The door they left Mercer's study through led to another pathway to the Ratway Vaults. Since Brynjolf knew where they were, he directed Macayla toward the exit since one could quickly become lost. She opened the door to find them in the Flagon's storage room; seated at his usual table and facing her was Delvin Mallory. He nearly choked on his drink at the sight of her.

"Macayla! Mara's mercy! What are you wearin'! An' why are you comin' out of the Vaults?"

She smiled; he hadn't seen her when she left with Sapphire's dress on. Nearly every other man in the Guild though saw her and had to pick their jaws up off the floor. At Delvin's exclamation, Vekel peeked around the corner to see what had him so captivated.

Might as well not leave Dirge out on the show, she thought as she headed for the thief. She walked past the tavern owner, following her every step. She fully entered The Ragged Flagon and smiled at Dirge, turning at the sound of commotion. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

She hefted the heavy bust of the Gray Fox onto Delvin's table. "Compliments of Mercer Frey," she said before she turned to join Brynjolf, waiting at the fake storage cabinet. She noticed that he still tried to avoid looking at her, but his face had drawn taut, offended that others had looked at her. Right before she reached him, Brynjolf turned away and walked through the hidden passageway to the Cistern.

Macayla followed him, trying and failing to prevent the rueful grin from twisting her lips. He was jealous. Warmth unfurled within her—Brynjolf was handsome, strong, levelheaded, steady and a damned good thief, and she knew she had always liked him; sometimes she thought that he felt the same for her.

She only meant to distract Vald dressing like she did, and after she felt disgusting and needed a bath after having his eyes roam all over her. Brynjolf looked at her in shock and she could literally see his desire to cover her up. But the maleness won over and he strained not to drool and tear off what little clothes she had. Because of the tension in his body now, he still struggled to refrain from doing that.

Macayla had known what kind of distraction she would become for him—he at least kept his hands to himself, unlike many others, but she wouldn't have minded his hands if he had. She shook her head; it was wrong to torture him so—she knew what kind of agony a man suffered around such a temptation. Looking the whore would always draw male eyes, but she didn't want to draw Brynjolf's in that way. She much preferred his eyes when they were on her softly, tenderly, like he wanted to hold and cherish her; not when they were glued to her and hot with lust.

They walked into the Cistern and Macayla felt the male eyes turning on her again; it looked like Brynjolf did too. Enough of this enticement—it hurt Brynjolf.

"Go talk with Karliah; I'll go change," she said as she headed for the room she had changed in and where she had left her regular clothes. He just nodded stiffly as he continued straight.

Macayla quickly stripped and donned her normal leather jerkin, leggings, and boots. Being covered up, she felt like herself again. She picked up the scandalous dress and considered it; she had been a good courtesan for Edvar—when she came up with her idea, she thought she could easily slip back into that role. Seducing Vald was easy, but Brynjolf's reaction had made her ashamed for pulling those emotions out of him. She knew he wouldn't force her to lower herself again.

"I'm assuming it worked," Sapphire suddenly said. Macayla looked up to find her propped against the entrance to the tunnel.

She forced a smile as she walked toward her. "Of course; thanks for letting me borrow it." She gave her back her dress.

"You don't seem pleased, though."

She looked at the dress in Sapphire's hands a final time before walking out. "I'm glad I'm not that anymore; I forgot how much I despised catching attentions that way."

"You didn't need this to get Bryn's eyes; you've already had them," Sapphire said behind her.

Her words re-stoked that warmth in her. If Sapphire noticed it, then Macayla hadn't been imagining Brynjolf's feelings for her. She didn't fight the genuine smile this time.

She straightened her features though as she re-entered the Cistern—others might call her out on the giddy mood and ask her about it. She spotted Brynjolf and Karliah over at Mercer's desk and headed that way. Eyes turned back on her, but they easily drifted off—no longer frozen on her.

Brynjolf turned, seeing her approach out of the corner of his eyes. The relief of her being clothed properly was immediate—the tension drained out of his body. He wasn't on guard anymore.

"So?" she asked when she stopped at the desk.

"Mercer's headed to Irkngthand," Brynjolf answered.

Karliah turned to him. "And now the time has come to determine Mercer's fate. Until a new Guildmaster is chosen, the decision falls to you."

"Aye, lass. Mercer Frey tried to kill both of you, betrayed the Guild, murdered Gallus, and made us question our future." His voice grew hard at the end. "He has to die."

Karliah nodded; glad he was on the same page. "But we must be very careful. Mercer is a Nightingale, an Agent of Nocturnal, so we must meet him on equal footing. Just outside of Riften, beyond the southeast gate, is a path cut up into the mountains. At the end of that path is a clearing and an old standing stone." Her eyes switched between Macayla and Brynjolf. "Can I ask both of you to come with me?"

