[A/N: A mourning chapter. Our mains have divided down a forked road and for a while there will be two stories going on, Serana and Mimzi's journey, then the conflicts with the Companions. On the bright side, Vilkas is back with his brother and Aela, but he's not entirely relieved.]

Chapter 16: Coming Home

Farkas, Aela and Vilkas had set up camp inside an abandoned cabin outside Riverwood. They were able to obtain clothing and cloaks, as well as supplies for a campfire. Aela had returned with rabbit after fastening herself a bow. Vilkas and Farkas sat warming themselves at the fire when Aela arrived. He was quiet and reclusive to himself, with Farkas not pressuring him out of worry. He knew Vilkas was exhausted and hurt, but Vilkas held his tongue on a different matter. He sat to the fire stoic; his eyes glossed in tears. Farkas looked to Aela and perked a smile, "Look at you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you belong out here."

Aela replied, "You two would be hopeless in the wild, if that's what you mean."

She set the rabbits down at a log and began to carve skin away with a knife. Aela smiled up at the brothers, with Vilkas still vacantly staring into the fire. Farkas looked to Aela in worry, subtly flicking his eyes at Vilkas. She looked back down at the rabbits, "So, Vilkas how do you feel? Now that you have the ring?"

Vilkas said lowly, "If it could heal my cuts and bruises, I would say great. For now, it's just jewellery."

"That's the whole point," Aela stated, "If it wasn't doing its job, you wouldn't be bothered with those cuts and bruises. You'd be dealing with something much worse."

"Yeah, I know that, you don't have to make me say how grateful I am, Aela. I am." Farkas and Aela shared stares of concern at Vilkas's crass reply. He looked up briefly to the two and sighed again, "What's happened? Where's Mimzi and the vampire?"

"Serana and Mimzi went to find the Moth Priest. We split up three days ago," Farkas informed, "We came to find you…"

"You let Mimzi go off with that bloodsucker alone?"

Aela added, "We're not worried about Serana. She'll protect her, if anything else."

"You all came to the castle?" Vilkas asked again, looking to Aela, "How did you all get out?"

Aela shrugged, "Serana, mostly. She saved us. You were feral, so you wouldn't remember, but I set you free. However you got out is a mystery."

Farkas said, "I swam, we all swam to shore. We met up. Mimzi said she saw you as a werewolf."

"She said that?" Vilkas raised his brows.

Aela brought up, "Said you saved our lives, too. You don't remember that?"

Vilkas squinted his eyes to the fire, "Last thing I remember is hanging by my wrists in the dungeon. Harkon's ugly gawk in my sight. Everything after that feels like I jumped days in time. There are a few things I can see: like flashes, but I don't want…"

Farkas pressured, "What?"

Vilkas asked in a crack of his voice, "Did Kodlak go to the castle with you?"

Aela looked to Farkas in a baffled stare, "Uhh… not with us. But, Farkas told me he was with Dawnguard when they attacked the castle."

Vilkas's eyes wilted, "So he was there?"

Farkas nodded, "Yeah, they probably all made it out, though. I mean, it's Kodlak. The old man can handle himself."

Aela joined in, "He's smart. He never takes on more than he can handle."

Vilkas looked to the two of them and his red-veined eyes strained, "I have one memory, just one. I don't know how you two will take this when I tell you…"

Farkas and Aela turned silent. Vilkas said weakly, "Kodlak died. I saw him… and I saw Harkon… he killed…"

Aela stopped him suddenly, "No… Vilkas, your mind was warped and meddled by that bastard, who knows what he slipped in there."

Farkas shook his head, "He was fine when I left him. He was nowhere near Harkon. The fight was outside the castle, over the bridge."

Vilkas lowered his head, letting his black hair dangle to his face, "I know what I saw…"

Aela continued, "Harkon had you possessed. He's a vampire lord, for crying out loud. He could make you think the sky is falling."

"Harkon didn't have control. I was me. I was still a werewolf… but I was me, I wouldn't speak on this unless I was completely sure it happened," Vilkas berated further.

Aela grabbed a bucket of water and splashed it over the fire, "Let's get back to Fort Dawnguard, then. We will confirm you imagined it sooner than later. Farkas, grab the supplies and…"

"No!" Vilkas barked so loud that the birds in the trees flapped away, "I didn't imagine it, damn it! I know what I saw!"

Aela and Farkas froze and stared blankly at Vilkas, who kept his infuriated stare to the both of them. Aela lowered the bucket and resolved, "Let's just… get back to the fort. The others are probably waiting for us, anyway. If anyone knows what happened, it's Isran."

Farkas added calmly, "We've been here a little too long for comfort. We still got a mission."

Aela and Farkas began to pack up their supplies and pull over their cloaks. She left the rabbits over the stump and packed some old bread from the cabin. Vilkas sat up, aching at his injuries. He limped from the extinguished fire and followed Aela and Farkas through the grassy knoll and back to the main road.

After the grim news from Vilkas, the three travelled in almost complete silence to the fort. The trek was slow, due to Vilkas's limp. The fear of Kodlak kept all three moving urgently. Stepping closer to the Rift only filled Vilkas in dread. He wished Aela and Farkas were right, but he had a gnawing feeling in his gut. Every step they took only confirmed what he saw.

Serana and Mimzi were entering the borders of Winterhold. Serana seemingly unbothered by the cold, but Mimzi was shivering in icicles off her clothes and face. Her face was blistering red, and eyelashes frosted. She trudged angrily up the road to the ancient College of Winterhold once more.

Serana awed at the college, "Wow… I mean the town is a lot smaller but the college still stands… it's amazing."

Mimzi said in an angered trudge, "I hate this damn place. It's just cold and empty, and damn cold. Every time I come here it's colder and colder. It's always snowing!"

Serana chuckled, "A Nord who doesn't like the cold, you're a weird one, alright."

"Might want to use your fancy spell before any of these townsfolk notice what you are."

"Oh…" Serana gasped, "Right," she held her hand up over her head and casted the illusion spell.

The two walked up the stone ramp of the college. They both shuffled up the bridge over the steep falls under Winterhold and towards the college.

"Okay so, sound smart in this place, or they'll treat you like horse shit," Mimzi informed to Serana.

"I'm guessing that's hard for you?"

"Shut up."

The two walked into the main hall, then turned right into the stairwell to the Arcaneum— College of Winterhold's library. Urag gro-Shub sat behind the counter reading with a chalice of wine. He looked up to echoing footsteps nearing his desk and sighed, "You again… what are you doing back here? Come back for some more obscure knowledge? Brought your own 'errand girl' this time?"

