The Rift's fields lay cold and windswept, with Vilja perched atop a bluff, her gaze fixed on the training soldiers below. Impatience gnawed at her; she pondered the opportune moment for action. A somber darkness draped the lands, and amidst this gloom, Dagon's silence was unsettlingly profound. Daedra were known for their unpleasant surprises; and she was all but certain that one was waiting for them.

When the Daedra attacked, they came in like a typhoon; angry, brutal, vicious, unyielding. And now, they seemed to be at bay. Why? What were they planning? She knew that whatever it was, it was nothing small. Mehrunes Dagon, the sore loser that he was; there was no way in Oblivion that he would have taken that humiliating defeat with grace.

Vilja walked along the cliff, the cool breeze and snow brushing past her. As she pondered, the winds shifted, bringing a faint yet recognizable scent. A spark of hope ignited within her as she identified the smell of dragon. Cura had arrived, signaling the moment for action. High above, Cura rode on Odahviing's back, clad in her apprentice robes, wielding her mace and shield. The vision was clear.

Vilja jumped excitedly, shouting, "Cura! I'm here! I'm here!" She waved her hands frantically, trying to catch the Dragonborn's gaze. "Cura!" But Cura seemed oblivious to her and kept flying.

"Hey!" Vilja called out, feeling wounded. "CURA!" Yet again, her calls were ignored. The Nord Bard let out a sad sigh, gazing down at her hands. "Am I not good enough?"

The Dragon vanished into the overcast sky, the clouds parting to create a path for them. As Vilja remained there, deep in thought, she sensed someone nearing. She turned to see a dense mist rolling over the cliff's edge. Within the mist emerged a figure, short but formidable: Cura, approaching with a grave expression.

"Vilja," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "I didn't mean to ignore you. It's just..." Vilja looked up at Cura, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm sorry," Cura said, her voice low. "I've been through so much lately, and my mind is... elsewhere. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Vilja growled with frustration. "You don't give a skeever's tail about my feelings! You said you would help me with my Bottle! You said you would help me find those ingredients! You said we were friends! You barely ever talked to me alone! Why?" Her eyes were filled with unshed tears of anger, sadness and disappointment. "Why did you ignore me so much? I wanted to be your friend! And then... and then you died... you died. And you're not coming back! Inigo is delusional..."

Cura's eyes widened in surprise at Vilja's outburst. She had not expected such a strong reaction from the Nord Bard. "Vilja," she began, taking a step closer to her. "I am sorry if I've given you that impression. I didn't mean to ignore you." As she spoke, Cura knelt down in front of Vilja, making direct eye contact with her. "I've been going through a lot recently," she continued. "I've had a lot on my mind... and sometimes, I need time to myself. But that doesn't mean I don't value your friendship."

Vilja's eyes softened slightly as she looked into Cura's. "I... I understand," she said, her voice quivering. "I just... I missed you. And I was scared. And then you died, and I thought... I thought we'd lost you forever."

Cura shook her head and laid a hand on Vilja's shoulder. "Don't lose hope, Vilja; stay strong. You've contributed so much in helping others during this chaotic time. I assure you, Mehrunes Dagon will not escape Stendarr's justice."

Vilja looked up at Cura, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Alright, Cura," she said, reaching out to grasp the hand that was on her shoulder. "let's go find those damn ingredients, alright?" She stood up and dusted herself off. "No more ignoring friends."

Cura chuckled lightly. "You really are stubborn, aren't you?"

Vilja shrugged, her expression unapologetic. "That's what makes me a good ally, right?" She winked playfully at Cura. Then, with a start, Vilja woke up, in her bed at the Bee & Barb.

"Huh?"Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes, attempting to orient herself before rising from the squeaky bed. She adjusted her tunic and shifted the pillow to retrieve her coin purse. Being in Riften, it was essential to have her coins close at all times, and she ensured they would be one place that would be impossible for thieves to approach without stirring her.

With a stretch and a yawn, she unfolded there, in the middle of the room, and scooped up her Lute from the bed. No longer was it a sleeping tool to be guarded, but her instrument to be carried. She made sure that all things were in order before descending the stairs and heading out into the streets. As she exited the Bee & Barb from its exit leading out towards the bridge, she saw the familiar faces of Inigo, Lucien, Serana and Illia skulking about into the back alleys. "Oh, there they are," Vilja muttered under her breath, adjusting her fur collar as she headed in their direction. "I wonder what they're up to."

As she approached, she noticed Inigo looking over his shoulder nervously, while Lucien whispered something to Serana, who nodded in response. They headed towards the cemetery.

"Hmm..." Lucien scrutinized the sarcophagus embedded in the wall. "How did Maven activate it..." He searched for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Ah!" With a decisive motion, he pressed the symbol on the sarcophagus's facade. As it was activated, the clanking of gears filled the tiny chamber, and the sarcophagus moved aside to reveal stairs descending into the depths.

Illia shivered. "Let's hope this isn't a visual metaphor for our fates."

Inigo chuckled and placed his furry blue arm around Illia. "Do not worry, Illia; if anything bad happens you can turn them into popsicles and I will turn the popsicles into shaved ice!"

