After my afternoon reminiscing with Saccicius; the ex-legionary-turned-prophet my own thoughts had been darker than normal, causing me to repeatedly think back on my time within the Legion and all of the friends that I had lost over the years. While it was good to be reminded of my years serving it was still very much a raw wound that I hadn't realised had been mostly unattended. Many of my old friends and comrades were cold in the ground, some like Burd had retired and moved on and only Lukah and Ozzarious would still be within Fort Ironhand. Especially on the open road during the times where Viconia and I would fall silent and be content in being in each other's company my mind would wander far over the lands and return to Vvardenfell, and wonder whether my remaining friends were even still alive.

  Our duty in gaining the allegiance of the Fighter's Guild had born fruit and now that it was complete we could return triumphant in more ways than one. After a few more days in Anvil where we awaited our armours to be repaired and went about the process of gaining the necessary supplies for the journey we set out to return to Cloud Ruler and the Blades. While the climate in Anvil was positively luxurious compared to all the others in my recent memories, the northern portions of Cyrodiil were much harsher. If the winds blew the right directions or a storm managed to breach the defences of the Jerral Mountains, then it would not be unheard of for the Imperial City to wake to white marble covered in white snow. In preparation we purchased thicker clothing and layers to be worn both underneath and over our armours as well as supplies that could be utilised even in frozen environments.

  It was with my mind turning dark that I had made a surprising decision within our first day of travel as we set on our journey to Bruma. Along the roads throughout Cyrodiil were scattered wayshrines to the Nine. Some were ancient, crumbling and ill-kept, others were prosperous and had been perfectly situated to have towns, villages or simply coaching inns grow about them. The first time that I knelt down and prayed at the shrine to Julianos had been as much as a surprise to myself as it was to Viconia who was resaddling Ultrin. The tiny shrine had been built in the courtyard of the Brina Cross Inn and the stables had been built almost around it, and Viconia's expression at me once I had finished and had risen to my feet again had spoken volumes more than mere words ever could have. During our entire time that we had travelled she had only ever seen me pray a handful of times, and most of which had been along the lines of please-don't-let-this-vampire/minotaur/daedra-kill-us.

  The next few days, each time we stopped near or at one of the wayshrines I would take a few minutes to pray at each. Each time I knelt down, pressing my fists to my chest and lowering my gaze I remembered Saccicius' advice from our chats.

  "The Eight and One don't seek blind obedience or fawning supplication," He had said, staring pointedly at me with his cold blue eyes. "Like loving but stern parents they will watch over us to keep us safe from the worst, but they want us to make our own paths. Remember; there is never a guarantee that they will respond to our prayers or come to our aid. They are busy being like parents fending off the wolves at the door to worry about how their children are playing with their toys. They will not help us up if we trip or fall down or break a finger, but they will watch with pride as we stand up, dust ourselves off and push on. Even more so, they will be delighted and much more willing to help us if we take those first steps and begin thinking and doing that which helps both them and us..."

  On the third day of travel we stopped briefly at a lone wayshrine to Stendarr; the God of Mercy and the 'official' patron of the Imperial Legion. When I knelt before the shrine I did not beg for his mercy or forgiveness. Even if I believed I deserved any I was a vampire and not welcome to it. Instead I promised to live up to the ideals of the Legion even despite my oath-breaking and desertion. That afternoon nearby a messenger post I managed to find a tiny altar dedicated to Arkay. As the god of life and death and sworn enemy to necromancers and their undead minions I felt uncomfortable praying to him but I did so anyway. There was part of me that needed to get thoughts off my chest. Through the prayer to Arkay I spoke to those comrades of mine that no longer dwelled among the living, promising that I would not repeat the mistakes that had contributed to their deaths and promising that despite my undead and corrupt nature I would ensure that others would not suffer my fate if it was in my power.

  Viconia seemed content in standing off to the side or leaving me to go about my business. She didn't question or comment, but instead sat in silence and watched in curiosity. After I completed my prayers I always felt as though I was merely an insect trapped in sap and she was watching me slowly sink deep into its mass. This time however, as I finished my prayers and returned to where Viconia remained with our steeds, I noticed how she was sitting very still in the saddle, eyes closed and fists clenched tight.

  "Viconia?" I asked, moving over to the massive form of Acheron and lightly patting his flank as I moved around to his side. "Are you okay?"

  She didn't seem to hear me, even as I swung myself up into the saddle and took hold of his reins. "Viconia?"

  "Viconia?" My sudden wariness being reflected into Acheron's considerable bulk as he too tensed under me. I carefully reached out as we drew near, resting my gloved hand lightly on her shoulder.

  At my touch she recoiled away with such speed it was like my hand had been the fangs of a venomous reptile. For a split second I saw the level of utter hatred in her eyes, mixed with an overwhelming fear but these brief emotions evaporated as she looked at me. I knew without any doubt that her fear and anger was not directed at me, but brought on by some dark memory or thought. There was even a moment where she seemed embarrassed and regretful at her reaction, turning away and brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes.

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  "Are you alright?" The look of fear in her eyes brought me to instinctively rest my hand on Sunchild's pommel.

  "I'm fine." She replied, twisting her body slightly and looking at me with a half-smile. "I was just thinking, that's all."

  Tapping my heels into Acheron's flanks, I felt the now customary sway as he began to move forward while somehow managing to make his weight unfelt through the ground and cobblestones beneath his hooves. Ultrin moved off as well, and we began moving along side by side with our massive destriers plodding along the road in the noonday sun.