Mimzi chuckled and shook her head, "Nope, 'fraid not. I'm actually here to get my scroll back… end of the world stuff, you know."

Serana rolled her eyes and Urag began to haughtily laugh. He nearly spat out his wine through his nostrils at such a proclamation. Mimzi stayed to his desk, tapping her fingers on the counter and pressing her lips as he obnoxiously cackled.

Urag composed, "Let me get this straight, you came here five months ago wanting to sell that scroll. We gave you two thousand septims for the damn thing, and now you just want it… back? Free of charge?!"

"Yup."

Urag curved a scowl and spat, "You read that thing, didn't you? 'Cause you're insane! You and Septimus Signus fell down the same rabbit hole. It must be!"

"There is no damn way that scroll was worth two thousand, you ripped me off! I got intel from a Moth Priest the thing is ten thousand, at least!"

"Oh, please! We had a deal, and you took it. You knew the price firsthand, so why you coming in here making yourself look like a drooling idiot in front of your friend here? Run along, girl, before I introduce you to Frosty."

Mimzi mocked, "Who's Frosty? Your terrible negotiating skills?"

"My atronach."

Serana hushed to Mimzi, "Okay, this wasn't a good idea…"

She stuck her hand up to Serana and continued at Urag, "Listen up, Orc. If you remember right, I'm the Dragonborn. Which means I'll Shout you and your atronach into the Sea of Ghosts and take the scroll for myself, anyway. So, you better start…"

"Okay, okay!" Serana mediated, "Look, I'm sorry for my friend. She's a little passionate and…"

"Neurotic, you mean." Urag glowered to Mimzi, who mocked a laugh and rolled her eyes.

Serana continued, "We are in the middle of some serious work. The world is in danger from vampires, and we need that scroll to stop it. You won't believe me now, but trust me, in a few weeks, or a few days, you'll wish you listened to us. Despite our differences, we are all facing the same dread. Even this college won't be safe. Please, if you value your life and everything you hold dear, just give us the scroll."

Urag stared to Serana with wide eyes. His mouth parted and his breath began to dwindle. He stared to her earnestly and exhaled, "Nope. Definitely not happening."

Serana groaned, "Okay… that's it."

She suddenly shot a spell of pink to the Orc's eyes, they glowed the same hue. He stunned first, then exhaled deeply, ending in a charmed smile. Mimzi's eyes shot wide and looked to Serana in disbelief.

"Now, will you give us the Elder Scroll?"

Urag smiled giddily, "Of course, my lady!"

He reached to the bottom of the desk and unlocked a chest with a charm mechanism that only unlocked via spell. He pulled out the large, golden scroll and plopped it down to the counter, "Anything else I can do for you?"

Serana happily grabbed the scroll and smiled, "Nope! That was it, thanks!"

She snatched Mimzi with her other arm, and held the scroll under her left. She pulled her out the Arcaneum. As soon as they reached the bridges, Mimzi began to shrill.

"What in Shor's Bones was that?! You used your seduction spell on him? When I said you should use that spell more, I meant not on the College of Winterhold librarian! He's got… atronachs!"

"Got us the scroll, didn't it?"

Mimzi kept an angered gawk, then leaned to a mischievous smile and praised, "Okay, that was so cool!" She began to cackle loudly in amusement, with Serana returning a giggle.

"Let's go! The spell wears off fast, remember?!"

Mimzi snatched Serana by the arm and the two giddily tittered as they ran from the college and back to the horse.

After a couple days of travelling, the Companions had reached Dayspring Canyon. Vilkas's limp aggravated to the point he could barely walk, and Aela and Farkas needed to hold him upright. They slowly walked up to the yard before the keep. Durak shot up from his campfire and bolted to the three.

"What the…" Durak blurted, "He's alive?! What happened?" He ran to assist with Vilkas, where Aela let go and let Durak take the lead.

Vilkas gruffly said, "Two weeks worth of arse beatings… that's what."

Aela replied, "Yes, he's alive. We need to speak to Isran as soon as possible, did Kodlak make it back?"

Durak stuttered and hummed as he helped Vilkas up the steps with Farkas's help.

Aela asked again, "Durak?"

"Uhh…" He stalled, "Let's just get this brooding zombie inside."

Inside the fort, Durak called out urgently, "ISRAN!"

The scuffling of the four echoed into the halls. Farkas and Durak quickly helped Vilkas down to the ledge, where he thudded aggressively and exhaled in pain. Durak added, "I'll go get you some health potions, sit tight."

He ran to the barracks and Isran emerged through, pallor to see the faces of the Circle once again. Isran breathed in and walked to the three. Aela looked to Isran and smiled, "Sorry for our late arrival. We've had quite the journey."

Isran looked down sombrely at Vilkas, "I can see that…" Vilkas looked up to him with dull eyes.

Durak came back with a few health potions in hand and gave them to Vilkas, who started drinking them as soon as he had them. Isran stayed a bewildered glare to Vilkas as he did so, and after the last swig from the last potion, Vilkas took notice and glared back, "Is there a reason you're staring at me like that, because you're unsettling me."

"No, I apologize. It's just… I thought you were dead. Feels like I'm staring at a ghost."

Vilkas asked suspiciously, "Is that the reason?"

Aela raised, "Where is Kodlak? We need to see him."

Isran froze to the question, his eyes set to the three peering intently to him for an answer, "Come to my quarters, all of you."

Farkas and Aela baffled at the words. Vilkas closed his eyes and wearily sighed. Farkas went to help him up, but he refuted, "I'm fine, potions helped. I can walk." Vilkas pressed up off the ledge and followed the other two up to Isran's quarters. A slow, growing dread began in Vilkas as he walked up the stairs and along the upper level to Isran's quarters. The three entered the room, and Isran stood behind the map table with a dour look.

Farkas said nervously, "Alright, you got us all up here. What did you want to say? Where is Kodlak?"

Vilkas looked to Isran again, who stayed silent but dejected. Isran glared to Vilkas— the two on the same spectrum of understanding with just a look. Aela awaited with heavy breath, her lips parted and mouth dry. Vilkas broke the silence, "He's dead, isn't he?"

Isran looked to the broken faces of Aela and Farkas, where their eyes already pebbling in tears. He closed his eyes and looked down to the map table, "Yes… yes he is dead."