Vilja watched as the group disappeared into the cemetery, a curious expression on her face. She hesitated for a moment before following them, her boots crunching on the muddy, damp ground. As she drew closer, she could hear the faint sound of water dripping and whispering voices coming from below.

"What in Oblivion are they involved in?" Vilja raised an eyebrow, concerned and confused in equal measure. Why would Lucien and the others need to go so deep into the earth? Was this a secret shelter of sorts? Or was this a place involved with the Thieves' Guild?

As soon as Lucien approached the center of the Cistern, Brynjolf, Delvin Mallory, and Karliah, accompanied by Maven Black-Briar, met him halfway.

"What do you think you're doing?" Maven inquired in her usual miserable fashion. "I expressly told you to keep these matters hush-hush!" Her countenance was one of great displeasure, barely masking the subtle threat she intended to deliver.

Lucien, however, stood his ground. "Right, because it's completely safe to go into Dwemer Ruins all on one's lonesome." He wondered if this matriarchal mafiosa even knew what Dwemer Ruins were. Clearly, she hadn't ever set foot in one.

Thankfully, Brynjolf had Lucien's side on this matter. "He has a point, Maven. To send him alone would have been suicide." After having wandered through his own share of Dwemer ruins, Brynjolf had little to doubt about the dangers Lucien must have encountered on his quest.

Maven huffed, but couldn't argue against Brynjolf's logic. "Very well. But this better not come back to bite us." she warned before turning her attention to the task at hand.

Inigo decided to speak up, "Do not worry; I am domesticated, and Serana is a friendly vampire. There will be no biting involved."

Illia snorted with amusement, as did Vilja in the back, upon hearing Inigo's remark.

"Good to know, Inigo," Lucien chuckled, unable to resist the joke. "We wouldn't want any unnecessary bloodshed. Now then, let's get to it." He rubbed his hands together. "We found the Aetherium Forge."

Brynjolf, Karliah, Delvin, and Maven stared at him blankly for a second.

"Hol' up, there." Delvin began. "What ya mean ta say is that this thing is actually real? An' functional?"

"Well, well," Karliah grinned. "It seems our dear friend Lucien here knows more than he's been letting on." She gave him a playful smirk.

Brynjolf chimed in, "Right, lad. Tell us everything you know about this Aetherium Forge."

Lucien began to explain his journey finding the Aetherium Shards, about the ghost of Katria, about the Forge itself, and about how they could use the Aetherial Staff to spawn infinite resources to build Dwarven Technology. Vilja listened intently, her mind whirring with the possibilities of what they could create. She couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect of using this power to change the world. But as she looked around at her friends, she also felt a sense of responsibility.

"Wow, and you've been doing all that without me?" Vilja scoffed with annoyance.

"Vilja!" Lucien jumped. "What in blazes-"

"You guys weren't exactly quiet, you know. Those coffin gears really need to be oiled." the Nord woman scoffed as she placed her hands on her hips.

"If it makes you feel any better, Vilja, Illia and myself did not know, either, until we accidentally found Lucien and Serana and Katria fighting against a steaming pile of bandits." Inigo said with a playful shrug.

Maven groaned. "Great, just what we needed. More cooks in the kitchen. You're incompetent, the lot of you."

"Now, now," Lucien chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "There's no need for that kind of talk. We're all in this together, after all. Besides, Vilja's skills are unmatched when it comes to negotiations and diplomacy. If the Jarl finds out about the Thieves' Guild's involvement, I have no doubt that Vilja will be able to sway her onto our side."

"Of course." Maven crossed her arms, "But that will still break the Jarl's trust in me, and I can't have that. I rule the Rift through Laila's ignorance, and through the strings I pull. It's a delicate balance; one that I cannot allow to be sabotaged at this point in time."

"Oh? Then perhaps my friends would be happy to keep silent, Maven; after all - if you get run out of Riften, how can they accept payment?" Lucien said with a smirk.

Serana caught on to what Lucien was saying, and held out a hand. "He's right; we've played a big part in discovering this - it wouldn't be right for us to go unrewarded."

Maven looked around at the faces of her allies, weighing the cost of their betrayal against the need to keep the Rift under her control. Especially under the current circumstances, she could not afford to be at enmity with the Jarl and the System that was ensuring her family's survival through the current ordeals. "Very well," she sighed, resigned to their demands. "But if anyone speaks a word of this to Laila, I will know, and so will you."

Inigo nodded in agreement, "Of course, Maven. Our silence is guaranteed. I will be as quiet as the feet of a Ladybug. Though I cannot promise that Mr. Dragonfly will feel the same. Maybe after I feed him some Torchbugs he will see it our way."

The others stared at Inigo blankly for a few moments before collectively deciding that it was a joke and moving on.

Maven begrudgingly handed each of them a coin purse containing 500 gold, grumbling under her breath. She turned back to Inigo and smirked at him maliciously. "So, you've gone from handing out Pamphlets for the Temple of Mara to playing ball with the Thieves' Guild and extorting a wealthy family. My, what a naughty cat you are."

Inigo couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at Maven's words, but he brushed it off with a smirk. "Well, Maven, even the most honest of cats can be tempted by the sweet sound of jingling coins." he then whispered over to Lucien. "A naughty cat, she calls me. She should be thankful, then that this naughty cat is housebroken."

