Cura slowly opened her reddened, swollen eyes and sat up in her bed. Was it all a dream? Another one of her nightly terrors?

No.

She moved her tongue in her mouth and felt around her sharper canines and molars. She was different. She could feel it. She was alone in the chamber, and sat up straight, burying her face in her knees, in attempt to refrain from screaming.

That was when she noticed it; her Amulet of Stendarr; laying on the drawers next to her bed. Her mace and shield laid carefully against the wall beside it.
"Stendarr..." Cura choked a whisper as tears began to run down her cheeks. "...why...? Why have you allowed this? What did I do!?"

Was it because of her betrayal of Saadia? Was she wrong in helping the Alik'r? Was it due to crippling Idolaf? Lying to keep Thorald Gray-Mane free from the Thalmor? Lying to Carcette? Associating with the Companions out of a desperate need to grow stronger, rather than placing faith in Stendarr alone?
The more she recounted, the Vigilant recoiled in horror. She was a wretched creature; only now her body would match her tainted soul. Oh how she wished Stendarr's voice could reach her. Were the Divines really formless?

She held the Amulet in her hands and ogled it. The symbol of the Drinking Horn. Stendarr's outpouring of mercy and justice. Perhaps what happened to her was justice for her many sins. When was the last time she had prayed? She thought back to a couple of weeks ago. Would her prayers be worth anything now?
A sob escaped the remorseful Breton and her hands trembled. This couldn't be happening.

She had to return to the Vigil.

She clenched her Amulet.

She had to return to Dawnstar. From there, she'd think of something.
Cura began to pack her things in her bag and she retied the Amulet around her neck. As she lifted her mace and shield, footsteps approached from behind.
"Leaving already?"

Vilkas.

Cura turned to face him. She fell silent as the room seemed to stand still around the pair.

"Right when you're about to be ceremoniously initiated into the Circle?" Vilkas leaned against the doorway, blocking the exit.

"You're in my way." Cura said harshly.

"You didn't answer my question." Vilkas insisted.

"Do you want me to Shout, or will you step aside?" Cura threatened as she threw a hand to the side, signaling for him to begone.

Vilkas let a small snicker escape, and called her bluff. He took a step forward with a wide grin on his face, rather than step backwards out of Cura's path.

"Okay, I warned you." Cura snarled angrily. "FU-"

Before the word could leave her lips, Vilkas quickly put both his hands on her cheeks and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. As their lips locked, the Breton's rage subsided, and was replaced instead with confusion, which slowly morphed into a kind of inner warmth. She leaned further into it, giving back to the warrior, even placing her own hands on his shoulders. For a moment in time, nothing mattered to Cura but the sensation she was feeling within her fluttering heart. Vilkas slowly released the flustered Vigilant and took a step back. "Calmer now?" He asked with a light chuckle.

Cura's face was reddened, and her breath was short. She nodded in response, still adversed to how he had the audacity to plant a kiss on her in the middle of it all, but at the same moment, she felt a sense of comfort; something she sorely needed. When Cura finally got a hold of herself, she narrowed her eyebrows. "Would you kiss a Dragon, too?"

"Nah." Vilkas shook his head. "Dragons don't have beautiful green eyes and blonde hair. I'd stop their Shout with a well-placed arrow."

Cura moved some of the misplaced hair on her cheek back behind her ear, as the yellow strands only called attention to the bright red beneath them. She managed to clear her throat. "So... er... what were you talking about before, about the Circle?"

"Come on outside to the Training Grounds, and I'll show you." Vilkas signaled for her to follow him as he headed out of the dorms. Cura followed him through the hall and into the Courtyard, where she saw the unmistakable faces of the Inner Circle: Aela, Skjor, Farkas, and Kodlak. Vilkas rushed ahead to join them, standing at Kodlak's right hand as the old man lead the Circle from the center of the chain.

"There she is." Skjor pointed out. "Shall we get started, Harbinger?"

Kodlak nodded, and turned to Cura with a serious expression. "Yes. Let us begin."

Cura stood before the small tribunal, and a sense of worry sat with her as ten eyes bored into her soul.

Kodlak took a step forward and raised his hands to the skies above. "Brothers and sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor. Who will speak for her?"

Farkas walked towards Cura and turned to face Kodlak from her side. "I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us."

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" Kodlak asked firmly.

Farkas nodded sternly, almost in a glare. "I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us."

Kodlak nodded, and scratched his white beard. "And would you raise your sword in her honour?"

Farkas reaffirmed his stance. "It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes."

"And would you raise a mug in her name?" Kodlak shifted his vision over to Cura herself, and then back to Farkas, her intercessor.