A sudden silence came over the room; the fort. Even the shuffling from downstairs ceased and winds slowed as Isran spoke. He knew, but Vilkas still held his breath at hearing it. Farkas remained as still as a statue. Aela's eyes glazed over and looked down to the floor, her breath pattering. She knew this day would come soon, but it came sooner than what she was prepared for. A sense of emptiness— abandonment, was shared with the Circle.

"No…" Aela whimpered, shaking her head in denial, "No… he's… he can't be. He's our old man. I mean, he's… he's Kodlak."

"How do you know?" Farkas badgered, "Where's your proof? You expect us to just believe it?"

Vilkas muttered, "His stomach was torn out, wasn't it?"

Isran looked up from his map table and quaked, "Yes… he washed up on Haafingar shore. He was long gone before we found him. We returned his body to Whiterun. I believe they are waiting for you all to come home to arrange the funeral. Perhaps, you three should make haste."

"You want us to leave?" Vilkas raised in a glare, "Our old man is dead. It's time to take revenge. Mourning can come later."

Aela wiped away her tears and returned stoic, "Agreed. Funeral can wait. The vampires are in need of a perfect storm."

Isran shook his head and replied coolly, "No… you have all served us greatly. It's time for you all to return home. Heal your wounds and grieve your dead. Mimzi and Serana are in the field doing the important work, they reported in a couple days ago, and I expect to hear from them again soon. Our recruits are rising, and our fort is healing fast. We will take it from here."

Farkas battled, "Are you kidding? This is our fight. Kodlak died because this is our fight. It's not just yours. They attacked Whiterun, they killed our fath- our Harbinger! Now you want us to leave?!"

Isran grew a scowl, "Fine. I'll be plain. We needed you at the beginning. Things have been revealed… and you… your kind isn't welcome in this fort. Maybe I made an excuse for it for Kodlak's sake, but he's gone. I cannot have you here, I can't risk the danger it would pose to my men."

Vilkas broke out in menacing laughter, "Ysmir's beard, man. Listen to yourself. You have an issue with what we are, you can name it."

"You're werewolves. Despite your gruelling efforts to conceal it, I know," Isran growled, "All of you, I know. Your kind and vampires are cut from the same cloth. I won't reveal your secrets, and I won't hunt you like dogs as we normally would. I'm asking that you leave and never return to this fort again."

Farkas stepped to the war table, "You're scared! Kodlak was right about you, you're a short-sighted fool."

Vilkas gripped him back by the shoulder and Aela pleaded, "We are not like that. We may have kept this secret from you, but all we wanted was to help in this vampire menace. We can control our beasts. We are not mindless animals. You can trust us."

Isran shot back, "Really?"

He marched to a drawer and threw it open, snatching a book and stomping back and slapping it to the war table, "Explain that, then."

Aela and Farkas flummoxed at the book. Vilkas seethed through his nose and snarled, "You son of a bitch…" He paced to the war table and snatched the book in hand, "You read my damn journal?!"

Aela and Farkas asked aloud, "What?!"

"You have a journal?" Farkas raised to Vilkas— who kept his hateful glare at Isran.

Isran started, "According to that journal, you are far more a risk than I care to hold comfort in, especially considering I housed you in my fort. You cannot control your transformations. You are more of a threat than that damn vampire. You all must be damn mad to think I would let you stay here after what I know, and Stendarr's mercy, you're fortunate I haven't arranged a brigade to destroy you."

Vilkas's eyes went black, he lunged to Isran, where Aela and Farkas held him back. Isran went to grip the hilt of his war hammer and backed away.

"Vilkas, no!" Aela shrieked— pulling him back. Farkas went to the front of him and pushed him away.

"Now…" Isran announced, "Get out. All of you."

"Don't worry," Aela snarled to him passed her shoulder, "We're going."

Farkas pulled Vilkas from the room, who barked aloud, "COWARD!"

Durak stood outside the room, overhearing the exchange. He was passed by the infuriated glares of the Circle. He stood still and sombrely looking to the floors. Vilkas ripped himself from Farkas angrily and stomped down the steps ahead of them. The three walked from the fort in discontent, walking for minutes without speaking. They went to the stables to their horses and rode down Dayspring Canyon in complete silence. It wasn't until they had left the canyon that Farkas spoke.

"So what happens now?"

Aela sighed and Vilkas remained silent. He looked to the two in hopes for a reply, and Vilkas glowered, "We go back to Jorrvaskr."

"That's it?" Farkas said heatedly, "… we just… go back home and pretend this never happened?"

"No…" Vilkas sighed, "We go pay our respects to Kodlak."

Aela's eyes watered at the thought of home. The journey that lay wake still behind them. The journey that stole their Harbinger. She would soon be face to face with the walls of Jorrvaskr again, and the comfort of Whiterun's sweetly smelling streets. She would soon be with Skjor again. The world was at the edge of a descending cliff; yet she solaced in the thought she was going back.

"We're going home," she smiled.

Day 1

They trotted in silence to Whiterun against pulling winds that encouraged them all further not to speak. The winds never ceased and pulled in blankets of wispy pale clouds. The plains were void of colour, and a stark chill crept over the vista. It was the weather that slowly leeched life from trees and flowers, rippling water in the ponds. Farkas, Aela and Vilkas neared around the mountain passage, where they could see Dragonsreach over their city again. This day which was supposed to be filled with joy and pride, a day where they would approach Whiterun once again and be greeted by the celebratory cheers of their people. Only the souls of unavenged warriors watched them ride through a bleak mid-afternoon. This day they were coming home, and it was a shameful thing. To the three, they felt cheapened and ashamed, riding with their heads low. They pictured this day with their Harbinger in tow, with a certainty. Vilkas and Farkas felt without a home, and Aela without the heart of Jorrvaskr. Kodlak was gone, and they were coming home.

The three led their horses into the stables and continued up to Whiterun. Guards along the drawbridge watched in silence to the three renown warriors of Jorrvaskr finally return, but all sharing the same sadness. The guards opened the gates for Vilkas, Aela and Farkas, leading into Whiterun's streets. They were greeted with a prepared gloom over the street's inhabitants. Townsfolk bowed their heads in shame, and watching in longing grief to the Circle, who stoically entered the city again. The market was hollow of shopkeepers and patrons. The emptiness was out of respect for Kodlak Whitemane.

