances, or you'll both be expelled for violation of protocol. Dueling outside of the Hall of the Elements is against the rules. It will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?" Mirabelle chastised them both.

"What you learn here will last you a lifetime. Or several, if you're talented." Savos remarked. "Many relish the opportunity to come here and grow in their skills. Don't squander it."

"Of course not." Cura bowed her head. "I apologize, Arch-Mage... I may... have gotten a little carried away."

"J'zargo is sorry for this inane waste of your time. He will do better in the future." the Khajiit apologized to the Arch-Mage as well.

Savos Aren waved it off light-heartedly. "All is well; just behave yourselves from here on out. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some important experiments to conduct. Alone."

"Now, you can return to your studies. Let us not revisit this." Mirabelle stood up first and ushered the two out of the office as the Arch-Mage departed for his own quarters. Mirabelle then proceeded to her own office.

As soon as they entered the spiraling stairwell together, J'zargo noticed that Cura was daydreaming, and then took the opportunity presented and stuck out his foot, causing Cura to trip and fumble down the curving steps.

The Breton landed face-down at the bottom, and fell unconscious from the impact to her head at the bottom steps.

"You will not be recognized better than J'zargo." the Khajiit bent down and hissed in her ear before leaving in an angry huff and leaving her there.


"Gosh, the rules here are strict. I wonder if Candle is all right..." Lucien muttered. "I find it absolutely bonkers that she would be admonished for being challenged to a duel by an insecure kitty cat!"

Brelyna shrugged as she practiced her summoning techniques beside him in the Hall of the Elements. "Yeah, I don't entirely understand it either. I guess the issue was that he wanted to do it outside."

"What's his problem, anyway?" Lucien asked. "He's been quite cold to her since we got here."

"My guess is that he feels threatened by the Dragonborn's power." Brelyna pondered.

"But Cura is one of the kindest people you'll ever meet! Truly! I admit I haven't known her for terribly long, but she's no threat to anyone unless they're going out of their way to hurt others." Lucien exclaimed in shock.

"J'zargo is... competitive, to say the least. He has something fierce to prove. More than us, I suppose. I guess he doesn't like such powerful competition." Brelyna pondered as she summoned another Frost Atronach. "Ah, got it! ...By the way, Serana should apply for a teaching position here. Why is she even a student? The woman is a Conjuration genius! I am quite jealous."

"You know, I'm practiced in the magical arts, myself - though still a novice, in the end. Though Cura has shown me a few tricks on the road in Restoration." Lucien stated. "I'm sure she'd be happy to help all of you, as well."

"Like Onmund?" Brelyna smirked. "I hear he was learning a bit from her yesterday. He told me she was really impressed by his grasp of it."

Lucien was taken aback. "Onmund? The Nord fellow?" He felt a shallow pain in his chest.

Cura was spending time with Onmund and tutoring him? Why? What good could that goof do that Lucien couldn't already?

"Yes." Brelyna stated, growing irritable. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to focus for the next few spells. Don't you have anything better to do?"

Lucien was lightly offended by the brusque treatment, but he decided to let it go. "Yes, fine. I will do something else. Sorry to intrude on your 'studial time.'" He spun around and headed outside into the courtyard.

The Imperial sighed and walked out of the college and down the frozen bridge, deciding to go into the tavern in what was left of Winterhold to collect his thoughts. He was curious as to what other things there could be in Winterhold, and since they were going to be there for a long time, presumably, he wanted to capitalize on that.

His thoughts went to Cura as he descended the bridge. She was rather quick to take Onmund under her wing. He hated to admit it, but he felt a little jealous at the prospect.

Cura was kind and charitable, and sometimes Lucien was thinking she only kept him in her circle as a gesture of kindness rather than for any practical reason. What if this Onmund fellow was a superior mage already? Would he be replaced by him? He wanted to impress the Dragonborn, but how could he? He was a meager Imperial Scholar and Apprentice Wizard, and a greenhorn Spellblade, and she was the Dragonborn, Expert at Restoration, and a creature of Akatosh. How could he possibly impress someone like her?

How could he justify his presence in her friend group? This thought was nagging at him for some time, and now he felt that if he didn't act now, he would never have another opportunity. It was very stressful, and it caused him to clench his chest.

Inigo was a skillful marksman, and Serana was a powerful vampire. How could Lucien prove himself as worthy as them?

A thousand terrified thoughts raced through his mind, and the scholar did his best to attempt to quell them.

Cura, I promise I'm a worthy companion! I'll prove it to you somehow... Lucien thought to himself as he awkwardly shuffled up the wooden stairs towards the Frozen Hearth Inn. Maybe the Bartender could give him a tip or two.

When he entered the Inn, he was first encountered by the Innkeeper's wife; a Nord woman with short, light brown hair, and oddly dark, red eyes wearing a red dress. She stared at him for a few moments. "Can I help you?" She was sweeping the soot from the hearth off the floor.

Lucien felt a shiver ride his spine as he stared at her pale flesh.

There's no way...

He shook his suspicions off. Whatever the case, he felt it best to not turn up the heat. He was just there casually.

"Just say the word if you need a drink or something to eat." the woman smiled as she continued to sweep.

