Approximately one and a half years ago:
Mythic Dawn Cultists sat on wooden chairs arranged in a circle withing a cavernous ruined temple.
At the forefront of the group was Silus, facing the masked members all, with Vonos seated beside him.
"I do solemnly vow that once blessed, my allegiance shall forever be tied to Mehrunes Dagon, Lord of Change and Destruction. Forever shall I be immortal bound, in his great paradise, and forever shall I trample all other mortals unworthy beneath the sole of my boot. Should I have a change of heart, may the offensive core of my being be torn out, root and stem." Silus Vesuius recited as he sat in a circle with others Mythic Dawn outfits.
Vonos placed a hand on his head. "And now you must be reborn. You have said the oath, and now you must seal it."
He led him up to his feet and brought the Imperial over to an altar which was covered with a blanket. Underneath the sullen gray cloth appeared to be something human in its shape.
"Lift it." Vonos commanded.
Silus was hesitant. He already had an awful feeling as to what it could be based on the shape. The question wasn't 'what', but instead it was 'who.'
Silus shivered for a moment. There was no going back now. He knew too much for regrets. There was only going forward.
He swallowed hard and pried the sheet off the altar, revealing something that tugged his heartstrings like a pair of bladed prongs. "No..."
It was Madena, the court wizard.
Silus studied her features up and down, examining every pore, every strand of hair, even the small points at the tips of her ears. It was her, there was no doubt about it.
"No! Not Madena!" Silus protested with horror.
"It has to be her." Vonos informed him sternly.
The one person who ever showed him compassion; the one person who saw the better in him his entire life.
"But... but why? What has she done to deserve this?" Silus tried to advocate for her.
"In order for the ritual to succeed, you must sacrifice one who you care about to Lord Dagon." Vonos explained.
"This... this is barbaric!" Silus realized now that he was sunk. He was standing with one foot in a grave and the other in quicksand.
Immediately he could see two other cultists standing at either side of the sadistic altar with hands on their dagger hilts, ready to either move aside, or slit his throat.
Silus stepped forward and touched Madena's right cheek. It felt warm. "She... she may very well be my only friend in the world."
"And that was her greatest mistake." Vonos placed Mehrunes' Razor, now fully completed, in his hand by its hilt and forcefully closed his fingers around it.
Silus looked at his friend and felt his throat tightening from within. He could not even swallow his saliva, it was so tense. And yet he was parched, dehydrated. His fingers tensed with the grip he had.
"I... I couldn't." Silus protested as tears welled up in his eyes. "Please, can I sacrifice someone else? May-maybe Keeper Carcette? Maybe one of the other Vigilants?"
"Even if they were viable, you yourself have seen their destruction." Vonos reminded him. "Did you not escape their custody in the midst of a Vampire attack a couple of weeks ago?"
"Yes, and I cut down one of those brazen fools with the Razor." Silus boasted as he recalled the wondrous, satisfying feeling that he bathed in after plunging the dreaded knife into Moric Sidrey.
"Madena is the only one." Vonos insisted sternly. "She matters much to you; and so you must cleave off that part of yourself. Only the Cause matters to you now."
"The Cause." Silus repeated as his eyes darted side to side while he leaned over Madena's unconscious body.
"The Cause."
"Will... will she feel pain?" Silus asked as he gripped the blade tightly with both hands.
"It will be over in a split second." Vonos reassured him. "And when all is said and done, you will become one of us, and an inheritor of this world. You will have the power of a god. You could resurrect her if it pleases you."
Silus considered it. He would. Of course he would! If this was a necessary sacrifice, it looked as though he had no choice.
They had been preparing him for months to partake in this ritual and onwards. He could not back away.
"I'm sorry." he whispered sadly as he touched the center of her breasts with the tip of the dagger. His hand shook uncontrollably as he attempted to position the knife over her heart.
Every fiber of his being told him to stop now, that it was all a lie, that she was his friend. But he knew that refusal would no doubt kill them both.
Silus placed his left hand on the pommel to force it steady, but it was to no avail. As if to take some of the burden away, Vonos placed his hand on top of Silus' and used his other hand to keep it steady.
There really was no turning back.
I'm sorry!
A lone tear ran down Silus' face as he quickly drove the dagger down, with Vonos' assistance, plunging it through her ribs and into her heart.
Madena's eyes shot open and she gasped her last breath loudly and suddenly before her soul fled her body and she went completely limp.