They walked up to the Wind District, where even the Gildergreen was wilting and shedding blossoms. As they approached the steps to Jorrvaskr, Skjor stood awaiting at the top before the doors. Vilkas, Farkas and Aela looked up to him in broken. Their hearts shattered, yet Skjor stood with a proud smile. He remained glad to see his dear friends once again. Vilkas, Farkas and Aela perked small smiles to see him once again, and walked up the steps to greet him. He did not exchange words with his fellow shield-siblings, he only wrapped each one into his arms in a tight embrace. An embrace that had a kindred woe. Grief.

Skjor pulled in Vilkas and Farkas in a firm hug and patted the boys on the shoulders, beaming a smile as he tried to fight tears. Farkas let his tears fall freely, where Vilkas repented the gnawing urge to weep. He kept his eyes to the ground as he released Skjor and left into the hall, with Farkas after. Aela stayed to Skjor for sometime, her face usually so still and cool, now quivering. She gently leaned herself into Skjor, who held her into himself like the warmth of spring. She rested her head into his shoulder, and their embrace stayed for sometime. Minutes went by and the two continued to hold on. No words spoken, and no wrenching cries. She found peace they were home.

Ria, Torvar, Njada and Athis went aghast at the return of the Circle, but did not surprise at them. They kept their shock to themselves, all silently gripped in grief, as well. Vilkas and Farkas passed them all as they sat at the dining table. They passed Tilma, who smiled warmly and went to the two. She did not speak, she simply rested her hand to the brother's cheeks. She allowed them to leave into the living quarters below. Farkas and Vilkas separated into each other's rooms. The smell of Jorrvaskr was no longer how they remembered it. The feeling of home had changed. The greatest hall in Skyrim felt without purpose. Not just the Circle felt it, all of Whiterun was succumbed in grief.

Vilkas and Farkas entered their bedrooms. They did not say goodnight, not even a glance to each other as they closed their doors before the other. Farkas sat to the edge of his bed. He pondered at the crates of mead for a moment, and another wave of pain fought through. He quickly grabbed at the bottles and began to binge the crate in haste, drinking down his sorrows. Vilkas studied his room for a while before his doors. He stared at the books in dust, and the dirty clothes piled to the floor. He looked down to the chair Kodlak once sat across from him as he suffered on his bed. The kind words Kodlak spoke, and the speeches he'd instil in Vilkas. His silvery eyes went white as tears sparkled. They fell down fast, and he shambled to his bed. He thudded down to the edge and crossed his fingers through his hair, allowing more tears to fall. His face winced painfully as he silently wept. He bore the pain ripping into his stomach. It filled his stomach and climbed to his throat. He gasped as tears flooded down his cheeks. He never felt without a father. As an orphan from the day he was born, he always had a home. As long as Kodlak lived, he had a home. He succumbed into his bed as he wept, praying the water from his eyes would exhaust him to sleep.

Day 3

Through the entirety of a day and night, Farkas and Vilkas slept. The weeks of dismal sleep, stress and exhaustion, made it entirely too easy for the two of them to sleep for days. When they would awake, they would remember Kodlak, and fall back to sleep. They dreaded to spend a day with the knowing. Skjor sat up from his bed, bare-chested and fatigued. He moved his hand to pet the hands of Aela, who still slept in his bed beside him. She faced the wall, but her back revealed the bruises and scars freshly blemishing her skin. Her chest rose and exhaled peacefully, the first bout of peace she had in days. Skjor tightened his grip to her hand. The relief to have her back crippled him in worry now, he feared the pain and sadness she wrangled in.

She rolled over from sleep. Her eyes batted up at Skjor and curved a weak smile, "How long have you been up?"

Skjor smiled down to her and moved her hair from her face, "Not long. How you feeling?"

Aela rolled to her back and looked up at the ceiling, "I slept… I ate. I should be feeling great."

"But you're not?" He asked in concern. She looked back up at Skjor and shook her head, her lips twitched but she diligently held it at bay. He muttered, "You should stay in bed today… all of you. Just sleep it off. I can handle the arrangements for the funeral, train the whelps, push aside some missions."

Aela shook her head again, "I'm fine. You can't be handling all that yourself. We're back now."

"You need this day, all of you. Gods know I did. I can handle another day. Believe it or not, it's been a pretty tightly run ship since you've all been gone."

Aela raised a brow, "Can boss everyone around all on your own, just how you like."

Skjor smiled, "You know me," as Aela's smile left again, he said, "Kodlak's funeral will be tomorrow at dawn. Take this day to rest, you'll need it."

He got up and equipped his armour, Aela listened to the cluttering of metal, she rested her head under her arm watching.

Skjor looked back down to her, "I mean it, get some rest."

Aela perked a smile, "I missed you," she turned back to the wall and exhaled heavy hearted into the pillow. He smiled warmly as Aela turned over, then left the room after sheathing his sword.

Inside the barracks were low discussions between Njada, Torvar, Ria, and Athis.

Ria asked to the three, "Do we know what happened yet? Any of them left their rooms since yesterday?"

Athis said, "No… haven't seen any of them. Did you see Vilkas? Looked like he had a run in with a troll."

Torvar added, "They all looked pretty beat up. Maybe… we won? They killed those vamps and it's over?"

Njada said, "Unlikely."

Torvar badgered in questions, "Then why are they back? They come back for the funeral, and head out once Kodlak's wake is done? Wasn't this supposed to be like the end of the world? I mean… where's Mimzi? Did she die out there too?"

Athis stated, "Skjor did mention that Mimzi was still at Fort Dawnguard, I figure she's dead."

Njada grumbled, "Agreed."

Ria snapped, "Honestly, the Harbinger is dead. Have some respect. You think it's okay to talk about a fellow shield-sibling like that right now?"

"Couldn't agree more," Skjor chimed from the doorway, and the whelps flinched and ceased their chatter. They all began to equip their armour hastily.

"Sorry…" Athis muttered to Skjor as he buckled his cuirass.

"Save it," Skjor snarled, "…we've got training in ten. Everyone get your things, eat and meet me in the yard. You all won't have time for gossip as you practice your blocking."

Torvar asked, "What happened? Did you talk to the rest of the Circle?"

Njada intervened, "Did they stop the vampires?"

"All you need to know, is they fought for our city and sacrificed much to avenge our fallen," Skjor explained, "Kodlak fell trying to protect them, and they are processing that. Least we can do is give them space as they do so. Now move it, all of you."

