A/N: I never thought I'd ever complain about this, but this is taking pretty long to set up. Hopefully this chapter will end with us being back on Solstheim, plus an addition. What do I mean?

Well...

Whispers of the Night

Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons..

*Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 16*

Steam came up as molten steel was dipped into water to cool, and Alana wiped sweat away from her forehead. She tugged hard on the pully, feeling her back muscles stretch and burn with protest, and she staggered away from the searing heat of the forge. 'Nothing quite so satisfying as a hard day's work.' If she ever for some reason decided to settle down, she could make herself some pretty coin as a blacksmith. It would be simple, compared to fighting a war against two daedric princes, but simple also meant a lack of excitement.

'Ha. Me, settling down? As if. I'll be lucky to even live to that point.' The blonde woman snorted, pulling out the steel bolts she had forged for her crossbow. The thought of her ever getting the chance to hang up her sword and live the rest of her days without a care in the world was laughable. Somehow, it didn't fit. She was far too messed up to really reintegrate with normal society. She had seen and done way too much. It wasn't insanity; it was just a certain way she carried herself and unconsciously mapped out ways someone could try and strike at her. She was tense, ready to move at a moment's notice.

Alana didn't consider it paranoia considering she was attacked in the middle of High King's palace by her alternate self only about two days ago. Being on guard, even while forging, was justifiable given the circumstances. Or so she insisted when Astrid came up to her, her mistress of course noticing how tense she was. Alana doubted her alternate self or Mephala would be stupid enough to try and attack her while she was using Oengul War-Anvil's forge in broad daylight, but she still kept glancing over her shoulder and listening for any discrepancies that would tip her off.

'If she tries it again, I won't hold back.' If her other self wanted a fight, she'd find one waiting for her.

'This honorable fighting crap has to go too. If I'm not using every tool at my disposal, I'm not trying hard enough.' Earlier, Alana wondered if she could incapacitate Alter with some kind of poison the next time the two exchanged blows, but alchemy was an art that she failed to grasp. She could concoct a few basic potions, but nothing strong. If she had some enchanted gear designed specifically to improve the skill, then maybe. But enchanted armor and weapons were difficult to come by. Soul gems were only found by those brave enough to raid a rogue warlock or witch's lair, or provided by the court wizard. Actually getting one's hands on enchanted armor or weapons usually required a letter to the College of Winterhold, for enchanting services were one of the few things that kept the college in touch with the rest of Skyrim.

True, most Nords hated magic and saw it as something for weaker races like elves, but no Nord was going to complain about an enchanted battleaxe or warhammer that could crush skulls and deal some sort of magic damage in the process while cracking their enemy's skull open. Enchanted armor was even more valuable, as it would provide its wearer additional perks to make it more efficient. Muffled boots, extremely dexterous gauntlets or gloves, armor that helped regenerate one's vitality; nothing was impossible when it came to enchanting. The only limits were the mage's knowledge.

She heard feet padding towards her through the snowy streets of Windhelm's market, still audible despite the snow muting most other sounds. Even the bustle of vendors and shoppers seemed quieter, and a quick glance told her that Ulfric was not taking any chances of his city being attacked. 'Doubled guard patrols. Equipped with Nordic weapons. Oengul has been busy.'

The castle blacksmith must have been working himself to the bone. The pretty young black-haired Nord woman he took on as an assistant was talented, but in terms of smithing she was an apprentice at best. Her work still needed some improving before she could begin selling her own weapons to the masses. 'Oengul is going to be swamped with work soon. Even though the civil war is over, there will still be a demand for weapons and armor. Especially if Ulfric is equipping his men in preparation.'

'If I had to choose any organization to rejoin, it would be the military that's for sure.' Sure, being the Arch-Mage and Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild were two paths that she enjoyed her time in, but for a so-called thief she was terribly conspicuous and she wasn't much of an offensive mage, either. Her best magical attributes were always more defensive in nature, primarily the schools of alteration and restoration. The army was where she felt most at home and forged the strongest bonds. To this day, she could call on Ralof or Gerdur for any help and they'd lend a hand in a heartbeat. Galmar would kick down a damn wall for her with his bare feet if she asked him to, even if he was getting old. Not that anyone would ever dare try and call Ulfric's right-hand man old to his face and get away with it.

