When I reached the cave, night had fallen. The moons had risen high in the starry sky, illuminating my path. With my heightened senses, I could smell the foul air coming from the Glenmoril cave. It was awful.

I drew my sword, then ducked into the cave. It was time to eliminate this foul coven. It was time to get our cure.

Once inside the cave, I crouched down low and hugged the left-side wall. One of the witches, a white-feathered Hagraven, was pacing back and forth in the front chamber. Behind her, several different smaller caves went deeper in, two on the lower level and two on the upper level. A Frostbite spider was crawling on the incline that led to the upper level of the cave.

Good thing Farkas isn't here, I thought with a small smile.

But thinking of Farkas made me think of Vilkas and the angry words he'd said to me before I left. The words still made my heart ache. I had to make things right when I returned. I couldn't live with Vilkas being so angry with me.

I shook my head and focused on my mission. I could think of those things when I returned.

Readying my sword, I inched closer to the witch, then sprang from my hiding place. The witch didn't expect my sudden attack, and had just turned when I severed her head.

I didn't have much time to celebrate my successful kill. The spider spat its blood-chilling poison at me, and some of it struck my armor. I ignored it and instead launched myself at the spider. I stabbed my sword into its head. Its legs twitched a couple times, then it lay still.

I grabbed the first witch's head, put it in the burlap sack I'd brought along just for this mission, then moved on, going through one of the lower level tunnels first. I killed the witch in there, then took her head and dumped it into the sack.

When I killed the third witch, the sack started to get heavy. How was I supposed to lug two more heads along with the ones I already had? I really wished I had Vilkas—

No, you don't. You're mad at him, remember? He broke your heart, and he didn't care.

Even as I thought that, I didn't believe it.

I have got to stop thinking about him. I don't have time for this.

I used my emotions to help me kill the last two witches. They were harder to fight than the others. One clipped me with a firebolt spell, singeing me through my armor. I groaned but let the pain spur me forward. It helped me take care of the last two witches, and soon, I was done.

Sweaty, hurting, and tired, I took the last two heads and shouldered the sack. Now I just had to head back to Whiterun. Then Kodlak would take over.

I'll be free of this curse soon.

And with that happy note, I left the cave.

-------

It was raining when I got back into the city. But I didn't let that get me down. Burlap sack full of witch heads slung over my shoulder, I strode into the city's gates with an air of accomplishment. I had our lycanthropy cure. Soon, those who desired it could be freed from the beast blood.

But as soon as I came to the Plains District, I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. None of the shopkeepers were out. The children that often played tag through the streets weren't anywhere to be seen. The town looked almost abandoned.

Confused, I picked up my pace and jogged to the Wind District, where Jorrvaskr was located. When I got there, I nearly dropped my sack.

Aela and Torvar at were standing outside Jorrvaskr, their swords drawn, and bodies at their feet.

"What happened?" I asked as I ran up the stairs.

"The Silver Hand," Torvar said, his voice, for once, sober. "Finally got up the nerve to attack Jorrvaskr. We got most of 'em, but I think a few stragglers made it out."

"You'd better get inside, Ylva," Aela said, glaring at the bodies at her feet.

My gut twisting, I headed into the mead hall, trying to prepare for anything.

I was not prepared for what I saw.

Jorrvaskr was in chaos. Bodies of Silver Hand warriors littered the floor. One was even splayed over the dining table. Close to one end of the room, Athis was on the floor, curled in a tight ball. Njada was kneeling over him, whispering encouraging words to him.

But then there was Kodlak, my Harbinger, my friend, lying dead next to the fire pit. The Silver Hand—curse them all to Oblivion—stripped him of his armor, taking away any dignity he had. Farkas and Ria were sitting next to his body, their heads bowed in sorrow.

No. No. No.

I dropped my burlap sack at the door and joined them. I pressed a hand to the old man's cold forehead. This couldn't be. It simply couldn't.

"K... Kodlak?"