The whelps looked to each other in discontent and carried on through the barracks following Skjor to the yard. They carried on with training as usual in the early hours of morning. Skjor yelled out orders to the whelps and supervised their progress. He then heard the doors of Jorrvaskr open behind him, Aela soon stood to his side, wearing a set of leather armour and a long bow with a quiver to her back. Skjor startled at her sudden appearance, "What the… you're supposed to be in bed…"

Aela looked to Skjor said, "We all grieve differently. I'd rather be shooting arrows at something then lay in a bed."

"Aela…" Skjor groaned.

"I'm fine, really," Aela assured, "I just want to train."'

She walked past him and towards the archery post, catching the attention of the whelps. They stared to her in disbelief, but she remained undaunted. She began shooting arrows at the post. She could feel their eyes burning into the back of her head, and sadness soon turned to rage.

Skjor yelled out, "Hey! What are you all staring at? Get back to…"

Suddenly Aela turned and snapped her arrow just between Torvar and Njada's heads, making them scream and fly back from the arrow that thudded into the cobblestone wall. Ria and Athis went aghast, and Skjor flinched. Aela glared down the whelps and growled behind clenched teeth, "You heard him. Get training, or the next arrow will shoot into an eye socket."

Skjor held his tongue, but internally knew it was overzealous. The yard was silent then progressing back to training, the four whelps shooting anxious glances to Aela.

Day 4

Vilkas awoke to a knock on his door, he rubbed his eyes and shot up at remembering the day.

"Vilkas. Wake up… it's time."

Skjor said through the door and knocked onto Farkas's. Vilkas stood from his bed and got dressed. He went to open the door. As he walked out, he noticed Skjor at Farkas's door, and Eorland coming through to their hallway. He held two heavy sets of armour in his arms.

Eorland smiled warmly to him, "Welcome back, boy… it's good to see you again."

Vilkas's heavy eyes softened, "You too, Grey-mane."

"I've got armour for you and your brother, for the ceremony…" Eorland passed a set to Vilkas. It was wolf armour, carved almost the same as his old set, but darker steel.

Vilkas raised, "You crafted this… in two days?"

"Overnight," Eorland informed, "Been working on it since Skjor filled me in you lost your armour in the field. It's fine Skyforge steel armour. It came out darker than the other sets, but it's beautiful. Like ebony but half the weight."

Vilkas looked down and appreciated the intricate carvings and sharp shade of the steel. He looked up to Eorland, "Thank you…"

He held a set of steel armour in the other arm for Farkas, who had yet to come out.

Skjor called again, "Farkas! Up and at 'em. It's time."

Eorland queried, "What is the lad doing? He should be awake by now."

Vilkas pushed through Skjor and banged loudly on the door, "Farkas! Let's go!"

Suddenly a barrage of bottles went clanging inside the room. Loud shuffling and rummaging to the doors. As Farkas came from his room, a strong stench of old mead and body odour wafted out, making the three men wince. Farkas's eyes were blood red, and his skin pale. His tunic old and stained in sweat and mead. He held a sottish pallor, "Sorry… what's going on?"

"Kodlak's funeral…" Vilkas said in annoyance.

Farkas gasped, "Oh, damn it…That's today?"

Skjor, Vilkas and Eorland looked to him in discontent. He lost his stunned expression, "That's today… then."

Eorland handed Farkas the steel armour and said, "There you go. Put it on before the ceremony, would you?"

Farkas slurred, "Yeah… yeah, yeah sure…"

Skjor sighed, "As soon as you two get the armour on, you can come to the Hall of the Dead with me," he faltered and reluctantly said, "… to see Kodlak's body. If you still want to, of course."

Vilkas went stoic as Farkas's bloodshot eyes wilted. He continued, "There won't be much time for last words at the Skyforge. If there's anything you wanted to say to Kodlak, anything at all, this may be your last chance."

Farkas swallowed, "Yeah, I'll go," he glanced to Vilkas, "If my brother is going, too."

"Vilkas?" Skjor raised.

Vilkas nodded, "Yes… I'll go."

Skjor replied, "Good," and left the two brothers to equip their armour before following him to the Hall of the Dead.

The brothers clanged out in new armour to the streets of Whiterun. The sun just barely peaked over the city walls. Vilkas could see the Skyforge adorned in red and gilded tapestries, and a log pyre stacked over the forge. The preparations were ready, and all that was missing was the faces of Kodlak's friends and family, and his body over the pyre. They both strode with jangled nerves to the Hall of the Dead. Skjor awaited at the doors. Farkas walked with a sluggish gait. Alcohol seeding from his pores. The wind caught the scent and brought it up to Vilkas, who ignored it.

Inside the Hall of the Dead lay a coffin over a long oak table. The coffin had wrappings along the table edges, and scattered embalming tools and oils. Vilkas crept a chill at one look of it. He hesitated to step closer, where Farkas walked up to it undaunted. He took one look into the coffin and choked. His face went pale.

Skjor said, "Farkas?"

He backed away from the coffin, then bolted out the Hall of the Dead— heaving and gagging as he did so. Vilkas frightened at the sight of his brother's terror. He was far more avoidant to face his old man than he would have known. He rattled in his place and his eyes froze to the coffin sides.

Skjor sighed and explained, "I was going to say, before you see him… you must prepare yourselves. It's been days since he was brought to Whiterun, never mind a week since he died. He won't look how you remember him. Embalming oils can only do so much."

Vilkas shivered, "I… I don't know if I…"

"I'll be right here beside you," Skjor comforted, resting his hand to Vilkas's shoulder, "He's still Kodlak… our old man. For me, I pretend he's sleeping. It helps."

He looked back to Skjor and tried to compose himself. Vilkas nodded and walked to the coffin. He slowly blinked as he came over the coffin opening, and reopened his eyes. Vilkas inhaled then stalled his breath. Sweat built in his palms and his heart began to race at the sight of Kodlak. He looked a shrivelled and empty version of himself. His skin pale and grey, and eyelids crusted and disfigured. His white hair and beard were neatly groomed, but could not stale the disturbance of Kodlak's dead body. His face looked stretched and thin as parchment, and a smell of death lingered over the corpse. He didn't feel like he was looking at Kodlak, but rather a disturbing replication.

Vilkas fought the vomit climbing up his throat, replacing his disgust with dread. He forced himself to breathe, and calmed his nerves.

"Vilkas…" Skjor softly spoke.

He replied in a crass, low croak, "He doesn't look like he's sleeping, he looks dead."

Skjor paused for a moment and replied, "It works for me, not for everyone. The priest needs to wrap him in linen. Even if he looks dead, you gotta find some kind of comfort in your last words. Don't waste it."

