The sun rose over the mountains, casting its light over the College of Winterhold as a light snowfall filled the frosty air.

After a few hours, Cura had finished her morning prayers and her meditation on the Way of the Voice, and was ready to take on the day.

Today would be a Restoration lesson with Colette Marence, friend of her mentor, Keeper Carcette. How that would go remained to be seen, but she was certainly curious, to say the least.

Carcette had told her that Colette continued her studies in Restoration and had vastly improved over the decades. So much so that she's become the authority on the subject in Skyrim. She may be more than a little bit eccentric, but she would certainly be able to help Cura hone her skills, if she really knew more than Carcette did.

Regardless of her mania, Cura would be interested to see what she would learn about Restoration from her.

Inigo was on the grounds talking to the various other students around and making them laugh with his tales, while Serana was sleeping in.

Lucien was sitting at a bench and seemingly taking notes outside, and Cura observed him and approached.

"Good morning, Lucien!" Cura greeted him. "How are you?"

"Sigh... living, Candle. I wonder how I could adequately bequeath my belongings evenly among my family and friends..." Lucien wondered.

"Oh, Lucien, you aren't going to die!" Cura assured him. "I'll be there too. Whatever happens, I promise I'll heal you. Heck, I don't see Colette having any reservations about it; it would perfectly display the utilities of her School."

"I guess you're right." Lucien said, calming his nerves a tad. "Well... it's time now, I think."

"It's going to be all right." Cura reassured him as the pair headed inside the main building and into the Hall of the Elements.

Colette was standing there, past the magic well, and there were very few students there in attendance.

Brelyna and Onmund were there, but J'zargo seemed to have no interest in Restoration.

His loss.

"Ah, look who made it! Come in, come in!" Colette beckoned to Cura and Lucien.

Cura waved politely as she approached, and Lucien stood beside her. She stood beside Brelyna and Onmund at her right, and Lucien stood at her left.

Other students in Novice Robes stood behind her, one of whom was a tall Altmer woman, and the other four were Imperials and Bretons, mostly.

Colette began without hesitation or warning.

"I would just like to remind everyone, once again, that Restoration is indeed a valid school of magic. It is absolutely worthy of research, despite many of the notes I've had left in my bed. And my desk. And on occasion, my meals." She took on a bitter expression when she expressed instances of debauchery performed against her in the past.

"Terrible." Cura shook her head. "It really is disgustingly undervalued."

Colette resumed. "Anyone suggesting that Restoration is better left to the priests of the Temples, I think, is forgetting a few things. Firstly, the ability to repel the undead cannot be ignored. Skyrim is well known to be full of these... Draugr, ancient Nord warriors who cannot find peace. I submit that everyone in this College has, at one time or another, relied on one of the Restoration spells that can keep them at bay." she then pointed at Cura. "Vigilant of Stendarr, back me up on this."

Cura nodded. "Oh, absolutely. When in doubt, get your prayer books out." The class members chuckled at her cute remark, but then Cura followed up on it. "But in all seriousness, the Undead are terrified of Restoration skills. Stendarr's Aura, for example. It's saved many of our lives against the assault on the Vampires. And Healing! Healing, people! How can Healing during combat not be seen as a net positive?"

Lucien nodded. "I wouldn't be standing here right now if not for it, so there you go."

"Thank you, Cura, Lucien." Colette smirked as a great does of validation rushed through her. "Secondly, how can anyone forget wards? They have become essential to any mage working in dangerous situations. They are counted upon every bit as much as Candlelight, or Invisibility. But more importantly, wards have saved lives. This is a simple fact. Every mage in this College regularly uses wards for practice, so as to avoid physical harm. I truly hope that these points actually sink in, and that more care and thought is given to this subject in the future. Thank you."

She clapped her hands together with enthusiasm. "And now, the lesson!"

The class watched cautiously, as this professor was somewhat unpredictable.

"Lucien, dear. Please come up here." Colette called upon him.

Lucien looked at Cura immediately and she attempted to follow him.

"No, dear, you mustn't get in the way." Colette instructed Cura. "Just Lucien will do."

"B-but what if you kill me?" Lucien blubbered, causing his classmates, save for Cura, to laugh.

"Oh, dear, don't worry; I am a Master at Restoration. I can always bring you back to life. Now, stand right over there, if you please." Colette said humorously as she pointed to the seal on the ground opposite to her.

"I'll wager Carcette never taught you this!" Colette bragged to Cura, singling her out among the classmates. "This will be an Apprentice-Level Spell. It is known as "Welling Blood.' It's not traditionally taught in temples or even most Restoration circles, as it is extremely painful." Colette quickly tossed an Ambrosia to Lucien.

The boy seemed to examine the Ambrosia, ogling it from many angles, to which Colette took distress. "For the love of Stendarr, boy. You'll need to eat that, trust me."

"Wait, what?" Lucien immediately felt fear seep into his heart. He quickly did as she suggested and shoveled the greenish blob into his mouth.

Cura felt worried by the mere fact that it was required for this demonstration.

"Hold still, now! I need to focus to keep you alive!" Colette extended both of her hands and immediately cast a red light onto Lucien.