Maven scoffed and turned away, dismissing the two of them. Inigo watched her go before turning to Lucien. "Well, that went better than expected," he said with a shrug. "Now we can get back to our affairs."

"Well..." Lucien began, "I kind of, sort of, uh, promised to repair the Dwemer Pieces the Guild discovered in Raldbthar. Turns out, I'm a War Mechanic now."

Karliah nodded sternly. "It was the reason we commissioned him in the first place. Mr. Flavius has knowledge of Dwemer Machinery."

Lucien nodded, "I do." he turned back aside to Inigo, "And so, I will be transforming the Aetherium Forge into an Assembly Line. The idea was to use the Dwarven Weapons against the Daedra." "I wish I could help you with that," Vilja shrugged. "but where this mechanical stuff is concerned, my brain is up my behind."

Inigo chuckled. "Ah, but there is no need for mechanical assistance for us, my dear Bard. Our skills are of a different sort," he said, gesturing broadly. "You know music, Illia knows magic, Serana knows Vampirey things, I know swordplay. We are a match made in Sovngarde."

"'Vampirey things?'" Serana repeated, her brows knit together with confusion.

"Well, you know..." Inigo waved a hand vaguely. "The whole...uh, biting people, turning into a batlike monster, sleeping in coffins, being allergic to sunlight, that kind of thing. It's just part of what you do, isn't it?"

Serana decided to play along, her fangs glinting in the dim torchlight. "Yeah... and you forgot to mention turning into a wolf and hunting down naughty cats."

Inigo gulped and stepped aside, and then Serana began to laugh, her lilting voice bouncing off the Cistern's walls.

Vilja couldn't help but join in on their laughter, feeling the tension ease up around them. "I see you two have been keeping each other entertained, at least." She teased, prompting another burst of giggles.

Lucien cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to the task at hand. "If there's nothing else, guys, I have work to do." The group took his advice and agreed to let their friend work undisturbed. But just as Serana was about to depart, Lucien called out to her. Turning to face him, she waited for him to speak once more. "Serana, thanks, for everything."

Serana listened intently to Lucien's heartfelt gratitude as he continued. "I couldn't have gotten through those Ruins alone. I just know I would have died without you, back in Arkgnthamz, and the Aetherium Forge. So... thanks."

Serana gave a light bow of her head in acknowledgement, and a light smile caressed her lips. "No problem, Lucien. You're my friend. Friends look out for each other."

Vilja smiled softly at the exchange between Lucien and Serana, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie fill the air. As she turned to leave, she couldn't help but think about her own journey so far and the people she had met along the way.

When they reached the surface once more, Inigo, Illia, Serana and Vilja regrouped at Mistveil Keep. "What's the game plan?" Serana inquired. "We should go and speak to Jarl Laila." Vilja suggested. "Maybe she has information about the northeastern situation?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Vilja; after all, Maven Black-Briar just paid us all hush money." Illia reminded her. "The last thing she needs is to hear about us going into Mistveil Keep." "Maybe we should go to Winterhold," Vilja suggested. "the refugees from Wretched Spire were headed there - I hope they made it. Them, and Carene and Lillian, too."

Vilja worried about Lillian: the poor girl who lost her father. Her father, who had been driven to madness through Molag Bal's malicious influence. She knew that, being a child, it would be easier for Lillian to adapt and move on, but even Carene. How was she faring after all she'd been through? Surely, when she first discovered her family would be coming to Skyrim, this was not at all what she'd had in mind.

The group considered Vilja's suggestion and agreed that checking on the refugees in Winterhold would be a good idea. They decided to rest for the meantime at the Bee & Barb and depart early in the morning. Fast Travel would make it an easy venture. After all, three of them had already gone to Winterhold.

As they prepared for bed, Serana reflected on her conversations with Lucien. She was glad to see him opening up more about his feelings and past experiences. It made her feel closer to him, knowing that he wasn't always the whiny and reserved individual she had initially perceived him to be.

Meanwhile, Vilja found herself unable to sleep, her mind racing with thoughts of her conversation with Cura in the dream she had the last night. Why? Why did Cura appear in her dream? Did it mean something? Was she going mad? Was it a jumbled mess of memories long past? "And you're not coming back!" the words echoed in Vilja's mind as she tossed and turned.

She writhed restlessly, haunted by the vision of the fallen Dragonborn sprawled before the gaping portal in her mind's eye.

"You're not coming back!"

The blood turned sickly black, flaking away into small embers that appeared to be suspended in time. Vilja lay in her bed, sweating nervously as she gazed at the image of a yellow sun on red fabric hanging above her, soon obscured by the black smoke billowing from Cura's body.

"You're not coming back!"

Boulders tumbled from above as Mehrunes Dagon towered over them, axes aloft and his laughter filled with malice. His eyes bore down on the group, and flames burst forth from his oil-drenched maw. With a ferocious bellow, he swung his axes, causing the ceiling to crumble.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Vilja shrieked, throwing herself upright in her bed. Suddenly, a firm and gentle hand was placed upon her shoulder. Vilja opened her eyes to see Inigo, his features contorted with concern as he gazed upon her. "Vilja... What is it? Are you okay?"

