Skyrim was going to be a bold, new place without the looming dread of Alduin. The skies themselves felt lighter without his dark, looming wings covering the aether with impending doom.

The night sky too was bright in Dayspring Canyon, beneath the cool light of the moon, which shone along white streaks descending the waterfalls.

Cura lumbered up the trail, one step at a time, exhausted, but still pushing onward. She had a mission to fulfill before she could properly rest.

Clenching the flask containing Stendarr's waters of life in her right hand, the crippled half-Elf pushed the entrance door open with her right shoulder. With every motion she regretted her carelessness during her duel with the World-Eater. She was too certain of herself, and overestimated her reflexes.

She entered the grand hall and noted that it was silent. It seemed the majority were asleep, while others worked on their assignments in the armoury.

What was Carcette going to be like when Cura saw her? Would she be feral and attack her on sight, and could Cura fend her off? As she descended down into the dungeons, she came upon Ronthil, who happened upon her during his ascent.

"Wow! Er... hello... Cura, was it?" the Bosmer vampire asked. "You look like you've seen better days..." he noted her missing left forearm.

Cura had an idea, then and there. "I need to give something to Carcette; do you think you could keep the Keeper in check?" She held up the flask and gave it a light twirl in her fingers as she showed it off to him.

Ronthil looked at it quickly. "What's that?"

"Something for Carcette. Can you maybe help me in case she goes manic?" Cura asked once more.

Ronthil shrugged. "Sure, why not? Would you like me to be your Housecarl, too? Maybe I can file your taxes for you? Trim your toenails?"

Cura was unamused and more than a little annoyed by his remarks. "Fine; I'll do it myself if it's such a big issue." She cut around him and continued her descent. Ronthil followed after her quickly.

"I was just kidding - don't worry about it." Ronthil tried to reassure her. "Carcette's not in a good way - the animal blood isn't satisfying enough for her anymore. The placebo has lost its effect. With one arm, I don't think you'd be able to hold her off very well, no offense."

Cura made no response. She continued down until she reached the dungeon room itself, and immediately saw the pitiful Keeper standing in the large cage, muttering to herself about blood as her hands shook like those of a skooma addict. Cura didn't even have to come in close to see that her fangs were bared.

The half-elf braced herself as Ronthil walked up beside her. He held out a hand to Carcette. "Hey, stay back! She has something for you."

Keeper Carcette hissed like a serpent as she slowly began to loom forward reaching out for the piece of human and elven meat before her.

"If she would just give in to her nature, she wouldn't have this trouble." Ronthil shook his head. "The more a vampire tries to resist the call to blood, the more they lose themselves in it."

"Her religion would never allow it." Cura informed him. "Or... our religion would never allow it. It's abominable to consume human blood. Or elven blood. Or even blood of the beast races like Argonians and Khajiits."

Ronthil was displeased to hear as much. "I know, but gods, haven't any of you ever considered the possibility of being turned? Even one of you?"

Cura could mention what happened to Fenrik, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the discussion at the present time. She was exhausted, and she was trusting her life in this Wood Elf Vampire's hands. The world no longer needed her, so there would be no real damages caused if she perished here. She could afford to take the chance with Alduin gone. "Open the gate."

Ronthil's eyes widened. "What?"

"Open the gate." Cura nudged her face in the direction of the cage's door as Carcette lurked beyond it.

"Are you insane? If she comes flying out -"

Before Ronthil could try and discourage it, Cura cut him off and sharply reminded him. "Then it's your job to hold her back. Now, open the gate."

The Bosmer stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds before shrugging and walking over to the cage door and drawing his key. As he inserted it in the lock, he took the momentary pause to speak his mind. "This is a really stupid idea."

"Two of them have worked out for me so far." Cura stated plainly.

"Let's hope what they say about threes is wrong, then." Ronthil rolled his eyes and turned the key in the hole and pushed open the door.

Immediately, Carcette hissed loudly and made a mad dash through the opening and lunged at Cura. She no longer recognized her as her protégé; only prey. "Fresh... blood!" she exclaimed through her dry throat as she pinned Cura against the stone wall.

"Ronthil!" Cura grunted as she pushed the deranged vampiress back with her left stump.

The Bosmer vampire was true to his word and quickly wrenched Carcette backwards, wrapping his arms around her midsection as he pulled back. Carcette continued to thrash about viciously and shook him off, causing him to smack backwards into the silver bars, which caused him great pain.

Cura, however, took the opportunity to uncork the flask and quickly shoved it into the vampiric Breton's mouth as she turned her face back to her prey. The Vigilant fell upon the Keeper and forced the golden, luminous water down her throat.

As she attempted to hold her down, Cura remembered her missing hand once the pressure caused her stump to painfully ache and throb. She quickly removed it from Carcette's abdomen and was deftly knocked off by the vampire.

Cura fell backwards and Carcette quickly stood up and began to stumble about. She groaned with great pain and grabbed her pressure-plagued head as darkness was beginning to emerge from her like black smoke. The pain was great, and it felt as if her body was being pulled apart at the seams.

"GYAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Carcette roared with pain and faced the ceiling as she screamed. Her fangs slowly began to recede to their natural length, and her glowing red eye slowly began to fade, revealing her natural brown-coloured iris and white cornea. Under the dim torchlight, Cura could see her pale flesh slowly receding to its natural peach hue, and her ashen hair regained some of its dirty blonde pigment. Her gnarled wrinkles filled to soft flesh once more, and the black line above and below her lips slowly vanished as she began to appear human once more.

Cura stared in astonishment as the familiar face she'd known since childhood returned, and looked upon her.

The Keeper had to reorient herself for a moment, and leaned against the wall. Ronthil stared at her, and then at Cura. Keeper Carcette removed her Steel Plate Gauntlet on her right hand and lifted her index and middle finger to softly touch the bottom-right corner of her jaw, just below her right ear. She felt something that surprised her greatly; a pulse. For the first time in over a year, she felt a pulse in her neck. It was light, and it fluttered like a bird.

She was alive again. Human. Free from the clutches of Molag Bal.

She felt her energy returned sevenfold - she was not just alive, but rejuvenated! She felt as though she were twenty years old again.

A gentle sob of relief escaped her throat and she closed her eye and clasped her hands together in silent prayer.

"Wh-what did you do?" Ronthil asked Cura. "Did you cure her?! How? Without a Black Soul Gem? Just what was that stuff?" he pointed to the empty flask in Cura's hand.

Cura did not respond. Her body finally gave in to the exhaustion and pinned her to the cavernous floor. She slowly closed her eyes and turned her head to touch her cheek against the cold floor.

Ronthil gasped with alarm and quickly rushed to Cura's side, "Hey! Hey, wake up!"

As soon as Keeper Carcette snapped back into reality, she too took on a moment of panic. "Cura?!" She hurried to her protégé's side as well, and gasped with horror upon seeing her missing arm. She cupped her hands over her mouth as the macabre image processed in her mind. In a panic, the Keeper quickly felt for a pulse under Cura's jaw. It was weak, and laboured.

"You poor thing... you've pushed yourself too far." the Keeper shuddered and then turned to Ronthil, who had a blank expression on his face. "Don't just stand there! We've got to bring her to the infirmary upstairs!"

After a full two days passed, Cura slowly came to, lying in a bed at the infirmary in the Fort. As she groaned upon waking, she heard Erandur's voice.

"You've outdone yourself... you know that?" Erandur remarked as he washed her bloodsoaked robes in a basin nearby. "First and foremost, you've defeated Alduin. That... that's incredible. Truly incredible, my daughter." he noted Cura's expression of surprise. "Don't look so surprised! Mara has told me of such. Congratulations on your victory, and thanks for saving our lives, and souls."

"Arkay thanks you very much, as well. Alduin's business was wreaking havoc upon his great cycle of life and death." Florentius, who was brewing a few potions nearby at the alchemy table across from Cura's bed, proclaimed.

Cura tapped herself on the collarbone, and then caressed the length of her neck and right cheek, and her hair. She was alive; she could feel it. She could see the Fort's interior; she could smell the dried blood on the clothes, on the sheets that were hung up to dry nearby. She could hear murmuring in the halls, the sounds of footsteps, the sounds of idle wind blowing through the chambers. She could taste the staleness of her own breath.

Yes, She was alive.

The half-Elf's mind wandered to thoughts of her mentor. "Where's Keeper Carcette?" She looked around the infirmary chambers, but the Keeper was nowhere to be found.

"She's most likely back in the Chapel." Erandur informed her as he wrung out the bloodsoaked cloth into the basin, and watching it return to a deep brown hue. "She's spent the last two days praying for your recovery. You were in a pretty bad way."

"The last two days?!" Cura was aware that she was in bad shape: looking down to her left was enough to inform her of that. The stump unnerved her. But still, it was her folly, and her decision to forego a possible restoration of it. Now she would have to live with the consequences.

Florentius saw fit to speak up. "Yes, my dear; you were brought in by the Bosmer Vampire fellow and the Keeper from the dungeon below. They explained everything. If you're feeling up to it, you should talk to the Keeper. She was worried sick about you."

Apparently the Keeper's dream never showed anything concerning Cura surviving after the fight with Alduin.

Slowly, Cura used her right hand to push herself up from the mattress. She was feeling more or less stable, though dizziness immediately swathed her head. She shook it off. "Whew..." Her legs were sore and throbbed with great, hollow pain, but it was bearable enough with the Ambrosia that Florentius had been cultivating. He offered her some and she ate of it immediately.

She had just come from Sovngarde - she met Stendarr himself. All that they knew was justified. That feeling invigorated her once more. How many people could claim to have met their Divine face-to-face while still alive? Very few.

Cura was garbed in a roughspun tunic after having been examined and treated for numerous injuries - some she hadn't even noticed, like a shattered knuckle bone in her right hand and several scrapes and gashes on her thighs and knees. One of her knees was bludgeoned cruelly as she fumbled during her first bout with Alduin, which explained the hollowness. She limped as she walked down the hall and descended the stairs, grabbing the railings for support.

Author's Note: I think "Daggerfall Soundtrack (HQ Remake) - Folk 2" would be very fitting for this scene

Eventually, Cura found her way to the chapel, where she saw the Keeper there, seated at one of the pews at the forefront of the small sanctuary. Her head was lowered and small mutterings could be heard due to the silence.