A burning pain shot into the Imperial's circulatory system as he felt his blood boil within his veins. "Nnggg... GYAAAAAHHHH!" he cried out as he doubled over and tightly clenched his sides as he felt the life coming out of him.

The Ambrosia took some effect, making it almost bearable, but the searing pain ravaged him regardless, burning through some of the pain resistance.

Cura gasped in horror and the class boasted an identical reaction.

"Hey, hey! Stop it!" Onmund shouted as he felt pains of sympathy for the Imperial.

"You're killing him!" Brelyna cried in horror as she cupped her hands over her mouth.

"Oh, nonsense!" Colette continued. "I'm going easy on him. This, my dear students, is an alternative use for Restoration magic. It is ultimately the manipulation of life forces..." Lucien continued to suffer under her grasp and fell to his knees. "...while it can be used to give life, it may also be used in reverse: to torment one's foes in combat... or for interrogation!"

With her free left hand, she Healed him, and then cast Welling Blood again, restarting the torment before quickly ending it.

Lucien rolled over onto his right side and lay on the floor in the fetal position. "Huff... hoof... Huff... hoof... Lorkhan's eyes..." he clung to the floor to try and breathe again as Cura rushed to his side and placed her hands on her friend.

"That was terrible!" Cura exclaimed as she helped Lucien sit upright. She snapped at the Professor. "How could you do such a thing?!"

"The Wood Elves were angered when I last used a Rabbit for the demonstration all those years ago." Colette said. "But you're all right now, yes, son?" she gave Lucien a friendly hit on the back of his left shoulder.

"You're... you're DERANGED!" Lucien shouted furiously at the professor as Cura cast Healing Hands on him.

"No need for compliments, dearie. You're made of some tough stuff!" Colette complimented his endurance. "And now I'm going to give you that spell. All of you! Next time someone badmouths you, tell 'em Colette showed you a thing or two."

Brelyna furrowed her brows and left the Hall of the Elements in a hurry to report the horrific lesson to the Master Wizard as Colette began to instruct the terrified students on how to perform such an atrocious spell themselves.


Mirabelle Ervine was stupefied and held a hand to her forehead. "Let me get this straight... you allowed all of them in, against protocol, because she was Dragonborn?"

Faralda sat back in her seat and nodded. "They came as a group, so I thought to test her aptitude. I see no reason why the others would follow her here if they hadn't a drive for magic themselves."

"Faralda." Mirabelle said sternly. "The Khajiit doesn't even want to learn magic. He's just distracting the other students."

"Really? J'zargo seemed rather dedicated when he asked me for instruction on Destruction magic." Faralda explained.

The already-exasperated Breton fell forward on her desk, slamming her forehead into it based on the sheer negligence around her. "The blue one, Faralda! The blue one!"

"Oh... yes, I see how that could be be a problem." Faralda realized. "My apologies, Master Wizard. I was so dumbfounded by the fact she was Dragonborn that I was not thinking clearly."

"That much is clear." Mirabelle moved her moussed hair back into place behind her ears.

"What do you wish me to do about the blue Khajiit? Shall I toss him over the bridge?" Faralda asked, hoping to soften the blow to her own stature.

"I've already given him an ultimatum." Mirabelle informed her. "He is to show some mere interest in study, or he will leave. This is not a Social club. I will speak with him again, but I will make myself heard more clearly."

"Very well." Faralda nodded.

"You're going to spend the next six weeks on night duty. Now, return to your station, and let us not have this conversation again." Mirabelle dismissed her.

"Understood, ma'am." Faralda pulled back her chair, leaving the frustrated Master Wizard to her office in peace.

It did not take long for Brelyna to come marching in in a huff.

"Oh. Wonderful. What is it now?" Mirabelle asked firmly, having hair-thin patience at the moment.

"Master Wizard, I want to bring something dire to your attention - it's Professor Colette." Brelyna seemed very high-strung, so the Master Wizard saw fit to hear her out.

"What has she done now?" Mirabelle sighed with defeat as she leaned back in her seat in attempt to find a more comfortable position.

"She tortured one of the students! In front of the class!" Brelyna flew into panic. "He was writhing on the floor! Dying! And then she healed him and continued!"

";Groan;... why now? Why today...?" Mirabelle whined as she held her head in her hands and leaned on her desk before returning to an upright position and standing up from her seat to follow the Dunmer down to the Hall of the Elements.

Meanwhile, the students finished learning the horrifying spell.

"All right, class. Now it's time to practice it on each other! I... do hope you know at least the basics like Healing and Lesser Ward..." Colette instructed her anxious pupils who only seemed to look at one another nervously.

"Stop! Halt! Desist!" came Mirabelle Ervine's order as she entered the room with Brelyna, to Cura, Lucien, and the other students' relief.

"Mirabelle?" Colette was confused. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Colette, we have had this discussion already! You are not to torture the students!" Mirabelle admonished her brutality.

"'Torture?'" Colette seemed alarmed by the accusation. "Well... I suppose I did get a little out of hand, but I only demonstrated on a willing volunteer! The study of Restoration must be painful to be properly understood!"