"Why is it so empty here?" Lucien observed the silent environment around him. Aside from one drunk in the corner and the barkeep on the far side, a suspicious hooded figure, a little girl, the woman, and himself, the place was dead.

It wasn't lost on her. "You mean the inn, or Winterhold? Suppose it's the same answer, either way. Winterhold's fallen on hard times, to say the least. Most folk packed up and left years ago. A few of us are either too stubborn or too crazy to go, so we do our best to make a living."

"Well, it's... still a nice place." Lucien shrugged his shoulders.

The woman leaned on her broom. "It's not much, but we get by. Very little money passes through Winterhold anymore, but if there's one thing you can count on, it's folks needing a drink now and then."

Lucien continued to focus on her eerie red eyes. "Yeah... drink. Right."

She glared at him, growing suspicious at his reactions. "What do you need?"

"A White-Gold Tower, please." Lucien quickly shifted his gears.

The woman nodded and leaned her broom on the corner wall before heading downstairs. She gave the little girl a gentle pat on the head as she passed her by.

Lucien approached the bar and noticed the conversation taking place. The barkeep was arguing with what at first glance looked like an Altmer Vigilant of Stendarr, but then Lucien realized upon further inspection, was only a mage in Apprentice Robes, identical to Cura's, but without the Amulet she wore.

Perhaps a wizard from the College, as well?

The wizard seemed to be in a tight spot. "I'm sorry, could you describe the smell?"

The barkeep was dumbstruck by his obliviousness. "Like some horrible monster was turned inside out, and then exploded. What did you do?"

The mage seemed to realize what he was speaking about. "It was a minor miscalculation. I've already corrected it for future experiments."

The barkeep shook his head disaprovingly as he headed back behind the counter. "This, this is why people have a problem with your college, Nelacar."

Lucien approached Nelacar, the wizard and leaned against the column adjacent to his sitting stool. "You're a student at the college too?"

""No. Gods no, not for years. I left Winterhold for some time, and returned to stay here at the inn. My days at the College are long behind me, but I prefer to stay close by." The Altmer snobbishly admitted, avoiding eye contact with Lucien.

"Why would you live here at the inn?" Lucien wondered. Not that there was much of a home selection here in Winterhold.

"I still have research that keeps me busy, and being here in Winterhold ensures I have access to former colleagues." Nelacar admitted as he took a sip of Mead. "Dagur and I have an understanding. He gives me privacy, and I make sure my experiments don't blow up his inn."

Lucien stared at the Altmer, and decided to lean further in. "What sort of experiments are you conducting?"

The exiled Wizard leaned back in his seat and crossed his right leg over his left knee and then his arms together. "What do you know about soul gems?"

"They're for enchanting." Lucien raised an eyebrow, baffled by the obviousness of the question. What else would a person need a Soul Gem for? Bedroom activities?

"They are. Except the gem is always consumed. They're frail. Except for one." the snotty Elf leaned forward and shook his right index finger.

"Azura's Star?" Lucien proposed. Indeed, the Daedric Artifact was the only real 'Soul Gem' he knew that was unbreakable.

"Ah, so you've heard of it?" The wizard was intrigued. He interlocked his fingers underneath his chin.

"I didn't join the College of Winterhold for no reason. I am a Scholar." Lucien explained half-heartedly. "Just because I've never seen the thing doesn't discount my knowledge of its existence."

"An Imperial Scholar. You could be quite useful..." the Altmer scratched his chin before continuing. "Azura's Star. A Daedric artifact that allows any number of souls to pass through it. Some of us wanted to find out how. I was working under Malyn Varen, then. If only we knew what he was really planning."

"What did this 'Malyn' do?" Lucien asked.

"Malyn wanted to alter the Star. He was dying. Disease. He thought he could store his own soul inside. Become immortal. It drove him mad. Students started dying. Eventually, the College exiled him. He took a few loyal disciples to Ilinalta's Deep and vanished. Look, I don't care who asked you to find the Star, but don't take it back to Azura. The Daedra are evil. They're the reason Malyn went insane." the Altmer protested.

"Oh? No, nobody asked me to go looking for the thing." Lucien expressed. "But if I did find it I think I'd bring it to the Vigil of Stendarr."

The Altmer seemed to tilt his head and tried to analyze Lucien, making the Imperial man very uncomfortable, driving the boy to change the subject. "Er... how does Azura's Star work? Did you at least figure that out?"

"I mentioned how the Star is a soul gem, only it never gets depleted? There's another rule the artifact follows. You can only store white souls in the Star, belonging to the lesser creatures. Azura's magic won't allow black souls to enter it. As a mortal, Malyn's soul was black, so part of his work was breaking past Azura's rules. He was close before... well, I already told you." Nelacar admitted.

"Breaking Azura's rules... fascinating." Lucien pondered. "How did the Daedra drive Malyn insane?"

"Azura is no ordinary Daedra. She commands an entire realm inside of Oblivion." Nelacar reminded him. "The more Malyn worked on the Star, the more she was able to damn him. It started slowly at first. Malyn would see things that weren't there. Then he would yell at students over words they hadn't said. Then one day I walked in and Malyn had... killed a student, and in a horrific moment of inspiration, he started using her soul for his work."

"Oh." Lucien shuddered. "Then it sounds like Malyn got what was coming to him."