Macayla nodded without hesitation.

"You can lead us anywhere, lass," Brynjolf said.

***

They followed Karliah out of Riften and up a small path winding around trees and boulders. After a while of walking, the path came to a dead end with only a standing stone made of some black stone to look at. A circle had been carved into the standing stone and inside the circle, a bird embraced another circle of blackness.

Macayla admired the strange symbol, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity settle over her.

"What is this place?" she asked.

Karliah gazed up at the tall stone. "This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our brethren. We've come to seek the edge needed to defeat Mercer."

Brynjolf looked at her. "What kind of edge?"

The Dunmer contemplated for a moment before turning to them. "If you follow me, I'll explain on the way."

She turned back to the mysterious stone and pressed some invisible button on it; grating stone sounded from their left. Macayla and Brynjolf looked at the rocky cliff face to find a section rolling away to reveal a plain wooden door.

Karliah looked at them, gestured for them to follow her, then set toward the door. Macayla looked at Brynjolf to see his curiosity, then moved to follow the Dark Elf; she heard Brynjolf behind her.

They entered a tunneled cave sloping downward and around a corner.

"This is Nightingale Hall," Karliah began as she led them deeper. "You're the first uninitiated to step foot inside in over a century."

"I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed," Brynjolf said.

"The assumption that the Nightingales were a myth was seeded into the Guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature."

Silence took over. As the tunnel continued to wind down, signs of civilization appeared in stone pillars built into the walls to keep them up, lit braziers, and waving banners with the same avian symbol as the one on the standing stone.

Karliah began to chuckle. "What's wrong, Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing."

"I'm trying to understand why we're here, lass. I'm no priest and none of us are religious. So why us?"

"This isn't about religion, Brynjolf... it's business." Karliah's voice grew strained.

Macayla thought to get her mind off what they sought to do. "So, how did you become a Nightingale, Karliah?"

Her voice became soft. "It was Gallus who introduced us; Mercer and I were both trained under him, and he trusted us enough to induct us. Mercer, Gallus, and I were known as the Nightingale Trinity." But her mood turned down again. "We disbanded twenty-five years ago with Mercer slaying Gallus and dumping his body into Snow Veil Sanctum."

They came onto a doorway outlined with stone blocks and steps leading down into a room. The room was lit with multiple braziers, decorated solely with more banners of the Nightingale symbol, and discarded beds and dressers scattered about. A wooden bridge stretched across the bubbling stream dividing the room. At one time, it looked to serve as a living room.

Karliah led them across the bridge and down a hallway, ending at a smaller, obviously more ceremonial room: on a raised platform were three stone blocks with a Nightingale banner behind each one.

"Now, if you'll both proceed to don your Nightingale Armor, we can begin the Oath," Karliah said before ascending up to a stone.

Oath? Brynjolf mouthed to her.

Macayla shrugged before joining her on the platform. Karliah placed her hand on the stone, so Macayla headed to the middle one and did the same.

A slight coolness gently wrapped around her as she saw dark wisps swirl around her. Macayla watched, mystified, as the darkness hardened into fitted gloves over her bare hands. When the sensation of weight being molded on her form vanished, she looked down at herself: her usual leather jerkin, leggings and boots were replaced by blackened leather flawlessly curving to her form. Multiple layers of the black leather overlapped each other. She felt something on her head and felt to find a cowl and mask over her nose and mouth.

She looked behind her to see Brynjolf and Karliah dressed the same. The Nightingale symbol set at the neckline held a light cloak of midnight. The cowl and mask cast the face in shadow, and nothing could be seen other than the glint of an eye. The Nightingale Armor was stunning in its simplicity.

Macayla felt Brynjolf's eyes on her in amazement. The only bad thing about the armor was that she couldn't see his green eyes anymore. Karliah considered them for a moment, then began walking toward the next hallway. The enchanted boots completely muffled her footsteps.

They followed her into another room, nothing really more than a wider hallway with the path lined by fiery braziers. At the end, steps led up to a hallway going down to an opening blocked by iron bars.

Brynjolf stopped Karliah about halfway. "Okay, lass, we've got these getups on; now what?"

She turned to them. "Beyond that gate is the first step to becoming a Nightingale."

"Woah there, lass. I appreciate the armor, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed."

"To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs. If she's to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck."

Brynjolf crossed his arms. "What sort of arrangement? I need to know the terms."

"I want to know them too," Macayla added in.

"Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life and death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Aye, there's always a catch. But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose." He paused to mull it over. "If it means the end of Mercer Frey, count me in."

Karliah turned to her. "Macayla; what about you? Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal?"

She nodded. "Yes; I'll do whatever it takes."

"Good. After I open the gate, stand on the western circle; Brynjolf, on the eastern." She turned, and they followed her down to the gate; she pulled a chain, and they withdrew.

They entered a massive cave, lit strangely by the pale light of a moon. Three stone bridges branched out from a center circle to three other smaller circles. All around them, waterfalls cascaded down into the water.

They crossed over the single stone bridge to the main circle, then separated to go to their separate sections. Macayla found the Nightingale symbol imprinted into the circle she stood in. She turned and faced the way she came.

Karliah glanced at her, then at Brynjolf to her left before taking a deep breath, then dropped to a knee; she held her arms out before her as if seeking comfort.

"I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow; hear my voice!"

Nothing happened for a while. Then Macayla felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as a glowing orb of blue and purple appeared above the center circle. The colors all swirled together, making the orb pulsate, looking like it breathed.

"Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?" A woman's voice boomed around them, sounding bored and patronizing. A lot of power hid within her voice. Oddly, Macayla felt like the voice vibrated within her chest, too, like she was the one talking. Nocturnal's voice sounded so familiar.

Karliah dropped down low in a bow. "My Lady, I come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and accept responsibility for my failure."

"You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?"

"I have two others who wish to transact the Oath; to serve you in life and in death."

"You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favor." She didn't sound too surprised.

Karliah's voice became hard. "My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my desire for wealth, your Grace."

"Revenge? How interesting..." Nocturnal remained silent for a moment. "Very well, the conditions are acceptable. You may proceed."

Karliah looked relieved; she stood and placed a hand over her heart. "Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honor our agreement both in this life and the next until your conditions are met."

"Very well." A light-purple glow shined around all three of them. "I name your initiatives Nightingales and restore your status to the same. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again," Nocturnal added, before the glowing orb faded into nothingness.

Macayla stayed rooted to the spot until she saw Karliah move, followed by Brynjolf. She walked across her stone bridge to meet them in the center circle.

The Dunmer took a heavy breath. "Now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the missing piece to the puzzle: Mercer's true crime."

"It doesn't surprise me that he's done more," Brynjolf said.

"Mercer was able to unlock the Vault without the two keys because of what he stole from the Twilight Sepulcher—the Skeleton Key. By doing this, he's compromised our link to Nocturnal and, in essence, caused our luck to run dry."

Brynjolf took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Old Delvin called it a curse, and we all laughed at him. Guess the joke's on us."

"So, the Key unlocks any door?" Macayla asked.

"Not just any door; the Key isn't restricted only to physical barriers. All of us possess untapped abilities, the ability to harness great power, secured away inside. Once you realize the Key unlocks these traits, the possibilities are endless."

Macayla and Brynjolf looked at each other. "So, we're not only up against a master swordsman, but a magic wielder too? Great."

"Sounds like no one should possess it," she said.

Karliah nodded. "Good, you understand why this is more than just Mercer's lust for power. If the Key isn't returned to the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never look up for the Guild. As time passed, our luck would diminish to non-existence. And whether or not you know it, our uncanny luck is what defines our existence."

No one said anything for a moment, the seriousness of their mission seeping into them. "Then let's go," Macayla said.

Brynjolf snagged her arm as she turned away. "Lass, wait, we have to talk about something—the leadership of the Guild."

Speechless, she could only gape at him. "You're not..."

"Why not?" The smile was in his voice. "Thanks to you, Mercer's efforts have been exposed, and the Guild is back on its way to its former strength. You have the potential to replace Mercer as Guildmaster. I can't think of anyone better."

"I agree," Karliah said.

"But me? Why not you, Brynjolf?"

"I've been at this game a long time. I've stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I'm good at what I do; maybe even one of the best, but it's all I know. I've never been one to lead; never desired it. Don't want it."

She slowly shook her head. "No. No, it's not right."

Even though she couldn't see them, she felt his eyes soften. "Lass, everyone in the Guild admires you for what you've done. Maybe they won't come out and tell you, but it's true. And now they knew Mercer never genuinely cared about the Guild. He lacked the loyalty you possess."

She had pretty much just joined the Guild, set out to go kill the current Guildmaster, and now he tried to convince her to run it. It was too much to think about right now. "Look, how about we discuss this after Mercer and the Key is returned?"

Brynjolf considered her words. "Sure, we can do that." He sounded disappointed that she didn't jump up and immediately accept. She wondered why.