"I just need to check one item in particular," Fendros said, sliding out from their blanket. "I'm not sure I could sleep until I do. You stay and rest, I'll try not to take too long."

Fendros brought his palm gently to Ahnasha's head and gave her a kiss on the temple. Then he stood up with a deep breath, exhaling tiredly between his fingers as he made for the door.

The pack's quarters were especially quiet at this time of night. Fendros couldn't shake the feeling that he should already know which book Meesei was referring to. He put the question down to his mental fog and went with the assumption that he would know when he saw it.

Meesei’s quarters had been untouched from the day they had first entered the Hunting Grounds. By appearances, it seemed she must have done some cleaning before they left, as there was little in the way of clutter. Meesei had not been a disorganized person by any means, but given how busy she could be, her belongings could sometimes end up being organized in ways that only made sense to her. At the moment, though, it was almost strangely neat and tidy. In fact, some of her belongings looked like they were already half way to being packed up to move. Her magic research notes, which she had asked in Fendros’ dream to be given to Sabine, were all stacked up together on her table. All of the records and notes she had written on their clans as Champion, she had even packed away into an open chest near her bed.

Given that Meesei had evidently already packed away some of its contents, her bookshelf was looking more bare than usual, but there were still some left on the shelves. Many were mundane, like books on history, foreign cultures, and even a few novels, though there were a few in one corner of decidedly different origin. Meesei had discarded the Black Book she had become so obsessed with years ago, and had never sought to find it again. However, there were some books she had brought back from Apocrypha that she had kept. Apart from their origin, there was nothing inherently magical or dangerous about any of them, but the title written on the spine of one stood out:

Godhunter

Fendros stopped when he first entered Meesei's room. Through the vestiges of apprehension at rifling through her belongings, he could hear just how silent the room was. Silent and missing Meesei herself.

His eyes welled up more tears. He thought he was done with weeping back with Ahnasha.

He took his time slowly pacing around Meesei's desk and looking over the carefully prepared items without touching them, seemingly out of respect even though he and the pack would have to go through them later.

The book titled Godhunter initially took Fendros to thinking someone had placed it there after his speech to the clans after the battle. He spun to the door with his brow low. Just more silence. As he slowly turned to see the book again, he entertained it as Meesei's doing.

He reached for it, took it, looked at its front and back covers, and sighed uncertainly as he opened it to the first page.

Upon initial inspection opening the book, it seemed like it may have been a draft of a biography. There were notes in places, and it was uncertain if it had been published widely. The author was anonymous, and most strangely, the date it was claimed to have been written was still many years in the future. For Fendros, though, the story it told was anything but unfamiliar: it was his. It began explaining his background and history in Cheydinhal, though only for a few pages and in quite general terms. It only grew more detailed once he met Meesei’s pack. It described his packmates, though in terms of their personalities, they did seem more like what they were now, rather than what they were back then. As the story moved through the major events of the pack’s journeys and the progress of the war, it appeared that the author was not someone who had firsthand knowledge, but perhaps had known someone who did.

Regardless, over the course of a few chapters, the book told of much of what he had been through over the years. Many private details were omitted, like Ahnasha’s turn to necromancy, or his rocky reunion with his father. Still, from their terrible defeat in Elsweyr, to their struggles against the soul-tearing gas in the years after, to eventually turning the tide with the assistance of Ariel’s cure, the major points of the story were all there. There was, of course, an entire chapter dedicated to the final battle in the Fields of Regret. It told of the battle from multiple perspectives, including ones Fendros had not yet had time to hear from anyone else. There were pages of what seemed like a firsthand account of one of the soldiers that had been fighting down in the valley, one that might have even been hard to believe had Fendros not been there himself. Alongside the rank-and-file soldiers, there were lycan spirits from the Hunting Grounds, Dwemer automatons and tamed Chaurus, and packs of transformed lycanthropes acting almost as cavalry. He particularly expressed disgust at the undead brought by an Argonian vampire, yet could not help but to appreciate the irony that, later in the battle, the powerful magic of that same vampire protected him from a fireball that surely would have incinerated him. And despite all of that, what the soldier was perhaps most surprised by was how Imperial and Dominion troops had, by the circumstances of the war, been forced to join and fight together. He had clearly felt reservations going into the battle, but he noted how quickly all of those worries had vanished when it came time to face down the Daedric hordes. Against such a foe, it seemed that those political divisions had been as far away as Mundus itself.

