Perched on top of a frozen hill was Nightgate Inn, the owner of the smoke rising from a chimney. The drenched, exhausted, beaten, bloody, and freezing Nightingales quickly slipped inside and hurried straight for the inviting fire burning in the center. There was only one person present in the inn and the innkeeper eyed the semi-frozen trio curiously. Brynjolf came up with an excuse of them falling into the lake when the ice broke.

Once they thawed enough where they could feel their fingers again, they asked if the innkeeper had any clothes they could borrow as their armor dried. He found some of his daughters' old dresses for Macayla and Karliah, and some of his own clothes for Brynjolf. They ducked into separate rooms to change, then re-emerged to lay out their Nightingale armor near the fire to dry. They bought some food and ale from the innkeeper and purchased a room for the night.

It remained silent as they recovered their energy through the food and ale.

"Twenty-five years in exile and it's over, just like that," Karliah whispered, still shell-shocked.

"Now you can breathe, lass," Brynjolf said.

She took a heavy sigh. "Not entirely until we correct what Mercer did: now we have to return the Skeleton Key."

"What do we have to do?" Macayla asked.

"It's not going to be simple. When the Skeleton Key was removed from the Twilight Sepulcher, it eliminated our access to the inner sanctum. The only way to bring it back is through the Pilgrim's Path."

Macayla glanced at Brynjolf, knowing that he didn't know what she talked about either, from the blankness on his face. She looked back at the Dunmer. "What's the Pilgrim's Path?"

"The Twilight Sepulcher propagated a group of priests, and this group created all sorts of baseless rituals and ceremonies. One of these ceremonies was known as the Pilgrim's Path, a so called 'test of worthiness'. If a pilgrim completed the path, they would become one with the shadows."

"I take it you've never used the Pilgrim's Path..."

She shook her head. "It wasn't created for the Nightingales; it was created to test those who wish to serve Nocturnal in other ways. As a consequence, I have no knowledge of what you will be facing."

"Is it dangerous?" she asked.

"I can only assume so, or it wouldn't be a test."

"Now, you only said 'you' as in Macayla; we're not going with her?" Brynjolf asked.

"We can travel with her to the Twilight Sepulcher, but we can't go in with her. She's the only one with the Key so she has access." Karliah ducked her head. "And I can't bear the shame of entering the Ebonmere from not being able to protect it. I won't go in until the Key is returned." She looked back up at Macayla. "So, yes, you will be alone."

Brynjolf looked at her with discomfort—he didn't like the idea of her being by herself.

"I can do this," she asserted. "I'll return the Key and you'll meet me inside later. This isn't going to be a problem."

***

The Nightingales were extremely grateful they had found The Nightgate Inn, for they slept like the dead and didn't want to wake early to head for Falkreath, a three day's journey on foot. But they did head off before the sun rose.

Falkreath Hold was primarily heavily forested; not the beautiful golden colors of the Autumnal Forest around Riften, but everything green and thriving. The extreme darkness in the woods though at night made them uncomfortable; they expected some creature of the night, like a werewolf or a vampire, to attack them, and the thick fog hanging in the trees in the mornings wasn't comforting either.

Karliah led them far outside the town of Falkreath through the thick wilderness to follow a path so unused it was nearly gone. The path came up to a dead end at a rock wall, a small stream bubbling past them to a pool, and a single door. Nothing embellished it other than crumbling rock pillars leading to it from the small pool.

Macayla took the lead now, with Brynjolf behind her and Karliah bringing up the end. They went through to a tunnel forced into the cave like that in Nightingale Hall. After descending for a while, the tunnel opened up onto a massive chamber: unshapely rock-pillars and large braziers lined the walkway to stone steps leading up to an enormous semi-circular entrance.

They ogled it as they advanced toward it, but a light blue haze brought Macayla's eyes back down to the foot of the stairs. The further she walked, the more definition the haze took; eventually it took the shape of a man—somebody's ghost.

He took notice of them and walked out to meet them.

"I don't recognize you, but I sense you're one of us. Who are you?" he asked.

"Macayla; who are you?"

"The last of the Twilight Sentinels, I'm afraid. I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what feels like a century."

"Lass, who are you talking to?" Brynjolf asked.

She looked at him to find him staring at her; Karliah looked around them. "Neither of you see this ghost?"

Brynjolf scanned in front of her again before shaking his head.

"It may be because you hold the Key," Karliah suggested.

Macayla turned back to the Twilight Sentinel ghost. "Do you know anything about the Pilgrim's Path?"