"The College would agree with you, but do you have any idea how many innocent lives were cut short, just so Azura could have revenge? We're nothing to the Daedra. Pawns to move around, praise, and punish as they see fit." Nelacar lamented.

"The Vigil holds the same sentiments." Lucien laughed. "Maybe you should join it. Haha!"

"I don't think so. I wouldn't even entertaining the thought of joining that band of imbeciles." Nelacar mocked. "But my sentiments still stand. Azura is a fiend, and you'd do well to let it go."

Lucien held up his hands. "I misspoke. Forget I asked."

"That's for the best." Nelacar scoffed as he returned to his drink. "Though if you ever come across the Star, somehow... well... I'll let you decide." he muttered as he took a thoughtful sip.

Lucien decided to take a seat at one of the tables, when he overheard the barkeep Dagur and his wife arguing.

The woman was holding the White-Gold Tower in her hands. "I understand Eirid's been playing 'Hunt the Elf' again."

Dagur held up his hands and waved it off like nothing to fret. "It's just children playing, Haran. I wouldn't fret over it."

Haran narrowed her red eyes. "I'm not 'fretting.' I don't want Eirid playing those sorts of games!"

Dagur sighed, relenting to his strange spouse. "All right, all right. I'll speak to her."

Haran approached Lucien and placed the drink on his table. "Here you go; enjoy it."

"Er... thanks." Lucien expressed as he handed her a bag of 5 gold to pay for the drink.

He was about to take a hesitant sip when she looked him up and down. She seemed to focus on the crossbow on his back. "So... you're a member of the Dawnguard, are you?" her tone settled darkly.

Lucien paused before the liquid could pass his lips and lowered the flagon quickly. "Wh-what?"

Haran leaned closer and allowed him to see her fangs. "I'm not an idiot. I know that you know what I am. And I know what you've done."

Lucien lightly backed up. "Then you're going to kill me, aren't you?" He immediately spilled his drink on the floor. "I'm not going to drink your poison!"

Haran looked at the mess on the floor and sighed. "If I was going to kill you I would have done it the second you opened the door. You just wasted a very good drink."

Lucien immediately felt like an idiot as he looked at the final little droplets in the flagon. "Oh. Oops."

Haran shook her head. "Just another mess for me to clean up."

"What do you want with me, then, if not to kill me?" Lucien asked.

"I want peace. That's all. Being infected with this curse by that Dark Elf was bad enough." Haran sighed. "I have a husband and daughter. I don't want to be slain in my sleep tomorrow at lunch. Is that so difficult to understand? I'm not hurting anybody, but I want to be left in peace."

"Ahhh, I see." Lucien realized. "Sure, I'll turn a blind eye. It's no trouble at all."

"Thank you." Haran expressed as she left to retrieve a mop.

Lucien settled for a cheap Mead instead.


"Oh, you poor dear!" Colette exclaimed with horror as she helped Cura up off the floor at the bottom of the steps. "Whoever did such a thing?"

"I was walking with J'zargo, when I suddenly tripped..." Cura rubbed the top of her head as she attempted to recall the hazy memory of what transpired. All she recalled was looking at the wall ahead and then tumbling down after some force caught the front of her right ankle.

"Simply barbaric! I told you nobody appreciates Restoration around here! Now do you believe me?" Colette snapped with anger as she cast a healing spell on Cura. "Hmph. We spend years devoting our lives to saving others, and they regard us as mere trash to be tossed aside. It's repugnant! Really! Don't they know of the Augur and how incredible Restoration could truly be? Why, I would go as far as to say it's on the opposite side of the coin to Conjuration! Yes, indeed! That was what Carcette never understood, you know. She thought that Conjuration was merely for the Daedra and their followers, and that Restoration was for the Priests and those that followed the Divines. Hah! Sorely mistaken, she was, the poor dear. In its utilities, Restoration could raise the dead, much like Conjuration, except by actually restoring the person to life! Or it can even transcend one so experienced! Why, the Augur of Dunlain himself- himself, I say - told me..."

Cura's head was spinning and Colette's jabbering was merely swirling clouds around her dizzy mind. Ugh... will she ever shut up? Cura groaned within her head as the blabbering continued on and on while they walked up towards the Arcanaeum. J'zargo... just what do you have against me? I know you want me to retaliate so that I can get expelled, so I'm not going to. Cura's own thoughts dominated the conversation.

When they entered the Arcaneum, the orc with balding, white hair and a beard, in Adept Robes, Urag Gro-Shub, was lecturing nearby students.

"As many know, there is an ongoing effort to research the work of the Archmagus Shalidor. He is most remembered for his great maze of Labyrinthian, said to hold "Glamoril", or the secret of life. While stories have persisted since the First Era, none have ever confirmed the existence of this "Glamoril" or its purpose or function.

The College has developed some theories, however. We know that Shalidor had an understanding of magic that surpassed almost any of either his age or ours. The few works of his that have been recovered suggest that he had an understanding of magic and the world that few have ever achieved. What is interesting is that it appears he was also incredibly prolific, writing on a diverse array of subjects. An array so great, in fact, that it remains a source of curiosity.

