Night fell over Riften, and a light haze covered the city streets, shimmering under the light of the three-quarter moon above. Legion soldiers and Riften guards were working on strengthening the city walls, adding ballistae to them and adding an outer layer of stone surrounding the exterior. They were also building stone towers with the aid of magic at the ends of the city wall, from where they would have a high vantage point over the cardinal directions of the landscape.

They were preparing day and night for any bad surprises in the near future. With the cooperation of the Legion and the Stormcloaks, the fortification process was going rather quickly. A designated training space outside the walls in the nearby forest was occupied day and night, the factions rotating their men: Stormcloaks in the Morning, Legionnaires at the Afternoon, and Thalmor at night.

There were tents set up in the fields, as well, where the soldiers would essentially mingle. There was still a bit of distrust, but former neighbours could engage in conversation again beyond their uniforms. The Thalmor mostly kept to themselves in their own corner, though the hostility was at a minimum.

As Lucien continued to hone his magickal skills, he remembered fondly the lazier days at the College of Winterhold when he would train with Cura, Onmund, Serana, Brelyna, and J'zargo. He chuckled heartily at how great his magicka control had become over the months since then. As he continued to practice in the alleys, a group of Thalmor approached him.

One of them looked at him, scanning him up and down before speaking, "Move aside, Human. We have a job to do and we certainly would not appreciate a stray fireball in the face." the first said.

"Oh, my apologies." Lucien dispelled the flame and stepped off the otherwise empty walkway. "Are you two doing patrols?'

The second Altmer quipped immediately, "What we do is none of your concern. Just stay out of our way, Imperial." He led the way through and the second Altmer followed closely behind. Lucien sneered at their rudeness as they passed.

Serana, Inigo and Illia were enjoying a meal at the Bee & Barb. As soon as Vilja began to hit the Black-Briar Mead, she decided she wanted to show off how Tavern Parties were done in Solstheim, and began to dance on top of the table. She'd swept the cutlery and food both off nonchalantly and began to stamp on the surface. Inigo laughed and cheered her on. "Go, Vilja! You have got the moves!" he laughed and she shuffled her feet against the surface effortlessly.

Serana was impressed, as well. "I'll give her one thing: not many people can hold their Mead and dance on tables."

Keerava, alerted to the crowd gathering around the spectacle, gestured toward Talen, "Oh, no! Talen, is that crazy Nord girl at it again?" the pale Argonian hissed with frustration.

Talen-Jei nodded, "They're not hurting anyone, Keerava. It's not that big a deal."

Keerava scoffed in response. "This Inn is a respectable establishment!" One of the shelves behind her gave way from its hinges, causing mead to spill on the floor. The sound of the bottles breaking on the ground behind her drew her attention, leading to feelings of frustration and embarrassment. "Ugh, get them out of here! They aren't welcome here."

Talen-Jei sighed and walked past Grelka, Bran-Shei, Balimund and Madesi, who seemed to be dancing along with Vilja. A few of them seemed to be drunk, themselves. "All right, folks. Party's over. You have to leave now."

Vilja's jaw hung open. "What? Why? We were doing nothing wrong. I do this all the time!"

Keerava leaned around her counter to try and see Vilja from beyond the large wooden pillar that blocked her view of her western side of the room. "The Bee & Barb is a place to relax and unwind. You want to dance and act stupid? Go to Haelga's Bunkhouse instead."

Grelka snorted at the prudish Argonian. "Yeah, that's why we normally do. At least Haelga doesn't have a dagger stuck firmly up her ass."

Brand-Shei moved some of his hair behind his ear. "I think I'm just gonna head home instead. I think I've been drinking enough anyways."

From the corner door next to the stairs, Maramal from the Temple of Mara entered, a serious glare on his face as he witnessed Vilja on the table, as well as the drunken group before him. "People of Riften: does your revelry no know bounds, even in the midst of judgment? The arrival of the Daedra is no coincidence. It is your sinful nature that caused the gods to forsake the Rift."

Keerava groaned and leaned her head into her hands. "And I suppose you're perfect, Maramal?"

The Redguard priest shook his head. "No; but I am trying to petition Lady Mara on the City's behalf. I can't have you acting with debauchery while I do so, otherwise it will defeat the purpose."

Asgeir Snow-Shod, who sat nearby with his angry father Vulwulf, spoke up, "Take it easy, Maramal. I am sure the Wolf-mother understands our plight."