"You have the Skeleton Key!" he asked in disbelief. She nodded as she pulled it out to show him.

"I never thought I would see it again. Yes, I know what you have to do to return it. There are five tests on the path: shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark; they wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers. Above all, they stand, vigilance everlasting; beholden to the murk yet contentious of the glow. Offer what she desires most but reject the material; for her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt, or carried. Direct and yet indirect; the path to salvation is a route of cunning, with fortune betraying the foolish. The journey is complete. The Empress' embrace awaits the fallen; hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion."

She tried to figure out the riddles. "Is there a way you could be more direct with your instructions?"

He chuckled. "I'm sorry, that is part of the test—you must solve them yourself."

"Of course." She looked at him beseechingly. "Can you come with me?"

"I would, but my strength wanes from the Ebonmere being blocked from me. My hope that you will succeed is with you. Good luck, Nightingale." He moved off to the side, opening the way up the stairs to the entrance.

"So, what did the ghost have to say?" Brynjolf asked.

Macayla told them of the riddles he had told her; both were just as confused as her as to what they could mean.

Brynjolf sighed heavily. "I didn't like the idea of you going in by yourself in the first place, but going in blind too makes it even worse."

"I'm not going in entirely blind; those riddles mean something—remembering them will help me through the 'tests. I'll be fine."

He still didn't look happy.

"Good luck, Macayla," Karliah wished. She gave Macayla her bow for extra protection since hers broke in the fight with Mercer.

She nodded, kept Brynjolf's eye for a moment longer, then turned straight; after a breath, Macayla headed up the stairs. The other two trailed behind her but stopped on the landing as they faced the opening tunneled into the entrance; further within it curved out of sight. She didn't hesitate to go in; the rocky, uneven walls seemed to grow smaller around her as she reached the curve. Turning, she found a door and lost the reassuring pressure of Brynjolf and Karliah's eyes.

Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark; they wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers, she repeated as she opened the door. She held Karliah's bow ready; from the riddle, it sounded like these sentinels were hostile.

She came into a room with walkways branching to both sides of her and ending at doorways; she stood at the top of the landing with stone steps leading down to the ground floor. There were broken benches and a strange black ornamental statue on the top of a dais; a dark purple and black haze hovered near a bench, outlining the form of a man.

A chill ran up her spine at the sight of him; darkness exuded from him, and she just knew he wasn't friendly. Macayla crept to the top of the stairs as she notched an arrow and shot him in the back.

The ghost emitted a startled cry before its form disintegrated and disappeared. She made sure no other sentinels would materialize because of the noise before descending and moving past the sculpture to the open doorway behind it. As Macayla continued on, she killed three more of the sentinel ghosts—one of them sounding like a woman.

She found another iron door and opened it to an enormous chamber predominately dark. The room may have been bigger if she could see. Large braziers were scattered throughout, providing an omniscient-looking glow. Macayla stepped further in, eyeing the light, and found her unease right from spotting a burnt corpse lying in the light.

Above all, they stand, vigilance everlasting; beholden to the murk yet contentious of the glow.

Immediately realizing that she had to stay in the shadows lest the light burn her, Macayla put up Karliah's bow and set to creeping through the room in the cold darkness. Luckily, because of her cautious advancement, she caught multiple tripwires that could've possibly killed her.

The next door sat at the top of some stairs at the end of the room, but two braziers sat at the foot of the steps—the radiating glows allowed only a sliver of darkness between them. She had to walk sideways to stay in the darkness to get past; both sides of her grew warm in the warning auras of the deadly ambiance. She got through without being scorched and headed up for the next trial.

The door opened onto what reminded Macayla of burial crypts, like those in Snow Veil Sanctum; except there were no bodies occupying the slots. Unnerved, she cautiously tiptoed through, alert for any sounds, pressure plates, tripwires, or traps. Nothing became of the discomforting hallways.

The hallways ended at a dead end with a tall, black statue of a woman lit by two braziers on the walls to the side of her. A dead man was sprawled at the base of the dais she stood on, reaching for the treasure at her feet.

Macayla walked in and admired the statue. The dress she wore hung low to her navel and cut high at her thighs; two ravens were perched on her arms. Her face was thin and impassive, but she was strikingly beautiful—fierce power hid under those high cheekbones. This had to be Nocturnal.

Offer what she desires most but reject the material; for her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt, or carried.

She considered the gold and jewels held before her on a plate like an offering. It wasn't wealth she sought; so, what did she want?