Cura looked at the statue of Stendarr behind the Shrine, depicting a bald, bearded man wearing robes and seated, holding a chalice in his right hand. Now that she has seen him, she wanted to make some adjustments to it, but then again, perhaps the Divine wanted it this way. Who was she to gainsay it?

The Hammer was gone.

Cura looked to the wall, where Stendarr's Hammer lay, rested against the wall beside the statue before she'd left to begin her journey to Winterhold. Then it dawned on her: Stendarr in Sovngarde had his Hammer upon his back. Perhaps the Aedric Artifact had returned to its true owner?

She walked over beside Carcette and took a seat beside her. She waited for her to conclude her prayer, and sat upright. A pain shot through her waist. She had pulled many of her muscles battling Alduin, and they did little more than complain to her for it.

Carcette felt her presence and raised herself up to look at her. "Cura..."

Cura waved with her good hand. "Hello."

She was happy to see that Carcette was human again. The relief from that was enough to dull the pains she was feeling. Not that she'd expected Stendarr to fall back on his word - but it was nice to see that it worked regardless.

Carcette quickly pulled Cura into a tight embrace, clasping her arms around her like a vice. "You - you're alive! Praise Stendarr!" She slowly released her protégé, taking care not to agitate any injuries in the process. "So... you're back here... Then does that mean Alduin is dead? Did you slay him? Everyone seems to think so, but I want to hear it directly from you."

Cura nodded. "Yes; I went to Sovngarde and defeated Alduin, once and for all."

Carcette's eyes widened and her mouth hung open in shock. "Well... wow. I'm - I'm glad, really." It sounded very familiar.

"It was just like your dream. I fought the World-Eater with the aid of the Tongues - three Ancient Nordic Warriors." Cura informed her.

Carcette gently took Cura's missing left arm into her hands. "I suppose this was the price you paid... Oh, Cura..." her voice trailed off sadly.

Cura thought to pick things up. "But I got to meet Stendarr."

Upon hearing this, Carcette looked up and at Cura's face directly. "What?"

"I met the God of Mercy himself, in front of the Whalebone Bridge." Cura informed her. "The liquid that I gave you in the flask came from his Drinking Horn directly!"

The older Breton had a difficult time believing it, surprisingly enough, but it was not her place to question it. After all, she was cured of Vampirism, and Cura had gone to Sovngarde. She knew it within her heart. She had always known it.

And now, it was all over.

Eighteen years since she had that dream, and she could recall it, though the details were growing hazy now. Last year, she'd been able to recount the details as vividly as the day she'd dreamt it. Now, it was a blur. Perhaps this, too, was part of fate.

What next?

Keeper Carcette gently patted Cura on the shoulder. "You've done well, Cura. I couldn't be more proud of you. Slaying the World-Eater is no small feat. You've brought Stendarr's mercy to this world on a scale that we can't even fathom."

Cura accepted the long-desired praise of her mentor, but it still felt bittersweet to her. "Thank you, Keeper. But... where do I go from here? I... I don't know what to do with my life, exactly, now."

"You're always welcome among the Vigil. You know that." Carcette reassured her. Then she wondered what would become of it all. There had been many changes since she'd been out of commission, and they were still awaiting her replacement as Keeper. It was far too late to revoke her imposed suspension now. Then she wondered if the new Keeper had come over the Jerall Mountains yet. Either way, there was much work to be done.

Cura understood as much. "Yes, I know, but... I was wondering if there was more to my life than being confined to the Hall."

"You don't have to be." Carcette reminded her. "You're free, Cura. You can do whatever you wish."

"I don't think there's much I can do." Cura's glance shifted sadly over to the stump of her left arm. A saddened sigh escaped her throat.

Carcette looked at it sympathetically before attempting to reach her confidence. "You know, I never thought I could get used to seeing with only one eye. But I've managed. Ironically, my right eye can see even clearer now, though I should expect as much. I'm sure you could get used to this, too. You can still use your dominant hand."

Cura shook her head. "An eye and an arm are not the same."

"No, they are not," Carcette tried once again. "but the principle is the same; you mustn't let it deter you. You can rise above this. I know you can! It's not the end of the world; by Stendarr, you defeated the World-Eater, and you're alive! All of Skyrim will sing your praises. Don't let this make you feel lesser."

Cura entertained the thought for a few moments, and was already beginning to feel the compression around her heart loosening. She smiled to the Keeper. "You're right. I'm sure I can find a way to adjust... it''ll just take time."

"This world is full of surprises; take heart and know that you're among friends. Everybody in this Fort, in the Vigil, and in this province owes you their lives." Isran said as he calmly walked into the chapel, having overheard some of their conversation.

"Isran!" Cura was surprised by his sudden entrance.

"I've already got Sorine and Gunmar looking into a replacement arm for you. It's... the least we could do, I think." Isran expressed.

Cura was touched by the gesture, and hopeful. "You would do that for me?"

Isran nodded. "Of course. You know I'm a man who pays his debts."

Cura hugged the stern Redguard gratuitously. "Thank you so much!"