Well, Alana could maybe. Galmar always had a soft spot for her snark.

'The war was a simpler time. No gods or daedra involved. Just us Stormcloaks taking the fight to the Empire.' Like Ralof, she had been appointed as a commander of a unit after the siege of Whiterun and her team of soldiers was one she dearly missed. They had been wiped out during the Battle of Fort Sungard, one of the ugliest and bloodiest battles of the entire war. She barely scraped through herself, refusing to roll over and die and instead taking on the entire enemy occupation on her lonesome. Even though she was grievously injured during the assault, the fort fell from the Empire's grasp and the Reach was liberated. Her rank as a commander became more symbolic after that, never allowing Ulfric to give her another squad. Soldiers still listened to her orders, but she always kept them at a distance, never allowing herself to get comfortable enough to be casual with them. No one could replace the team she stood back-to-back with when the world threw its worst at them, the group she sat around a fire in the wilderness and made terrible drunken jokes at each other's expense.

Alana had come to terms with her squad's deaths some time ago, and all she could really do now was laugh good-naturedly. 'Left my sorry arse to finish what we started. Bastards, the lot of you. Knowing we won and it wasn't in vain makes it sting a lot less.' They knew it was crazy, that the Empire's best were stationed at Fort Sungard and they were the only unit who could pull it off. Yet when Alana posed the question of who would fight with her, knowing the odds weren't on their side and they'd most likely die on the battlefield, every single one of the crazy sons of bitches raised their weapon and roared their approval.

'I remember being the idiot who blamed myself for it. Gods, how many of my problems are caused because I was so ready to blame myself for something out of my control?' Alana groaned inwardly.

She caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and tensed as it rushed towards her pockets. 'Really? A pickpocket?' Sharpened reflexes meant she caught onto a pale wrist snatching away at her pocket and drawing forth a sharp cry of pain. A wide pair of fearful orange eyes stared back at her, and Alana's brain took a few seconds to realize that she was not grabbing the wrist of a vampire, but a young girl of about ten years old. She didn't even realize it, but she was gripping hard enough to make bones grate together and the girl whimpered in pain. "P-please..."

White hair that fell roughly to her shoulders, orange eyes, and despite part of her instincts screaming at her to be on edge, Alana released the girl's wrist. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, feeling embarrassed at being worked up over a child. Her hand went out again and the girl understandably flinched away. To her, Alana might as well have been a roaring dragon and she winced. 'Any tighter and I'd have broken her wrist. Good first impression, Alana. Still as completely hopeless about children as ever.'

"Don't worry; I can heal you," Alana reassured, letting magic come to life on her fingertips. While the girl may have not had anything broken or suffered a stab wound, Close Wounds was still an effective spell. The trick with healing magic was that it only helped repair wounds; it did nothing to replenish any blood the body lost. A glowing golden light weaved like a web from her fingers and wrapped the sore limb, soothing the pain. "There. Does it feel better?"

"A-a little..." the girl said nervously, cradling it close to her chest. Alana could see dirt and grime smeared into her ragged green clothes, torn in some places and not at all suitable for a city as bitterly cold as Windhelm. Her stomach growled loudly and the obvious solution presented itself loud and clear to the blonde woman.

"Are you hungry?"

Ciri had learned a lot in her four years on Windhelm's streets. The Grey Quarter was named for all the dark elves that lived there, though from what she saw the locals didn't exactly like the name the district had been given as a result of its new inhabitants. Sometimes the dark elves were friendly to her, occasionally tossing her a gold coin or two when they could spare them. They had their own misfortunes to deal with and though much had been improved since the civil war ended, it was still far from being called a perfect district. Close proximity to the water meant skeever and rat infestations were more common than in the marketplace.