Though there was plenty to say about the battle itself, the story did soon focus back onto its conclusion. The author’s source placed great emphasis on the importance of the former Champion’s sacrifice, to use the power of the Staff of Magnus to create an explosion of magical power that could sweep away the Daedra threatening to overwhelm them. There was also, as the author noted, a particular insistence from the source to describe sacrifice of Do’rhajul at the apex of the tower during the final confrontation: the former servant of Vile who redeemed himself by ensuring the Godhunter could reach his prey. Out of all of it, though, out of the arrogance and power of Clavicus Vile, and the clashing of gods between him and Hircine. Out of the cleverness of using Barbas to weaken his other half, and the final, desperate push through an army of summoned Daedra, the author seemed to take the greatest pride in focusing on the Godhunter himself. There were multiple paragraphs dedicated to describing every detail of his final charge to cleave his axe into Vile’s being, from his appearance, to even guesses at what thoughts must have been going through his mind. Not all were accurate, but it set the scene effectively all the same. A mortal, a Champion, leading the charge to bring about the defeat of a god.

There was nothing more in the book after the defeat of Clavicus Vile, yet curiously, it definitely seemed like there should have been. The story cut off abruptly after their return from Oblivion, and upon closer inspection, it looked as if every page afterwards had been ripped out of the book. In its place, there was a folded up parchment: a short note that, unlike the rest of the book, was written in Meesei’s handwriting.

I thought you might prefer to write the rest yourself.

The book seemed impossible. Fendros stood reading for a long while. Two chapters later and he sat down at Meesei's desk to read more. The underground lighting and near-silence of the night left him undisturbed until, through his nodding off, the folded note fell to the floor.

Fendros picked it up, read it, and let his head bow forward, soundlessly chuckling to himself. He could suppose Meesei would not have bothered with her warning if she had intended to give him a glimpse into the future. But that there was nothing else she had seen fit to mention was a comfort.

He ran his thumb over the torn page edges still clinging to the binding. It had been quite the tale over these long years. What he did not expect was to feel a little excited anticipation at what might come next.

He faintly heard another packmate waking and preparing for the day when he drifted off to sleep in his chair.

The first handful of days after the final battle had been busier than anyone in the pack might have wanted them to be. Fendros found himself placed right in the middle of making sure that the Imperials, Dominion, and Hal-Neesa’s followers all took their leave of Blackreach peacefully. Despite having worked together for quite a while now, not a single group present were natural allies with one another. They had all made their deals with one another, but now without the threat of Vile to force them together, time would tell how much weight they put on their promises. There were many important decisions ahead, not the least of which would be the fate of the Blackreach clan itself. Regardless of their attempts to obscure the entrances to Blackreach, multiple factions now knew their location. It would be an important decision on whether they wanted to take them on their word, or to move their clan for safety. They would be giving up a great deal by doing so, but it would not be the first time the clan had to relocate.

Fortunately, there was a moment of respite available for the pack for at least one morning. They had dealt with enough problems that they were able to free up some time to simply spend together. Fendros, his pack, and some of their family and friends, were all having a generous lunch prepared for them and brought somewhere quiet just outside the city. It would be right back to work just afterwards, but for a moment, they could let themselves rest.

It was starting to get close to the time where they needed to leave and meet with the others, though Kaleeth had done little that morning. She had stayed in bed late, long after Janius had gotten up, and she had not so much as even gotten herself dressed yet. She was awake, at least, but all she had done for the last ten minutes was to sit on the edge of their bed, silent in thought. It was not the first day she had done this.