"Don't mention it." Isran replied. "I'm serious. Don't. I don't want people to think I'm growing soft."

Cura released him quickly. "Oh - right. Of course. Well, I'll look forward to it, then!"

The older Breton stood up from the pew first. "That's the Cura I know! Now, get changed back into your armour - we're going to rendez-vous with Vigilant Tolan and Brother Adalvald. They'll be delighted to see you alive."

They exited the Fort and Carcette basked in the glorious sunlight outside. She stretched out her arms as if to embrace its warmth as she looked up to the heavens.

"I'm free!" the Breton proclaimed with cheerful demeanour.

No longer locked indoors, no longer cursed, no longer caged. She was a free woman, for the first time in ages. She was the happiest she's ever been in her life at this apocryphal moment in time.

And she owed it all to Cura.

Carcette turned her face to the young Breton and smiled, expressing her thoughts outward by gesture. Cura's four expression lifted back up as well.

"If you're looking for Vigilant Tolan, he went to the Hall of the Vigilant." Isran emerged from the door quickly, to inform them before they departed to the wrong location.

Carcette was shocked, and Isran explained quickly. "Oh, you didn't hear, of course. It's being rebuilt."

Carcette was astounded. "That's excellent news! How did they secure the funds for it?"

"Due to Cura's efforts, and a little pocket help from the Dawnguard - you're welcome, by the way - Tolan and Adalvald were able to hire some masons from the Imperial city. They persuaded the Chorrol headquarters to contact them on your behalf." Isran explained.

Keeper Carcette was impressed. She couldn't have managed it better herself. "I'll be sure to thank them, then."

"Send a letter with a couple of X's and O's at the end." Isran mused sarcastically. "Don't need to be sappy. Just get your operations up and running again. The Vigilants are a mess, and they're taking up a lot of space in here."

Cura and Keeper Carcette Fast Travelled to the Hall of the Vigilant.

Immediately, they were struck by the changes taken place. There were large watchtowers put in place and a wider berth given to stables, where many Horses were lined up, grazing their hay troughs.

The building was completely restored, and given a second floor, and a tool shed was installed beside it, with a blue tapestry depicting Stendarr's Chalice hanging in front of its door, as well as two more hanging from the rafters of the Hall itself.

On the mountainside, where there was once a simple chopping block, there was now a blacksmith's station complete with a forge, smelter, workbench and grindstone under a wooden patio.

Carcette's eyes lit up when she saw the watchtower protruding from the main building on a sort of balcony, which also doubled as a break station. Vigilants communes on it and ate their lunch as they watched the Keeper and Dragonborn return.

"Keeper, we have a horse, special for you!" one of the Vigilants, a Redguard, proclaimed with excitement as she led Carcette over to the stables.

Cura followed after them, curious to observe the horse, and more excitedly, what was waiting for them inside.

The Vigilant presented Carcette with a white mare. She was stout, and had gray hair, and bore a saddle decorated by a horse tabard of blue cloth depicting Stendarr's Drinking Horn, unlike the standards hung outside the Hall.

"She's beautiful!" Carcette cooed as she gently caressed the horse's mane with the back of her hand. "Does she have a name?"

"Not yet. We were hoping you could do the honours when you returned... and we were kind of beginning to doubt you would, and would have left it to the next Keeper." the Vigilant shyly admitted.

Carcette gave it some thought, and then a name came to her. "I'll name her after something I've been shown; what Skyrim will find; something our Lord vehemently stands for. The truth, and the epitome of what we should stand for. 'Mercy.'"

The horse snorted out her nose and looked to the floor, and kicked up some snow with her hoof as she stood idle.

"A fitting name!" the Vigilant laughed. What greater name for a steed of the Keeper of the Vigil of Stendarr could there be than 'Mercy?'

"It's not Joile, but it should do." Cura said as bittersweet memories of the Keeper's old steed bubbles up to the surface.

"You aren't still hung up on Joile, are you?" Carcette looked at Cura with mild concern. "I didn't blame you for it then, and I do not now."

"I know. Just... let's make sure Mercy will live a longer life?" Cura proposed.

The other Vigilant looked dumbfounded, but shrugged it off. "Well, Keeper, I'll bring you to your new chambers."

Before any more could be said, Carcette called attention to another matter. "And what of Cura? I trust she has a sleeping chamber as well?" If not, she would be rather frustrated considering all that Cura has done for them.

The Vigilant seemed to have recalled it then and there. "Yes; hers was the one in the dungeon hall, wasn't it? We transformed the lower section into a barracks and a small bathing area. But, she has a special room beside the Keeper's quarters."

Cura wanted to see the room for herself. She hoped that it would at least be larger than her old one. Her old room was a tenth the size of her cell at the College of Winterhold. If this new room would be half that she would be content.

Cura and Carcette followed the Vigilant inside, and were immediately stunned by the new interior. The hearth to the east of the Hall was repaired, and a staircase was below a railing behind it. It seemed they expanded the entire place. Ornate, decorative parapets held up the ceiling, resembling much the roof of the Temple of Kynareth in its style. A sword crossed by two shields was mounted on the wall of the parapet, and beneath it was a set of lunch tables where Inigo was seated with a couple of Vigilants.