Maramal furrowed his brow. "All the more reason that you should trust in her and leave those bottles behind." He looked upon them, almost pleadingly. "Even for the sake of clarity; should anything happen, we must be sober-minded in the face of chaos." He began to fiddle with the Bond of Matrimony on his left ring finger anxiously.

Inigo noticed his reaction. "Hey, Maramal, maybe you should unwind with a Mead, yourself. My treat, my friend." He ushered him to the counter. "Keerava, I believe Maramal needs some Mead to clear his own thoughts."

"Didn't I just kick you out?" Keerava narrowed her eyes at Inigo.

"You kick me out, you also kick out my coin purse." Inigo threatened.

Maramal raised a hand and shook his head. "I will not indulge in Sanguine's art. I am a child of Mara."

Inigo gently moussed his shoulder. "I am not saying to get drunk; just enjoy the calming effect of one bottle. You seem very tense!" He slipped a few septims on the counter. "Here, Keerava. A normal Mead."

Keerava scoffed and reached under the counter, and placed a mead bottle and a couple of tankards in front of Inigo and Maramal.

Inigo poured the liquid into Maramal's tankard and the priest watched as the honeywine began to fill from the bottom to about halfway. And then Inigo stopped there. "You're only going to fill it halfway?" Maramal asked, almost disappointed by the fact.

Inigo chuckled and continued to fill it to about three quarters. "I am just trying to help."

Maramal nodded, "Thank you, Inigo. I... suppose a small drink can't hurt."

Inigo chuckled, "It is no problem, my friend. You would be surprised at how many things the Divines actually tolerate. My vampire friend, for an example. She is also a follower of Mara."

Maramal nodded, "Yes; she has come to the Temple a few times already. I cannot believe that Mara would have anything to do with Coldharbour, but... well, nothing else makes sense these days anymore, so why should I question it? Perhaps her love extends even to those suffering in that vile place." he took a soft sip of his mead.

Inigo looked behind him to see that most of the patrons had departed for the Bunkhouse, his friends included. Lucien, however, entered at that moment, and looked at Inigo and Maramal with a humorous gaze. "Wow; Inigo, I know you've got a honeyed tongue and stuff, but you managed to get Maramal drunk? That's impressive."

Maramal scoffed. "I am not drunk, I've merely had a sip. Don't get too ahead of yourselves." he sighed sadly, and swirled the golden liquid around in his tankard. "I feel... like I'm losing my faith, Inigo." he raised his concern. "It feels hopeless. That all of this is a countdown to our inevitable, burning demise. And there's nothing I can do. It feels as though my prayers have fallen on deaf ears: Lady Mara has turned her gaze from our world long ago." Tears began to bead in the corners of his eyes. "This was never supposed to happen! Dinya and I... we were going to have a child. It was... it was a dream come true, and now it will be lost forever."

Inigo looked surprised to hear it. "Wait, you and Dinya Balu are..."

Maramal took another sip of his mead. "Married, yes. For a long time, now."

Lucien seemed fascinated. "Huh. A Redguard and a Dunmer. An interesting combination, I must admit. I wonder what a Hal-Elf from that coupling would look like?"

Maramal shrugged. "I don't know, but I hope if it is a girl, that she will be as lovely as her mother." A deep sense of sorrow hit him. "But at this rate, I don't know if she will ever exist. Perhaps it's for the best, given the situation of the world. First the Dragons, and now this? It's too much. The world almost seems as though it's trying desperately to end itself."

Inigo pat him on the back in a friendly manner as what he was saying registered. "Hey, I once tried to do the same and the world kept on stopping me. This world is far more resilient than I am. I do not think Nirn will die so easily."

Lucien agreed with a nod. "True, and besides, isn't Mara connected to Nir? To Nirn in its very essence? A bit of an odd way to look at your goddess."

"I know." Maramal massaged his brow. "Ordinarily I would be encouraging others to have faith in these dark times, but... I don't know. I'm afraid for the future, truly. I can't give advice that I can't follow myself. During the Dragon crisis I held out hope because I'd heard talk of a powerful Dragonborn who was able to defeat them. The Dragonborn is dead now; the one who was meant to protect Skyrim."

Lucien chuckled softly, amused by his own arcane knowledge in this situation. "I can prove that not all hope is lost. She's in Coldharbour right now, trying to return to Tamriel, I'm sure. I can contact her."

Maramal stared at him blankly. "You... what? Did I hear that correctly?" he paused for a moment to try and understand what he heard. "By all means, try it. I would love to see if it were true... that her soul was not simply destroyed as the rumours suggest."