Farkas nodded enthusiastically, and raised his right hand. "I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories."

Kodlak nodded and closed his eyes for a moment in thought, and then continued. "Then the judgement of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

Aela chimed in. "It shall be so."

Skjor chimed in. "It shall be so."

Vilkas also chimed in. "It shall be so."

When the small ceremony concluded, the group dispersed, each member heading their own way, leaving Cura and Kodlak alone together. Cura felt a tenderness in her heart, but a revulsion just the same. What did this mean? She was a member of the Circle now after a Month and a week of joining the Companions... could this perhaps be due to her Transformation in the Cairn?

Kodlak placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in a manner much reminiscent of that like a proud father. "Well, girl, you're one of us now. I trust you won't disappoint." His voice was firm, and warm. He was happy to announce the news to Cura, and the Breton was unsure how to take it all in. Surely he was told about what occurred. She lost her grip back there in the Cairn. She retrieved the shards, sure, but her attempts were lackluster at best, a blunder at worst. She felt that it certainly did not merit a promotion. An insurance of her discretion, perhaps?

Cura looked at his hand, and then at his face, and Kodlak could immediately sense that something was wrong. Cura's eyes glinted with a silent fury. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She asked him, her tone falling. She felt somewhat betrayed by the lying and sneaking around on the others' part.

Kodlak fell silent for a moment. He knew indeed what she was talking about. "I hear you've been allowed to know some secrets before your appointed time. Yes, it's true. Not every Companion, no, only members of the Circle all share the blood of the beast. Some take to it more than others."

Cura pulled her shoulder back, releasing his hand from her, reviling backwards in disgust. "And now because I'm infected, I get to join the Circle? Is this an attempt to buy my silence?"

Kodlak put a finger in front of his mouth to silence her. "Come with me to my Chambers; I'll explain further there."

Cura shook her head. "I need some time alone."

"Where will you go?" Kodlak asked her, his tone lilting near the end. "The Hall of the Vigilant? In your present condition?"

"Keeper Carcette will know what to do! ...If I tell her..." Cura's insecurities told him everything. It was clear that she wanted to hide the curse as much as they. "I... I'll not say it was from the Companions... just... an accident out in the fields. Perhaps I'll say the Cultist at Rorikstead was a Werewolf and he infected me. I don't know."

"This Keeper Carcette... she is a Breton, is she not? From High Rock?" Kodlak wondered.

"Y-yes... from Bhoriane. Why?" Cura wondered what the relevance was.

"Ask her about the Glenmoril Witches when next you see her." Kodlak insisted.

"The Glenmoril Witches?" Cura raised an eyebrow. Glenmoril sounded like a Breton word; a little odd for Skyrim.

Kodlak turned to the side, wanting to wait a little on it, it would seem.

"Well, I grow old. My mind turns towards the horizon, to Sovngarde. I worry that Shor won't call an animal warrior as he would a true Nord warrior." Kodlak stated. "Living as beasts draws our souls closer to the Daedric Lord, Hircine. Some may prefer eternity in his Hunting Grounds, but I crave the fellowship of Sovngarde."

"Are you trying to cure yourself?" Cura asked him.

"Yes, but it's no easy matter. But you don't need to share the worries of an old warrior." Kodlak deflected masterfully. "This day is to rejoice in your bravery and speak to Eorlund for a better weapon than... whatever that is."

Cura's eyebrows curled in offense. She was fond of her Mace. She looked at it. "It's Skyforge Steel." She muttered.

"I think you're ready for something new. Fralia asked Eorlund to forge you something special in celebration for your ceremony." Kodlak rephrased.

"Aw," Cura fawned. "how sweet." Fralia, always so nice. She appreciated the thought.

As she headed up the stairs to the Skyforge, Skjor approached Kodlak. "You're really going to force her into getting a new weapon?"

Kodlak crossed his arms and leaned backwards against the wooden pillar on the small balcony. "Tradition is very important to me, son."

Skjor nodded. "To me as well. I think we don't see the same tradition at play here."

"If you want to lead this pack when I'm gone, you have to see farther. Look closer." kodlak spoke with a tenderness in his voice; a genuineness that resounded through the bloodthirsty warrior before him.

Skjor began to ponder the notion. "Well which is it? Look farther or closer?"

Kodlak gave a light chuckle. "Come on now, boy, you know what I meant..."

The calm turned to cconfusion. "You speak in riddles sometimes." Skjor stated blankly.

Kodlak stood up straight again. "I don't mean to confuse you."

Skjor grit his teeth and crossed his arms. "It's not confusing... just frustrating."