"A 'little' out of hand? I could have died!" Lucien shuddered as he sat on one of the benches beside Cura, who held him comfortingly with one hand around his shoulders.

Hearing that was enough to seal the deal.

"Colette, I'm not going to warn you again. Once more and you're gone. Do I make myself clear?" Mirabelle threatened her.

"But I-!" Colette noted her deathly glare and relented. ";Sigh...; yes, Master Wizard."

"What spell was she teaching, anyways?" Mirabelle asked.

"Welling Blood." Cura stated, which made the Master Wizard cringe.

"Oh... I see. I am sorry that your second day would turn out like that." Mirabelle gravely turned to Lucien. "Go and get some rest. You deserve it."

"Deserve is an understatement!" Lucien snapped as his body continued to tremble. Though, Cura's embrace was more than comforting.

"And you, tell your Khajiit friend to come see me in my office." Mirabelle spoke to Cura.

"Er, I will." Cura agreed. Hopefully the Master Wizard wasn't about to expel him.

"Very good." Mirabelle responded as she turned around to return to her office.

Colette approached Lucien. "I apologize, dear. I sometimes get carried away... though now you understand that Restoration has more than its share of uses."

Lucien had no response to give; he merely glared at the Professor angrily and got up from his seat and stormed out.

Cura tapped Colette on the arm. "What made you think that teaching students how to torture would be a good idea?"

"I... guess I just wanted to show them once and for all that Restoration had many different facets to it." Colette confessed. "Magic isn't stagnant, you know. It can be applied in various ways."

Cura nodded. "I understand, but that..."

"I know Carcette would never have approved, but that is precisely why she is where she is, and I am where I am." Colette expressed.

"Maybe your next lessons should be a bit more orthodox." Cura suggested. "I think you may have scared off a few students today."

"Really?" Colette noticed the thinner herd. "Huh. You're right, dear. I suppose I will go easier on the lot of you next time. I'll teach them Turn Undead. That should be useful!"

Cura exhaled briefly. She was only hoping she wouldn't use Serana for that demonstration instead. She decided to leave the Hall of the Elements, and encountered a seething Faralda on her way out.

The angry Altmer merely looked at her and said, "Mirabelle does a fine job as Master Wizard, I suppose. Still, there's always room for improvement." She smiled through gritted teeth and passed by, leaving Cura more than a little confused.

Serana herself spent the day in the courtyard mixing potions after having woken up late, and then went inside the now-empty Hall of the Elements, where Brelyna was practicing her Conjuration, attempting to summon a Frost Atronach, judging by the look of the ice mist.

"You have to envision it correctly and focus your energy in that direction, or you'll never manage to conjure the Atronach." Serana instructed the frustrated Dunmer, whose attempts to form a Frost Atronach failed time and time again.

"I'm trying, Serana! It just doesn't seem to want to..." Brelyna tried to cast the spell again with a frustrated grunt, but again, only mist materialized.

"Well... you got some ice vapour to form, so that's a start." Serana tried to encourage the Dark Elf. "Keep trying, you can totally get it! If you made it this far, don't let a little setback knock you down. Keep moving forward. Try something you haven't done so far. Look at it scientifically."

"Something I haven't tried so far?" Brelyna questioned. "Like what?"

"Have you tried looking into the abstract?" Serana asked.

"Abstract shapes?" Brelyna questioned, scratching the back of her hood.

"Yes, begin from there." Serana told her. "Imagine a light blue square, or rectangle, and then imagine more shapes coming together, like a puzzle."

The balding Breton professor in Master Robes happened upon the two of them in the Hall of the Elements and witnessed Serana's instruction. He decided to lean against a nearby column and watch as one student tutored another.

Brelyna nodded and closed her eyes, and held out her hands. "Okay, so... a light blue rectangle - the base of the body. Long, cylinders for the arms... a pyramid for the head... stumps for the legs..."

"Now imagine standing outside in the freezing air." Serana told her. "Envision the coldness of ice; the overbearing frost of a lake covered in ice; the bite of a neverending winter."

Brelyna imagined her first footstep into Winterhold, nay Windhelm, after she crossed the Rift from Morrowind. The frost was unbearably cold, and she needed a flame spell to keep herself warm. "Okay... I..." suddenly, something clicked. "I've got it!" She cast the spell once more, and with a blast of arctic air and sparkling snow, an ice golem surrounded by cold mist manifested itself into the very air, taking in the moisture and chilling it over.

Serana clapped her hands together excitedly and Brelyna's jaw dropped. "I did it! I...I actually did it!"

"Congratulations!" Serana cheered her on enthusiastically. "I knew you could - it was just a matter of perspective-shifting."

"A fine display, indeed." the Breton wizard expressed with applause, clapping his hands. "You have quite the grasp on Conjuration." he looked directly at Serana as he said this. "How long have you been studying it?"

"Hello, Professor Phinis." Brelyna greeted him, and then addressed Serana. "This is Phinis Gestor, the Conjuration Professor here at Winterhold."