The Stone Quarter held the marketplace, inn, and temple, and the amount of people who walked its streets meant a lot more opportunities to pickpocket. Only she had chosen someone who was in fact not an oblivious idiot and caught her right away. She could move faster than Ciri could blink, and though she tried to smile and appear as nonthreatening as possible, the way the woman carried herself spoke volumes of the danger she was in. She watched people like a Cyrodiilic mountain lion and moved like a predator. The scary woman had an aroma of death about her, and Ciri shuddered in fear.

Ciri had heard a few stories from other street urchins in Windhelm, about how sometimes a kindly older man would lure one away with fake promises and clean clothes. The last girl Ciri had seen take that deal had come back shaking and sobbing, unable to live with what had ever happened to her. She killed herself not soon after and Ciri had taken the knife she used to do the deed. She lost it soon after, leaving it twisted in the neck of one of the older boys who had tried to force himself on her.

This woman probably wasn't going to do that to her, but Ciri still kept glancing over her shoulder towards the inn door. Could she make a break for it if she tried?

Probably not. She was currently in the view of a killer. Any trick she tried, even with her skill in illusion magic, the woman would see through it immediately and she'd be dead. Once a plate of freshly cooked venison and a bowl of cabbage stew plopped down in front of her, Ciri made up her mind. If she was going to be killed, she might as well die with a full stomach.

Alana resisted the urge to drag a hand down the front of her face and groan. 'She must think I'm a creep.' She was never good with children; not in a psychopathic way, but her social awkwardness played up the most when she had to deal with them. Gerdur's son Frodnar had been a firsthand example of it. Alana had completely frozen up when one day the boy ran up and hugged her. Ralof had teased her about it relentlessly for weeks on end.

The world was laughing at her and Alana looked up at the ceiling for salvation. Plenty of cracks, some scuffs, and a stain that looked suspiciously like a blood smear from a bar fight of some kind, but no answers came to her. She watched as the girl dug into her meal greedily and her brain helpfully made a suggestion that might good start in making this situation a little less awkward. "I'm Alana. What's your name?"

"Mmbl." The girl tried to say something, realized she couldn't with a mouth full of stew, and swallowed before giving her answer. "C-ciri." She coughed and flinched away when Alana's hand went out. The girl was fully expecting a hand over the head, only for a white rag to wipe her cheek clean.

"Careful. I didn't pay for that food so you could wear it." Alana's lip curled in amusement as the girl blushed and looked away. "Ciri. That's a pretty name. What are you doing on the streets of Windhelm?"

"My...my da died four years ago." Ciri stabbed a fork into her venison steak and shrugged. "Been on the streets ever since."

Gods this was messed up. A brief twang of guilt pulled at her as Alana realized that she had never once seen the citizens the city forgot about. The sick, the poor, the lame. The unseen, and yet they were everywhere. Those who had no roof over their heads did whatever they could to survive, some taking to crime. That a child was forced to into pickpocketing made her feel a spike of irrational irritation towards the thanes of the city who did nothing to even help.

Choking it back, Alana asked her why she turned to a life of picking pockets.

"It's all I know," Ciri answered with a shrug. "Where else would I go? Honorhall Orphanage?" The girl rolled her eyes at the last bit and missed Alana's collective wince. She had been responsible for murdering old Grelod the Kind over a year ago, not even subtly (not exactly an inconspicuous kill when the deed was done in public and the hag was left in a pool of her own blood), and though her face was seen by the children who had no choice but to call the orphanage their home, none of them had been bothered enough to hand her over to the guards. The children were happy the old crone was murdered, and that slightly worried Alana.

"No relatives?" she asked, cupping one cheek. Ciri shook her head, nibbling away at meat. The girl kept nervously looking past Alana's shoulder towards the exit. 'Oh god. She thinks I'm... that's so horrible.' How the bloody hell could Ulfric let this happen in his city? She realized that life was not always so lucky, but that shouldn't explain why he was letting an orphan run around homeless. "Don't the guards have orders to take you to Honorhall if they see you?"