Silus was horrified by the sound; it was almost inhuman. It was almost as if the scream itself was the sound of her soul leaving its husk behind.
He fell forward onto her hopelessly as sorrow strangled his heart. An audible sob wormed out of his throat - though unfortunately his soul remained.
What have I done? he asked himself as he wept into her abdomen.
Vonos pulled the dagger out and blood began to bubble up and spurt upwards like a drilled oil vein, running down the sides of her royal blue robes and onto the stone slab which depicted Mehrunes' face on both ends.
Mythic Dawn members gathered her body and held her over a basin so that her blood could fill it, and another came in with a set of white robes depicting the sun.
Once the tub was filled with the viscus red fluid, they cast the body aside and dipped the robes into the blood. With each dip, they chanted in the Daedric tongue.
Once the robes were completely rouge, they melded it under a flame spell, baking the blood into the fabric.
"And now, you may wear her, as we all wear one special to ourselves." Vonos instructed as the cultists handed the freshly bloodied robes to Silus.
Up until now, he'd thought it was an exaggeration. And now he knew it wasn't. He looked at the robes and felt completely hollow.
Vonos turned to one of the other members: a female Breton, sure enough. "Now, assume her form and return to the Pale. You are now 'Madena'."
She smiled sinisterly and cast a powerful illusion spell upon herself and assumed the likeness of the Court Mage.
Silus gasped. The resemblance was uncanny. Especially when the body double looked at him.
All was perfect except for her eyes. Her eyes told a different tale to one who was observant enough.
The double nodded to Vonos and left the cavernous hideaway, leaving Silus astonished and forced into silence.
"Congratulations, Silus. You are now one of us. Let us celebrate the new member in our fold!" Vonos announced and all who were present began to applaud.
The applause almost made it all worth it. Silus turned back to Madena's corpse, with her paling flesh. "I will bring you back to life, and I will have my vengeance."
Cura and her allies descended the Pale and entered Whiterun.
Keeper Carcette led by the front, and Cura couldn't help but feel annoyed by the fact.
Why was she letting her take the lead when Cura knew the area well enough? It was senseless.
Cura shifted her walking pattern and cut ahead of the Keeper. She walked so slowly, lumbering with her awkward Warhammer on her back and Cura grew tired of slowing down to match her pace.
Lucien picked up his pace, as well and walked next to her. "You know, Candle, because of you, not only do I have an entire library's worth of books I could write when I return to Cyrodiil, but I guess I also have a Cyrodiil to return home to eventually." Lucien rejoiced. "Thanks again for that, by the way."
"You're very welcome." Cura smiled as she hopped over a large shale stone.
"It's true. I don't just mean to flatter you - what you did was worth more than it's weight in gold. I can sleep better now knowing that if I die, I'll go to Aetherius and not blink out of existence." Lucien proclaimed.
"You can still be Soul Trapped, can't you?" Vilja teased. His reaction amused her further.
"Not funny. Not funny at all!" Lucien scowled.
"Or turned into a Vampire! Hisss!" Inigo added in, motioning his hands like a decrepit zombie, sending shivers down Carcette's spine as she walked in front of him.
"Can you behave yourselves?" the Keeper admonished the group. "I swear, children are more mature than this."
Cura laughed. She was used to their antics, and forgot how much she missed them back in Skuldafn.
A lone farmstead stood to the eastern side of the road; Loreius Farm, it was called.
Curiously, there appeared to be a broken carriage in the middle of the road: a wheel dislodged itself and the horse stood nearby, grazing in the golden grass.
A large cargo box rested on top of the carriage and a fretful jester in red and black garb pantsed about anxiously, pacing and muttering to himself. He was near to panic. "Poor mother... she's been waiting here so long... Stupid farmer and his stupid tools! Why won't he help us?"
Cura was confused by the sight of a jester in these parts, but she felt sympathetic towards his plight.
"Oh, there's a nutter. Be careful." Lucien warned her with an elbow nudge to her side.
"Agh! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!" the jester proclaimed, gesturing towards the box.
"Are you all right?" Cura asked as she gently approached, followed by her friends.
"Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead. I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But... aggh! Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?" the jester kept drawing attention to the dislodged wheel.
His mother died?
"Oh... my condolences." Cura expressed.
The jester stared at her blankly for a second, but his tone shifted honey sweet. "Oh, you are too kind, merciful soul!"