"It's nice to meet you, professor. As for me... Uh... well... I've studied it since I was a child, really." Serana confessed awkwardly, but decided to throw in a bit of humour. "A skeleton may have seemed like an odd choice for an imaginary friend, sure, but I was a lonely child."

The Professor nodded understandingly "There are few places where one can pursue my type of work without fear of persecution."

Serana could understand that. "Yes, not many people are comfortable with having a Dremora dance in their living room. I can understand that."

"If you require assistance with summoning techniques, please let me know." Phinis offered, but with a light warning attached. "If you would, please also contain your summons to the College grounds. The locals do not need to be agitated further by Atronachs roaming their town. The summoning of undead is even less advisable outside of the College."

"Guilty as charged." Serana grit her teeth and lowly raised her hand. "I've been raising the dead all over the place for months."

Phinis laughed. "I like you. You're quite bold, aren't you? I wish we all could have that kind of nerve, to be truthful."

"Summoning undead isn't frowned upon at the College?" Serana asked, for her own purposes.

"By Sheor, no. Those archaic policies died out with the Mages Guild, and were never enforced here. Necromancy, as any other type of magic, is a tool to be used. Of course, non-mages may not see it that way, so we don't go around flaunting it." Phinis expressed honestly. "I'm sure you of all people would understand this, being a Vampire."

"I do. Are there many Conjurers outside the College?" Serana wondered if there were any others out there bold enough to reveal themselves.

"Not within society, no. Many who practice within the school of Conjuration do so on their own, secretly. Falion is the only one I know who is public about what he does. He was once my teacher here, but left the College years ago." Phinis explained.

"Oh, Falion! I know him." Serana stated. "Or, well, I know a little of him. My friends and I were at Morthal some time ago. It was... an interesting experience, to say the least. Why did Falion leave the College?"

"He didn't like the Arch-Mage. Hated dealing with him, hated having to answer to him. Falion said he hated what this place was becoming. So he just left. Aren found a note on his desk, and that was it." Phinis stated factually, with a tinge of disappointment towards the end. "So you say you've met him. How is he? Is he doing well?"

"He seems so." Serana informed him. "The locals don't trust him though, predictably."

"These fools distrust everything they don't understand." Phinis expressed. "Just stay strong and continue your work, both of you. Don't let the locals discourage you." He then walked away to go and speak with an old Imperial wizard in Adept robes across the room.

"Thanks for your help, Serana." Brelyna expressed.

"No problem!" the vampiress smiled. "I've been studying magic for a long time; I'm always eager to pass on a few tips here and there."

"Maybe you could help Onmund, too." Brelyna suggested. "He's been trying to learn how to summon, as well, but he can't seem to maintain his Bound Sword."

"I'll see what I can do. I'm here to learn too, you know." Serana reminded her that like them, she was still a student.

Brelyna relented. Serana was a vampire, though, so it was hard to gauge how many years of experience separated her from the rest of them, but she would still be a good study friend, to be certain.

The two would resume training with Atronachs for the remainder of the day.


"You can't just roam the halls and distract the students. You have to study something. This is not the New Gnisis Cornerclub; this is the College of Winterhold." Mirabelle Ervine explained to Inigo, who now sat directly across from her at her desk with his arm slumped over his chair slobbishly.

"Magic and I have not had the greatest mutual experiences." Inigo informed her. "Twice when it has come into my life I was either turned into a Dragonfly, or attacked by manic Chickens and Rabbits. It did not end well. You can even ask Mr. Dragonfly." He held up his jar with the Dragonfly within it.

"Oh, my." shock washed across Mirabelle's face. "I see. Your friend's case is irreversible at this point. How long ago did this happen?" She could sense the magic surrounding the insect within the jar.

"Many years ago, and he was far gone when we met." Inigo expressed sadly. "I take care of him, but there is no going back, the witch in Windhelm told us. I am quite fearful of magic from my past experiences. I apologize."

"If you're so afraid of magic, why come to the College of Winterhold at all?" Mirabelle wondered genuinely.

"I came to support my friend, Cura. She has been through a lot, and she feels that by improving her skills she can have a better chance at saving Skyrim." Inigo explained. "I promised her I would be here for emotional and moral support!"

"Cura, the Breton Dragonborn?" Mirabelle wanted to verify that they were thinking about the same person.

"The one and only." Inigo stated.

After a few moments of thinking, Mirabelle took his words into consideration, as well as his motives, before coming to a conclusion. "All right, then. I shall allow you to remain on the grounds, even though we have seldom ever done this, but under one condition."

Inigo felt a tad relieved, and placed Mr. Dragonfly back on his belt. "Which is?"

"That you learn one Spell. Only one." Mirabelle geld up her index finger for emphasis. "That way I can justify your presence here for the Arch-Mage. Your presence needs more of a reason than just 'my friend is here, so I am, too'. I need something concrete to put in the College Papers, otherwise you will be thrown out within a week due to protocol. I'm trying to be nice, so please, work with me, here."

Inigo bit his claw on his thumb. "A spell, huh? I am not certain..."