What, then, of this Glamoril? It means "secret of life" in elvish. Could this be an explanation for Shalidor's works? Is it possible that it somehow contributed to his work? Perhaps allowed him to live multiple lifetimes in a short span of time? Increased his intelligence and knowledge in ways unfathomable to us? We may never know for certain. The College is always searching for more of Shalidor's writings in an attempt to understand both our knowledge of the man, and of magic in general."

Onmund sat in one of the corners, part-listening, part-reading up on the Dwarves of old, and Serana waved to Cura as she sat on a seat in the center of the room, reading a book about Sithis. Other students stood about, listening to the Orc's lecture and a couple were speaking amongst each other about Shalidor's impressiveness.

Urag noticed Cura and Colette's entry, and waited until the end of his lecture to approach them.

"So, to make a long story short, dear, Carcette did right by you, instilling an appreciation for the Healing arts. Keep pursuing Restoration and someday you'll become the best of us! I'm almost certain of it. You may be the next Shalidor, even." Colette gave Cura a supportive pat on the shoulder.

Urag made haste and flagged down Cura. "I know who you are, and what you do. You are now in the Arcanaeum, of which I am in charge. You might as well call it my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs."

"I understand." Cura confirmed, unaffected by his petty threat. "But to tear me apart with Atronachs would only wreck the place. Just saying."

Urag's expression grew increasingly unimpressed as his eyes glazed over. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Colette took a seat adjacent to Serana and she began to sift through some of the books laying on the stone nook beside her.

"I just walked in here... I guess I was following Colette..." Cura was still a tad dazed. "Er... well, I would have come here eventually, so..."

Urag could see that the Dragonborn was disoriented and pulled a chair for her using Telekinesis, dragging it across the floor, allowing it to stop at the back of her legs. "Here, sit down. Did'ja hit your head, or something?"

"Fell down the stairs." Cura admitted. "It... didn't do wonders from previous head traumas."

"Ah. I see." Urag sat down at the other side of his desk. "By the way, please make sure your hands are clean before touching anything, alright?"

"Of course." Cura promised him as she looked at the stack of books on the desk. "May I take one?" She asked politely, to which the Orc nodded.

Cura found a book in particular that caught her eye, titled "Opusculus Lamae Bal", and opened it. The contents within were disturbing, but nothing she had not already known.

"A brief account of Lamae Bal and the Restless Death

Mabei Aywenil, Scribe

Translation by University of Gwylim Press; 3E 105

As brighter grows light, darker becomes shadow. So it passed that the Daedra Molag Bal looked on Arkay and thought the Aedra prideful of his dominion o'er the death of man and mer, and it was sooth.

Bal, whose sphere is the wanton oppression and entrapment of mortal souls, sought to thwart Arkay, who knew that not man, nor mer, nor beastfolk of all Nirn could escape eventual death. The Aedra was doubtless of his sphere, and so Molag Bal set upon Nirn to best death.

Tamriel was still young, and filled with danger and wondrous magick when Bal walked in the aspect of a man and took a virgin, Lamae Beolfag, from the Nedic Peoples. Savage and loveless, Bal profaned her body, and her screams became the Shrieking Winds, which still haunt certain winding fjords of Skyrim. Shedding a lone droplet of blood on her brow, Bal left Nirn, having sown his wrath.

Violated and comatose, Lamae was found by nomads, and cared for. A fortnight hence, the nomad wyrd-woman enshrouded Lamae in pall for she had passed into death. In their way, the nomads built a bonfire to immolate the husk. That night, Lamae rose from her funeral pyre, and set upon the coven, still aflame. She ripped the throats of the women, ate the eyes of the children, and raped their men as cruelly as Bal had ravished her.

And so; Lamae, (who is known to us as blood-matron) imprecated her foul aspect upon the folk of Tamriel, and begat a brood of countless abominations, from which came the vampires, most cunning of the night-horrors. And so was the scourge of undeath wrought upon Tamriel, cruelly mocking Arkay's rhythm of life and death through all the coming eras of the et'Ada, and for all his sadness, Arkay knew this could not be undone."

Cura clicked her tongue. Even though the Vampire issue was dealt with, it would seem she still couldn't get enough of them. And then it hit her - vampires, Auriel's Bow, the Forgotten Vale.

The Falmer Books! Of course! She planned to bring them to the College, and had forgotten entirely up until now! What a blunder! She placed Opusculus Lamae Bal back on the desk and leaned towards the Librarian. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Urag Gro-Shub." the Orc corrected her as he scanned through a book in his hands.

"I have some books you might find rather interesting. I've travelled far and wide, and..." as Cura reached into her satchel, Serana looked up from he own book and remembered, herself about the Vale.

"Oh? Let me see." Urag lowered his book and extended an open hand forward. Unprecedentedly, a look of sheer excitement swept across his face at the prospect of these new pieces of literature. As soon as the books with the sun depictions upon their covers reached his hands, the Orc's excitement only multiplied. "Well, well. I haven't seen one of these beauties in a long time. A rare find in the original Falmer language. You're damn right I'm interested. Question is, are you selling?"

"Well... I was planning to donate it, maybe earn a translation in return. I love a good book." Cura smiled humbly. She only regretted that she hadn't had much time to read. Though now that she was in a College, she knew where her favourite new hangout would be.

"No, I would never take a beauty like this for free." Urag gently caressed the ancient, weathered, hard leather cover. "Tell you what: a thousand gold each. That's the only just price for such a thing."