"They never do." Ciri shrugged. Alana's eyes narrowed slightly.

'What does she mean, they never see her? Even a gifted pickpocket can't hide away forever. Unless... illusion magic? But how would a child have that much of a grasp over invisibility?' The flicker Alana saw before she caught the girl earlier was the shimmer of an invisibility spell, and something about those orange eyes of hers also had Alana on edge, even if Ciri was a child. 'My instincts are screaming danger at me. But why?'

"I could take you away from this," she blurted out. Not even five seconds later did her brain do the loudest screech to a halt ever and ask the important question. 'What the hell am I saying!? I don't know the first thing about parenting!'

Ciri's fork scraped against the wooden plate and her orange eyes widened, mouth forming a giant 'O' in surprise.

Alana sighed internally. 'Me and my big mouth.'

This was most definitely karma having fun with her. Oh look, here's a socially inept daedra hunter who is formerly a soldier and a fugitive, has no idea how to handle children in any capacity, and is possibly the most hunted mortal this side of Nirn. She'll make an excellent parental figure. No sarcasm there. And yet when she offered her hand to the girl, against all common sense the brat took it.

Astrid was going to kill her for this.

When Alana opened the door to her Windhelm manor with Ciri clutching firmly to Alana's waist, she knew she was in for the longest cold shoulder in existence. Astrid glared thunderously at her from across the main hall, and Alana shielded Ciri with her cloak, glaring right back and mouthed to her. Not here. Too many ears. The younger blonde woman motioned to the girl currently using her as a shield.

Astrid nodded, a silent message between the two. The look in her golden gaze said there had better be a good explanation, and as Alana walked Ciri upstairs to get on a fresh set of clothes, the vampire caught a strange smell coming from the girl. Her nostrils flared, for the scent was one she had only ever smelt once, yet she had gotten used to it from her time in Dawnstar Sanctuary. It was faint but undeniable.

The smell of a vampire.

'What the hell have you gotten us into?' Astrid wanted to storm upstairs and punch that blonde idiot until she was black and blue. Did Alana know what she just brought into their house and was probably going to try and convince Astrid to take with them back to Raven Rock? Her sense of smell had definitely dulled, or her lack of self-preservation and bleeding heart were getting in the way of logic. That little street rat was no normal child. Even though it was faint, not as powerful as Babette, it was still enough. Even a mere fledgling was more powerful than a normal human. Just what had that girl done to catch Alana's eye? 'Either she senses something and wants to take her as a protégé, or she's being an idiot and thinking she can be a caring mother.'

Astrid almost laughed at that. Whether Alana liked it or not, the fact was she was a killer. Beast and men alike had fallen to her, and those who lived through hell always came out changed. Alana probably didn't even realize she was doing it, but even when she was protecting the girl from Astrid's glare, she was still tense and giving off the aura that she was ready to spill blood at a moment's notice. Her guard wasn't directed at Astrid, but rather behind her. No wonder the girl looked terrified. She probably thought Alana would run her through. Alana obviously wasn't like that, but what did an abandoned street rat know?

Even if she was cold, she wasn't unusually cruel. But she was far from being called mother material. She was off. Not insane, nothing like that, but she wasn't all there. Neither were any of the Brotherhood for that matter. It was probably why Alana got along with them fairly well, apart from Arnbjorn and Cicero. It was Nazir who first pointed it out to her that Alana was far more dangerous than she tried to let them believe. Even back then, the woman carried herself tense, forcing herself to relax for the sake of others and let them lower their guard. She was brutal, savage, and not at all concerned about staining her hand if that was what it took to get the job done. A woman who lived through the worst Tamriel and Oblivion had to offer and learned to expect it to happen at any time.

Seeing that woman slowly turning into a soft copy of her was getting on Astrid's nerves. If Ulfric wasn't going to pull that idiot's head out of her arse, then Astrid would do it for her. 'Did you really forget what you are fighting for?'