"You are an Archer, yes?" Mirabelle gestured towards the bow on his back. "Imagine yourself disarmed of your bow. How would you cope with that situation?"

"With my sword, of course!" Inigo revealed the hilt of his blade.

"If you needed a long-range weapon, but it was knocked from your hand." Mirabelle reiterated as his ignorance was beginning to weigh on her psyche.

"Then I have my trusty Dwarven Crossbow!" Inigo gestured to his Dawnguard weapon of glory.

Mirabelle slapped herself on the forehead. "Julianos give me patience..." She grew flustered and walked around the table and pried off his crossbow and his bow, and threw them to the floor behind her. "You now have nothing, but your enemy is further away, and you can yet still gain the upper hand through long-range attacks, and yet you are without your bow. What would you need?"

Inigo shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know... a good hiding place and some mead?"

"A Bound Bow." Mirabelle hissed through her teeth. "Bound Weapons are an incredibly useful skill for those who rely on their arms during combat."

"Well, I do not use my arms in bare combat, but my claws work well!" Inigo teased, but when the Breton turned her furious glare his way, he sunk in his seat. "Okay, okay! I was joking! Sheesh. I know what you mean!"

"I can teach you that spell." Mirabelle took a deep breath, retaining her calm composure. "For 20 septims. Or, you can sleep in the Sea of Ghosts later. Your choice."

"Hmm... I do not like the cold water, so I guess I will learn the spell." Inigo took out a bag containing 20 septims and handed it to her. If it would let him stay, he supposed it was worth it.

"Okay. Good. Now I will have something to show in the books." Mirabelle pocketed the coins. "Now, I will teach you the Spell and show you how it's done. I hope you have a good imagination."

"My imagination is so good that I often see reality as fiction and beyond!" Inigo laughed.

"Good, then this should be no problem at all for you." Mirabelle readied herself for a difficult session in the middle of an already tedious day.


Onmund, Cura, and J'zargo were outside in the courtyard standing near the columns that lined the yard before the Hall of Countenance. Cura was curious to know as to what they had in store for her.

"So, why did you become a student at the College?" Cura inquired of the Khajiit.

"Mages in Cyrodiil are all about politics. The Synod and the College of Whispers are too busy guarding secrets to bother to teach. Skyrim was not J'zargo's first choice, but Winterhold is removed from politics, dedicated to study. This is the place for J'zargo to become great." J'zargo expressed himself lively with a fist into his open hand, with eyes full of fire.

"I hope you achieve what you're looking for." Cura smiled as she assumed her position directly in front of himself and Onmund. "Now, you specifically asked for my help in this experiment. How can I help?"

"J'zargo thinks that the Breton has good Wards, and is hoping to put them to the test, if it is not too much trouble." the Khajiit preluded the experiment with some friendly banter.

"That depends. What will you do?" Cura asked.

"J'zargo will have his friend test his new Flame Scroll on your Ward!" the gray Khajiit opened his bag and presented his scroll to Onmund.

"I... I'm not sure about this..." Onmund began to get cold feet. "If she dies we'll be expelled."

"Onmund will be expelled, as J'zargo had nothing to do with it." the Khajiit held his arms behind his back and leaned against the outside column.

"Are you serious?" Onmund sneered. "You'd throw me under the carriage like that?"

"J'zargo will reassure you that Cura will survive." J'zargo tried to ease the tension. "The likelihood of her death is most... unlikely. J'zargo cannot promise that she will not be disfigured, however."

"Fine, let's get this over with." Cura put up her Greater Ward.

"Here we go! Good luck, everybody!" Onmund opened the scroll and a violent explosion of fire engulfed himself and J'zargo, and the tree, and part of the outer wall.

Cura's Ward shattered, but she had dealt with enough Dragons by this point to know when to leap away, and she had just barely escaped the flames with a singed tip of her robe bottom.

J'zargo coughed up some smoke and Onmund stood there holding a destroyed scroll, and watched as it slowly crumbled within his grasp, burnt to cinders. The pair were coated in a thick layer of soot.

"Ouch..." Onmund winced as the burns settled in, and J'zargo was unresponsive for a few moments.

Cura returned to them and quickly cast a Healing Spell on them both, sealing up the third-degree burns. "Are you two all right?" Cura had been burnt before and was well-acquainted with the horrible stinging feeling that came along with it.

"Khajiit is thinking that his scrolls may need some fixing..." the Khajiit admitted shamefully, taking the loss.

Cura gave him a reassuring nod. "Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. What do you think went wrong?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Onmund stated. "He wore an enchanted pair of robes that doubled his natural magicka reserves, and then he placed a spell that was above his skill level onto the scroll to try and impress us."

"You wound Khajiit!" J'zargo protested. "J'zargo is more powerful than you realize! J'zargo does not need an enchantment to cast advanced spells on scrolls!"

"Not everything is a competition, you know." Cura insisted.

"Oh, but you are wrong. The only reason you could disagree is because you are losing so badly you cannot see it." J'zargo scoffed as he turned away and headed back inside.

Cura was dumbfounded by the suddenness of his reaction, but let it go.

Onmund rubbed his hands together. "Thanks for the healing. I guess Professor Colette has a point about the benefits of Restoration, after all."