Vilkas shook off his nerves, "Right… right."

He looked down to the embalmed corpse and remembered the soul that used to bring it to life. The kind, warm eyes staring across from him at the table, and the words so wise it felt as if he remembered them from legendary texts. A comforting man, even without words shared, his presence was home. A fantastic warrior layered in victorious battles, a fierce friend to many, a loving and guiding father figure. Vilkas reached his hand onto Kodlak's chest. Skjor looked to the floor in respect and closed his eyes, listening to Vilkas's soft weeps.

"Jergen wasn't my father," Vilkas quaked, "You and Farkas say it. Vignar says it. He found us so he's our father. That's what you said. But… gods… I never had the chance to tell you how wrong you all are. My memories are faint with Jergen. So faint I can scarcely fathom they even happened. You and Farkas… you're my life… my world since the beginning. You two were constant. My family. You're my father. I never said it enough, and I don't think I ever told you how much it meant to me… to have you as my father. It meant everything, everything I've ever done, every life I've ever saved, and battle I've won… I owe it to you, Kodlak."

Vilkas wept for a while, and Skjor gently led him away as the priest came to the coffin to wrap Kodlak. Vilkas gasped hard in the cold air, trying to calm himself. Skjor led Vilkas back to Jorrvaskr, where people began to gather up the steps to the mead hall.

Jarl Balgruuf and Irileth came up the steps first, with the Grey-Mane clan and Danica following after. Slowly more townsfolk came up the steps, and a few townguard who wished to pay their respects. The warriors of Jorrvaskr came next through the patio doors. Firstly, the whelps, then Aela and Farkas. Vignar came up to the Skyforge with them. Lastly walked up Vilkas and Skjor. Vilkas had a moment to compose himself before attending the funeral. He walked up to the standing along the forge, his eyes dull. Farkas stood next to Vilkas, where Aela stood to the other side of them holding a torch. The sun rose over them as two guards carried Kodlak's coffin to the peak. He was wrapped generously in linen and brought over in care to the pyre a top the forge of embers. Eorland stood before the pyre, facing those who came to the Skyforge.

He announced to the Circle, "Who would like to start?"

Aela stepped forward coolly, "I'll do it," she said aloud so all could hear, "Before the ancient flame."

Vilkas, Aela, Farkas and Skjor said together, "We grieve."

"At this loss…" Skjor said.

"We weep."

Vilkas spoke in a hoarse tone, "For the fallen…"

"We shout."

Farkas's voice cracked, "And for ourselves…"

"We take our leave."

Aela slowly walked through the crowd of sniffling and weeping, she stepped to the forge. She rested the torch to take light onto the pyre, that cackled and lit quickly, reigniting the forge. Vilkas couldn't bare to see the coffin begin to light, and left the crowd down the steps to Jorrvaskr.

Day 5

It was nearing the afternoon and Vilkas walked up to Dragonsreach, wearing a pale tunic. He came up to the great doors and pushed through; pacing to the throne of Jarl Balgruuf. As he appeared before the court, Balgruuf greeted him amicably.

"Vilkas… it's good to see you. I hope the time is prudent… considering…"

Vilkas said in a monotone voice, "You wanted to see me, Jarl?"

Jarl Balgruuf slighted a bit to his coldness and resolved, "Of course, a Nord is keen in keeping his heart still in conversation, and hot in battle. I have given you all some time to process the passing of Kodlak, and my deepest condolences stay the same. But… I need to know what happened in those weeks. I need to know how all this unfolded, and if we are any closer in defeating the vampire menace. Isran refuses to tell me anything."

Vilkas scoffed, "Figures. We spent most of our time at that fort cleaning up Isran's messes and fighting at the front lines. The vampires are taking their orders from an ancient one named Harkon. We have… made some progress… yes. Mimzi… she's out there now still working to end it. Whether the Dawnguard are fighting alongside her is up for debate. They seemed pretty cozy in their abandoned castle last we saw."

Jarl Balgruuf growled, "Bastard. I should have known better than to trust that man. I feel I am responsible for the death of your Harbinger. I pressured him to leave with Isran and fight. I didn't know or could even imagine it would come to this."

"Do not blame yourself," Vilkas assured coolly, "Kodlak wanted to go of his own accord. He would have went whether or not we agreed to go with him."

The Jarl followed up, "And Mimzi, she's out there, still? Do you know if she's safe… or even alive?"

"I don't know… I hope so."

"We lost our Harbinger," Balgruuf lamented, "It would be a tragedy to lose our Dragonborn, as well. Thank you for this… I know it couldn't have been easy, but you've done our city a service. Whiterun owes you, your brother and Aela an ode of gratitude. You avenged Whiterun, lad."

"Until Harkon lay dead… our city isn't avenged. I'm sorry, Jarl Balgruuf, but our work isn't finished. We… didn't do a damn thing."

He turned away and walked out the Jarl's presence, who stayed disheartened at the cold departure. Vilkas walked back to Jorrvaskr and plowed through the doors, ignoring the vacant stares of the whelps at the table. He barked aloud, "Stop staring at me, idiots!" He ran to the living quarters. He sought his brother urgently, who he needed to confide in. Farkas was in his room, but had not come out all day. Vilkas yelled out, "Farkas!" He went to push through the doors as he said, "I need to talk to— Woah!!"

Vilkas flinched and irked at what he saw when he entered the room, and looked away. Farkas's room was littered in empty mead bottles. To his bed he lay naked, with two unclothed maidens to each side of him— laughing giddily.

Farkas bellowed a laugh, "This is why you should knock, brother."

"Shor's bones! Farkas… what are you doing?!"

"Isn't it obvious?" He slurred a reply, "Getting it while it stays good. Kodlak would be proud, right?"

"No! Get the wenches out, I need to talk to you," Vilkas berated while looking away, "Now!"

Farkas reluctantly obliged, "Fine… sorry ladies, my brother needs me."

The two girls whined and grabbed their clothes, petulantly leaving Farkas's side. Vilkas kept his glare down to the floor then up at Farkas as they wenches left. Farkas wrapped himself in a fur blanket over the waist.

Vilkas said as they were left alone, "Really, Farkas? What are you doing?"

Farkas shrugged crassly, "What's that face about? I'm living my life to the fullest, Vilkas."