"INIGO!" Cura cried out as she recognized her furry friend on a second's notice and hurried over to meet him at the table. The blue Khajiit leapt from his table and hurried to his friend.

Inigo clapped his hands together. "My friend, you are amazing. You saved us all. You killed that smelly World-Eater and put an end to his maniacal machinations."

Cura was just happy to see him alive and well. She would go through it all again if it meant keeping everyone safe.

Inigo continued. "I had the strangest dream that I was there fighting Alduin by your side. It was very exciting. A shame it was not real."

Cura nodded, and placed her good hand and her absent hand over his shoulders, only touching his left one. "No, I'm glad it wasn't. That just means you're okay. The last thing I'd want was to see you devoured or maimed like I was."

Inigo looked at her missing hand with sympathy. "My friend, I am so sorry that this has happened to you... though, now you can wear a hook and join Carcette and Agmaer's Pirate crew, yes?"

The Keeper, who was talking to some of the new Vigilant recruits, overheard his remark and rolled her good eye.

Cura laughed aloud. "HAH!"

Inigo began to chuckle in a naughty manner, and the two erupted into uncontrollable giggles. It was a silly thought, but the image of herself, Agmaer and Carcette sailing around the Iliac Bay with eyepatches and a hook for a hand was too funny to stay straight. "Oh, and I suppose I'll need an exotic bird on my shoulder as well, right? How about a Cliff Racer?"

"Do not joke, my friend. Cliff Racers were like miniature Dragons, from what I hear." Inigo shuddered at the thought. He quickly returned to the subject at hand. "Anyway, well done. If they do not build a massive statue in your honour I would complain."

"Certainly. Even Alduin had a Wall mural." Cura rolled her eyes humorously. "But in all honesty, I'd be okay without one. Who would commission it anyways? The Empire is tied up with war and the potential of wars on all sides, and the Stormcloaks have their own issues to sort out."

"Boy do they ever." Inigo rolled his eyes. "But I am serious. You do deserve to be lauded, my friend. You have slain an ancient evil that has tormented our world and escaped justice. You are a big deal! A BIG deal!"

Cura smiled. "Thanks, Inigo." He always knew how to cheer her up and boost morale.

"If not a statue, maybe you can get a golden arm! How cool would that be?" Inigo proposed as they began to walk.

"Not very. I'll be the target of every thief in Tamriel." Cura shuddered at the thought.

"My friend, the day you die - as all must - thieves will be circling you like vultures. Do you have any idea how valuable the Amulet of Stendarr worn by the Last Dragonborn, forged from her very bones, would be worth? Wheeew."

"And don't forget to add that it was crafted by a well-learned old man." came Brother Adalvald's voice from around the parapet. He and Tolan both emerged and approached Cura.

Tolan hugged her first, and Adalvald did next. Their embraces were like comforting blankets to her.

"You did it, kid. I knew you could do it. You saved us all! You're a credit to the Vigil, and all of Skyrim!" Vigilant Tolan proclaimed his faith. He was surprised, however, to notice her lack of an arm, and Adalvald was equally dismayed by it.

"Did the World-Eater do that?" Adalvald asked with an empathetic wince as he pointed to the grievous wound.

Cura nodded and held her arm shamefully. "Yes, but that's besides the point. He's gone now. That's all that matters. Now we can all return to our lives as normal."

Brother Adalvald scoffed with amusement. "Normal? Our lives will never be normal again, Cura. Look around you! Everything has changed! Look at the Hall - and look at all the new equipment we've been blessed with! Stendarr is rising, my dear. Now we can work more efficiently." He gave her a tap on the right arm. "And it's all thanks to you. With your influence and the great image you've shown Skyrim of our organization, and what we've accomplished with the Dawnguard... the Jarls are practically throwing gold and support at us!"

Vigilant Tolan held up his index finger to signal for them to hold for a second as he walked around the parapet that divided the room. Cura peeked over it and saw that the Shrine was now on a proper Altar, not a table, and there were legitimate pews lined up facing it where Vigilants sat in quiet prayer. Standards depicting the chalice hung around the square-shaped ceiling. Light shone in from the new windows above. The old staircase behind the shrine was still there, dug out of the rubble and repaired. The Hall seemed much more accommodating and far busier than it had ever been before.

Tolan knelt down before a chest next to the Altar and pulled out something that he was sure to obscure with his large frame to maintain the suspense as he brought it over. As he approached Carcette, he handed her what appeared to be a set of armoured robes. They were white and silver, and trimmed with gold, with rubies encrusted into the metalwork.

Carcette's expression shifted to one of awe as she received it and held it up. She examined it from a few different angles. "Wow... this is lovely armour."

"It's called Stendarr Paladin Armour." Brother Adalvald exclaimed. "We're going to be receiving more of them from Cyrodiil in a few months, but it won't be easy to get them over. After all, the Stormcloaks are patrolling Falkreath now, and going up and down the Pale Pass, I hear. Shipments are going to come in from around the Sea of Ghosts instead."

Upon hearing that, Cura realized that she had perhaps made a mistake back at the peace treaty; though, upon weighing Markarth to Falkreath, it was still worth it to keep Skyrim's Silver veins in the Empire's hands. Though she was unsure of the relationship between the Forsworn and the Empire.