"Is there some way we can help you?" Cura asked. There wasn't much time to fix it, but maybe somebody around, like the Pale Guard between the hold borders who could.
Cicero was elated. He leapt up and down excitedly and began to dance a joyful jig. "Oh. Oh yes! Yes, the kindly stranger can certainly help! Go to the farm - the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road." he pointed at the farmstead. "Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he won't! He refuses! Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!"
Sure, why not. It shouldn't take long.
Cura's friends stayed with Cicero and the wagon as she ascended the hill.
"Er, hello." Inigo waved to Cicero. "You are an Imperial from Cyrodiil, yes? What brings you to Skyrim, of all places? I am sure you would rather your mother not become a Draugr..."
"A Draugr? Hmm, hmm, hmm. I think not! Mother is far too refined for one of those brutes." Cicero responded
Vilja and Lucien looked at eachother, concerned.
Cura noticed a bald Imperial fellow with a female Altmer, presumably his wife, tilling the soil of the farm.
As soon as he saw Cura approach he sneered. "Oh, for the love of Mara. What now?"
Cura nudged her head in the direction of the wagon below. "The, um, little man really needs your help. With his wagon?"
"That Cicero feller? Hmph. Tell me something I don't know. Crazy fool's already asked me about five times. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone?" Loreius lifted his hoe angrily.
"So what's the problem? I'm sure he'll pay you…" Cura tried to justify it.
"Pay me? You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head." Loreius appeared frightened.
Granted, Cicero did seem a tad eccentric.
"A jester? Here, in Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years." Loreius continued. "And he's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and he's going to bury his mother. Mother my eye. He could have anything in there. War contraband. Weapons. Skooma. Ain't no way I'm getting involved in any of that."
"If you think he's so dangerous, maybe you should let him pass. He'll be caught sooner or later. Best not to make an enemy if you can avoid it." Cura stated.
"Say, you're one of those Stendarr fanatics, right? Mercy and justice is your thing, isn't it?" Loreius observed as he leaned against his fence. "There's a guard, patrols the road that crazy jester is on. He passes by pretty often. You could report the fool. You know, say he's done something against the law. That will at least get rid of him for me. What do you say?"
Cura shook her head. "I won't condemn an innocent man."
"Hmph. Fine. Suit yourself. But you're wrong, anyway. Just look at the fool. I don't know what it is, but he's damn well guilty of something." Loreius watched as Cicero danced and made the others laugh below, except for Carcette.
"He's a stranger who needs assistance. Please, do the right thing." Cura asked.
"What? And just who in Mara's name are you, anyway? Hmm? Come here, telling me my business. And for what? To help a... a... a fool!" Loreius was near manic himself. He has enough of this ordeal
"You mention Mara a lot. I take it you're a follower of hers, right?" Cura asked. She knew the sacred mother enough to know she would be displeased by this attitude.
"Yeah, what of it?" Loreius placed a hand on his hip.
"The good mother delights in charity and neighbourly love. Perhaps this is your opportunity to please her." as Cura said this she could see a change in his demeanour. "Mother Mara wouldn't be happy if you imprisoned somebody for needing aid. You know you should help him."
"Look, I... I... " defeated, Loreius sighed and relented at last. "You're right. You're right. Feller might be nutters, might not. But fact is, he needs help. I turn him away, what kind of man am I, hmm?"
He looked at Cura pleadingly. Perhaps for all he knew, she was sent by the goddess to redirect him onto the right path. "Look, um... Thanks. And I'm sorry for my unneighborly reaction. If you talk to Cicero, you be sure and tell him I'll be down to help soon."
"Wonderful. Mara's blessings upon you." Cura smiled before turning around and returning to her friends and Cicero below.
"I talked to the farmer and he agreed to fix your wagon." Cura informed him.
"You did? He has?" Cicero's eyes lit up and he leapt for joy. "Oh, stranger! You have done a wonderful deed! My mother thanks you!"
Keeper Carcette interceded. "Yes, yes. Now, we must be off." She beckoned for the others to follow. They had something important to see to.
Cura scoffed. She stayed behind for the moment. "You're welcome, Cicero."
The jester handed her a coin purse. "As promised, gleaming, shiny, shiny gold!"
Cura shook her head and pushed the bag back. "No, keep it. You may need it on the road."
Cicero looked confused for a moment, but was delighted as he usually seemed. "You would let poor Cicero keep his money even after going out of your way to help him? You are strange, yes, but very kind! Cicero and his mother will never forget you! What is your name?"