To be unseen.

Macayla looked at the lit braziers; she walked to one, wondering how she could douse it when she found a chain hidden beside it. She pulled it and the light diminished; she went to the other to do the same.

As soon as the room plunged into darkness, the grating of rock sounded out and light opened behind the statue of Nocturnal. Macayla headed for the hidden exit, pleased with herself that she had solved three tests fairly easily.

She entered another hallway and began heading down it when she suddenly stopped—her gut twisted that something wasn't right.

Direct and yet indirect; the path to salvation is a route of cunning, with fortune betraying the foolish.

Macayla eyed the seemingly innocent hallway in front of her. She didn't like it at all, so she looked around for a hidden pathway. She found a locked doorway and unlocked it to find another hallway. Apprehensively, she moved down it; even though she found and had to kill two more sentinels, the pathway bypassed the corridor she just knew was riddled with deadly traps. A thieving-sense she had to guess.

The safe hallway opened up at the end of the hallway she originally began on. She glanced at it to find pressure plates and traps waiting for the poor soul who walked through. She could guarantee there were swinging axes too if she knew those dark slots.

Macayla turned her attention to the iron door. After checking it out for some more traps, she opened it.

She headed down the dark hallway with a slight lightness showing up ahead; it wasn't fire from a brazier or torch, just the lightness of an open space. The opening ended up being a tall but empty chasm; the bottom was a good ten-foot drop. Macayla peered over the edge, looked up, then turned to look behind her.

"Did I miss something?"

The journey is complete. The Empress' embrace awaits the fallen; hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion.

Macayla looked back down into the chasm; she hoped she wasn't wrong as she dropped down into it. The fall painfully jarred her; after making sure she could still stand, she straightened. Nothing was written on the walls; no scratches; no foreign symbols; no suspicious slots or bricks—absolutely nothing.

Her chest warmed where she had the Skeleton Key stored; she pulled it out and admired the power throbbing within it.

Suddenly, the firm ground under her feet disappeared, and she dropped down. She landed into another room—circular in design, an oddly silver illuminated circle dominating the floor and three dark doorways surrounding her. Above her the transparent floor she fell through hardened and disappeared.

A conspicuous slot sat in the middle of the circled floor; she found its shape to resemble the prongs of the Skeleton Key. Macayla bent down and inserted it.

***

As soon as Macayla moved around the corner and out of sight, Karliah moved off to sit on a rock. Brynjolf wanted to go sprinting after her—he wasn't comfortable like the Dunmer at sending Macayla out on her own. Even though Karliah's explanation was vague, and the riddles were confusing, the Pilgrim's Path sounded like it could pose a threat; even possibly deadly.

He had no doubt about Macayla's skills, but she could still need help. He had promised himself after Snow Veil Sanctum that he wouldn't let her go anywhere alone again. Yet here he did just that. Guilt already ate at him. If something happened to her again...

"Brynjolf, you can't do anything for her now," Karliah began. "We can only wait."

"Why can't I?"

"Because the inner sanctum is closed to us; the only one who can pass through right now is whoever holds the Skeleton Key. The doors wouldn't even open for you to follow her."

He sighed heavily in defeat. He couldn't reach her now; he just had to wait for her to open the way again so he could go to her.

"She'll be fine. Nocturnal won't allow anything to happen to her, since she's part of her."

Reminding him about Nocturnal did help a little. "No, she won't." Brynjolf turned and went to join Karliah perched on a rock. He propped up beside her, lowered his Nightingale hood and mask, then crossed his arms, his attention solely on where he had last seen Macayla.

"What do you think of that whole Nocturnal business?" he began. "I know you said you had never heard of her possessing someone, but why do you think she chose Macayla?"

It took a while for Karliah to respond. "I guess Nocturnal needed to get closer to Mercer without alerting him that she was after him, since I failed to do so. But why Macayla? I still don't know. And why does she not know it? I would think that if someone was living inside of me, I would know it. And why did Nocturnal not want us to tell her? Maybe she knew Macayla would have trouble believing it."

Brynjolf didn't think that was the reason; he couldn't help his insides twisting in apprehension that she held some darker purpose. Nocturnal hadn't proven to be evil or cruel, but as a Daedric Lord, they always had their own intentions.

Silence fell between them for a while.

"So, why haven't you told her that you love her?" Karliah asked.