Why did politics have to be so complicated?

"It's good to see you again, Carcette. Maybe you'll tell us how you became human again?" Vigilant Tolan asked.

Carcette looked at Cura and Inigo, and then at the Vigilant, and then decided to follow Tolan. "Certainly. Let's talk about it. It's quite an interesting tale."

To Cura's surprise, Lucien was just coming up the stairs behind the hearth. As soon as he saw her he dropped the book that he was carrying.

Lucien immediately raced over and clamped his hands on Cura's shoulders. "It's you! Dare I ask... is Alduin...?"

Cura chuckled lightly. "Sure. I met some ghosts, beat up a Dragon god, and am back in time for tea."

Lucien crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "That's a rather ridiculous way of putting it, though I suppose it answers my question. Great!"

Cura made light of it, but it was certainly far more monumental. If only he could have seen it!

"But please, I must know. Sovngarde. Did you really go? What was it like?" Lucien inquired.

"It was incredible... the skies were shining brilliantly and the landscape was lush and mountainous. The Hall was every bit as incredible as the tales described, and many warriors communed within its walls. And the Whalebone Bridge was mighty and strong - like Stuhn, you could say." Cura expressed with great sweeping hand motions as she detailed her surroundings.

"I can only imagine. And of course, the philosophical implications... proof of divine life after death! But only for Nords. Typical." Lucien ruminated bitterly.

Cura shook her head. "Aetherius is real, too. I met Stendarr himself. You will have an afterlife, as shall I. And Inigo. And everyone else."

"Well then, I suppose the question is what now? No, don't tell me; I'll just see what mayhem you lead us into." Lucien laughed before fixing his gaze on Cura's missing appendage. "Oh... dear... care to explain?"

"Alduin." Cura put it in one word.

"Well... you may not have come back in one piece, but at least you came back! I'm just happy to see you again, Candle. Thank you so much for defeating the World-Eater; the world is better off for it." Lucien tried to brighten the mood.

"I'm curious to why you both came here." Cura admitted.

"Well, this was your home, according to Inigo. After the living hell you've experienced, it made thematical sense that you would return here sooner or later." Lucien reasoned nonchalantly.

"Fair enough. Where's Vilja?" Cura asked.

"She returned to Whiterun - I think she's staying at the Bannered Mare." Inigo admitted. "Why she wouldn't want to stay here is beyond me - the religious zealots, the smell of sweat, the stew... it is all so fun here."

"Then I'm off to inform her and Serana that I've survived." Cura stated.

It was becoming a chore, but she couldn't let them continue to worry. Lucien and Inigo stayed put and Cura decided to brave a dizzying Fast Travel soon after her previous one and landed straight to Whiterun.

The City Guard who stood watch before the city gate bowed his head. "Dragonborn... it is an honour to stand before you. You have saved this land... and our very souls."

Cura enjoyed the praise she was getting; she'd more than earned it, though she would have to take care to not let it get to her head. She smiled to the City Guard. "Someday you'll see Sovngarde, and you won't have to worry about Alduin when you're there. It really is a gorgeous place."

Vilja was at Warmaiden's, sure enough, and was shocked by her friend's sudden appearance. "By Shor! I don't believe it!" She dropped the fork immediately and ran over to the Dragonborn. "It is you, right? I am not speaking to a ghost or an illusion, am I?"

Cura shook her head. "No, it's me. Hello, Vilja!"

"Then Alduin really is dead? Hooray!" Vilja cheered with excitement, and the other nearby citizens cheered with joyous lauding. Vilja jumped up and down excitedly. "This is incredible! You are amazing! I can't believe it! My friend, the Dragonborn! She destroyed the monster Alduin!" She looked to Cura's missing limb for a moment, but decided against mentioning it when she saw Cura pull it back. She instead led the cheers. "THREE CHEERS FOR THE DOVAHKIIN! HIP, HIP - "

"HOORAY!"

"HIP, HIP!"

"HOORAY!"

Vilja reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a Dunmer Drink; a Sujamma. "Friend, I think this calls for a celebration! I've been saving this for a while, now... I do hope you'll like it."

"Well, I won't be here for long. There's someone else I must speak to." Cura looked at the round bottle.

Before Cura could accept it, Vilja pulled it back and gave it a virulent shake. Then she popped the cork and it burst into the air like a geyser of alcohol. The fluid fizzed and bubbled before settling down. "Here, you get the first swig!"

Cura accepted the strong beverage and took a deep sip. In no less than two gulps, she began to feel off-center. She could feel the fire of Red Mountain itself burn her insides as the potent alcohol made its way down. "Wow..."

"I know, it's strong drink, but we wouldn't have it any other way back home on Solstheim." Vilja tapped her on the shoulder as Cura's head spun.

"Well, Fast Travel to Winterhold is certainly going to be very... interesting..." Cura attempted to shake it off.

Vilja laughed lightheartedly. "You'll be all right. If you could slay Alduin, I am sure you can handle a Sujamma-infused Warp through time and space!"

Cura grit her teeth. "Wish me luck, then."