Vilja took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She looked up at Inigo, her eyes filled with tears. "I... I had a nightmare," she whispered. "It was about Cura. Wh-when she died, and we couldn't save her."

Inigo's concerned expression softened as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It was a difficult time for all of us," he said gently. "But we've made it through. And Cura wouldn't want us to mourn her forever. It will not be a good impression for her to see when she comes home."

"Inigo, it's impossible for a dead person to return to life!" Vilja exclaimed. "Just stop."

"Then why do you keep visiting her body at the Beacon?" Inigo asked softly. "Don't you think it's time to let go and move on?"

It was a vision of shock that spread across Vilja's face. So Inigo was aware that she kept on taking a peek at Cura's lifeless body?

Vilja closed her eyes, trying to suppress the anger and sadness that welled up within her. She took a deep breath before responding. "I..."

Inigo chuckled. "You were checking to see if she decomposed, weren't you?"

Vilja, cornered, decided to come clean. "I couldn't help it, okay? It's just so odd how she looks like she's asleep, but pale as snow. I kept looking to see if there was any change, at all... but none. No rot, nothing."

"Remember, Meridia is protecting her. The Daedric Prince of what?" Inigo gestured for her to fill in the gap.

"Light." Vilja said, her tone droning.

"And Life Energies!" Inigo corrected her, bringing the point closer. "If the Daedric Prince of Life Energies is preserving her body, do you not think her body is waiting for her soul to come back to it?"

The look in Vilja's eyes softened as she understood the implication of what Inigo was saying. It wasn't impossible for Cura to return; Meridia was keeping her preserved, possibly indefinitely.

Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "Maybe we just have to be patient." She sat up with her cheeks in her hands. "But what about us, the living? In... in my nightmare, Dagon crushed us all. What if we die before she gets back?"

Inigo placed a hand on Vilja's shoulder, offering comfort. "We can't know the future, Vilja. All we can do is live our lives to the fullest and prepare for whatever may come. If Cura returns, then we will be all the stronger for it."

Vilja nodded, "You're right, Inigo. You're always right."

"Well, not always, but I do like to feel like a smart blue cat from time to time!" Inigo declared with a confident chuckle.

Vilja smiled in spite of herself. "You're lucky I like you, blue cat."

Vilja and Inigo's conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a bluish portal in the center of the room. Startled, they both turned to look at it, their hearts racing with apprehension.

In what seemed like a reaction, a figure emerged from the portal, its outline blurred by the flickering light. Exchanging glances of concern, they promptly unsheathed their weapons, ready for anything.

Stepping out through the portal, Langley Longseer appeared; the very same elitist who had long sought to establish a rapport with Inigo. "Langley?" Inigo was surprised to see his face.

"Oh, bother. Just when I thought I'd gotten it to work, it acted in reverse!" Langley snapped his fingers in frustration. He began to look around, taking in the interior of the Bee & Barb. "Hm. What a quaint little hovel this is. Its stench is unbearable, though; it rings of drenched armpit and mould."

Vilja raised an eyebrow at Langley's comment, her face showing clear amusement despite the tense atmosphere. "You know, if you keep talking like that, people might actually like you more, Longseer."

Langley scoffed. "Well, never you mind. This is between Inigo and I. You can just leave the room, if you would."

Before Vilja could get up, Inigo held up a hand to stop her and he shook his head. He turned to Langley. "Whatever you will say to me, you can say in front of my friend, here. We are all in this together."

Vilja couldn't help but grin at Inigo's show of support. "Well, then," she said, taking a seat again, "what can we help you with, Langley? You seem to have traveled quite far for a little chitchat."

Langley looked around the room one last time, then sighed. "I had another vision of doom, Inigo. The Mountain; destroyed. The Daedra, unleashed; the Dragonborn, murdered; Mehrunes Dagon-"

"Yes, we know. We lived through most of it already." Inigo informed him with a raised eyebrow.

Langley nodded in understanding. "I see. But my vision didn't end there. Inigo, there's more. Something... Something worse than what you've already faced. The Doom Strider... it is being prepared as we speak, beyond that Oblivion Gate to the East. I saw it in my mind's eye. Mehrunes Dagon, filled with rage, has begun its march. Once it breaks through that portal..." He shivered and clutched his arms. "Gods help us all."

"We have begun preparations." Inigo assured him. "The armies are united, and we are building an Army of Dwarven Machines! We will be able to fight back."

Langley's breath came out in a short scoff and he shook his head, mildly amused amidst the terror. "Really. You truly believe that Dwemer Technology can face the Doom Strider? Inigo, unless you have the Numidium, I don't think we can withstand it."

Inigo frowned, his expression turning serious. "We will have the means to stop it, and the Aedra are on our side. I have faith in our plan." He looked at Vilja, his eyes gleaming with determination. "We will not go down without a fight."

Vilja nodded in agreement. "We as a group have faced down gods and dragons before."

"You weren't there to confront Mehrunes," Inigo recalled, noting her role in maintaining peace beneath Windhelm during the battle. She was lucky to have been spared the direct experience of the slaughter.

"But you were!" Vilja reminded him.