Janius had primarily been making sure Julan was dressed and prepared for their outing while Kaleeth was ruminating. It took him longer than he would have liked to notice that something was wrong. Now, in this which felt like the least frantic moment in days, he pat Julan on his side and said. "You go ahead and see if your brother Rhazii is ready. You know he's a sleepy head."

When Julan took his leave, Janius sighed and walked over to Kaleeth. The crutch she had been walking on stood beside the bed, not yet touched this morning. Janius sat down beside her. "I know that look," he said with a solemn smile. "Something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

Kaleeth looked off to the side in silence for a few moments after Janius sat down beside her. It felt like she stayed trapped in her own thoughts until the silence was just awkward enough that she had to answer. “Sometimes, it feels like everything isn’t even real. This war has just been going on for so long…it’s hard to think of it actually being over.” She answered. That, in itself, was not an uncommon sentiment around the clan, but there was still something more that was clearly bothering her.

Eventually, Kaleeth leaned over towards Janius, though she was still staring off blankly ahead of her. “Sometimes, I think I’m just going to wake up one day and everything will be like it was. Meesei will still be here…I won’t be hurt. And sometimes, I wish it were all true, no matter how selfish all of that is.”

Janius wrapped his arms around Kaleeth as she leaned in. The grief of losing Meesei pressed into his heart, as did the guilt he had hidden over Kaleeth's injury. He wished he could fix it all.

"It hurts," Janius managed to say. "I miss her too."

He breathed long and slow. Then he ran his hand down Kaleeth's arm comfortingly.

"The last time I felt such loss was when I first became a werewolf. When it really sank in, that is. From what I remember, I could see the same in you back when you joined us. What brought me back was what I gained and what I still had. It's a comfort to see our Julan, our pack, and...that I do not need to spend my life without you. Those things are real." Janius smiled. "This picnic today will help that sink in, I think."

“I just…” Kaleeth began, though there was a rather long pause from her. “I realize that things will never be the same. I’ll never be myself again. I’ll always be broken like this. We’ll never have Meesei, and so many others who didn’t come back.”

She shook her head, sighing softly at the thoughts that were pouring through her own mind. “We won, but Vile still took all of that from us. From me. We deserved to be able to be happy. We didn’t provoke him, didn’t do anything, he just…took from us. I’m never going to be able to go run, or hunt, or…well I guess I can still swim, but I won’t be able to live like I want to anymore.”

Janius' smile waned. He pressed his lips together, trying but failing to come up with anything to make Kaleeth feel better. He had noticed Kaleeth's trouble getting used to her missing limb, and similarly seen the despair in clan members with similar injuries.

"I...don't know what to do about that," Janius admitted sadly. Though, a hint of hope remained. "That is how it is today. Tomorrow will be the same, and so on. But we'll not be idle. We shall simply have to find other ways to live well. This life is not over, and it is not done changing, for better or worse." He took a breath, knowing what he claimed was not easy but sincere all the same. "In the meantime, we shall need to do much more swimming in prey-filled waters."

There was silence from Kaleeth for a time. She took a deep breath, her hand gently grasping his. After what seemed like an eternity, there was, for a brief moment, a grin. “I guess we’ll just have to swim on, then. Come on, we…don’t want to be late.”

---

The pack’s outing was being held not too far outside the Silent City, along one of the rivers. It was a quiet spot nestled between two groves of glowing mushroom trees, out of the way of where most of the city’s residents tended to gather, especially now. Fendros’ pack, as well as some of their friends and family would be joining them. All three of the children would of course be with them, and Sabine’s sister, Ariel, had not yet left for home, so she was able to join them.

Ahnasha and Fendros were in the city square, just about to leave to join the others. They would likely be the last to arrive, as Fendros had just finished up with a short meeting with the council that he had no option to get out of. Fortunately, there was nothing to keep them for the rest of the day. “So…” Ahnasha started, glancing away with slight hesitation. “Did you want to ask your father to come along? He’ll probably be heading back home soon enough.”