Astrid would follow her on her next bounty mission and teach her a lesson.

Before she could storm upstairs and give Alana a piece of her mind, the woman came downstairs and folded her arms. She had changed into her combat attire, her sword hanging behind her, and her gaze was calm despite the piercing glare from her mistress. "She's upstairs in the bath. Are we going to do this here or later?"

Astrid took the bait. "What the hell are you thinking!?"

"Astrid, I-"

"NO! Did your alternate self give you some sort of brain damage!?" Astrid ranted. The insults and threats that followed suit would have had even hardened criminals weeping in a corner. Threats on Alana, her life, her future, and future generations. That was before she started asking the rhetorical questions about how Alana even survived when she obviously had to dedicate so much brainpower to breathing lest she suffocate and do the world a favor by removing her stupid genes from the pool before they could spread and infect every continent on Nirn.

And did it go on.

Alana weathered Astrid's barrage without so much as a wince, remaining silent so Astrid could get it all out. "Now tell me why the hell you thought it was a good idea to adopt an orphan when there is a war brewing? How did you even meet her!?"

"She tried to pickpocket me. I wasn't forgiving at first." Alana sighed. "As for why... I don't know. I felt something from her, a magical presence I couldn't quite put my finger on."

"She's a vampire," Astrid interrupted. Judging by the lack of surprise on Alana's face, she had the suspicions but needed confirmation. "You couldn't smell it?"

"No." Alana shook her head. "But I knew something was off. No child that age should have as high of a grasp of illusion magic as she does. I..." She sighed again and looked away. "I saw a bit of myself in her. A younger, more bloodthirsty me."

Astrid was quiet.

"I know what you're going to say. That I would be the world's worst mother." She laughed, but it was brittle. "I already know that. I might not be able to give her a warm and loving family, but I can teach her how to survive. And... I want you to help me. Teach her the things I can't."

"And what might that be?" Astrid asked, folding her arms.

"How to harness her power. You're not a true pureblood, but you're still far stronger than any normal vampire by far. I can always teach her to stay alive, but her power is something you are now more specialized in. If anyone I know is going to be able to bring it out to its full potential, it's you."

"But... why? Now is the worst time! The world is on the brink of another Oblivion Crisis!"

"That's exactly why." Alana's eyes flashed open. "The worst of times create the strongest individuals. Make no mistake Astrid; I'm not stopping. I will kill Mephala and end this. Me wanting an apprentice won't change that."

Astrid raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"And when they try and make a move on her because of her association by me, they'll find she's not exactly defenseless," Alana continued. "You might have not seen him in action, but Saoron is more than capable in combat. We killed one of Vaermina's own demons together. Raven Rock is probably the safest place in Tamriel for her right now."

'Damn you and your bleeding heart.' "Fine," Astrid relented with a growl. "But if you start to forget what exactly you're fighting for, you'll find my boot in your arse."

Alana laughed. "If that happens, knock me around a little. It'll be a treat for both of us."

Upstairs, Ciri heard the two scary women share a laugh, and she sunk lower in the tub of hot water. Both of them had the same aura of bloodshed swirling around them, moving like predators. The one with the golden eyes was actively aware of her intimidation factor and made no effort to conceal it, fixing Ciri with a fierce glare and flared nostrils the first time she laid eyes on the girl. 'She knows. They both know.'

The one in black was far scarier and had much more presence. It showed in her movements; while fast, it wasn't jerky and unskilled. Despite the smile she wore on her face, Ciri would bet all her stolen septims that she had much more blood on her hands than the angry one. When Ciri tried to pickpocket her, she saw right through the invisibility spell and caught her before she could even blink.

So why had she followed her?

Ciri sighed and leaned her head back, wriggling her toes in the water.

She didn't know why she willingly came along with the scary woman in black, but if she made herself useful then she wouldn't have to go back to the streets.