Langley looked at them both, his expression a mix of admiration and concern. "I see that you're both as determined as ever. I would admire your gumption were it not so foolhardy."

Inigo scratched the tuft of fur on his cheek. "I thought you had faith in me, Langley. You said I was the Champion who was going to defeat the Doom Strider. Why do you have so many doubts now?"

Langley sighed and ran a hand through his tied beard, his eyes never leaving the horizon where the portal hiding the Doom Strider loomed, in the mountains northeast. "You are the Champion, Inigo. But even a lone wolf can fall when faced with such an adversary. I have faith in your abilities, but I wouldn't call it unfounded concern."

Vilja called Langley out. "You're just another Fortune-telling Charlatan. You said Cura was going to be with Inigo to fight the Doom Strider, didn't you? Well, she's dead. If it's right over the horizon, she won't be here in time to join us, even if she resurrects!"

"Yes; that was the part that threw me off entirely." Langley admitted it, although he appeared slightly perplexed by Vilja's claim. "She was supposed to be alive, with Inigo, battling the fiend. I did not foresee her death." He then mumbled to himself, "Though it does confirm my thoughts on her incompetence."

"Probably because you only kept your eyes on me." Inigo proposed. "You only saw half of the puzzle."

Vilja sighed. "Well, if it's any consolation, Inigo, I didn't see her death coming either. And I was looking right at her as she bled out."

Langley shook his head. "No, no consolation. The future is not set in stone. It can change with the slightest of actions or inactions." He crossed his arms. "Part of my grievance with the nature of my visions is the fact that they often present themselves in a distorted, disorderly way; almost as though I am seeing a mere fraction of an event. I see nothing that led up to it, nor what proceeds it."

Inigo looked at Vilja and nodded. "You're right. It is not just about seeing the future. It is about understanding the intricacies of the events that unfold. We cannot forget that our actions have consequences, and sometimes those consequences are unforeseen. Like a tornado at a child's birthday picnic."

Illia, who had been listening quietly in the hallway, spoke up. "Or like an unplanned pregnancy at a drunken night of debauchery." She giggled. "It's all about the butterfly effect, isn't it?"

"That's one way of putting it." Inigo smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Er- you are joking of course, right?"

Illia laughed, "Of course, Inigo."

Vilja sighed and looked at the two lovebirds. "You know something, Inigo? The truth is, I'm not sure how much my actions matter. They've never really affected anything significant." She rubbed her arms, trying to warm up.

Inigo knit his brows together. "Vilja, that's not true."

Vilja shrugged. "Maybe not to you, but to me, it feels like I'm just a bystander in this grand story; the number on the book pages. I am there when everything happens, and yet I don't seem to do much. Like my actions are meaningless."

"That's not true, Vilja. You are no mere bystander." Inigo repeated, his voice firm. "Your actions have consequences, just like everyone else's."

Vilja crossed her arms and pouted. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Like grating on my nerves, for one thing." Langley sneered at her. "Can we please stay on subject? Leave the touchy-feely boo-hoos for after we've all died."

Vilja rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. But seriously, what kind of consequences could my actions have?"

Langley groaned, leaning his back against the wall and sliding down slightly. He slapped a hand over his face and peeked through the gap between his index and middle fingers.

"You helped us in many battles," Inigo began. "and if it wasn't for you and me, the White Phial would never have been found! Delphine would be dead right now if not for you. Some people might hate you for that, but I think your fighting to help save a life was still admirable."

Vilja shrugged. "Yeah, but that was just luck. I think you could have taken Curalmil alone, honestly."

"And what about when you used your musical talent to calm the villagers during the Frostbite Spiders attack?" Serana interjected. "You saved many lives that day."

Vilja raised an eyebrow. Once the moment of confusion passed, she called him out. "That never happened, Inigo."

"Maybe not, but I said it. And it is a thing that could happen one day. You never know!" Inigo defended his story with enthusiasm. "And when it does, you will do exactly that!"

Vilja smiled weakly. "Alright, alright. I guess you're right. Our actions do have consequences, no matter how small they may seem at first. But it still feels like I'm just a cog in a giant machine sometimes."

Inigo nodded thoughtfully. "I know what you mean."

Illia decided to offer kind words to the discouraged Bard. "Well, sometimes the smallest cogs are the most crucial to keeping the system functional." She then decided to explain in a way she was more familiar with. "Or... Wheat. It is just another grain to many, but it's crucial in crafting a Healing Potion, or baking delicious bread."

"Or Sweetrolls!" Inigo chimed in with a lighthearted giggle.

Vilja laughed softly. "Or Sweetrolls, indeed." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I guess I just need to remember that my actions, no matter how small they may seem, can have a big impact on those around me. And that's something to be proud of." She beamed like a peacock. The more she considered it, her presence did seem to bring levity to the others, especially Inigo, who was often looked to to bear the weight of relieving others at the worst times. She brought levity to the levity-bringer, as well as her Alchemical knowledge and her Bardic skill set.

The more Vilja thought about it, she really did do a lot for others. But what were they doing for her in turn?

Langley snorted. "You're a nobody, lass. Deal with it." He placed a hand on the wall. "We all are. Can't you see that nothing matters? We are all ants under the skies, praying that the Daedric Princes don't feel like holding up a magnifying glass over our heads." He locked his fingers together. "All we can hope for is that the heroes will prevail so we can keep marching on our worthless path."