Kodlak pulled him aside so Ria and Torvar could walk past the two of them and head inside. "You're a strong warrior, Skjor. Your heart is fiery and that serves you well in battle."

Skjor made a half-bow. "Thank you, Harbinger."

The old Nord continued. "But even the bravest of men consider their actions. I want you to survive long enough to take the mantle."

Skjor scoffed. "Don't worry about me." He turned around and joined Aela on the other side of the walkway, some distance off, and the two headed out together.

Kodlak watched the two of them and shook his head. He then fixed his gaze to the Phoenix above the Skyforge, and pitied Cura. For all the ways she could have learned of their condition, it had to be through her own exposure. He knew that as a Vigilant, it must have been eating at her from within, even if she managed to keep a straight face for the most part.

Cura approached Eorlund. "Kodlak says you have a new weapon for me?"

"Aye; another Skyforge Steel Mace indeed, but twice-reinforced. Should serve you better in battle than that rickety old thing." He nudged his head towards the one on her waist as he presented her with the new, improved Weapon.

Cura took it and ogled it for a few moments before placing the old one in her bag and hanging the new one on her waist. "Thank you, Eorlund."

"Mhm." The Blacksmith dismissed her as he continued on with his daily work.

As Cura headed down the stairs, Lydia approached her quickly. "My Thane, congratulations!" She exclaimed. "I hear you've made it into the Circle!"

Cura nodded. "I have."

"Must have went well in Dustman's Cairn." Lydia mused. "I spent the last day Hunting a Giant with Torvar. The Milk-Drinker ran for the hills when the fiend brought down his club. It was pretty funny. I wager you would have had a good laugh."

Cura chuckled lightly at the mention of it. "I'm sure."

"So... what's your first act now, as a Circle member?" Lydia asked out of curiosity. "Do you have a task for me?"

"Sure, Lydia. Why not go to the Bannered Mare and see if anyone needs help there?" Cura asked her.

"Certainly." Lydia said with enthusiasm. "You'll come with?"

"Er... no. Not this moment." Cura informed her. "I'll be away for a while. I need to speak with Keeper Carcette."

"Ah, about the Boethiah Cultist?" Lydia nosed in.

"...Sure." Cura shrugged. It was something noteworthy, after all.

Lydia understood. "All right, but be sure to return when you're done, all right?"

"Of course." Cura reassured her as the two parted ways.

Cura pulled down her hood so as to enjoy the warmth of the sun. Hopefully it would help her forget about the horror she had experienced. Briefly, she felt at peace, but it soon faded, for as Cura walked for a bit, one of the City Guards who was walking by stopped in his tracks, and voiced a concern. "Is that fur... coming out of your ears?"

Cura was terrified and quickly removed her gauntlet, and felt the inside of her right ear. The Guard wasn't lying. She felt a little bit of soft fur on the insides of her ears, and it sent a wave of terror through the Breton, causing her to pull her hood back up in shame.

The Guard simply continued walking, as if it were none of his business.

Well, it wasn't.

Cura moved her tongue again over her sharpened teeth. She would have to hide these new traits very well. she decided to practice smiling without reveling her teeth. It was difficult, but she would have to consciously think about it now. No more wide smiles from Cura.

The Breton finally got ahold of herself, and focused on the Hall of the Vigilant, and Fast Travelled there, through time and space itself. Thaumaturgy, Volk called it. Perhaps it was an ability of Akatosh's?

Cura appeared before the rickety old Hut, where she saw Vigilants going about their daily routines. Fascinatingly though, the rickety old Hut seemed to have new roofing; the straw replaced with solid wood, with some straw remaining above it. There was a stable outside now; larger than the older one, with a few Horses resting within, shielded from the elements. There were more tanning racks, and large logs of wood on the west side of the building exterior. When she walked to the door, the Guard Vigilant, a Nord woman, gave her a smile. "Vigilant Cura, long time no see!"

Cura gave her a sheepish smile, holding herself back. "Y-yes..." She spoke. "It has been."

"How did things go over at Jorrvaskr?" the Nord woman asked.

"Well. I learned a lot of new techniques." Cura explained as she walked past.

"Maybe you can teach us a few things." the Vigilant Guard mused. "They fight well down there in the Mid-South."

"Maybe." Cura said as she hurried past, not wishing to keep the conversation for longer than she had to.

Inside, the Hall was silent, and the Keeper was at the Altar, as she always had been, praying for the success of the Vigil. The Hall itself looked different, slightly. There were more benches, and the inside was rearranged slightly to accommodate them. Rather than all facing upwards towards the Altar, they were along the sides of the carpet, facing each other, and there were suits of Skyforge Steel Armour, fashioned with the sigil of Stendarr on them, aligning the walls. The sconces were more ornate, and there was an extra bookshelf next to the stairs. Things have changed from last Cura was home.