"Well... I don't..." Cura then heard Serana behind her whispering a loud 'Take it, you fool! Take it!' and swinging her arms virulently. Cura then smirked and turned back to Urag. "All right. Sure, a thousand each, it is."

"Excellent! I can't wait to get to translating these." Urag exclaimed as he took out a coin pouch containing 2000 gold and handed it to Cura.

Cura nodded. "Please, once it's finished, do share with me."

Urag nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! Just come on by in a couple of days. Should be good to go then."

Cura expressed her grace before taking a seat next to Serana. "All right, thank you very much."

At that moment, Ancano, that wretch, entered the Arcanaeum and began to browse the bookshelves nearby.

Serana continued to read for a while before initiating conversation. "So, how did things go between you, the Arch-Mage and that pompous Khajiit?"

"It went well. We were let off with a warning, that's all." Cura admitted. "Though I think J'zargo tripped me down the stairs."

"What? Tripped you?" Serana quickly lowered her book as sudden shock set in. "Are you serious?"

"I... think. I'm not sure. I could have tripped on my own two feet, as well. I've been known to do that." Cura admitted shyly. "I was thinking to myself and I wasn't paying attention, but he was beside me when I tripped."

Serana, behind her normal stoic expression displayed hints of enragement. "I'm going to talk to him. Stay here, and don't do anything, Cura." She stood up from her seat and placed the book back on the table.

Cura fell silent as she watched her vampire friend exit the Arcanaeum. She hoped Serana was not going to get in trouble, but she knew that J'zargo could be planning something else entirely, so she took her friend's advice.

Inigo and J'zargo were both talking in the Hall of Attainment, and Nirya sat on the edge of the Magic well in the center, seemingly writing in her own journal.

"So, you can enchant my arrows?" Inigo asked the other Khajiit. "That would make things far more interesting!"

"Oh, yes. All J'zargo needs is your arrows and some Atronach Dust. Any sort will do - just dependant on the Blue Khajiit's taste of element: Void Salts from a Storm Atronach for Lightning Arrows, Fire Salts from a Flame Atronach for Fire Arrows, and Frost Salts from a Frost Atronach for Ice Arrows. All are possible for the magnificence that is J'zargo!"

Inigo scratched his chin, and Serana pushed open the front doors angrily.

"Well, I will think about it. Thank you." Inigo expressed.

"It is no problem." J'zargo said as Serana stormed up to him, which caused him to grow a little anxious. "Er... can Khajiit help this one?"

Serana placed her hands on her hips and leaned back slightly, trying to keep her composure. "You tripped her, didn't you? Don't deny it, or I'll enthrall you and read your mind for answers instead."

Inigo was confused. "Huh? No, we were just here talking, Serana."

"Not you, Inigo. Just him. This sleaze!" Serana hissed as she pointed a daggerlike finger at the gray Khajiit, prompting Inigo to look at him.

"Khajiit is not sure who you are referring to." J'zargo denied. "J'zargo has tripped many people in his rise to power. This one will need to be more specific."

"Cura. You tripped her down the stairs. Why?" Serana demanded to know. Cura was her first best friend that she's ever had in her extensive life, and she would be damned if she would just sit there and let J'zargo hurt her. Even if she was Dragonborn, it did not change the point. This was personal.

Inigo furrowed his brows at the other Khajiit. "J'zargo? Why would you do this?"

"J'zargo is sick of her, that's why!" The bitter cat mage spat. "She comes into the college and the halls begin to whisper. They say a legendary hero is within our walls. They say the Breton with the Dragonblood is the most powerful in the college. They say she is a celebrity. J'zargo has spent his life trying to become renown, and he is ignored! In three days the Breton has gotten more renown than J'zargo has in weeks! Years!" He clenched his fist angrily and fire began to consume his hands, "Do you want to know why J'zargo hates her? Because Breton with the half-Elven blood is the perfect mage! The Flames of J'zargo are a joke to her! She has come to make J'zargo miserable!"

The gray Khajiit slumped with his back against the wall and he slowly slid down to a sitting position. "J'zargo is sorry for the tripping, but J'zargo wants Cura gone from the College. Now."

Inigo crossed his arms. "No, she is not going anywhere. You have to learn to live with that. Sorry, J'zargo, but I think I will be going to Sergius for my enchantments instead." the Blue Khajiit left the area, and headed outside.

Serana wasn't finished. She pointed at J'zargo. "I'm warning you. If you touch her again, I'm going to be expelled, and you're going to be dead. Are we clear?"

"Yes, we are clear." J'zargo snorted.

"Good." Serana tilted her head smugly as she spun around on her heel and headed for the exit, as well. She wanted to return to her book. Hopefully Cura kept track of it so nobody else would swipe it before she could finish.

Nirya looked up from her journal and square at J'zargo. "Hm. Rough times, I suppose."

"Rough times, indeed." J'zargo sighed as he placed a helpless hand on his forehead and massaged his brow. This was his life now, and like it or not, he would have to tolerate Cura's presence. He didn't have to like it, though.

If she weren't Dragonborn, she would just be another stupid Vigilant of Stendarr.

J'zargo envied her, truly. If he were Dragonborn himself, the world would be adoring him instead. What a world. Some people had to actually work for their fame while others were just born better than everybody else. It made J'zargo feel depressed just thinking about it.