"Yes, when used kindly, it has many useful benefits." Cura stated. "It's gotten me out of many a hairy situation, I will be happy to admit. Now, I've had a suspicion concerning Professor Colette, if you want to hear my theory."

"Sure. Shoot." Onmund ushered her.

"For one to train in Restoration, they will have to either heal the wounded, or be wounded." Cura prefaced her hypothesis. "So, either she tortured people and healed them for hours on end to grow her skill, or she tortured herself for hours on end to grow her skill."

"Wait... are you serious?" Onmund's eyes opened wide. "Well, no wonder she's insane! ...No offense to you, or other Restoration users."

"It takes a lot of dedication." Cura explained. "I myself learned it in a more controlled environment, under the Keeper's watchful eye. I would be hurt sparring with mace and shield, and I would heal myself afterwards. It's a great way to train multiple skills at once."

"I think I'll pass on Restoration training." Onmund cringed. "I'd rather study something that doesn't involve breaking my limbs."

"Suit yourself." Cura shrugged. "But at least learn Healing Hands, so you could help someone else who is hurt, as I did for you."

"I just might." Onmund decided to consider it.

The Arch-Mage and Master Wizard walked past them and onto the courtyard.

Savos spoke to Mirabelle directly. "Is there anything new I should be aware of, Mirabelle?"

Mirabelle shook her head as she ushered him through. "I'm dealing with a few new research proposals, evaluating the results of three long-term projects, and keeping an eye on our new Apprentices. There were also two items requiring disciplinary action recently."

Savos looked mildly alarmed, but was quickly relieved. "Everything's under control, then? Right. Keep up the good work."

Mirabelle gave him a half-bow as she pushed the door open for him and the two entered the main building. "Yes, thank you Arch-Mage."

Cura looked concerned. 'Two items requiring disciplinary action?' Inigo didn't get in trouble already, did he?

Unbeknownst to her, Mirabelle was merely referring to Faralda and Colette.

Onmund regained Cura's attention. "So, are you going to show me that Healing Hands spell, or what?"

"Of course." Cura agreed. "Now, follow my instructions, or it isn't going to work."

"I'm all ears." Onmund was eager to understand.

Cura took his hands into hers. "All right, so, first things first. Feel the warmth in your palms. Focus deeply on it."

Onmund closed his eyes and began to envision a warmth between his hands and Cura's own. A warm essence emanating from his own heat, trapped between the pairs of hands at the moment. "All right. I think I feel it."

"Now, think from the depths of your heart." Cura continued. "Open your soul to compassion. To mercy. Imagine someone suffering, in pain. Imagine yourself in their position. You must feel empathy for this to work."

Onmund focused on his father. An image of the older Nord with a searing open, gaping wound in his chest, heaving, doubled over in pain, settled into his mind. He wanted to see the wound gone. A desire filled his mind; the desire to relieve his pain.

A golden light began to shimmer underneath his palms, and Cura could feel it emanating. "Yes, that's it!" the Breton exclaimed joyfully. "You're getting it!"

The light began to travel up Cura's arms and she could feel the familiar warmth of the Healing magic overshadow her very being like a feathered embrace. A tender smile formed on the half-Elf's face as she witnessed her teaching bear fruit within moments.

Slowly, but surely, the spell stopped, and Onmund looked puzzled. "Wow... that was it? Is it really that easy?"

Cura shook her head. "No, not at all! You're a natural!" She pointed at the Nord. "It takes a great amount of empathy for someone to be able to heal so quickly. What did you envision?"

Onmund shook his head. "That's... personal. I want to keep it to myself, if you don't mind."

Cura accepted it. "All right. Whatever it was, keep it close to your heart. That's what matters the most."

Onmund looked up towards the gently falling snow glistening under the orange glow of twilight and scoffed. "My family was convinced that coming here was a death sentence, or worse. It took years of insisting that this is what I'm meant to do." He expressed.

"You have talent." Cura agreed. "I think you've got a bright future as a mage. But if not, you could always join the Vigil. You have a knack for healing."

"I don't think so." Onmund disagreed. "I'm going to become a Master Wizard, like Shalidor."

"Shalidor? I've heard that name before..." Cura tried to recall exactly where, when suddenly it hit her. "..ah! He created the Labyrinthian, didn't he?"

Onmund nodded. "You know your history."

"I guess you could say I have an 'uncle' who is quite the History buff." Cura confessed, thinking to Brother Adalvald with a light chuckle. It's already been almost a week since she bid farewell to Fort Dawnguard, and she missed him already.

"That's good. I suppose your family didn't oppose to your joining the Vigil of Stendarr?" Onmund ushered her towards one of the lunch tables and the two sat down together to eat.

"My family is the Vigil of Stendarr!" Cura stated truthfully. "I was raised by them since I was a baby."

"So, you're a Vigilant who was raised to be one." Onmund's tone dropped as he took out a loaf of bread from his bag and took a bite of it.

"Well... yes. Yes, that's right." Cura admitted it, though she didn't like how it sounded. The truth was, however, she didn't know any other way to live. Not until she began her journey. The Vigil still held a dear place in her heart.