  "In a way." She sighed, eyes moving down to where she was lightly scratching the back of Ultrin's midnight black head. "I was thinking of God's and Faith mostly."

  "God's and faith?"

  "Yes." She looked at me with her enrapturing eyes once more and sending the familiar shiver down my spine as I gazed into them. "You see... Among the Velmer we are taught nothing of other gods, and little enough of our own bar Lloth."

  "The Drow have other gods?" I asked simply, ducking under a branch as Acheron decided to move under a towering pine. We were on the very fringes of the Great Forest now, and it wouldn't be long until the landscape began to close in with vegetation around the imperial highways.

  "They have some, but religion within the Underdark is so different to the surface that I have been struggling to understand it all."

  "How do you mean?"

  She paused, furrowing her brow in concentration as she came up with the words to describe how it was in common. Although my understanding of Drow was improving daily, I still a long way to go before I was fluent.

  "Within the Underdark our gods are physical and are almost like you and me; just infinitely more powerful. There is no prayer outside of rituals and offerings and belief is just so much simpler."

  I smiled as I understood the point she was trying to raise. "You can't understand how we can believe in something that doesn't show itself directly, or how we can believe that there really are Gods if no one has actually ever seen them or any evidence that they truly exist."

  "Our Gods are a lot simpler than your own, and we have few in number." She replied, obviously finding some difficulty putting her words into Common. "There are those like Ghaunadau the Abomination, and Vzhaeraun the Murderer who hold some power within Velmer cities, but Lloth is strongest by far and typically forbids even their mention."

  "But you have said many times before that you worship Shar." I said, hearing the way that she had to force herself to speak that which she had been taught from birth never to discuss.

  "Nightsinger is mistress of Darkness and Loss. I was born and raised in darkness and I have lost much; my family, my home, my people..." For a moment her hair flowed in the breeze as she shook her head. "My mistress has returned much. I am grateful, and I honour her in darkness and with the deaths of my foes."

  She seemed to shudder for a moment as she recollected some past memories from her life before. For a moment I thought she would go silent as she would whenever she discussed her history. Instead she slowly exhaled and continued.

  "I was but a child and I began my training in the service of Lloth. I was taken away and placed in the care of the Priestesses at onlenggin."

  "Onlenggin?" I asked, the unfamiliar word rolling off my tongue roughly.

  She chuckled at my attempt to copy her language, but continued anyway. "Onlenggin is the altar of Sacrifice, and where a slave screamed in agony. He had been tortured for days and although I was still very young I was granted a Spider Dagger to end his life."

  "This human was an animal to me, as we were all taught that every other race, almost including each other were lesser beings but it still felt wrong somehow. I remember all too well his tears as that ran freely as he spoke in his unfamiliar tongue. While I lived in the Underdark I had never bothered to learn another tongue but I knew that he was begging for mercy. The matrons were there to judge; hesitation was punishable by death and the Spider Queen would brook no weakness."

  A shudder ran through her body, and I found myself reaching out and grasping her hand as she clenched it tight. I could feel her body shaking as she relived the memories, and despite the discomfort of her grip on my hand I continued to listen.

  "He screamed when the blade split his lungs and the matron mothers were pleased when I pulled his beating heart out of his ribcage."

  "How old were you when you were put through this?" I asked, seeing her eyes glisten slightly with the tiniest amount of tears.

  "Our time is different to your own, as we have no sun, nor seasons to allow us to track time. The only measure we have is Narbondel. It is a giant stone pillar in the heart of Menzoberranzan. Every 'day' one of the High Priestesses will cast a bolt of fire within the pillar and as the hours pass the pillar heats and glows allowing all to see it from within the city limits. It acts as our sun of sorts, and as far as I can tell the time between when the spells are cast are equivalent to a day on the surface."

  "So, no dates, no calendars, no seasons, no years. No methods of tracking time at all?"

  There was a very uncommitted shrug of the shoulders. "Other than the number of Black Death's of Narbondel that a female Drow experiences whilst with child there is very little I can do to compare to the surface. It is very aggravating in a way not being able to determine my age in relation to the surface. I could be faced with an extremely short lifespan in comparison to yourself and other surfacers, or I could outlive all other mer."

  "I doubt you'll outlive me if we don't meet untimely ends." My mouth felt dry at the prospect and I shuddered. "Vampires are apparently immortal."

  "So despite everything we may be separated through the ravages of time even if we defeat all other foes. Seems almost poetic." Silence fell between us as she took several long breaths to control her breathing "I cannot help but think of Lloth. She is cruel, and not known for forgiveness. Despite the distance, and the barriers between here and the Underdark, I know she will come for me eventually."

  I gritted my teeth, and felt the beast within me shift noticeably at my displeasure. "If she does come I will be ready."

  Viconia glanced at me with a look filled with sorrow and pity, despite the determination within my words. "It will mean nothing. Lloth's reach is far and I fear that there is no escaping it."

  "What makes you say that?" She saw the grimace I made as I suppressed the last vestiges of the beast into my subconscious.

  "It is because I have seen her, I have felt the lash, and she will let me think that I am safe or free. Then, and only then she will come for me." Viconia looked pointedly at the ground in front of Ultrin, her face transforming into an expressionless mask that I knew all too well. "My dreams of late have been of Valas, and try as I might to speak to him I cannot as he is nothing more than a monster. What can Lloth do to me if she has done this to him?"