Cura slowly approached the Keeper from behind. "Keeper, I've returned."

Carcette snapped out of her meditation, and turned to face her protégé. "Ah, Cura. How have you been? Is everything all right?"

"I have some news to report about a Cult of Boethiah in the Region." Cura began, but was quickly cut off.

"Yes, I've heard. Rorikstead." The Keeper waved it off. "The Field Patrols informed me of your success against the Fiend and his Storm Atronach. Well done."

"The Town Guards held it off for a long time." Cura exclaimed. "The Guards are stronger than I gave them credit for." She spoke in hindsight.

"As are our Vigilants, thanks to you." Carcette gave Cura a smile. "Brokering that deal with Whiterun has helped our Organization plenty. With less brittle equipment, we can focus more on the battle, with valor. As well, we've made some changes to our Hall. Have you noticed?" The Keeper was brimming with pride as she gestured to the open space around them.

Cura blushed and looked down to the side. "Well... it was my pleasure. I just want what's best for the Vigil."

Keeper Carcette nodded. "And I've a reward for you, my Cura. Just stay there for a moment." She walked away from the Shrine and into her Private Quarters next door. Cura felt guilty; all the good she's done would be undone if the Keeper knew what she had gotten herself into. She looked at the Shrine of Stendarr for guidance, but shied away instinctively. She sinned against her god. How could she face him in good confidence now? Her eyes slowly drew back to the Shrine again, and she fought back tears. Now was not the time. Definitely not now.

But if not now, then when?

Keeper Carcette returned with a new set of Vigilant Armour. "Here you are, Cura. I made sure it was fit for your dimensions. Go on, try it on!" She handed it to Cura, who was stunned by the craftsmanship. Eorlund definitely made this. It was unmistakably his style.

"Th-thank you..." Cura hid her tears back as she turned around and began to examine the cuirass.

Keeper Carcette noticed that something was wrong. "What's the matter, Cura?" She asked with concern. "Are you well? Has something happened?"

Cura shivered lightly, and quickly threw out a lie. "Oh! Er... I'm... I'm just overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?" Carcette raised an eyebrow, and then gave an 'ah' of realization. "Yes, it is a lovely sight, isn't it. Our Vigil is finally becoming what it was meant to be! Surely the Vampires and Werewolves will tremble before our might from here on out, and the naysayers will be converted to ayesayers."

Lied again before Stendarr. Cura tried to keep her face still, but her bottom lip quivered. She bit down on it to tame it, and spoke quickly. "No, I'm not overwhelmed! I'm... I'm..."

She couldn't do it. Try as she might, but the words could not leave her lips. The Keeper looked at her expectantly, trying to piece together what was happening.

"I can't accept this, Keeper." Cura spoke curtly, and she pushed the Cuirass back to Carcette. "I can't in good faith."

"Why not?" The older Breton was becoming a little concerned. What did Cura do?

Cura was fumbling about anxiously, only mere syllables emitting from her throat here. "I-I-I-"

Keeper Carcette ushered towards one of the benches. "Have a seat. We're alone, here. Whatever this is, we can discuss it."

Cura nodded and sat down on the bench anxiously, and the Keeper joined her. She could trust Carcette, of course. Though, it did not make things any easier.

"Now, what's going on?" Carcette demanded, growing tired of the charade.

Cura froze up again. How could she march into the Hall of the Vigilant and tell the Keeper that she became a Werrewolf; a Daedric abomination? How could she face her? The younger Breton cleared her throat. "Keeper... what can you tell me about the Glenmoril Witches?"

Keeper Carcette leaned backwards. "The Glenmoril Witches? How do you know about that?"

Cura was mentally trying to find a way to justify it. She bit her lower lip once again. "Er... a friend of mine was cursed by one, and he... please don't kill him."

Keeper Carcette nodded in a kind of realization. "He became a Werewolf."

Cura nodded. "What can you tell me about them?" She clenched one of her fingers on her lap, to keep herself in check.

"It's odd that they would be here in Skyrim." Carcette explained. "Long ago, in High Rock, they were one of many Witch Covens that hid throughout the lands. They were based out of the Ilessan Hills... somewhere in central High Rock. They worshipped the Daedric Lord Hircine, father of Manbeasts. The Beldams were known for performing Human sacrifices to the Daedra in effort to transform themselves into the vile Hagravens. A... darker aspect to Breton history. Rumors of the Glenmoril Coven living in the wilderness of the Ilessan Hills have existed since before the reign of Harald of Skyrim in the First Era."