"Ah, Inigo! There you are! I'm so glad I've caught you." Lucien flagged down the blue Khajiit as he entered the College Grounds, just off the bridge.

"Oh, hello Lucien." Inigo waved to his friend. "How are you today?"

"I'm all right. Well, mostly. See, I need your help with something." Lucien began his proposition. "I... well... let's face it. I'm not the strongest member of our group. But I want to show Cura that I am worth keeping around."

"Go on." Inigo ushered for him to continue.

"I just met an odd fellow at the Inn. He was a student here, apparently. There was a researcher who looked for Azura's Star." Lucien began.

Faralda, who had just passed around the corner, overheard this from behind a column and spun around to look at Lucien and Inigo. She quickly approached Lucien. "Wait, you aren't referring to... No, there's no way you would know about that."

Inigo was taken aback and looked to both speakers in restless confusion. "What is it? What happened?" Magic struck again, didn't it.

"It was a few years ago. A few of the mages got overconfident and were exiled. They had no talent, anyway. I hear one of them, Nelacar, still hangs around the Frozen Hearth. Guess he has no where else to go, poor thing." Faralda expressed.

"Yes, apparently the Star of Azura went missing after things went south, I've heard." Lucien abriged the conversation.

"If you plan to study the Star, I'd check in at the Shrine of Azura on the mountains over there." Pointing to the Southeast, Faralda recommended as she took her leave. "Leave Nelacar to his own devices, or be careful if you intend to deal with him."

After she left the premises, Inigo quickly turned to Lucien. "I see what's going on. You want to impress Cura by finding and bringing a Daedric Artifact to her."

"I hope it'd work..." Lucien sighed shyly. "I was going to ask for your aid."

"What are we waiting for, then? I am tired of lounging around the college!" Inigo exclaimed.

"You'll help?" Lucien was surprised by the quick willingness.

"Absolutely! We are friends, yes?" Inigo insisted. "This is what we friends do!"

The pair took haste and began their trek to the Shrine of Azura, which could be noticed from miles away. The lady of Dawn and Dusk stood tall on her mountaintop, holding up her iconic crescent moon in her right hand, and her star high up in her left.

The two travelled for nearly an hour on foot as they traversed the many groves and pitfalls along the white landscape, leaping over crags and bluffs, and rushing past a whistling mine cavern, using the colossus as a landmark waypoint as they continued to walk up a large, mountainous slope.

Once they reached the top, there was the shrine, elevated on a large platform.

"They say this shrine was built by the Dunmer when they first came in from Morrowind." Lucien marveled at it. "I guess Brelyna wasn't joking when she told Cura that Winterhold was once full of her people."

"Azura has seen your coming, travelers. It was not curiosity, but fate, that has led you here." came a voice from above.

Lucien and Inigo observed as a Dark Elf priestess in dark robes descended the platforms that led up to the Shrine to meet them.

"I'll bet she just saw us roaming the landscape." Inigo whispered sarcastically into Lucien's ear.

"'Seen our coming'? What do you mean?" Lucien played coy with the priestess.

"I am Aranea Ienith. Azura has given me the gift of foresight. I had a vision of you walking up the steps to this altar long before either of you were born." the Dunmer priestess placed an index finger on Lucien's collarbone. "You have been chosen to be her champion. I know it is unexpected, but do not worry. It will all unfold as she has predicted."

"Wow... a Champion? Me?" Lucien was taken aback by surprise. "I... suppose I'm honoured."

"You must go to a fortress, endangered by water, yet untouched by it. Inside, you will find an elven mage who can turn the brightest star as black as night." Aranea foretold. "It is cryptic, I know, but Azura's signs are never wrong. I believe the fortress may refer to Winterhold. Ask if they know this elven enchanter."

Inigo scoffed and snickered, and then began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Aranea took it as mockery and was growing insulted.

"It's just... hehehe... we just... we just did that! And she led us to somebody Lucien has already met!" Inigo laughed. "Your prophecy came late!"

"Inigo, show some respect." Lucien chastised him. "I don't want the ire of a Daedra on me because of you!"

Aranea held a hand to her bosom as she looked up to the statue. "She is the Goddess of Dawn and Dusk. Azura sees into the Twilight of the future, and guides her followers through it. My people, the Dunmer, built this statue to honour her. We fled from Morrowind after Vvardenfell erupted almost 200 years ago. Those of us who were faithful to Azura were given a vision that led us away from the island before the worst came. This shrine is our thanks to her. That none will forget that she watches over us all." A nostalgic warmth surrounded the priestess as she looked at the lady glowing in the sunlight.

When Lucien and Inigo heard this tale, they couldn't help but recall Cura's repeated defense of Azura.

"Are you the only priestess here, or are there others?" Lucien asked.

"Yes. There were others at first, but Azura's visions tested everyone's faith. One by one, they left. Afraid to know their own future. But I refuse to abandon the shrine. The visions are a gift. Azura warns me of tragedy, war, death before it happens. I won't leave her guidance." Aranea stated firmly.

"Don't worry, Lucien. She sees all the ways you are going to mess up and still does not judge you for it. She is a nice lady." Inigo pointed at the priestess and moussed the Imperial's hair.