The next few days did nothing to ease the tension between Alana and Astrid. The black-clad blonde sighed and leaned over the edge of The Northern Maiden, wishing she had a scarf to protect her face from the ocean breeze. Water lazily lapped at the hull of the ship, night had fallen about four or five hours ago, and Ciri was sleeping below deck. The girl was still regarding Alana with a mix of both fear and suspicion, more so than she did Astrid. Alana wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the fact that Ciri trusted Astrid, former leader of the Dark Brotherhood, more.

The world was definitely laughing at her. And if it wasn't, then her old friends would be for sure.

"You, with children? The thought terrifies me, lass." Brynjolf snorted.

"Oh dear... that doesn't seem safe at all." Tolfdir frowned in worry.

"Ha! Don't make me laugh! ...wait, are you serious?" Ralof asked disbelievingly.

"You're not going to push her too hard, are you?" Serana fretted.

Alana laughed to herself. This was so ridiculous of an idea. What the hell was coming over her? 'Maybe I need to take Astrid up on her offer.' Astrid was always like this when she needed to vent some frustration.

She heard the cabin open behind her and Alana turned around to see the woman she was looking for. 'Speak of the devil and he shall appear.' "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. Your brat is a restless sleeper." The assassin huffed in annoyance. She had come without her weapon, and she came over to stand next to Alana. Both of them shared an uneasy silence, staring out over the ocean for a few moments.

Alana finally broke it with a punch to her mistress's shoulder.

Astrid wasn't prepared for it and she staggered back, glaring furiously at her. "What was that for!?"

"You're mad at me. Understandably so. You and I both know we're not good at this emotional rubbish, and you're a barely contained ball of anger right now." Alana raised her fists up and gave her best savage grin, all teeth and begging to escalate the situation. "If you think you can go a few rounds toe-to-toe with me, then I'm more than happy to let you use me as a punching bag."

Astrid scoffed and brought her fists up, rotating the kink out of her shoulder. "Those who rely on swords are usually lacking when it comes to their fists."

"Yeah, well, I learned from one of the best. She's a bit of a bitch though."

Astrid snarled and threw a haymaker right for her jaw. Alana leapt back with a laugh and motioned with two fingers in a 'come hither' gesture. She was trying to rile her up as much as possible, leaning back from the next series of swings that came for her face and laughing the entire time.

"Is that all you've got?" Alana mocked. "I thought that the leader of such a feared guild would be better than this."

"Rarrgh!" Astrid's next blows became wild and savage, Alana raising her arms in a defensive position to shield her face. Each impact sent her back, but she took all of them with a pained smile. The vampire needed this; Ciri didn't need to be on the receiving end of anger that wasn't meant for her.

'Good. Get angry.' Alana blocked a knee to her stomach with her forearm, planting her other fist right into Astrid's chest. Her forehead smashed into Astrid's nose a second later and the assassin snarled in anger and pain. "Was all that anger just a show?"

"Shut your mouth!" Astrid chased her with a roar, blood dribbling from her nose and down her lips. Alana raised her forearms over her face, fully expecting Astrid's wild strike to go for her jaw. She couldn't see the follow-through coming from the left and Astrid caught her right in the gut. She doubled over, spit flying from her mouth, and Astrid's knee smacked into her face. Fighting through the pain, Alana tried to tackle her to the ground. Astrid rolled with it, getting her legs underneath her and flipping Alana off of her.

Alana fell and rolled to the side, missing the kick to her head. She spat out a mouthful of blood and grinned. Now this was more like it. She had the privilege of seeing Astrid fight barehanded once before in the Falkreath Sanctuary against Veezara for training purposes. The vampire had been human then, and still her fist-fighting was akin to a hurricane. Completely savage and brutal, not at all afraid to fight dirty to win. Poor Veezara never stood a chance.

Now, with the strength of a vampire coursing through her blood, Alana could feel just how strong Astrid's punches and kicks had become. Even those she blocked were painful; it was only thanks to her ridiculous durability and endurance that she was still standing. 'We're both going to look like hell come tomorrow. Somehow, I think we'll both find it worth the pain.'