He sighed, mainly in frustration at himself. "I don't know. Everything has just gone out of control: her handling the schemes you left to ensnare Mercer, Mercer's betrayal, all of this, the question of Nocturnal being in her..." He wiped a hand down his face.

"Do you wonder if it's not Macayla, but Nocturnal, you love?" she asked hesitantly.

"No. I know without a doubt I'm in love with Macayla. Nocturnal is too dominant; it's easy to tell them apart."

He saw Karliah nod out of the corner of an eye. "There's no questioning if she loves you. I can see it in the way she looks at you."

Brynjolf smiled. "I had a feeling I wasn't the only one. I bet the whole Guild sees it, too."

Karliah chuckled. "Yes, I've heard."

His mood dropped again, though. "But I don't know why I'm hesitating. Maybe it's a fear of exposing myself to someone. But I know she'll accept me."

"It's hard giving your heart to someone, even when you know without a doubt they love you in return. We were born with us in possession of our own heart and the idea of giving it away is scary, but there's so much relief in the end."

Brynjolf looked at her. "Was Gallus this hesitant?"

She chuckled again. "Extremely, but so was I. You never know exactly how someone will react to you opening up for them, and that doubt of whether they love you will always make someone hesitate. All you have to do is just stop thinking and jump; if they love you just as much, they'll join you in the fall. It's so easy to say but so hard to do, I know."

Karliah straightened out of her blissful smile and starry eyes as she reminisced with Gallus. "But I will tell you this, Brynjolf: don't keep waiting for the perfect time; there's never the right time. You have to make it because you're not guaranteed there will be another time. Lives are taken so easily. I didn't have Gallus as long as I wanted, but I still had him. If we would've kept wavering, we would've never had each other."

Brynjolf thought about her words and felt strengthened by what she had said. As soon as he saw Macayla again, the first words out of his mouth would be that he loved her.

Suddenly, the normal brazier nearest them ignited into dark blue and purple flames. A thick veil of swirling dark blue and purple covered the tunnel Macayla had disappeared down—it looked both solid and transparent. The air around them came alive with energy, prickling Brynjolf's neck hair from an invisible spirit.

Karliah shot to her feet. "She did it! She returned the Key; come on!" She ran toward the entrance. He ran right behind her, and they stepped into the veil.

Instead of the bland tunnel, they stepped out of a doorway, pulsating with the same-colored veil into a circular room, entirely illuminated by a soft blue. Two other similar doorways sat around the room. A pool of purple liquid rested inside a wider circle of silver. And at its edge facing them, was Macayla.

She had lowered her hood and mask; she smiled at seeing them emerge. She looked proud of herself that she had returned the Key.

All of a sudden, though, her smile faltered as her eyes grew dark and blank. Like all life was suddenly sucked out of her, Macayla dropped.

"Lass!" Brynjolf yelled as he ran toward her, hurdling over the strange pool. He knelt beside her and lifted her—her eyes held no light like the dead. He barely noticed the arrival of another presence, extremely dominating. "Lass? Macayla!"

"To be back in your own skin..." a familiar voice spoke above him, feminine but dispassionate and raising goosebumps with the power hiding in her voice.

He tried to shake Macayla awake. "Macayla, wake up! Answer me!" She didn't stir, eyes still staring lifelessly.

"She will not wake, my Nightingale. She is no longer there; she never was."

Brynjolf finally looked up at Nocturnal: she wore a skin-revealing dress with two black ravens perched on her arms—staring at him curiously—and hovering above the purple pool. "What do you mean she never was?"

"The one you call Macayla died before you found her. Her body became a host for my spirit, so I could claim Mercer as mine and return my property. She has outlived her purpose and there is no more need to masquerade as her any longer."

His heart shattered as he gaped at her, speechless. Macayla had never been alive? "She... died?"

No emotion passed over Nocturnal's face. "You never knew what Macayla had been. What you thought was her was me."

He looked down at the still woman in his arms. He couldn't believe it: Macayla and Nocturnal were completely opposite personalities. Brynjolf shook his head. "No; no, it wasn't."

"Nightingale—"

His head snapped up to interrupt her. "No! It wasn't you; I fell in love with Macayla's spirit, not yours! She survived and you're trying to convince me she didn't when my heart knows better! The woman in my arms lived and breathed; you may have occupied her, but she was still present. Proof of that was the fever we paired with the Jarrin poison, but it was her strain fighting against you coming out! Her skills can be an asset to you, and you want her for yourself!"

The Daedric Lord's eyes narrowed; the ravens on her arms flapped their wings from feeling their Mistress' displeased mood and squawked angrily at his impudence. The surrounding air turned icy cold.