Lucien nodded and stood up from his stool. "It's been a while since we last did this - and I can't hold it for too long. But we'll try." He began to focus his spell, now that he was in a silent environment.

At that time in Coldharbour, Cura was resting along the desert stones in Coldharbour. It was still a distance from the new bridge to the eastern islands, and her allies were weary. She was discussing the current situation with Sir Amiel and Carcette, accompanied with Mary and Korn, while the others appeared to be chatting amongst themselves in the perimeter around.

Varla seemed to be chatting with Sir Torolf, Bourlor and Gloriel further off, while Sabrina spoke with Sir Ralvas, Savos and Mirabelle. Maram and Aria chatted together as they sat upon stones in the distance, weighing their eternity and reminiscing on their past.

Sir Amiel addressed Cura directly. "What do you expect we shall find in the Castle?"

Cura recalled Castle Volkihar on Nirn. "A lot of cruel vampires, but nothing that we can't handle."

Carcette nodded, "Harkon may be the only real problem we are going to face."

Mary nodded, "We have nothing to fear. We have more than enough power behind us to defeat those terrible fiends." Korn barked in agreement, echoing her sentiments.

Cura began to ponder her next move. She knew that destroying the Vampires would be too easy, but she knew that many were still sentient beings. Perhaps some even desired a second chance after having been trapped in this hell. After all, she was helping the denizens escape. "Well, I'm confident that we will get through it with ease, but I would still like to offer at least some of them a chance to surrender."

Suddenly, a blue portal opened before the five of them, and Cura gasped with joy as she recognized the materializing faces of Lucien and Inigo. Maramal was there, as well, witnessing the spectacle with open eyes.

Cura waved happily with a squeal befitting an enthusiastic teenager. "EEEE! Inigo! Lucien! Hello!"

Inigo was surprised by the change in Cura's appearance. "Wow, that is a cool set of Robes you are wearing, my friend! It really sells the Paladin look! You look great in white and gold - maybe one day you can walk up to the Thalmor and show them what a true 'concordat' looks like! Hehehe."

Cura looked down at the Meridia's Champion Robes on her person and she chuckled softly. "I suppose it does. It has served me well thus far. Meridia has been helping me a lot."

Inigo was happy to hear that his friend was doing well and that Meridia was indeed staying true to her word.

Lucien looked at Carcette. "Well, you made it into Coldharbour, Carcette. I'd feel sorry for you if it wasn't voluntary this time."

Carcette waved it off with a snort. "I have a few powerful allies. And Cura as well. I'm not worried." she teased her protégé lovingly.

Maramal's mouth was hung open as he stared at the people before him. "So it is true; the Dragonborn still exists. Thank you, Mara!" he threw his head back and his arms up in relief.

Cura looked over at Mary and Korn, amused by the Priest's choice of words. Mary was smiling at Maramal and Korn was panting happily, her tongue out between deep breaths. She chuckled lightly, as the irony was not lost on her. "Can I tell them?" she inquired.

Mary nodded, unbothered by the idea. "Certainly. They are your friends, and Maramal is a dear devotee of Mara."

Inigo observed the woman and the wolf. "Er, these are new partners? I must admit the lady in green is very lovely."

"She has others, but they appear to be preoccupied with their own conversations right now." Carcette shrugged her shoulders as she watched the others goosing around some distance away.

Cura cleared her throat. "You've already seen Sir Amiel, if I recall correctly," she reintroduced her Knight, who simply nodded and waved as a reaction. She then decided to introduce her immediate allies. "And this is Mary and Korn. Together, they are an aspect of - "

Maramal's eyes widened and he stepped around Inigo and Lucien. Something about the figures drew him forward. His eyes drifted towards the woman in the hooded robes with the White wolf sitting on her lap. "Lady Mara!?"

Korn barked at him several times before settling down calmly. Mary nodded amiably. "Yes, an aspect of Mara."

Gasping for air, Maramal advanced and reached out to touch the portal. "In Coldharbour? How is this possible?" His earlier comment about her acceptance of Serana did not prepare him for the sight of Mara in that very realm. "Lady Mara... how are you in that awful place?" His heart sank at the sight of seeing her amidst the ruinous calamity of that unclean dimension.

Mary could see the distress in Maramal's face and chose her words carefully so as to navigate without causing him to lose hope. "Remember that all things happen for a reason, Maramal." it was surprising how quickly his name seemed to come to her. Even as a fragment of the goddess, Mary was able to feel some of her impulses and see some of her memories. "I have been here before the Dragonborn arrived, and I shall do my best to aid her in our parting this realm of darkness."