Vilkas rolled his eyes and closed Farkas's door behind them, "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"We need to go back out there, Dawnguard or not. We know where that castle is… I have the ring, you can control your wolf just fine. We could rip through that pit," Vilkas rambled hotly, making Farkas turn white in shock, "I was going to ask you then… if you agreed, we can ask Aela. Maybe Skjor will join us."

Farkas lifted from his shock and began to laugh. Vilkas went still at this reaction. Farkas cackled, "You'd have to be crazy to think I'm ever going back to that damn castle, Vilkas. Why would you even want to go back there? After the torture they put you through?"

"Because our warriors are stronger than fear, I thought. You especially."

"I'm not scared! I'm done! For once, I'm the smart one here. We just got out of that place, lost Kodlak… damn it- Vilkas… there's no way I'm ever going back there. To Oblivion with the mission."

"Who are you?! You're not my brother, I'll tell you that much."

Farkas croaked a chuckle in disbelief, "I ran across Skyrim to find you, I let you slash me up so I could get you back. I was full of revenge when I thought you were dead… but you're not dead! I am your brother, I just don't want to drag this on! I'm done!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Drinking yourself into a stupor where you can barely recall your own name, sleeping days and nights in this room, bedding whores?! This isn't you. You're trying not to feel, then? Well guess what, it won't work. It never works. You're destroying yourself, Farkas."

"Who cares if I am? Honestly, why do you care so much?"

"Are you mad?!"

"He's dead because of me! Because I left him to chase you. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have left him… I should have protected him. He's… dead because of me."

Vilkas barked, "Oh, shut up! You think I wasn't blaming myself? You idiots couldn't just let me rot and die. I was already dead! Now I'm alive and useless as ever. You want to blame yourself, fine, but for Ysmir's sake, get angry! We didn't kill him, that bloodsucker did."

Farkas sighed and pinched his eyes closed, "I go where you go, Vilkas… and do what you do. But this… I won't go with you."

Vilkas pushed the doors open and left Farkas to his thoughts alone.

Day 6

"We've come to an agreement," Aela stated to Skjor, who sat at the dining table reading a tome on vampires. He looked up to Aela, with Farkas and Vilkas at her back.

Skjor looked up and raised, "On what?"

"We want to make you Harbinger…" Farkas announced. Skjor baffled and closed his book to offer his full attention.

He replied, "Really? You're all… fine with that?"

"More than fine…" Vilkas said, "It was a straight-forward decision. You were Kodlak's right hand, you're the master trainer, it was always going to be you. We've agreed and we need a Harbinger."

Skjor stood from his chair and pushed down the relinquished grief of Kodlak to accept the title, "I'd be honoured. Vilkas, you can presume my duties as master at arms. The whelps fear you, and that's good enough for me."

"Training whelps isn't exactly a hobby of mine."

Skjor instructed, "It's not supposed to be, it's supposed to mould honourable and resilient warriors. As Harbinger, I can't see anyone else more worthy of the job."

Vilkas accepted, "I'll do my best, Harbinger."

Skjor smiled and patted Vilkas on the shoulder, "Good man. I'll go share the news with the whelps downstairs, thank you all. I'll make Kodlak proud, I swear to you."

"We know you will," Aela warmly smiled. Skjor nodded to the three and left to the living quarters at once. Farkas, Vilkas and Aela remained alone again.

Aela looked to Farkas and offered, "You should dole out the missions, there is a huge pile of decrees in Kodlak's chamber I can bring to you. Might as well… get things back to normal. Do some missions."

Vilkas rejoined, "Honestly, finding a lost family heirloom seems pretty relaxing now. You alright with that, Farkas?"

He accepted, "Of course, I wanna help. What about you Aela?"

"I'll probably check on the guard, see what progress they made when Dawnguard were here. If there's anything I can offer the security of the city, it's skill behind a bow."

Vilkas shrugged, "I guess I'll train the drooling idiots and keep to that; well, and missions, if I can be spared to complete any."

Farkas nodded, "I'll find something for you to do."

Vilkas gave a nod before leaving their attention and back down the living quarters. Aela patted her hand on Farkas's shoulder before departing, as well.

"Aela, wait…" Farkas called, "We're all together again… but doesn't feel like it. Feels like we are leagues away from each other still. Is that normal?"

Aela sighed, "... maybe it won't ever be normal," she left Farkas and back to the living quarters, as well.

Downstairs, Farkas walked to Kodlak's old chambers. He stepped into the quarters with a heavy heart. He saddened at the lines of books along shelves Kodlak hoarded, the half-eaten piece of his favourite apple pie still at his desk, and his trophies and keepsakes along the walls. Farkas forced a smile at Kodlak's place of comfort. He looked down to the table and saw the pile of mission decrees Aela spoke of. He walked up to the pile. Farkas read through them, and his face dropped, the numerous decrees all repeating the same word.

'A vampire invasion in the Rift. Vampires attacking Windhelm. Vampire cave outside Darkwater Crossing. A cult of vampires preying on Khajiit caravans and dunmer refugees. A vampire within the town of Morthal. Vampire… vampire… vampire.'

Farkas slammed the papers back to the desk with heavy breath. He could feel sweat crawling down his forehead. In the weeks that had passed, the pile of missions all consisted of vampire related plights. The plague had risen in their time gone. The threat of vampire invasion wasn't a conclusion in the possible future, it was happening now. He felt a building panic, knowing the danger they would leave to Skyrim's people if they didn't help destroy the source.

Day 7

Farkas sat with Aela the whole night, going over the pages of bounties and decrees from Jarls and Lords. All of them dejectedly staring silently at the mass of vampire plights. Farkas swept his hand through his hair.

"It's getting worse…"

Aela looked over the pages, flipping through them before setting her pile back to the table, "Doesn't matter, these people asked for our help, so we treat it like any other mission."

"But it's not any other mission. We know it isn't."

"We take on any of these missions, we are still saving people from the vampires. We're still helping Mimzi and Serana. We may not be skirmishing, but we are at the front lines, slowly driving the malicious intent from our brethren. Just like Kodlak said."

"We can't just send two or three shield brothers to fight these bastards alone."

Aela sighed, "No… I know… vampires aren't bandits or bears."

"So what do we do?"

Aela pondered for a moment, "We speak to Skjor. He can decide what mission will be first, and who will go. That's it."

She got up from the table, leaving Farkas with the decrees alone. She stayed his pensive glare down to the rolls of parchment, contemplating their position in Whiterun, and indulging Vilkas's proposal.

Vilkas rose bright and early for the training. He stood in the yard, begrudgingly watching the whelps train and spar against each other.