"As well as the Direnni." Cura threw in.

Keeper Carcette let out a breath. "Let's stay on topic. The Witch Covens were largely chased out of High Rock, though they are impossible to be fully rid of. As long as people have free will, there will be those who would give themselves over to the Daedra. We must always be vigilant, and we must always fight them."

"Keeper, your family hunted the witch covens, didn't they?" Cura asked.

"Yes, they did." Carcette confirmed proudly. "As well as Moric's. Our ancestry lies in the Crusaders of Stendarr. The Organization that preceded this one. As well as some members of the Knights of the Silver Rose. We've got quite the History against the Ebonarm, and various Daedra Cults."

"Do you know how one could cure Lycanthropy?" Cura posed the question, hopeful for a good response.

"It's nearly impossible." Carcette explained, which only served to push Cura's heart down. "Few have done it, and even fewer would be willing to attempt it."

"But it can be done?" Cura's hopes picked up once more. If there was even a hint of a chance, she would take it. By Stendarr, she would take it. For herself, and for Kodlak.

Keeper Carcette seemed to stare at Cura, and she squinted her eyes. "Yes, it can be done... but I warn you, it won't be easy for you." The Keeper's suspicion was very visible. "And you will definitely need that armour I've provided. It has a magic-resistance enchantment on it. Fitting, I believe."

Cura nodded. "How can I do it?"

"You'll have to find out if 'your friend's' curse derives directly from the Glenmoril Witches themselves. You'll have to find the witches themselves, and you'll have to sever one of their heads, and release the magic. Then 'your friend' will have to fight for 'his' life against the beast that torments 'him' from within." Keeper Carcette explained, placing an uncomfortable emphasis on Cura's friend that she had spoken of.

The Keeper knew. There was no dancing around it anymore.

"Keeper..." Cura's tone lifted. "I.. I don't know what to say."

"Stop with the lies." Carcette told her sternly. "You're speaking to the Keeper of the Vigil. Did you think I wouldn't notice your teeth?"

The younger Breton looked to the floor in shame. "I'm sorry, Keeper... it was an accident, and..."

"How did it happen?" Carcette demanded to know. Her kinder demeanor was gone, and in its place was the stern Paladin. "Who did this to you? Where did it happen?"

"I was in Dustman's Cairn..." Cura stated. "I was doing my final task for the Companions, and was about to rise in the ranks, when..." Her voice cut for a moment. She had to navigate a fine line right here. "...the Silver Hand ambushed us."

"The Silver Hand?" Carcette looked bewildered. "What were they doing there?"

"They must have been mining silver." Cura pondered. "They attempted to capture us and hold us for ransom. We fought against them. One of them had a sword covered in blood, and he impaled me in the side with it... and ever since then..." Tears began to bud again in her eyes, and she quickly began to wipe them. "...I fe-felt a hollow pain through m-my blood... and then..."

She broke down as she recounted the horrific vision of Hircine and the agony she experienced from her transformation into a white werewolf, as well as the insane bloodlust and violent rampage against the Draugr. Keeper Carcette listened sympathetically, and placed a hand on Cura's shoulders. It seemed like a case of misfortune on her part. The fact that Carcette didn't condemn her surprised Cura, but she supposed it would make sense considering all she's done for the Vigil.

"It's good that you've come to me." The Keeper reassured her. "Now you know what you must do. I'll not tell anybody about this, but you have to promise me that you''ll cure yourself of this poison."

"Oh, I will! Of course I will!" Cura exclaimed. "Thank you f-for understanding!"

Keeper Carcette nodded and she stood up from the bench. "And always be sure to have a Potion of Cure Disease with you. At all times. If you get into another situation like that, drink it as soon as possible." She walked over to the Shrine again. "Though, I'm surprised that the Sanies Lupinus took effect so quickly. Ordinarily it would take three days. This must be a new strain."

Cura nodded. "That's how I didn't realize I was infected at first! I would have expected to have at least some time to reach the Shrine in Whiterun so that I could pray for my Illness to be cured."

Keeper Carcette expected as much. "I'm not normally generous to a Werewolf; I hope you know that."

Cura fell silent. The Keeper looked at her like she was just another monster.

"I'm only allowing you this chance because you mean a great deal to me, and to Skyrim." Carcette reminded her. "Take care not to allow this to happen again."

Cura stood up from her bench and nodded. "Yes, Keeper."

Carcette gestured to the door, and Cura walked to it with shame written on her back. She would not be welcomed back home until she was cured. Now, with the knowledge she's obtained, she must speak to Kodlak about these Witches.