Maramal felt his heart break at the thought of it, but also a glimmer of hope upon the second half of her sentence. "You... you are aiding the Dragonborn in her return to Nirn? Then... then my prayers are being answered!"

Considering his assertion, Mary nodded, "We are helping each other. The Dragonborn is a dear friend to the gods; fragment-child of Akatosh."

Lucien was trying to wrap his head around the concept. "So let me get this straight: Cura ran into an aspect of Mara in Coldharbour? Gods... that's... very distressing. I don't know who's worse now: Mehrunes Dagon or Molag Bal."

"They're both awful, and it's our duty to stop them both." Cura asserted before going into details of her quest. "I know we don't have much time, so I'll keep it brief. I helped Mara and her son Varla, who is also the son of Umaril the Unfeathered reunite, I defeated a Daedric Dragon creature, I fought against the Alessian order, I befriended several oddballs, a Dark Brotherhood member, I met a few Knights of the Nine, one of whom is missing his head, I befriended the original Champion Meridia that wielded Dawnbreaker, I befriended the Legendary Bourlor, I beat Pelinal Whitestrake in a duel, fought Umaril the Unfeathered in a memory of days long passed, reunited with Keeper Carcette who is folloing Jyggalag now, and recently watched my new friend fight the Wrath of Sithis inside of a large ossuary inside the cemetery of Arkay. Now we have to go and fight the Volkihar clan and other vampires to retrieve the head of the Knight I mentioned who lost it so that he can lead me to a sorcerer who can help me regain my Dragon soul." she began to look around. "Gods, I hope that was everything! I feel like I've forgotten something."

Her living allies stared at her blankly as they tried to digest all that she'd explained. Inigo cleared his throat. "Well, we saved Windhelm from the Daedra and now we're trying to protect Riften. And the Pale is a giant gaping hole now because Stendarr destroyed the portal there or something. I'm sorry about your home, Cura. About the Hall, Carcette."

Cura's expression saddened for a moment, but she ultimately pushed past it. "I understand. I'm not surprised..."

Carcette shrugged her shoulders, her voice laced with the beads of resignation. "It was meant to be, Inigo. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. It was set up to be destroyed, ultimately. Nothing would have changed that."

Lucien was shocked. Hearing Carcette say that with such conviction, even if she were no longer the Keeper of the Vigil, was still a surprise. "You... you knew?"

Maramal's eyes shot open and his mouth hung open for a few seconds once what Cura had said sunk in. "Mara had a son?"

Inigo gasped, "We can actually talk to our dead friend by a magic portal that defies all logic?"

Cura scratched the back of her neck. "Carcette has access to Jyggalag's library, Mara's human aspect was, er, a prisoner of Umaril's thousands of years ago, and yes, apparently we can. I am happy to hear from you guys again."

The transmission was beginning to flicker, and Inigo turned to Lucien. "It is over already?"

Lucien grunted as he attempted to hold the Long-Distance Call. "Candle, when do... when do you think we'll see you again?" he inquired, asking the most important question of them all.

Cura thought for a moment, and then gave him a nod. "I don't know how long it will take in days or weeks, but it will definitely happen. Hang in there, guys!"

With a loud grunt, Lucien's grip on the magicka faltered, and the call ceased. He regained his breath after a few moments, the effort of sustaining the spell having clearly taxed him.

Maramal remained transfixed, his gaze lost in the void, absorbing the sights and sounds of the Bee & Barb as they seemed to rematerialize around him. Inigo, with a reassuring grip, laid his hand on the Priest's shoulder. "Do you understand now, Maramal? There is still hope!"

It's astounding to think that Cura had encounters with the Knights of the Nine, and with Sir Amiel Lannus himself! The very thought is breathtaking! Coldharbour must indeed be a repository of historical wonders. Lucien's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I can't wait to question her thoroughly upon her return! And Bourlor as well? The very same from the tale of Vernaccus and Bourlor? Not to mention the Alessian Order. My, my! The heart of a scholar like mine is overwhelmed by such extraordinary disclosures!"

Maramal lifted his cup for another sip of mead before rising to his feet. The gravity on his face gave way to a burgeoning hope. "Lady Mara, your radiance pierces the deepest shadows," he murmured, gazing upwards, his expression one of wonder. With a tender touch to his Amulet, he sensed a warm pulse in his chest. "Thank you. Thank you for your reassuring words." He cleared his throat. "But to think... a son? Never before had the Temple written of such a thing. And with Umaril the Unfeathered... that can't be possible, and yet..." he seemed to be trying to wrap his head around it when Lucien interjected.