"Vigilant Cura." Cura introduced herself. "Now, I must be off as well. Take care of yourself."
"Yes, yes! Now thanks to you, Cicero will! Farewell, Cura! Farewell!" he waved enthusiastically as she departed.
Then Cicero looked at the box on his carriage. "Yes, Night Mother. Soon, very soon, we will reach the Sanctuary in Falkreath."
Soon, Cura, Lucien, Vilja, Inigo and Keeper Carcette reached the area south of Whiterun and located the Shrine of Stendarr. The location was nostalgic to Cura from the earlier days in her journey.
Whiterun itself made her nostalgic, in fact. The beautiful temperate plains and running rivers did much to lift one's spirits.
Sure enough, they found Skorvild, but he was dead. The blonde, bearded Nord lay face-down in a puddle of his own dried blood and a bloodstained journal lay rested in his cold left hand. He had been dead for a while now.
"Eugh! Rot. Loveliest of smells!" Inigo punched his feline nose with disgust.
"Nothing next to a Giant's Toe." Vilja remarked.
Keeper Carcette approached slowly and bent down to retrieve the leather-covered book.
"Skorvild's Journal
by Skorvild
If you are reading this, it means they may have reached me first. The Mythic Dawn do not tolerate desertion. A fitting end for my transgressions, I suppose.
If you know of the Mythic Dawn, you may have heard that the cult was eradicated long ago, after the Oblivion Crisis of the 3rd era came to an end. This was true until perhaps two years past.
As discord began to sow in the lands of Skyrim, the whispers of Mehrunes Dagon made their way to the ears and mind of a fervent worshipper named Vonos. These whispers led him deep underground to an ancient Mythic Dawn temple, long since collapsed, where rumors spoke of an Oblivion Gate, lying in ruin for centuries.
Vonos soon made a pact with Mehrunes Dagon, and began to quietly reform the Mythic Dawn as its new leader. He began to cultivate more members to the cause, and I myself fell victim to the promise of such power.
After the Oblivion Crisis, the gates throughout Skyrim were buried deep within the lands. However, with much effort, we retrieved many of these pieces, and successfully rebuilt an Oblivion Gate.
Vonos, a master of conjuration, has been working tirelessly to open the gate and give Mehrunes Dagon's troops a doorway into Tamriel.
As dictated by the pact, the cleansing of the Oblivion Gate required a personal blood sacrifice from each of us to prove our devotion. Blinded by ambition, I offered up my own brother, Sune. A simple farmer who could not harm a Dartwing.
Watching the knife penetrate his body sent shock and horror through my entire being. The blood that spilled from his loins was that of my blood. In that moment I realized what I had done. It was not power that bewitched me, but deceit.
As an Acolyte I was not privy to much information, but I know that Vonos is searching for a powerful, ancient artifact that is necessary to open the gate. What that artifact might be, I do not know. I heard something about an excavation camp to the southwest of Ivarstead, near a mountain pass. Perhaps more information can be found there.
Lastly, in order to keep its location secret, all but the highest priests in the order are blindfolded when taken to and from the Oblivion Gate, so I have no further information to give as to its whereabouts. I only know it was a cave. I wish I could tell you more.
I've been on the run day and night, and now the Vigil of Stendarr are also on my trail. I can only imagine what they might do to someone like me, so I come to you with my plea, someone who might better understand my plight.
Please stop the Mythic Dawn however you can. For myself, my forsaken brother, and the whole of Tamriel.
-Skorvild"
"So, he really was desperate." Keeper Carcette crossed her arms and turned her attention to Cura. "He sent a letter addressed to me, but it appears that this journal was intended for someone else."
"Perhaps he was looking for Cura." Lucien proposed. "I... wouldn't be surprised, given that her being the Dragonborn is public knowledge now, as well as her being a Vigilant."
"And her fair, lovely face is known to all." Inigo laughed. "But in all seriousness, this may be worth investigating, my friend."
"The cave he mentioned has to be Red Scar Cavern. I pried as much from their Priestess, Enakain." Carcette explained. "I have men on their way there as we speak."
"So... mission accomplished, then?" Lucien looked bewildered. If there were Vigilants handling it, then they didn't have to.
"Did you forget that this is the Mythic Dawn?" Vilja returned his attention to the matters at hand. "Those clowns are so dangerous!"