Fendros emerged from the meeting with a slight hurry in his steps. Though in a much less exhausted state today, he was eager to find some time for family. He greeted Ahnasha in good spirits.

"My father?" Fendros repeated over the daytime noise in the square. But he knew after a second that was what Ahnasha asked. Fendros turned aside and sighed through his nose. The idea had been rolling around in his mind behind all the duties of leadership, unresolved for old fears.

Fendros answered after a moment. "I have not spoken to him on a personal level since before the battle. I really could not tell you how I think he sees us now."

He continued to hesitate.

The pair stood at the top of the stairs just outside the city gates. The elevated position provided a good view of the expanse of Blackreach: obviously a familiar sight by this point, but one that Ahnasha still cherished after the battle they had been through. There had not been assurances that any of them would see it again. “No matter where in the world they’re from, there’s some things a warrior can’t deny, especially when they see them with their own eyes. Someone with true, genuine strength can recognize the same when they see it. Even if he wanted to try to lie to himself about it, he knows who I am, what I can do. I am a true master of Conjuration, and I don’t think he’ll be able to deny me that respect.”

Ahnasha tilted her head, laughing as she glanced over to Fendros. “And you, well, you killed a god with your own hands. If he can’t respect that, he can’t respect anything.”

At first, Fendros did not look so sure. But Ahnasha did make him close his eyes and breathe into a laugh. In that laugh, he thought, and he thought some more when it passed.

Then he spoke out in the direction of the cavernous view. "You're right. He cannot deny that without lying to himself. And even if he did, I cannot fathom how I should be scared of this. I do not need to be scared of him." He slowly frowned. "And I should not put this off for later..."

He hesitated one last time, but clenched and loosened his fist at his side. "Let's find him," he said.

---

Rossarm's guest quarters were generous, considering all the other allies the clan hosted for the battle. He was afforded a room large enough to comfortably walk around a bed, side tables, a bookshelf, desk, chair, a chest, and some other minor amenities besides. Fendros knew this, though he had not set foot inside past the shut door during his father's stay. When he and Ahnasha approached and knocked, it suddenly felt as though their may as well have been Vile's tower inside.

There was a silent moment. A careful shuffling.

"State your business," Rossarm intoned, impatient and muffled by the door.

Fendros felt his heart race. "It's me, father."

Another long pause.

Then the door opened halfway. Rossarm stood with his head bent slightly forward, stony-faced as ever. His red eyes glanced at Fendros and Ahnasha in turn. Fendros noted how tired he looked. Perhaps that was why he did not gurn with disgust at the very sight of them.

In this case, Ahnasha found it easier to stay calm for this particular meeting, which perhaps was not surprising. There was a lot more weight on this conversation for Fendros than for her. In a way, she felt it was encouraging that Rossarm opened the door at all. Part of her had been preparing for the possibility of him sending Fendros away through the door. Still, once the door opened, all that filled the air was a silence that carried the kind of tension that could be cut with a knife. Though, Ahnasha did not let it persist for too long. While the two of them stared at one another, she was in a position to break the ice.

“Good morning, Rossarm. Do you mind if we come in for a few minutes?” Ahnasha asked, simple and polite, but direct. Even after all that had happened between them, she was not showing a hint of trepidation.

Rossarm considered the offer carefully, as far as Fendros could tell. He seemed too on guard to be considered hesitating. But the pause he left did seem unfamiliar.

He gently pushed the door open the rest of the way and turned around to walk to the desk. The room was immaculately orderly. The only evidence he had even lived in it was his already packed bag and writing equipment on the desk.

He turned over a note on the desk and kept his back toward them. The way he moved was so tired.

"Come in," he said.

Fendros unconsciously held his breath and stepped inside.

Rossarm took a breath. "My condolences for your leader."

"...Thank you."

"What do you require of me?" Rossarm finally turned around and straightened his back. Fendros, for the first time, noticed their height was not so different.

Fendros straightened as well. "We are having family and friends for lunch outside the city," he said directly. "I would have you come with us. Not as an order, just..." He pushed past indecision over words under the pressure of Rossarm's look. "Just to have you with us."