"So, you had even less of a choice than I did with my family. Interesting." Onmund pondered. "They wanted me to be a hunter or farmer, but I had more than one option. You just had the Vigilants."

"Well, I'm the Dragonborn." Cura reminded him. "Naturally, I have other obligations not solely related to the Vigil."

"Sure, but do you have any dreams for the future? Any goals?" Onmund asked as he took another bite of the bread.

Cura froze in place.

Dreams for the future?

She began to look around, at different sections of the courtyard, at the building itself, at the statue, at the gardens, and at the sky.

She had never thought about it before.

Sure, she would slay Alduin, but what then?

What awaited her afterwards?

The Hall of the Vigilant lay in tatters, and Vigilants were currently scattered. They were at the Beacon now, she was sure, and then Stuhn's Ravine later, but then what? "Well... I..."

She could always end up as Jarl of Windhelm if the Empire wins the war. She has to show herself as a loyal citizen of the Empire first though. Fair enough. She was as patriotic as the next person.

Bur did Cura really consider it as something she truly wanted; her heart's true desire?

No. Not exactly. Mere fantasies of other lifetimes were not a concrete vision of the future, and she knew it. Deep in her heart of hearts, she had no idea what she wanted out of life for herself.

There were so many options, but so many restrictions. And dreams? None of them could come to mind as hard as she tried to summon the thoughts.

"You don't have any?" Onmund concluded with surprise. "I'm shocked, Cura. Everybody has a dream, or a goal in life."

"I... guess my goal is to fulfill my duty as Dragonborn." Cura shrugged her shoulders. "But after I've done that... then what? I... I don't... I've never thought of it that way. Where will I be in twenty years from now?"

She placed her index and middle fingers across her mouth as a deep-seeded dread crept up on her.

Why? Why was it so difficult?

What ambition could she have?

"I'll tell you what, Onmund; I'll get back to you on that." Cura decided to drop it as she stood up from the lunch table.

"Oh... okay, then." Onmund's tone sank as he watched Cura leave him there. He couldn't help but feel a tad guilty after seeing her reaction. Had he said something wrong?

Cura returned to her quarters in the Hall of Attainment, and sat down before her journal. Flipping open its pages with fresh thoughts and ruminations on her mind, Cura began to jot them down almost erratically.

"Day 2

It's the second day. And I must say, it was quite eventful. Poor Lucien. I felt so bad for him after Colette outright tortured him in front of the whole class. I had a bad feeling. I knew it was not going to go well. I knew it. I hate that I was right.

He seems all right so far, but I will see if I have any remaining Ambrosia left to help ease his pain.

Serana slept through most of the day and I haven't had any contact with her at all today. I hope she's doing all right. I still worry for her after all she's been through concerning her father. She's strong, so I'm sure she'll get over it. This is just Cura, being ever the worrywart as usual, I suppose.

Inigo too has been elusive, though he doesn't seem to have much interest in magic. Though, with the stories he's told us about Mr. Dragonfly and about the warlock who has chicken spies spread throughout the province, I can't help but wonder if a mage placed a heavy Illusion spell on him. Poor Inigo. I wonder if he went to see Mirabelle like I told him? She did not seem happy at all. I hope he wasn't penalized for my sake. I never would have asked him to go through punishment on my behalf.

Again, worrywart. It's a habit, for sure. But I can't help it. I love them all. I don't want to see them suffer; least of all because of me. I want to see my friends happy. I want to see peace. There has been too much war.

So far, this college has a peaceful atmosphere, but I feel something on the air. And I know iit's not J'zargo's flame scrolls. There's something going on in the area. Vigilant's intuition, I'll call it. The same feeling I got on that night in Jorrvaskr last year, before the werewolf entered the halls in the dead of night. Something suspicious is in the air.

Oh, Vilkas. It was always so complicated. I wonder how he, Farkas, Aela, Ria, Athis, Njada, Kodlak, and the others are all doing? I'll write them a letter. I want to know if everything is well over there.

As for my new home of study, I've already encountered some drama:

Onmund stumped me with a question I was absolutely unprepared for after I noted his natural affinity towards the healing arts. He asked me what my plans were for the future.

I really had no true answer to give him. I, the Dragonborn. Hero of prophecy, slayer of Dragons; duped by a simple question. I'm ashamed of myself. Cura, why had you never considered it?

Perhaps because Carcette insisted on me succeeding her as the Keeper of the Vigil in Skyrim in the future. Though, I hadn't given it much thought. I know how the Keeper operates, more or less, but am I really suited for such a task? Not that it matters anymore. She's not in the position to label me as such any longer, anyways.

My father, Ulfric, has offered me the throne of Windhelm in the condition of his defeat in the Civil War. Again, something unconcrete. I can't rely on that to occur.

I was even offered a position in the Dark Brotherhood, which I have reservations towards. I could never see myself as an assassin, even if I do take contracts as a Vigilant. It may be similar in principle, but the differences are fundamental. A Vigilant does not kill the innocent. An assassin would. Therefore, I would never become an assassin.