"All the more reason for the Dragonborn to intervene." Cura insisted. "I would like to help the other Vigilants."
Keeper Carcette smiled. "Very well. I will follow up on the clue near Ivarstead. You go to Red Scar Cavern."
"What?" Cura's eyes widened. She felt an intense shiver ride her spine. "No, no. We're not separating! It's too risky!" she protested.
Indeed; perhaps that was the Mythic Dawn's angle. That letter was too convenient. Maybe they wanted to deal a death blow to the Vigil and so wanted to separate the Keeper and finish her off.
Who knows?
Cura shook her head again stubbornly. "No. You're coming with me. Even if I have to knock you unconscious!"
Inigo snickered. "Well, then she will not follow."
"There's no way in Oblivion I'd carry her with all that armour. Sorry, Candle." Lucien dodged the hollow assertion.
"My friends." Cura rolled her eyes.
Keeper Carcette thankfully relented. "I see your point. We have strength in numbers. Or, rather, I have strength in numbers."
"Vilja and I could look up Ivarstead," Lucien offered. "you two can go to that cavern with Inigo."
"The warranty of your life has expired!" Inigo roared as he fired an arrow into one of the Warlock's stomach.
"Yes, yes! Let us do it, my friend! I would love to crack Cultist heads with you!" Inigo high-fived Cura.
"Too bad you won't live to do it!" came a voice from around a couple of large rocks. A few Mythic Dawn Cultists hurried around, violet lightning blazing from their fingertips.
A bolt struck Inigo, causing him to stagger, and the group immediately flew into battle.
Keeper Carcette licked her dry lips. "I was wondering when they would show themselves."
She charged for the second and brought her hammer down with the force of a god upon his head, splitting his fragile skull.
Vilja slashed another and Lucien broke through the first's ward with Unbound Flames.
A cultist brought down his Daedric mace on Cura, but she parried it with her shield.
Inigo stabbed him in the stomach and he pulled back. Holding his side, the cultist attempted to flee.
Carcette drove her hammer into his back with a leaping drop attack. "I am sorry, but you left me with no choice."
This was it. Cura readied her new arm and activated the crossbow. She then proceeded to unload a sharp bolt into the forehead of the cultist engaging Vilja and Lucien from her angle, and he dropped to the ground like a pile of bricks.
The three cultists lay dead. Outmatched, outnumbered and overpowered. Dragonborn aside, what made them think it was a good idea to engage a group of five people?
"Such foolishness." Keeper Carcette shook her head as she looked upon the carnage. "Did they really think they stood a chance?"
"I feel insulted by the sheer easiness of them all. For shame!" Inigo scoffed as he docked his bow.
"Well, I think they may have killed Skorvild, and we just got here." Vilja proposed. "Maybe they figured it'd be easier to fight us than to explain him."
Cura quickly noticed a letter on the ground, presumably dropped in the struggle, and picked it up. As soon as she saw the symbol of the rising sun she peeled it open.
"Mythic Dawn Orders
There have been whispers of traitors among our ranks. Pathetic attempts to sabotage our mission. But nothing will stand in the way of Lord Dagon's Valkyn.
Your duty is to seek out those who oppose us, and eradicate them.
Acolyte Skorvild and Priestess Enakain have gone missing. Find them. If there is any scent of betrayal they must be swiftly destroyed.
Afterward, travel to the excavation camp to await further instruction, but take the utmost precaution. The Vigil of Stendarr have increased their activity, and may be aware of our presence.
The dawn is breaking.
-Vonos"
"The only Dawn that will be breaking is my sword through their heads!" Cura declared as she crushed the letter in her metal fist.
Keeper Carcette tried to make peace. "Calm yourself, Cura; we have to take measured approach to this."
So Vonos was aware that they had Enakain in custody; or at the very least suspected collaboration between them.
"We have to go. Now!" Cura stated firmly. There was no telling how far along things were in their dark designs.
"I have sent men to Red Scar Cavern. We must investigate this base camp near Ivarstead." Keeper Carcette insisted. "We'll go there first."
"We're going to Red Scar Cavern." Cura insisted.
Keeper Carcette was shocked by her insistance. "Cura, we need to know all the details before leaping in like that! We may discover important things there."
"We are going to Red Scar Cavern! We can't afford to keep wasting time!" Cura insisted again, growing more impatient.
"We are not! And that is final!" Carcette put her foot down, growing tired of the argument.