Rossarm slowly blinked as if a gust of wind had blown in his face.

Fendros guessed he was not expecting the invitation.

Ahnasha did not expect everything about Rossarm to change, but that one day had done much to her own perspective. There was a lot to hate about the ways he had acted in the past, about how he had treated Fendros, but on that day, it had been them against the armies of Oblivion, and Rossarm had stepped into that willingly. When it came down to it, he was someone who would stand up and act in the face of even an overwhelming threat. He did not make excuses, regardless of how he felt, and that was a quality Ahnasha could respect.

“It won’t be long before everyone moves on, back to their homes. We thought it would be nice to give everyone a chance to get together, without the threat of Vile looming over us.” Ahnasha added, giving a quick glance over to Fendros beside her. There was much she could say, wanted to say, points she could make, but in the end, little of this was about her. If, even after everything, Rossarm rejected them, she would move on with hardly a second thought. This resolution, whatever it ended up being, was about Fendros. Whether he reconciled with his past, or buried it, Ahnasha would be right here to support him through every moment. However it went, though, there was little doubt in her mind that he had the strength to handle it.

Rossarm looked to pay attention to Ahnasha's words, but was otherwise remaining still. The seconds passed between the three and all that moved were Rossarm's eyes, flicking back to Fendros, back to the doorway, and into space.

He took a slow, considered step around and began folding up the paper on his desk. There were words on it written too small to read while he folded, though they were clear and fresh.

Fendros patiently cleared his throat as Rossarm took his time without a response.

Satisfied, Rossarm slid the now small folded note into his pocket and then leaned on the desk with both hands. He sighed a long sigh. "Are you seeking forgiveness, Fendros? Now that you have shown your virtue?"

Fendros confidently and calmly responded. "No, father."

"Then I will not demand you seek it," Rossarm said. "I have learned much more about the man you have become since you returned to our lives. I would see it personally, even as I struggle-" he clamped his mouth shut and held his hand against his pocket. He closed his eyes and silently breathed. "I will be with you today. Then I must return to Cheydinhal. Lead the way."

"Thank you," Fendros risked a small smile. He gave Ahnasha a look of thanks as he headed for the door.

Strictly speaking, Ahnasha knew that the city was far busier than it once was. Warriors from all of Tamriel’s clans had still not left to return home and were living in the city, and camps around it. Not to mention the other factions that were still preparing to make their departure. Still, walking through its streets, it felt almost quiet. Calm. Most of its residents were taking a well-deserved break from training, so there was a certain peace among those who were moving about. The city itself did not feel as much like a military camp as it did before the battle. Instead of soldiers, it was families filling the streets, even if it had been the same people in both cases. Ahnasha had grown accustomed to the repurposed Dwemer automatons they had put to work in the city, so it did feel a bit strange to no longer see more than a spider or two around. From what she had heard, they had lost almost their entire force of automatons in the battle, as they had been put on the frontlines. It was mostly spiders that remained. There were some who were quite upset at the loss, but Ahnasha wondered how many more living, breathing soldiers would have died in their stead had they not been there.

It was not far outside the city where they would be meeting with all of the others. It was a quiet spot near the river, among some of the giant glowing mushroom trees. They could hear the murmurs of conversation ahead of them, just around the bend on the other side of some of the cavern’s larger rocks. Ahnasha slowed down noticeably, giving a look over towards Rossarm. There was a certain question she wanted answered before they all got together, and she imagined he would agree it was something better to talk about now, rather than in the middle of everyone else.

“You know, Rossarm, I do believe Rhazii is someone bound for greatness. That may just be my own bias as his mother, but I think one just has to look at where he comes from to see that potential. And I’ve also seen who you are, at your core, the way one only can when everything is on the line. I think it would be a benefit to Rhazii to be able to get to know his grandfather. To have the chance to learn from who you are. But it is your choice. Say no, and I won't be making introductions.” Ahnasha asked, speaking somewhat softly.