"If you'd like to hang out sooner or later, could you maybe tell me where to meet you?" Vilja asked.

"The Hall of the Vigilant, south of Dawnstar, opposite to where Langley's house is. It's at the foot of the mountain with a shrine to Mehrunes Dagon atop it." Cura informed her before performing her third consecutive Fast Travel.

As Cura landed at the college gates, she threw herself into the bridge railing and vomited the flame of Sujamma overboard.

Faralda leaned against the entrance nearby beside two Storm Atronachs and stared at her conduct with shock and disgust.

As Cura regained her senses, she remarked, "Well. I take it the World-Eater took you for a rough flight?"

Cura spun around on her heel and looked away her shyly, embarrassed by the display. "Yes, he did. But I destroyed him."

Couldn't people get the message? She was growing weary of the explanations.

Next, her arm.

"What happened to..."

"Alduin. May I enter?" Cura interrupted her question.

"Of course you may." Faralda nodded and stepped aside. As Cura passed her by, she added, "It's good to see you again.

"And you as well."

Cura discreetly walked into the Master Wizard's Office, and Serana dropped her quill to the floor upon seeing her entry.

"Hello, Serana!" Cura waved with her good hand.

Serana was floored. She was paralyzed with shock. "You... you're back..." She caught herself and quickly shuffled around her desk and embraced her friend. "I thought you might be dead, or that something might have happened to you. I thought..."

"It's all right, Serana... I'm here. I'm alive." Cura reassured her.

Nobody seemed to notice her missing arm on first glance. Something did happen to her.

"What about Alduin? Is he gone?" Serana slowly released her and took a step back.

Cura nodded. "Yes. The World-Eater is dead."

Serana emitted a sigh of relief and moved her hair away from her eyes. "That's great to hear. I just... I didn't know if you really had it in you, which is why I was so worried. But it's great to know you've proven me wrong." She tapped Cura on the shoulder with enthusiasm. "Welcome back, Dragonborn."

Ye of so little faith.

"Believe me, it's good to see you again too." Cura laughed softly. Winterhold itself held a warmer, gentler air for her after all she'd encountered. A friendly face was worth its weight in gold.

"Hopefully there won't be more cataclysmic events in the future that only you can solve. Because whether you like it or not, I'm going to be here to stick around." Serana warned her after her eyes darted down to her missing arm. "I won't like it if something like this were to happen again. Not on my watch."

Cura agreed with her sentiment. "I don't know what the future will hold, but I would be happy if our agreed-upin picnic in the Forgotten Vale is in it."

Serana smiled humorously. "You got it, pretty girl."

"See you in a month, I suppose? It's clear you have quite a bit of work." Cura offered as she noticed the large stacks of paperwork atop her desk.

"It's fine by me. You have no idea how much work goes into running this college. I have to note what classes took place on each day, what students studied, progress reports, finances, collaborations, outside management concerning the Arcane University and College of Whispers, student and faculty behaviour breeches... ugh. It really makes me appreciate what Mirabelle did for us." Serana shuddered.

Cura cringed lightly upon learning the work load. "I do miss her sometimes. And the Arch-Mage. I didn't know them all that well personally, but they were good people, even if they made mistakes."

"That's what I like the best about you, Cura." Serana admitted as she sat back down. "Not your power, not your niceness, but your reasonability. You were always willing to see past prejudices, and past actions. To give others a second chance. That's a rare, but valuable trait."

It would seem so, but Cura was certain it wasn't as uncommon as Serana believed it to be. After all, Isran tolerated her, the infected Carcette, and even Ronthil despite being a hardcore vampire hunter. Carcette was willing to help Cura be freed of lycanthropy rather than slay her as the Vigil demanded.

Perhaps, just maybe, Cura learned these traits from them.

She and Serana parted ways for the time being so that the Master Wizard could continue her work.

Cura scoured the grounds for a while, and eventually found Onmund, J'zargo and Brelyna asleep in their cells, so she elected not to disturb their sleep. They deserved a few days of good rest.

As she exited the Hall of Attainment, she took a sobering breath of the fresh mountain air before returning to the Hall of the Vigilant.

However, something strange occurred. She felt exhausted, when previously she was full of energy.

Perhaps it was a mistake to perform four consecutive Fast Travels in the span of 24 hours.

She entered the Hall and reconvened with her friends before collapsing on the floor again. Her legs were weary and her core exhausted.

She would definitely need to stay out of action for a while.

Vigilants were alarmed and Inigo quickly helped her back to her feet. "My friend, you are sweet, but remember you are Human; not a pancake."

Cura felt groggy. She groaned in response and massaged her tired brow.

"You need to get some rest. I'll bring you to your new room." Vigilant Tolan hurried over to Cura and gently escorted her to her designated chambers.

It was located directly to the right of Carcette's own room, and it was fairly embellished compared to what she was used to.

There was the bed on the east side, a writing desk with many drawers immediately at the foot of it, a mannequin and weapon racks on the west side, an enchanting table, and a dresser. There were wall shelves with potions lined up on them and a set of cupboards below them.

As soon as she entered, she disregarded it all and collapsed into her bed.

She lay in bed for the remainder of the day and into the next morning, and began to run a fever.