Illia recoiled with disgust at Langley's comment. "Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine. My mother had more of a positive outlook than you do, and she was a Daedra worshipper."

Vilja frowned at the dismissive comment. "That's a pretty cynical view there, Langley. Not everyone is content to be a nameless face in the crowd. Some of us want to make a difference, no matter how small it may seem." She glanced at Inigo and Illia, feeling grateful for their support.

Langley rolled his eyes. "A difference? You think your pathetic attempts at singing and playing the lute will make a difference? We're all just fodder for the gods, destined to live out our lives in obscurity, only to be remembered by our descendants as nothing more than a footnote in history."

Vilja stood up to Langley. "Why are you so pessimistic?"

Langley sighed, "Look... if you lived every day with visions of doom clouding your mind, you'd be nihilisic, as well."

Inigo nodded, "You are right, and you are wrong, Langley. We have seen the depths of despair, and we choose not to study it. We are trying to make a difference so that others do not have to despair. Here." He reached into his satchel and drew a folded up paper, and handed it to Langley.

"What in tarnation is this?" Langley asked stoutly as he unfolded the pamphlet. "The Temple of Mara? Why-"

"Maybe the good mother can soothe your worries." Inigo suggested. "I have spoken to her, believe it or not; she is quite what you would expect."

Inigo had discretely kept one of the Pamphlets that Dinya had asked him to hand out a while back, wanting to keep it as a reminder that the gods were watching over them.

Langley took the pamphlet, scowling. "You know, I think I will go. Maybe the Mother will have some words of wisdom for me." He tucked the pamphlet into his own satchel, not bothering to hide his skepticism. "But don't think this means I'm converted or anything. The very same Mara - if she could help us against the Daedra, she would have. But she can't. She can't fight off Molag Bal, and she can't fight off Mehrunes Dagon."

Inigo raised an eyebrow. "But you think I can face the Doom Strider?"

Langley groaned in frustration. "I don't know if you can, Inigo. I just know that you are going to fight it. We must be sure that you are prepared for that eventuality."

Illia stepped forward and took Inigo's hand. "Well, he won't have to face it alone."

Inigo smiled softly at Illia's display of support. He appreciated it, but something within him still felt as if he was walking towards a one-way road. The thought of the Doom Strider alone chilled him to the bone. The image of the large, metallic, black horror tearing open the fields shook him to his core. Inigo took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "I am ready for whatever awaits me," he said firmly, meeting Langley's gaze. "I have faced many challenges in my life, and I will not back down from this one. Whatever happens, I am prepared to face the Doom Strider. We are going to go to Winterhold; the mages can help us out."

Upon hearing this, Langley burst out laughing. "Winterhold? Those pompous mages? They haven't even scratched the surface of magic studies. What help can they offer?"

Inigo retorted, "Far more than you think, Langley." He laid a hand on his shoulder. "You should go to the Temple of Mara. We will go there, alone."

Reluctantly, Langley agreed, and Inigo, Illia, and Vilja descended the stairs, reaching the bottom floor of the Bee & Barb. A figure stood downstairs; a Vigilant of Stendarr, talking to Serana. It looked like the young Vigilant that Inigo had spoken to a short while ago: Raelynne Belette. "Inigo, hi!"

Inigo nodded at the Vigilant. "Hello, Raelynne. We are about to leave for Winterhold. Is there anything you would like to tell us before we go?"

Raelynne frowned, her brows knitting together. "Yes, actually. Keeper Ciirta needs your help at the Beacon. It seems that Vigilant Cura's body has vanished!"

Inigo and his allies' eyes widened with shock upon hearing such a strange occurrence. "What do you mean, vanished? Bodies do not vanish. Not unless they are cremated."

Raelynne shrugged helplessly. "That's just it, Inigo. Cura's body was never cremated. We think it might have been taken by someone or something. Keeper Ciirta believes that there may be a connection between this and the Daedric activity."

"But that makes no sense!" Serana barked at the timid young woman. "Cura was under Vigilant protection, for whatever it's worth! How could this... how could you have such an oversight?"

Inigo agreed, "I know Keeper Carcette would carve out a trail of blood if she knew about this."

As Raelynne listened to Inigo and Serana, her eyes widened with worry. "I understand your concern, Serana, but I assure you that no one in the Vigilant's Circle intended for such a thing to happen."

"Winterhold will have to wait." Serana insisted. "We have to look into this. This is serious!"

Inigo nodded, his expression grim. "Indeed, it is. We cannot stand here playing with our thumbs! We will head to the Beacon immediately."

The group wasted no time in Fast Travelling to Stendarr's Beacon. As soon as they appeared before the small tower, the group hurried inside and opened the door on the left wall, and raced down the stairs. Vigilants with concerned expressions lined the walls as Inigo and his friends descended towards the barracks, towards the bed where Cura's body was lain.

Once in the barracks, Serana ran up to the empty bed with furrowed brows and a troubled aura around her. "Is this really happening?"

Colette Marence and Phinis Gestor stood nearby, troubled by the sight.