"Oh, would you stop it already!" Lucien shoved him back in irritation before returning to the priestess. "I'm sorry about him. He's an idiot. I will find the star and bring it back."

Aranea gave him a friendly bow. "The Twilight has foreseen all of this. Everything will be revealed in time."

Lucien waved and returned to the cold winter's path. On the way down, he scolded Inigo. "Really? You had to go and make me look like a fool?"

"Oh, do not worry, friend! They already knew i would." Inigo laughed it off.

"Sigh... so now we've got to go to Lake Ilinalta." Lucien shivered. "I don't think we can handle it alone..."

"Of course we can! Don't doubt yourself, Lucien!" Inigo encouraged him. "She did not say you were going to die, so that must mean we survive, yes?"

Lucien paused for a moment. "Huh... I guess you're right. Besides, with your ability to sneak and my... dashing good looks... we could certainly traverse that fort and find the Star!" He brought out his enthusiasm.

"Lake Ilinalta is in Falkreath hold." Inigo warned him. "That is quite some distance away."

"Oh, it's no trouble! I can Fast Travel us to Falkreath itself. That's where Cura and I first met, by the way." Lucien explained.

"Ah, I see." Inigo laughed. "Yes, that makes sense. We can just tear through time and space. Let us go!"


As the sun fell over Winterhold and Cura finished up her studies, she left the Arcanaeum. Heading downstairs, she was approached by a Courier. "I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver - your hands only."

Cura let him finish his speech as he found the letter and handed it to her. "Looks like that's it, got to go."

"Hold it." Cura held out a hand, prompting for the messenger to stand still for a second. She took out a small coin purse containing 20 coins. "Here, for you. Thanks for always being punctual."

The Courier accepted the coin purse without reservation. "Oh, er, thank you."

Cura nodded kindly as the Courier took his leave. It was always good to be charitable, especially considering the Courier had to travel through this freezing climate.

Without further ado, Cura leaned her back against the wall next to the exterior door and opened the letter.

"Greetings, Cura.

I haven't heard from you in quite some time, and I was curious to know of your wellbeing.

I do believe we have much to catch up on, and it would be quite nice to see your face again.

Please, come on by my Solar anytime, and bring this letter as proof of acceptance.

I will be graciously awaiting your arrival.

Sincerely,

Elenwen"

Cura exhaled as she stared at the letter. "Fine... I suppose I'll visit her tomorrow." She figured the sooner she got this out of the way, the better. As soon as she turned the corner, she ran into a Dunmer in master robes with snow white hair, nearly knocking him over.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed as Cura quickly pulled him back from the stairwell. She didn't want to see someone else succumb to her fate.

Though, this gesture seems to have surprised the elf. "You... You can see me?"

What kind of question was that?

Cura furrowed her brows. "Of course I can."

"Confound it all. I was quite sure I was invisible, or at least transparent." the Dunmer scoffed as he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head.

"Well, uh, maybe work on it some more." Cura tried to encourage him.

"Wait a second... you're the Dragonborn, aren't you? Everyone's been talking about you! I'm Drevis Neloren, by the way. Master Illusion Wizard. You just caught me on an off day." the Dark Elf extended a hand for a shake, which Cura obliged.

"I haven't seen you before." Cura mused. "This is my third day."

"See? Master Illusion Wizard. I told you." Drevis laughed the fact off.

Cura crossed her arms, not buying the intentionality of it exactly. "Which are the best Illusion spells?"

"Oh my, that's quite a difficult question. Never underestimate the ability to influence others. Whether they're friends or foes, they're almost all susceptible to Illusion spells. They can turn the tide of a battle in a moment's notice." Drevis enthusiastically expressed his love for the school. "There are also spells that help in avoiding conflict altogether. Invisibility is tricky to master, but exceptionally useful."

"I may consider learning more about it." Cura mused.

"Excellent! Tomorrow morning I'll be giving my class at the Hall of Elements. Don't be late, or you'll miss out." Drevis informed her as he continued onwards to the Arcanaeum.

Cura shrugged. Then she supposed that she'll visit Elenwen in the afternoon instead.

Strangely, she saw no signs of Inigo or Lucien on the grounds. Perhaps they were pantsing around in the Hall of Countenance. She didn't know for certain. Eventually, Cura sat down at her desk and opened her journal to the fourth page, readying to write for day three, when she was greeted by a surprise.

Somebody had written inside of her journal!

A silent fury overcame Cura. Who dared to do such a thing?

When she read it she got her answer.

"Dragonborn,

you must leave the College.

Your presence here is a problem.

You are very annoying.

Your friends protect you, but you do not deserve it

Khajiit will not warn you again.

Get out, or the torment will not stop.

love,

J

8th of Heartfire, 4E 202"

This was becoming very annoying. Cura slammed the book and angrily threw it backwards against her wall with a growl. "FINE! He wants war? I'll give it to him!"

She stood up from her seat and pushed open the door of her cell and stormed up the stairs towards the top floor. J'zargo was asleep, and she walked up to the side of his bed. "Get up, cat! Get up right now!"

"Huh...?" the Khajiit sluggishly lifted his head.

"Get up!" Cura gestured for him to stand up, and other students began to peek outside of their cells to see what was happening.

