"Neloth," Serana asked, "we also ran across another very powerful mage, I was wondering if you knew him."

"His technique is absolutely foreign to me." I added, "I believe I've seen him walking on water and I know for a fact that he summoned an entire body of bound armor."

"Wait, you mean mages don't walk on water in Skyrim?" Neloth said his mouth agape. "Divines, first they outlawed levitation and now everything magnificent about magic. I bet the Dragon Priests didn't care about some stupid law, now only criminals and omnipotent mages like me can use those spells."

Without moving he summoned a gauntlet on one hand in display, "Spells like this have been summoned in Morrowind since the 3rd era," he smirked as the gauntlet dissolved, "he bound and entire set of armor? He likes Conjuration, what else?"

"He absorbed Serana's spells and cast spells on his feet that allowed him to jump clear over me with a bound greatsword."

"Hmmm, that reminds me of an old friend of mine, a Brenton. A good Brenton assistant just like you. He was a prisoner released during the 3rd Era and became a hero of Morrowind. Azura's champion, the Nevarene." Then Neloth's unceremonious nature returned, "In some aspects he was a thief, and had assassins on his tail left and right back in the Dark Brotherhood's better days. Cleared out the Morrowind Capital City's sewers, full of them, but used his coin made from honest and nefarious deeds alike in making spells."

"Wait, so you could help me make my own spells?" I asked.

"Are you mad? Once hyperinflation set in on Imperial gold you couldn't give me Solstheim if it were made of septims to teach dimwits like you to make your own spell. You're just a few centuries to late I'm afraid."

"Guys," Serana broke in, "what did your friend look like?"

Neloth scratched his head and admitted, "I actually don't remember. I usually know faces but not names but his name was Dimitri Alterianni, the poor soul made a promise to Boethiah for immortality or something. Another rumor is that he went to Akavir, a land-mass far away from Tamriel. Rumor also has it he haunts some of the most powerful wizards but only reads their notes as they're writing them. He loved magic, the boy felt like he could do anything. The obsession actually became unhealthy, since he supposedly sold his soul to Boethiah of all Daedric fiends. Now, him I could see with Hermaeus Mora," he gave me a flat look, "not your dumb hide."

"Thanks..." I said awkwardly.

Become 'unhealthy'? Says the one who has killed several of his assistants in 'accidents', I thought.

"Speaking of," Serana said crossing her arms and burning me through with a look, "I happen to know the champion of Boethiah. Would it be possible for this Dimitri to be reincarnated to hunt this champion?"

"I have no idea mi'lady, now!" Neloth said clapping his hands together, "Your favorite part of coming to see me: your fees for my assistance."

"Oh boy..." I groaned.

"I'm going to be coming along for the ride!"

I arched a brow, "The great Neloth is coming into battle with me?"

"Oh Oblivions no! You seriously thought I would stoop that low? No, I perfected that spell that recorded your memories when you helped me with my research with Briarhearts so that I can see what you see, hear what you hear, and we can even converse."

"You're wanting to use this spell on both of us?" Serana asked nervously.

"Of course!"

"Serana," I comforted, "you can trust him."

The sky was dark and star-filled as Serana and I cooked dinner. I turned the spit with the Ash Hopper body part on it as Serana came from the shadows wiping her mouth. She sat on a rock and coughed, "Ash Hopper isn't the best."

"Hopefully you'll get used to it." I muttered.

"It certainly is the most exotic thing I've had in a long time."

I smirked and salted the meat while turning, the sound of a herd of netches lowing in the background. The sound of a strider also sounded as Serana admired the night sky and the sounds of Solstheim. I glanced at Paarthurnax who was sleeping on a giant mushroom like any other several-thousand year old dragon who just flew a marathon.

I cut off a slab of Ash Hopper and ate the gooey meat like jerky. I tried not to think of what part I was eating but I was pretty sure I was cooking the abdomen. After gulping down my slab I went to get more.

"Talion, isn't that the part with most of the guts in it?"

"I don't think so..." but once I got another slab something like intestines hung lazily from where I was cutting. Frozen for a few moments, I tossed the slab I cut away into the fire. Nauseous, all I could say was, "Nope. Nope! Not hungry anymore. Find something else!"

Serana reared back laughing at me. "Guess I was right."

"Anyways," I said deciding to just burn the rest of the kinda inedible abdomen, taking apart the spit, "I'm going to go for a walk."

"I'll come with you."

I looked at her and smiled before memories of old times fluttered into my mind. I sighed from the pressure of the world on my shoulders and told Serana to stay close. I trod north, in the general direction of Miraak's Temple, I don't know why I left my head protection at camp as we walked. Maybe it was because I needed some fresh air, those helmets were always stuffy.

The farther north we got, the ash under our feet slowly turned into dirt, and then permafrost. The sky also became filled with the additional light from auroral lights. Coming up a hill I spied a group of hunters butchering a deer during a late night hunt. Serana came up to me and stated, "Well, they look okay."

They wore furs and had bows. One had a torch but he didn't have any identification of belonging to a group. It was to dark to tell.

"I'm going to see if they have some cooked venison for me to buy."

"I'll cover you from back here."

My feet crunched the snow as I greeted, "Heill!"