Though, it all begs the question: where will I be when Alduin is gone? Is it even worth it to slay him? Maybe I could just...

no.

No, I couldn't. I've come so far. I'm not going to give up my quest now. My life be darned; this province needs a saviour. I have much time to think on it. There's a wide future ahead; I can feel it! I mustn't lose heart.

I'll let tomorrow's problems worry for themselves, for today's are more than sufficient.

-Cura

7th of Heartfire, 4E 202"

She closed shut her journal once the ink finished drying. Though, she couldn't help but reopen it and gleam over her two entries from day one to today. Two years, almost, since her overall quest began. She was past the mid-year, now.

Time was incredibly convoluted, and she had often lost track of it.

"Candle? Are you there?" came Lucien's voice from the wall behind her.

"Yes!" Cura responded as she stood up from her chair and walked around to face Lucien in his chambers. "How are you?"

"I'm doing much better now, thank you." Lucien responded as he munched on a slice of some sort of pie while sitting on the chair west side of his cell. "Want a piece of Apple pie? Some was delivered to my quarters a while ago!"

Cura held no objection to that. "Certainly!" She sat down on the end of his bed adjacent to the chair and Lucien cut her a slice. When he lifted the tray a note slipped off the table from under it.

Cura accepted the slice, but immediately called attention to the note. "Lucien, look at that."

"Hmm? Oh. Hello, there. I hadn't noticed you before." Lucien remarked as he bent down and picked up the folded sheet of paper. His expression turned to surprise as he read it, and he quickly closed the letter. "Well, colour me surprised."

"What is it?" Cura asked as she took a bite of the pie. "What did it say?"

"It was a letter from Colette. She apologized for the demonstration earlier this morning, and sent me a pie to express it." Lucien shrugged his shoulders as he continued to dig in.

"Wow... that's surprising." Cura expressed her disbelief.

"Well, I don't mind: free pie is good pie, I say!" Lucien laughed as he finished his slice. "But I do think I'm going to ask Tolfdir if there is an Alteration spell that I can cast on my teeth - perhaps like stoneflesh - so I can eat this without worrying about getting them pulled in the future."

Cura laughed. "No kidding! If you learn such a spell, promise me you'll share it with me. So far I rely on Restoration to undo the damage, but to prevent it altogether would be excellent."

Lucien chuckled. "No problem, Candle."

As soon as Cura finished the slice, she stood up from the bed and walked to the doorway. "Well, I'll see you in the morning, Lucien. Have a good night."

"You too, Candle. Sweet dreams!" Lucien waved to his friend as she turned the corner and headed into her own bed, and pulled the covers over her head. It took some time, but she eventually fell asleep.


Serana was well awake during the nightly hours, being a vampire. She spent time at one of the alchemy tables with some of the other students, and she was mixing potions when Ancano, the Thalmor came outside. He was watching herself, and the Altmer woman beside her.

The Altmer looked up from her experiment and Serana continued to feign ignorance,

Ancano held up his face and turned around, and headed towards the Hall of Countenance.

Once the coast was clear, the High Elf woman spoke up with a hint of disgust. "Hmph. Thalmor. They walk around like peacocks, strutting their feathers, and acting as if they represent all of us Altmer."

"What do you think about Ancano, Nirya?" Serana wanted to hear the opinion of another elf concerning him. If his own people didn't like him, there was something to be said about that. Not that she hadn't already gathered that he was anything less than untrustworthy already.

Nirya answered fast, and very firmly. "Don't trust that one. He's up to something. Most here are up to something, of course, but in his case, it's not good. I haven't figured it out yet, but I will." though her tone softened quite quickly. "He is rather handsome though, isn't he?"

Serana had no idea how to respond. "I guess. He's not really my type though, if I'm being honest." He reminded her far too much of that wretched Vingalmo.

She scraped off some of the excess ingredients that baked onto the table.

"That's fair. I'm more of an Imperial girl, myself." Nirya confessed her interests, much to Serana's surprise. The Altmer finished up quickly and cleared the station. "Well, I'm off. Have a good night." she said as she made a beeline for the Hall of Countenance, leaving Serana there, shaking her head.

The Vampiress finished her Potion of True Shot and pocketed it. "I think Inigo will like this." She returned to the Hall of Attainment and headed to Inigo's cell.

The Khajiit was shivering and curled in the fetal position. "B...bend the energy backward... arrows... materialize..." he seemed to be repeating like a mental patient as he went over Mirabelle's stern instruction. He had to memorize this to save his hide, it seemed.

Serana softly entered his room. "Here, for you, kitty cat." she teased playfully as she placed the Potion of True Shot on his desk and calmly exited the cell. She walked over to Cura's cell and saw that she was already asleep.

It was eleven o'clock at night, after all.

With Ancano lurking about, Serana was happy to be a vampire. She could stay watch at night, to ensure that her friends were safe from him. And that was exactly what she was going to do.

She took a seat on the magic well at the center of the Hall, and took a bottle of mead and a copy of "The Song of Pelinal, V3" , and decided to pass the time until the break of dawn.