Brynjolf clutched Macayla's form to him to keep her from getting chilled, but he never backed down from his staring contest with the dangerous Daedra.

"If what you say is true, kill me now without guilt, so I can be with her." His voice grew hard, and he practically snarled. "But if you can't kill me and you keep her from me, by the Eight, I will renounce my Oath as a Nightingale, forever curse your name, take the Skeleton Key and you will never see it again."

Nocturnal just glared at him; he could swear frost began to freeze his form to the ground. One raven looked at her curiously as the other continued to stare at him.

Because she still wouldn't respond verbally or physically, Brynjolf knew his threat had no effect. Terrified that he would never have Macayla again, tears filled his eyes. "Please, don't take her from me."

Even his quivering plea invoked no response; light shone upward through the purple waters as it swirled open like a portal. The Daedric Lord kept his gaze as she descended into it.

"Nocturnal! NOCTURNAL!" he yelled at her. She disappeared under the waters and the pool gradually calmed.

Brynjolf stared at the pool; how could she be so heartless? Did she not take his threat seriously? He would show her.

He looked down at Macayla's pale face—the beaming smile she had greeted him with was gone, wiped away from her lips with her life. He brushed back some of her hair; even in death, she was so beautiful; so perfect. A tear of his fell onto her cheek—he had waited too long to confess he loved her. Now she would never know that she had been loved and wanted. He would go on with the guilt and regret blackening his soul, knowing that he could never feel love.

The dead weight in his arms suddenly lightened as she took in a breath and blinked; color came back to her face.

Her sudden resurrection was a shock—he prayed he wasn't dreaming. "Macayla?"

Macayla's blue eyes locked on his, much lighter and clearer than before—Nocturnal was gone. Once she realized who was bent over her, he had expected her to be overcome with relief or joy; her eyes hardening in anger took him by surprise.

"You knew all this time and didn't tell me?"

He hadn't recovered from the change. "Wha—what?"

She sat up out of his arms. "You knew Nocturnal was living inside of me, and you didn't say a thing!"

Her head turned and caught sight of the stunned and frozen Karliah—her hands on her mouth in shock. "You too, Karliah?"

Macayla angrily rose to her feet. "I can't believe this! I thought I could trust you both!"

Brynjolf finally snapped out of his taken-back state and got to his feet, too. "You know you can trust us."

"But you both kept something from me; how could I possibly trust you?"

He began to tell her Nocturnal had told them not to when a new voice joined in. "Karliah?"

Brynjolf and Macayla turned to find a light blue specter emerge out of one of the doorways—the outline of a man.

"Gallus!" Karliah cried.

The ghost she called Gallus walked up to her. "My love, I had feared you had been harmed by Mercer and moved on to be by Nocturnal's side."

Karliah answered back, but Brynjolf turned toward Macayla—her face had softened at the sight of the reuniting lovers. "Lass, let me explain..."

Her face re-hardened in an instant. "No; not right now. I want to be alone to think." Macayla headed for the nearest doorway and disappeared behind the dark blue and purple veil.

Brynjolf mutely gaped at where she so hastily departed; he had reached out for her, but his leaden feet hadn't had followed.

Gallus and Karliah had seen her exit and now the Nightingale ghost turned toward him. "Give her time to realize the severity of her brashness. She believes she has been violated; she will eventually see that she was instrumental to success. No one else could've done what she did."

He took a moment to consider Gallus' suggestion; it was hard not to go running after Macayla and explaining his side. She had to re-evaluate everything from her side on what she could now remember.

Brynjolf nodded in agreement, thought to give the lovers some privacy, and headed toward an exit. He went through and immediately re-entered the massive entrance to the Twilight Sepulcher. The braziers still burned with the odd flames. Macayla wasn't in sight.

He thought about just leaving and heading straight for Riften, but he knew he would go looking for Macayla. So, he took two steps down and sat at the top of the stairs. Brynjolf hung his head between his hands as he thought. Nothing had turned out the way he hoped, so maybe it was best for both to spend time alone to recover—they were too raw right now.

After a while of him sitting there and brooding, Karliah materialized beside him.

"Gallus has gone to the Evergloam." Her voice slightly shook with emotion, but she quickly steadied her voice. "Can I walk with you back to the Guild?"

Brynjolf didn't think he could speak, so he just grunted in affirmation as he stood. The two Nightingales left the revitalized Twilight Sepulcher with silence dividing them.