"Why should it be astonishing? Kynareth's progeny is well-documented; Morihaus Breath-of-Kyne stands as a testament to her lineage," the young Imperial elucidated, referencing a figure of historical renown. "Given that Mara presides over family, fertility, and love, it's almost inconceivable to think she didn't have a bustling household. I mean, with those domains, one would expect her to have a brood large enough to form her own sports team, at the very least eight little deities running around causing divine mischief."

nigo laughed and nudged Lucien's arm. "Perhaps that's the origin of the wolf link! Wolves are known for their big families, after all!"

Lucien cocked his head, intrigued. "Ah, an excellent point. That could very well be the case."

Maramal scratched his chin. "I... suppose you have a point. Though your mockery is not appreciated." He considered the implications of it. "But this knowledge changes everything. What did she say his name was?"

Inigo took a sip of his own Mead. "I think she said "Varla" was his name. You know, like the little gemstone thingies?"

Lucien stared in disbelief at the oversimplification. "A Varla Stone is not merely a 'little gemstone thingy,' Inigo! It's an enchanted piece of cut meteoric glass, a scarce kind of Aetherial Fragment. They're potent sources of wild magical energy, capable of recharging enchanted artifacts. The Ayleids highly valued them, along with Welkynd Stones. And 'Varla' in the ancient Ehlnofey language translates to 'Star Stone.' Just a bit of trivia. I assure you, I'm not boasting about my extensive knowledge. Not at all."

Maramal turned to Lucien next, his face stern and serious. He looked to the Imperial scholar. "Tell me, son; do you know anything about a man called Varla? Connected to Lady Mara? This could change much of what we believe in our Faith."

"Well..." Lucien thought back to his hundreds of hours of pouring over the Library in the Arcane University, and drew upon an instance of the name. "in Eastern Cyrodiil back in the First Era there was an Alessian Lord called Varla who inhabited an ironically-named place called Fort Welkynd. He was said to be very cruel, merciless and tyrannical. A man without love, and half-Ayleid. He used to hunt Humans with his vicious Hounds for fun. Allegedly, he perished when his citizens formed an uprising and ganged up on him. They killed him en route to the Imperial City and threw his body into Lake Rumare."

"Half-Ayleid... then perhaps that was who she meant, and why Lady Mara would go to Coldharbour..." Maramal poured over what Cura had said. "I need to speak with Dinya. This is earth-shattering. Have a good evening." He sprinted out of the Inn in a hurry, leaving just Inigo and Lucien there.

Lucien scratched the back of his neck. "Wow, what a night, eh, Inigo?"

Inigo chuckled and finished Maramal's drink. "Ahh. Indeed, my friend. Though I must admit, I am proud of our friend Cura. She is going to tear Molag Ball a new one."

Lucien chuckled lightheartedly. "I'm sure... though, I am bothered about something."

"About what, my friend?"

"How vast is the expanse of our ignorance?" mused Lucien. "It's as if with every fact we uncover about the world, a dozen more questions sprout like weeds. But such is life! My quest for knowledge is insatiable. And when Candle returns, oh, she'll be in for an interrogation marathon. We'll secure her to a seat, and I'll bombard her with a barrage of inquiries!"

Inigo burst into laughter, fully aware that Lucien's curiosity was piqued. Unlike Lucien, Inigo found contentment simply in Cura's return. The prospect of forming bonds with her new allies was an added bonus. "This Varla fellow seems quite intimidating, from what you have said." he mused aloud. "How did Cura manage to gain his cooperation, I wonder?"

"That will be somewhere in the middle of my list." Lucien assured him as he began jotting things down in his journal. "I want to know everything! Even about Coldharbour! And the Deadlands! Candle is having so many cool adventures without us and we're trapped here, in Skyrim! Ugh."

A voice emerged from the adjoining room, "If you two don't have money for more drinks, then leave. I'm trying to read here!" Keerava peeked out from the small chamber next to the sitting areas.

Lucien and Inigo, having offered their apologies, excused themselves from the Bee & Barb. With a night full of contemplation ahead, they sought the comfort of a more restful place. The reunion with Cura was a beacon of joy, bolstering their resolve in these trying times. With pride, they walked tall, and Skyrim could breathe easier, for the Daedra ultimately had more to dread than the mortals.

Indeed, if the Dragonborn could vanquish Alduin, escaping Coldharbour might just be within reach.