He snapped out angrily, "Damn it, Torvar! I've taught you the stance at least twenty times now. Relax your damn shoulders!"

Torvar stood before the archery post, fumbling his bow and arrow, nervously looking back to Vilkas's enraged glare. He pleaded, "I'm sorry, alright! It's a lot harder than it looks."

"How is it that I can teach a whelp this in less than ten minutes, and it's taken you over an hour to even hold the bow right?! You're useless! Space your legs a little, arch your back, pull in your breath, and release!" Vilkas ranted as he marched closer.

He snatched the bow from Torvar and shoved him out of the way. Vilkas took aim of the archery post, pulled in the arrow, stressed his back muscles and made the stance. His memories drifted back to the Fort Dawnguard training yard with Mimzi. He snapped back and shot the arrow; nailing it right in the bullseye.

"There…" Vilkas huffed, "Like that," he slammed the bow back into Torvar's clasp, "Try again."

Vilkas left the whelps who glared into his back. As Vilkas left their sight, they began to rant.

Torvar grumbled, "All he did was come shoot the arrow and leave. He didn't teach a damn thing!"

Ria muttered to Torvar, "You're doing great. I think… Vilkas is still upset about Kodlak."

Athis said, "Yeah… now his training is worse than ever. He comes out, bullies us, rants and stomps his feet like a troll, then runs back inside."

Njada snarled, "You can bet I'll be speaking to Skjor on this. It's ridiculous, we're not learning a thing with him!" She shook her head in grievance and stomped back to Jorrvaskr. She threw open the doors. As she came inside, she could see Vilkas and Skjor conversing.

Vilkas took notice and berated, "What are you doing in here, Njada? Get back to the yard!"

Njada growled, "I'm not your indentured servant, Vilkas. I'm your student, and you have failed as my teacher."

"What?!"

Skjor intervened, "Whoa, alright, what is this about?"

"Skjor, Vilkas has been incompetent ever since you gave him the reins as master at arms," Njada lectured boldly, "We are not being trained, we're being stomped over like garbage."

Skjor hollered, "What do you think this is? You think we are here to cater your pride? You're here to become the best fighters Skyrim has. You think to get there you want us to treat you like your babysitters? We are here to accommodate our people; not you. Now get back to the yard."

Njada scoffed angrily and marched back outside to the yard, leaving Vilkas and Skjor alone once more. Skjor claimed, "She's right, Vilkas. You've been a rubbish teacher. You keep this on much longer, those kids will be dropping like flies against mudcrabs and skeevers alike. You have to keep your temper in control."

"Skjor, they're annoying, they don't listen, and all they want to do is run into battle on their own wits. They don't want a teacher; they already think they know it all."

"You know they don't. So why have you given up?"

Vilkas sighed and remained silent, where Skjor kept to him impatiently.

"Well?"

"You have any idea how unbearable it is to be here now? You think it's so easy to move on and train the morons and do missions like nothing is wrong? Those… animals are still out there. Killing… destroying lives. Our mission isn't finished. I'm not supposed to be training, you know where I'm meant to be."

Before Skjor could respond, the front doors burst open, in walked a Stormcloak soldier. His face lathered in sweat, and eyes wide as the moons. Skjor and Vilkas looked to him suddenly. Skjor barked out, "Who are you and what business do you have here?"

The Stormcloak soldier breathed heavily and walked to the two men. The soldier announced, "I've… been sent by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. We need the Companion's help. Our city… is in terrible danger."

Skjor rejoined, "What's happening in Windhelm?"

"Vampires repeatedly attack the borders of Windhelm. They've been trying to get in. They want control, and we've been keeping them at bay, but…" The Stormcloak said dejectedly. "We asked of the Dawnguard, they refused us… said their numbers are too dismal. Isran referred us to you. The Jarl is willing to offer handsome compensation, as long as your honoured mead hall keeps our city defended."

Vilkas and Skjor baffled at the information. They made affronted expressions and looked to each other, trying to decide what the next course of action should be.

Later in the evening, before supper, Tilma was roasting a venison over the spit. The whelps sat at the table eagerly awaiting their meal, with the Circle coming to sit overlooking the hall. As Skjor came from the living quarters he announced, "Listen up!"

The Companions looked up from their chatter and gave attention to Skjor. The whelps looked up to him stunned, and the Circle patiently awaited.

"We had a courier from Windhelm come to the hall today. They have asked of our aid. Windhelm is under threat by vampires," the numbers of the Companions hushed and spoke quietly to one another, Vilkas, Aela, and Farkas exchanged worried looks. "A month ago, our honoured Harbinger, Kodlak, he asked of the Circle and a new-blood, to join himself to Fort Dawnguard for a fateful errand. Now I am asking all of you, all of my Companions, to fight for Windhelm in their darkest moments. In this kind of peril, we need every fighting man and woman we can find."

The whelps froze to their seats in astonishment and Njada asked, "You want us to come, too?"

"Yes… everyone," he declared, "We're a family, and we need to stick together. This time, if we leave this hall, we leave together, we don't leave anyone behind. This is a job, and as one we all stand a better chance in succeeding. All together, we can destroy the threat with ease. We'll have the Stormcloak army at our flank. We lost one of our greatest, but we are still the Companions. Every shield brother to our side is another sword in our clasp."

Aela looked kindred-like to Farkas, a face of fear and uncertainty. Vilkas bobbed his knee, but relieved at the news. He yearned to take the fight to the vampires; one way or another. Tilma ceased her cooking and looked stunned to hear it. The whelps curved ambitious grins. Skjor awaited an answer from his shield-siblings.

"So…" Skjor asked of the Companions, "you all in?"

[A/N: A depressing chapter :( Our Circle all take turns showing how they handle their grief. Farkas trying to drink to stale the pain, Aela finding solace in Skjor, and Vilkas's anger towards the vampires and feeling like he's wasting time not fighting. I was listening to "Comin' Home by City and Colour" while writing this, and it inspired the title. It's hard to write grief for myself, as I have never experienced losing someone and pray I don't anytime soon. Please let me know if I missed the mark in capturing it, I'm very open to any criticism!

Yes, I had to keep the Mimzi and Serana scene. Not just to show they got the scroll, but for a bit of comic relief in such a grim chapter. Urag is sure going to be pissed when he finds out that scroll is missing!

Just wanted to thank everyone who is still reading and reviewing! It's very much appreciated and inspires me to keep writing! Thank you all, you're all gems and I'm sending love your way!]