Inigo, Lucien and Vilja stood back from the contest of wills silently.
Cura's expression grew more angry. "We are!"
"Cura." Keeper Carcette massaged her brow and shook her head. "I don't know why you're choosing now of all times to begin your rebellious phase, but you need to cut it out! This is important."
"I am not being rebellious! We know where they are! To not go would be stupid!" Cura declared. "We can end this, right now!"
"But we don't know that for certain, Cura! We could very well be walking right into their trap!" Keeper Carcette tried to reason with her.
"She has a point, Candle." Lucien finally broke his silence. "What if they're expecting us and us going there is a trap? I agree with the Keeper. We should look into the other location first."
"Then you can go with her there. I don't need any of you! I can kill this Vonos myself!" Cura snapped at them.
She was the Dragonborn who defeated Alduin! Killing some upjumped zealot in red robes would be nothing.
Keeper Carcette rebuked her. "This is the kind of recklessness that cost you your arm! This!"
Everyone fell silent for the moment and Carcette's own heart froze for a second after the words emerged.
Cura's angered expression slowly melted to one of hurt, and then to annoyance.
"No... I didn't mean it like..." the Keeper tried to retract her words.
"Yes, you did." Cura sadly examined her new, Dwarven metal arm. "But I lost it to Alduin. Alduin!" she emphasized the name to remind them of who it was exactly. "Not some agitated little cult group!" to vent her frustration, Cura kicked one of the Mythic Dawn Cultists' bodies.
"What is going on right now?" Vilja appeared nervous. She had no idea from where this anger was stemming.
"I know what I'm doing, Keeper!" Cura snapped at her. "I can slay their leader! I can stop this in a day!"
Keeper Carcette shook her head. "You don't know what you're doing. You could be playing right into their hands. I have more experience in dealing with Daedra worshippers like these. I am the Keeper of the Vigil. You will listen to me!"
She was reminding Cura eerily of Delphine right now. Maybe it was because she was a Breton with blonde hair in a position of authority, or maybe it was because of her commanding attitude, but it struck a nerve.
"I am the Dragonborn! My fate is my own!" Cura declared. "Stendarr himself told me my fate was mine when I asked him to help you recover your humanity that you lost because you were too stubborn and stupid to fortify the Hall against vampires! Gods above!"
Inigo himself gasped when he heard Cura's declaration.
Keeper Carcette slammed the head of her Warhammer onto the ground, releasing her tension with it. She leaned on its pommel. "Yes, I made mistakes. I was too soft back then. I was too preoccupied with keeping you safe, and with keeping an eye out for the Mythic Dawn remnants, and trying to manage what little resources we were able to procure in the midst of a civil war. I failed to notice the growing vampire threat. I lost my Hall, my men, my eye. My life, even. Almost my soul, as well..." she stood up straight and hung her hammer on her back again. "But I learned. I see the world more clearly now. I know that if you storm their hideaway unprepared, you may end up fulfilling something they have planned. There's no way they don't know who you are, Cura."
Cura stopped for a second and considered what she was saying. Her heart was still racing, but slowly returning to a steady rhythm and her body has begun to sweat from her anger. Her eyes watered and her throat was stiff.
Keeper Carcette realized that perhaps Cura perceived as though their relationship was relapsing. She thought her next words carefully to set her protégé at ease. "Let's let my Vigilants survey that area first. If we are to stop the Mythic Dawn, we must understand how they're approaching our world this time. They are masters of sabotage and subterfuge. Anyone could be a member. Anyone could be affiliated. Any lead could be a trap. Skorvild told us about their camp, and it cost him his life, so it is viable. Vigilants in the Rift may be heading there, as well. I sent patrols in the region."
She placed a hand on Cura's shoulder. "I need you to be on my side, Cura. We can't fight amongst ourselves, or we've lost already. Besides, you understand my point already: you feared that me coming to this Shrine based upon the letter would be a trap. That's the right way to approach this sort of task."
Cura gave it some more thought. She had a point. Perhaps she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.
"I... I'm sorry, Keeper." Cura apologized humbly. "I guess I got a little carried away back there."
"I'm sorry as well, for that remark about your arm. It was careless and very callous of me." Keeper Carcette admitted.
"If prime time theater is over now, perhaps we could begin our search?" Lucien suggested.
"Yes, let's." Cura settled on it.
If she was going along with it, she would take the lead.
Why it mattered to her, she could not say exactly, but it did.