J'zargo did as he was told, and Cura threw a right hook across the Khajiit's face, causing him to fall into the wall. He was stunned for a moment, but collected his bearings. "Ouch..."

"Come on! we're going to settle this the Skyrim way." Cura beckoned for him to brawl with her. "You have a problem with me? Let's put an end to it. I'm NOT doing the whole "threatening notes left in each others' bunks" game."

"What...?" J'zargo backed away as he glared at her in confusion.

"You heard me!" Cura held up her fists.

"I heard you, but you are making no sense!" J'zargo rubbed his left cheek, which was throbbing and beginning to swell from the impact caused by Cura's steel-played fists. "What is this about threatening notes and games? Khajiit does not know."

"Really." Cura tilted her head sarcastically before pushing him back into the wall. "You wrote in my journal! You invaded my bunk!"

"The only one invading a bunk is the Breton!" the gray Khajiit shouted. "J'zargo was sleeping! Honest!"

"Don't play games with me! You've been messing with me for a while, now!" Cura snapped.

Ancano lurked below in the stairwell and listened with amusement as the two argued, before leaving.

"Why don't you show J'zargo this 'threatening note, hmm'? J'zargo can prove it was not him who wrote it." the Khajiit was growing frustrated and grabbed his own personal journal.

Cura lowered her hands and she led him to her bunk while watching him suspiciously. She picked her journal up off the floor and dusted it off before opening it to the offending page. "Here, right here. 'Khajiit will not warn you again. Get out, or the torment will not stop. Love, J.'"

J'zargo took the book into his hands and furrowed his brows. "What...? No, J'zargo did not write this!" He laid the journal back onto her desk and then placed his own beside it. He opened his own book and pointed to his handwriting, and drew a comparison to the writing in her journal. "See? This is not how J'zargo writes! The letters are not the same."

Cura rushed forward to examine thehandwriting. She began to flip through J'zargo's journal pages and could see that it was the case. They were nowhere near similar. The way J'zargo curves his 's' and 'z' and 'g' was very distinguished next to the sloppily-written diatribe in her journal. It was almost like somebody assumed he was uneducated and wrote accordingly.

"It... it really isn't yours..." horror swept over Cura. She turned to face J'zargo and he turned to face her. The two stared at each other for a moment in time as the realization hit them both: this was a set-up.

Cura gently closed the Khajiit's journal. "J'zargo... I'm so sorry, I..."

"No need to apologize." J'zargo rubbed his cheek and shook his hand calmingly. "J'zargo will consider it even for making you fall down the stairs."

Cura cast Healing Hands upon him, causing the swelling to reduce and the pain to fade. "Fine. But you know what this means, right?" She pointed to the offensive Journal entry. "Somebody was trying to get us to fight."

"Yes, J'zargo does see this." the Khajiit looked annoyed. "And J'zargo will make them pay for trying to get him suspended for fighting! How dare they try to stand in the way of his greatness!"

"We have to report this to Mirabelle." Cura stood up and ushered for him to follow.

After some time, they saw the Master Wizard's office lit up down the hallway and approached.

"Hmph. Things seem to have become more lively since you've been here." Mirabelle stated as she saw Cura and J'zargo enter her office. She had a magelight burning above her desk as she filed late-night paperwork. The brown-haired short Breton woman appeared to be exhausted, but still made time for work, though Cura was certain she should be sleeping by now.

"Master Wizard, I'm sorry for bothering you this late, but we're being harassed." Cura expressed her concerns. "I found a threatening note scribbled in my Journal that was framing J'zargo."

"J'zargo did not do it! He swears it upon the sands of Elsewyr!" the Khajiit pleaded his case as he presented his journal for analysis beside Cura's evidence for her to cross-reference.

Mirabelle rubbed her tired eyes as she began to look over the sets of writing. "Hmm... I see what you mean. The writing is very inconsistent. Khajiit fingers cannot tilt a pen in the same manner as a Human's or an Elf's. I do believe it was an Elf who wrote this, however."

"How do you know?" Cura asked.

"Breton's intuition." Mirabelle responded dryly as she held a hand on top of her head while pondering over the pages. "Rather, they tend to hold their pens on an acute angle, as displayed here. Some habits can be hard to break, even as one attempts to falsify a note."

Cura opened Elenwen's invitation and recognized what Mirabelle meant. It certainly must be the work of an Elf. A very pompous elf.

"...You don't think..." before Cura could say, she shut herself up. "no... that's a wild accusation."

"Leave it to me." Mirabelle reassured Cura. "I'll get to the bottom of this. Just return to sleep, or experiments, or whatever you were doing prior."

"All right. Thank you, Master Wizard." Cura bowed lightly. "Good night."

"Yes, sleep well." J'zargo waved good-bye to her as he and Cura left.

"Yeah... right." Mirabelle muttered as she sifted through a mountain of paperwork.

Cura and J'zargo reentered the Hall of Attainment, and the Khajiit whispered to her. "Who do you think it was?"

"I think it was Ancano. I don't know why, but I do." Cura whispered back. "Don't confront him, though. Just go about your business."

The Khajiit nodded. "Yes, J'zargo has more important things to deal with."

With her journal left in Mirabelle Ervine's possession for the night, Cura had little more to do than return to sleep for the night. Still, she could not shake the feeling that she was certainly unwanted here.