"Thank the gods you're here, Inigo." Colette expressed her relief at the Khajiit's presence. "I... I saw something weird, headed down the stairs, but they wouldn't listen to me! They kept saying I was hysterical! I wasn't hysterical! I would know if I was hysterical!"

Inigo gripped Colette's arms. "Calm yourself, Colette! We will listen to you; what happened?" Keeper Ciirta entered the area with an older Vigilant donning golden robes; Vigilant Jacob. "Father Jacob," she addressed the older man. "who could have done this?"

"I don't know, Ciirta." Vigilant Jacob shook his head as they walked onto the scene. "There were only Vigilants here."

Colette Marence raised a hand. "Um, no, there were not 'only Vigilants' here. I saw a dark figure drag Cura's body underneath the floorboards at the bottom of the stairs!"

A shirtless Vigilant; a Nord with a gruff voice, laughed. "Quit hittin' the skooma, lass! Never in all my days o' hunting vampires an' Daedra did I ever see such a thing! Doesn't happen!"

"Don't be so dismissive, Vidkun." Keeper Ciirta chastised her subordinate. "Many strange things happen in this world."

Serana took a step behind Inigo as the enthusiastic Vampire hunter belted out a loud, crude laugh.

Inigo glared at the Nord Vigilant, feeling his blood boil at such disrespect for their fallen comrade. He turned to Colette. "Tell us everything you saw, Colette."

Colette's expression was grave, her voice shaky. "I... I was returning to the Alchemy Lab, down the halls when I heard a faint scraping sound coming from the bottom of the stairs. At first, I thought it was just the wind or maybe a disgusting little Skeever. But then I saw a dark figure move across my line of sight. It was hunched over, dragging something behind it."

Immediately, Vidkun waved a hand. "Bah! A skeever dragging a corpse? Tell me another'un!"

Illia retorted, "Well, the bed is empty, clearly. Something happened here."

"But Meridia was protecting her body!" Inigo declared firmly. "Nobody could have touched her!"

"How do you know she didn't take a break?" Vilja asked.

"Daedra don't-"

Vigilant Jacob held up a hand to silence the room. "Go on, Colette."

Colette swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I... I saw its face. It was one of the Daedric Princes. Not exactly sure which one. He was grinning, like he'd just won some sort of game. And then... I don't know what happened after that."

Keeper Ciirta slapped her forehead and raked her fingers through her hair, pushing it back. "Did no one else see anything?" she asked, gesturing towards the nearby Vigilants, all of whom appeared to shrug in ignorance of the events unfolding around them. She seemed utterly disheartened by the Vigil's evident display of incompetence.

Vigilant Jacob placed a calming hand on his protégé's shoulder. "Don't be hard on yourself, Ciirta. You are not omniscient. There was no way this could have been predicted."

His words acted as a salve to the blunder, yet Ciirta shook her head, letting them slide off her. "But I attempted to prevent it, Father Jacob," Keeper Ciirta persisted. "I had men positioned here to guard the Dragonborn body, and it seems none of them saw anything."

Suddenly, there was a loud shattering sound from outside. Vigilant Vidkun leapt up from his chair, cursing under his breath as he hurried up the staircase towards the doors. The others followed close behind, drawing their weapons as they moved into formation.

As the doors swung open, they were met with an eerie sight.

The courtyard was filled with a dense fog, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. And yet, through the mist, they could hear the sounds of movement - the shuffling of feet, the rustling of clothes, the occasional grunt or growl.

"What in Stendarr's name?" Vigilant Jacob exclaimed as he stood in front of Ciirta protectively.

The dark energy swirling in the air began to snake towards the group, blowing snow around in a storm, and grabbing the group, thrashing them about in the air; an unseen, yet brutal force.

When Inigo was flung several feet into the air, he smacked into the wall of the Beacon and fumbled to the ground below and rolled down the stone steps, unconscious. Serana was flung off the mountain, but thanks to her vampiric powers, was able to regain her position and hover in the air to avoid serious damage. When she elevated higher, she could see the Vigilants rushing to aid Vilja, Illia, Inigo, Ciirta and Jacob. Keeper Ciirta was tossed into the stone edifice leading towards Stendarr's Watch, hitting against the stone and dropping to the floor. Jacob went tumbling backwards into a snowbank.

The dark force continued to pick up the wind, its malevolent energy seeping into a trap door west of the Beacon's establishment. A dark, slender figure opened and closed the door to allow the darkness entry. Serana lowered herself to the ground and hurried to her friends' sides.

Colette and Phinis emerged from safety within the Beacon, and Phinis felt a chill ride his spine. "I feel something Daedric, for sure..."

Keeper Ciirta glanced at her fellow Vigilants and friends as they helped one another up. She felt the power that was released from the trap door dissipate and knew that the danger had passed. She looked to Vilja who seemed shaken but otherwise unharmed. "It appears the immediate threat has passed."

Serana shook her head. "No; it went in there, in the trap door." She extended a finger and pointed at the subterranean entrance in question. "And Colette was actually right. I saw a dark figure there - it's possible that they used that dark power to travel through the ground."

Colette pointed at the stunned Vidkun and the others. "See? See? I told you so! But you all thought I was crazy! Okay, I can be a tad eccentric at times, I'll give you that."