Alana noticed she attended to attract the oddest or most broken of people. Brynjolf, Tolfdir, Ralof, Ulfric, Galmar, her old team in the Stormcloaks, most of the Brotherhood, Serana, Saoron, and even Captain Veleth. None of her friends could be considered normal.

While she was thinking about that, her guard slipped and her brain slowly processed the fist coming right towards her face. 'Oh... so this is how Veezara felt.' The next thing Alana knew, she was staring up at the sky with her ears ringing. She laid there for what felt like an eternity, and she could barely make out the hazy shape that loomed over her. She groaned and forced her arm up to rub the blackness away, her vision slowly coming back into focus.

Astrid was standing over her, breathless, bloodied, and the anger in her golden gaze was now replaced by concern. Arguments aside, they still cared about each other at the end of the day.

Despite being knocked silly, Alana snorted. "Lucky shot."

Astrid snickered.

Alana laughed.

Astrid laughed back and extended her hand, helping the dazed blonde back up to her feet. Her eye was already swelling up and turning a lovely shade of purple, yet Alana still managed a toothy grin. There really was one thing that truly connected them, and that was the enjoyment they shared bleeding over each other.

Saoron was waiting for them at the docks when The Northern Maiden finally docked, and he sighed in exasperation at the sight of two bloodied and bruised blonde women, one of them with a ten-year-old girl clutching her waist and hiding behind her. He held up a hand to stop Alana before she could open her mouth and explain, shaking his head. "Not now. Whatever it is, it can wait. We need your help. Now."

"The hell's going on?" Alana asked, wincing. Her jaw still ached from where Astrid's fist crashed into it, though thankfully nothing was broken.

"I don't know, but the townspeople are being possessed! They're building a shrine around the Earth Stone, and there's a barrier cast around it that I can't break through."

"Do they say anything about what they're building? Or why?"

"I don't know. Just that they are his hands and he speaks to them still. I think this is daedric."

'A daedra. Of course.' "Please tell me you haven't just been waiting for us while this is going on."

"No." Saoron shook his head. "I've had an... associate of mine take the book we found in Bloodskal Barrow to Tel Mithryn." The way he said, 'associate' had her narrowing her eyes, but she didn't press for more. "And the Redoran Guard has been outfitted with glass weapons. That's not all, either. There was another demon attack outside the town. And if we needed any confirmation that both Mephala and Vaermina are working together, this is it. That bitch's spider daedra took part in the attack."

"A demon attack? Another so soon!?"

"Yes. Don't worry, it was killed before it could harm anyone, as were the daedra. My worry is whatever has taken over the town. If it's already affecting normal people, what's to say it won't start to possess the minds of soldiers? Or mercenaries?"

A viable concern to have. Take over the town and leave it completely vulnerable or perhaps turn the people against each other. It would be a bloodbath. Alana hissed and immediately regretted it, wincing as another spasm of pain worked up her mouth.

"Though looking at the state of you two," Saoron said, looking pointedly at Astrid's and Alana's bruises. "I'm not sure how good of an idea it is to have you two investigating right away."

Alana stared at him, eyes flat. "And when have I let a few bruises get in the way?" Despite the agony from stretching her mouth, she smiled grimly and patted the handle of her broadsword. "I'm ending this."

Saoron strode forward and wrapped her in a hug, the blonde feeling the wind get squeezed out of her. "It's good to have you back. Though one question still remains to be answered."

Alana chuckled weakly and had the good grace to try and be embarrassed.

Astrid snickered.

Saoron looked down at the bright white mop of hair hiding under Alana's cloak. "Who is this?"

Alana sighed and looked up at the sky for salvation.

A/N: Introducing the new little Ciri, who our dear Alana has decided to take under her wing. She'll have her own part to play, her own growth, and consequently Alana's growth. But someone worth fighting for can be seen as a potential weakness by others.