"Greetings," one said, "what do you want?"

"I was wondering if you had some provisions for barter. My-" I glanced back at Serana, "concubine and I aren't accustomed to Ash Hopper."

"I have some bread my wife made me, 20 gold?" One called.

Ripoff, I thought but said, "I'll take it, any jerky? Or cooked venison?"

The men, interested in making some honest coin came into the moonlight and I noticed that they all were skalls... except for the wolf-cloaked Stormcloak refugee. Once they got closer to me I cast a worried glance back at Serana and she crept closer non-threateningly. The eldest skall stopped and gripped his partner's shoulder a second before unsheathing his sword with a hiss.

"What are you doing back? You already tried to give Hermaeus Mora our secrets."

The others, not knowing what was going on unsheathed their weapons as well, trusting their leader. I sighed and answered, "I happened to be on the isle and wished to purchase provisions from you. I promise."

"You are not welcome on this isle, genocidal snake!"

"I do not see a skall embassy in Raven Rock, nor your name written on the ground I stand."

"You know this is our land!"

The Stormcloak bore his eyes into me.

"Gothi," one of the younger hunters pleaded, "this man came to trade, lets just finish the hunt and return to the Hof."

"Son, this man is the one the refugees talk about."

Now all their eyes bore into me.

"The Widowmaker?" A girl, maybe seventeen echoed with a brown pony tail.

"You know," the eighteen-year-old or so Stormcloak started, "my mother, my sisters... were in Windhelm when it was taken."

"Were you there?" I snapped, "Because if you weren't then your in for a surprise."

There was a cold smirk in the boy's voice but he had a Stormcloak helmet on, hiding his face, "I heard. The Stormcloaks sent the women and children to Sovengarde. Do you know why?"

I remained silent as the others in his group listened to the man's tale. "Because there are things worse than death like bearing the illegitimate son of one of four Imperial rapists. Or being sold for slaves to die in the deserts of Hammerfell. Or their sons being killed in the gladiatorial pits of Cyrodil. Once the elder men explained it to me it was easier to be at peace with their death than to dream of what horrors they were living in." He unsheathed another axe, preferring dual-wielding, "I'm not letting you leave peaceably, Widowmaker."

"Young man, think on that title, and go back to your family."

The skalls were looking to him to take point and the boy huffed. "They're dead, you snake!"

He lunged at me but I sidestepped his wild attack and grabbed him around the neck when he stumbled. Holding him up as a body bag two of the skalls drew bows. I dug into the man's throat, as he weakly rebelled and I cast an Ebony flesh spell as I was shrouded in shadows. The poison effect swallowed my hostage as I kept pressing my metal fingers into his trachea.

"You sealed your fate in coming here!" The elder skall boomed.

Blood spurt onto my hand. "No, you sealed yours."

Ripping out the Stormcloak's throat I shoved him into his allies and bought myself time to draw my Bloodskal blade. An ice spike from behind me found a new home in one of the two archer's guts and he collapsed, screaming in pain. The old man charged me when I blocked his sword, slit his throat adeptly with the tip of my blade and spun into a power attack to cleave him in half and shoot a red arc at the young men behind him. Kicking him over I went in to carve up the three men in front of me until an arrow was redirected from my head via Ebony flesh.

I cursed and I fell into the dirt as one of the younger men loomed above me. He raised a mace but before he could cave-in my head an ice spike caved-in his. I heard Serana yelp from an arrow as the boy with ice for brains collapsed.

Another boy kicked me down as his partner went for Serana. He fumbled with a knife and got on top of me but I grabbed his hand, dropped the Bloodskal blade and punched him. Once he was dazed I bound a sword and swiped his stomach.

All the strength leaving him he croaked out a cuss when I threw him off. I glanced at Serana who jumped on her foe, biting his throat like a wolf. The boy I gutted stumbled in the woods; and the poor soul left a trail of all a manner of things pertaining to human anatomy in his wake. The only ones left were the archers, the girl one who shot me and Serana was half-carrying-half-dragging her comrade.

We walked up behind her and her wounded comrade cried out. "C'mon I'm getting us out of here!"

That was the last thing she said before an ice spike went through her throat.

She dropped her friend and hit her knees, holding the spike going through her throat. I swatted her weakening hands away and twisted the spike, ending her pain. Serana tossed me my Bloodskal blade and I rolled over the skall boy crawling away from me with my boot, and raised the tip of my blade and-

Stopped.

The boy whimpered, the youngest of the group, looked so much like an older version of my son. Was my mind just making this up? I thought, I've killed younger, the Stormcloak's began drafting teenage girls they were so desperate. Even Tulius, I mentally recalled, with no promises of reinforcements due to the coming war in Cyrodil drafted young people; such was war, the young died for the old. Why then did I stop?

"Serana," my voice cracked, "he reminds me of my son."

The skall coughed blood on me and I couldn't move. Serana came to my side and took my bloody, armored hands, "I can't do it but I can't move. I don't know why!"

Shhhh, Serana cooed and took the blade from my hand and tossed it from us. She knelt down and stroked the boys hair away as she hummed a tune for the boy to sleep, draining his life in the most humane mercy killing I've witnessed in war. She picked up my sword and hugged my side as she walked us back to camp.