Keeper Ciirta held her ribs as the pain shot into her. "Oog..." she winced and bit her lower lip. "I... I think I cracked a rib..." She leaned against the stone wall, and Vigilant Bazur gently attended her.

"Ciirta, come; we will treat your injuries." he offered.

The Keeper shook her head. "A Healing Potion will do for now." She gestured towards one of the Vigilants and requested that they hand one to her.

Colette Marence approached her and cast a Healing Spell instead. "Have you all forgotten that you happen to be in the presence of the Restoration Master Wizard of Winterhold?"

"Th-thank you, Colette." Keeper Ciirta said as the mage mended her injury. However, the deep crimson stains on her off-white robes would not be purged quite as easily. She turned to Inigo, who was unconscious and being mended by the other Vigilants' Healing Spells. "Poor Inigo... none of us saw that coming. What was it?"

Vigilant Jacob stood beside Keeper Ciirta and looked to Serana and inquired, "What did you see?"

"A dark figure, shrouded in dark energy." Serana stated.

"Did you see any distinguishing features on this dark figure?" Vigilant Jacob pressed further, hoping for a clearer picture.

Keeper Ciirta asked her mentor, "Do you... have any ideas to the culprit, Father Jacob?"

Dagail, a Bosmer Vigilant, responded snidely. "I'll bet it was one of those bastard Vampires, and I'll bet she's helping them!" she pointed an accusatory finger at Serana. "Probably opened a door to Oblivion down there, too!"

Vidkun cracked his knuckles. "Oh, let me find that out, lass. She'll face the wrath o' a true Nord!" He growled in his raspy voice.

"Oh, please!" Serana responded defensively. "I've got better things to do with my life - or whatever you call this - than harass milk drinkers like you."

Keeper Ciirta turned to her overeager subordinates. "Serana has nothing to do with this. I can assure you of that."

As Inigo began to stir once more, he groaned and rubbed the back of his head. "Ooog... who let the Mammoths out?"

The elder Vigilant paced the floor, his words and his stride betraying his anxiety. "Vigilant Cura's body goes missing, a dark presence makes itself known, a dark figure goes beneath the Beacon..." Vigilant Jacob scratched his chin. "This can only bode ill..."

"Do you refer to the... Shrine in the caverns below?" Keeper Ciirta asked.

"Shrine?" Illia asked, her face a mask of concern. Just hearing that word made her queasy. By the looks of things, he surely wasn't referring to a Shrine to Stendarr.

Vigilant Jacob sighed and closed his eyes. His head bobbed as he was forced to make a confession before the group and the novice Vigilants. "There is an ancient altar of Molag Bal under the Beacon."

As soon as Jacob mentioned the name Molag Bal, a cold shiver ran down the spines of everyone present. Serana's face paled, and Illia's jaw tightened. Even Vilja, who had been sitting quietly until now, looked uneasy.

"Of course there is." Inigo groaned. "It seems there's no avoiding these Daedric Bullies these days. You walk around one corner, there's Mehrunes Dagon. Walk around another corner, there is Hircine. Then you walk this way and there is Molag Bal. Get a life already." the blue Khajiit grunted.

The Vigilant of Stendarr looked at the azure Khajiit, his eyes narrow and stern, bearing therein decades upon decades of wisdom and many unholy encounters against the beasts of the void. "Do not make light of these ancient evils. They seek to destroy all that is good in this world. We cannot afford to ignore them. "Daedric Prince of domination and enslavement. Many Vigilants were corrupted by him. Don't think you can't fall prey to his malice."

Serana nodded. "Oh, I can definitely say that I know a thing or two about him. This is probably his way of getting even for us for under Windhelm."

Vigilant Jacob's eyes widened. "Under... under Windhelm? What are you talking about?" Keeper Ciirta was already heading towards the trap door.

"CIIRTA!" Vigilant Jacob called after his former charge. "What are you doing?"

"This was my fault, Father Jacob. I was charged with protecting Vigilant Cura's body." Keeper Ciirta made her shame clear. "If there's even the slightest chance that something ill is going to happen to it, I cannot allow that."

Inigo leapt up to his feet and hurried towards Ciirta, to join her. "Yes; my friend needs her body to return to!" It dawned on him that perhaps Molag Bal intended to have Cura's physical body destroyed to spite her after she defeats him.

The Daedric Prince had already gotten an attacker to try and destroy her body already. His intent was more than clear.

The elder Vigilant of Stendarr clenched his fists tightly, his resolve hardening through his dread. "So be it. We cannot let Molag Bal win. Cura's body is sacred ground; we will protect it with our lives."

Keeper Ciirta exhaled with relief. "Thank you, Father Jacob."

Keeper Ciirta began her descent down the crypt's stairs, guiding them into its shadowy depths. Her heart weighed down by fear, she understood the necessity of their mission. They had to prevent Molag Bal from inflicting more harm on Cura at all costs.

Inigo's anger intensified. The thought of anyone desiring to defile his best friend's body was intolerable and warranted immediate retribution with a well-aimed arrow, or perhaps ten. Glancing back at the expressions on Serana and Vilja's faces, he could tell they shared in his sentiment.