She had taxed her body so much, and wasn't even recovered from her fight with Alduin fully.

Lucien and Inigo examined the stables outside, and the two conversed.

"Inigo, do you think she's going to be okay? I mean, she has been through a lot, and did you see what Fast Travel did to her?" the Imperial scholar cringed as the two walked over the clearing.

"She will be fine; she has been through this before. Cura is a tough, but very reckless cookie." Inigo admitted. "Besides, she is back home now, and they say home is where the heart is."

"True. I do miss my family back home..." Lucien thought back to his parents in Cyrodiil. "Clearly Cura didn't give much thought about my home when she did the negotiations. How am I supposed to get back when the Pale Pass is in Stormcloak territory? They'll pass me around like a pack of smokes!"

"It is strange that they call it 'Pale Pass' when it is in Falkreath, and well, not in the Pale." Inigo considered the oddity.

"It's because to Cyrodiil, the Jerall Mountains are pale... like snow. Obviously." Lucien scoffed.

"You wanted to investigate the Dwemer Ruins on Solstheim, yes? For that you will have to take a boat from Windhelm. You will be a Stormcloak boy toy no matter where you go." Inigo mocked his paranoia with a cheeky laugh.

"So not cool." Lucien sneered as Inigo continued to laugh at his awkwardness.

The nearby Vigilants shook their heads at their rude humour and went about their business.

Brother Adalvald was adjusting the armoury in the basement, setting up display cases, and Keeper Carcette was examining the new map on the wall.

"Whoever the new Keeper will be, they will have many fewer burdens on their shoulders than I've had." Carcette said bitterly. She hadn't expected to be back here in these newer conditions; in fact, mere days ago she hadn't been fully capable of rational thought.

"That's the thing; he won't be staying here." Brother Adalvald stated as he adjusted the side frame. "I learned that it will be a High Elven Vigilant named Thorondir who is going to be your replacement. Apparently he has decided it would be preferable to make his headquarters the old temple in Stuhn's Ravine."

"That old ruin?" Carcette asked with disbelief.

"His own taskforce, backed by the Temple of Stendarr, crossed the border a couple of months ago and have discreetly been working on fixing it. A Bosmer Vigilant called Altano came by the Beacon some time back and spoke with us about it."

Keeper Carcette was unimpressed. "Well, at any rate, it's a new chapter for us all. The more ground we can cover, the better. I see what Isran was getting at."

Brother Adalvald finished up on the display case. "I feel sorry for Cura. Poor thing's worn herself ragged again. I hope she knows she can stay as long as she needs to."

Carcette stroked her chin and walked to the stairs. "Of course she does. I've told her she's always welcome here with us. She always has been." She paused for a few seconds and then dropped a sigh. "She'll need some time to recover. We'll do our best to help her through it."

Adalvald agreed. "We will, certainly."

The Keeper led the way back upstairs. It was going to be a long road to recovery ahead, but they were long past the worst of it.

Skyrim's saviour deserved to have some time to recuperate, and it was good that her friends decided to stay with her. And if any Vigilants had any complaints about her getting special treatment, they would have to take it up with Carcette.

She peeked into Cura's room and saw her sleeping soundly in her bed. Inigo and Lucien were chatting lowly on the other side and the Keeper beckoned to them.

The two of them stood up and hurried to the authoritative Breton on her call. The last thing they wanted was to be kicked out.

"Yes, Keeper?" Lucien anxiously awaited her answer.

"I want to thank the both of you. For being here for her." Keeper Carcette expressed her gratitude.

"You do not need to thank us. She is our friend. We would have been here if this was the Deadlands." Inigo waved it off.

"Friends like you are hard to come by, and very valuable." Carcette commended them. "And, I was wrong about you, Inigo. I apologize for my first impressions. You aren't a drug-addled derelict. You're something special. It's no wonder Cura gravitated towards you."

"Aw, and I was wrong about you too! You are not a mean, grouchy zealot. You are just... the Keeper." Inigo responded frankly.

Carcette narrowed her eyes and snorted. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment. You're both welcome to stay for as long as you like. Our Hall is your Hall."

"And we don't even have to pay rent!" Lucien joked and clapped his hands together.

Inigo laughed aloud and high-fived Lucien. The Keeper scoffed at their antics, though she expected as much.

"So, if I may ask, how did you become human again? When did you become human again? And did you know being blonde and having brown eyes is quite different?" Lucien asked in quick succession.

"Cura's selflessness. I'm sure Cura will give you more details when she awakes. But for now, let her rest. She's entitled to that." Carcette said as she maneuvered around the two of them to head back downstairs.

Lucien and Inigo decided that it would be best to float around, and show some support to their friend. They were sure as well that the more word spread of Alduin's defeat, perhaps more people would come by to visit Cura as well.

The event was monumental; the World-Eater felled! News that none could ignore.

The Dragonborn reigns victorious, and the world as they know it is saved! A worthy news headline to be read by the wealthy and sung by town criers across Tamriel. All would hear of it; from Skyrim, to Cyrodiil, to High Rock, to Morrowind, and perhaps even to the Summerset Isles, Elsewyr, Valenwood, Hammerfell and Black Marsh.

The Dragonborn comes.