Hollow. Empty. A shell. A husk. Devoid of substance, of thought beyond the festering wound of memories. All was lost; nothing carried meaning.

 

Aithne meandered through the silent suite, wading through a pool of despair so deep, it threatened to drown her. Only her traitorous body and its stubborn insistence on continuing to breathe kept her alive.

 

That and her so-called friends, who came by from time to time and insisted on making her eat and bathe and sleep.

 

She didn’t like sleeping. That’s when the nightmares began, brutal barely coherent flashes of her wedding day played over and over in her mind. Of course, the same thing happened while she was awake, so in a sense, it didn’t matter.

 

Well, and nothing did. There was no substance to the world. There was only pain and loss and despair. Every now and then, the world played a joke and splashed color into life, making it seem as if there was a chance to be something more, to be full and happy. But it was all an illusion, a cruel farce designed to build up that tenuous lie called hope, just so it could rip it all away again, thus opening the pit to an even deeper level of despair than could previously be imagined.

 

Someone knocked at the door. She ignored it, continuing to pace from one end of the suite to the other while her mind chewed on itself. Another knock, then the door opened. Aithne turned with a weary heaviness and was unsurprised to see Brelyna.

 

“Hi. I won’t ask how you’re feeling.”

 

The dark elf looked nervous and Aithne stopped pacing, sighed, and gestured toward the table that still held most of her breakfast.

 

“I ate today.”

 

Brelyna glanced at the table then smiled. “Two bites of bread isn’t really eating. But that’s not why I’m here.” She took a deep breath. “We…know who did it.”

 

“Did what?”

 

A pause. “Killed them.”

 

Aithne blinked. “A dragon killed them. Because I fell down. It was my…”

 

“Why did you fall down?”

 

Another blink. Why had she fallen down? She tried to think back, but her only memories of that day after the wedding blurred together in a jumble of disjointed images. Fire, death, destruction.

 

“I…don’t remember.”

 

“You fell because you were attacked. From behind.”

 

That jostled the memory loose – she and J’zargo ready for the next attack, when fire engulfed her from…

 

…from where? She frowned. “I was on fire.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It wasn’t dragon fire.”

 

“No.”

 

“Then where did it come from?”

 

“That’s why I’m here. We know the answer to that. I’d like you to come see.”

 

Aithne’s mind was awhirl with new thoughts and feelings, none of which she could lock down. She did not trust her voice to speak. It took her several breaths to tamp the miasma down enough to give her friend an answer: a single nod. Brelyna nodded in kind, stepped forward, and laid a hand on Aithne’s arm. The familiar deluge of power rushed over her and, in a blink, they were elsewhere.

 

It was someplace Aithne had never seen. She had expected to end up in a classroom or, perhaps, the Archmage’s suite. Instead, they arrived in a dank room that felt deep underground.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“The midden. It’s under the college. Students have been sneaking down here to party for years. It’s the worst-kept secret of the place.”

 

“I’ve never heard of it.”

 

Brelyna laughed as she led the way through a door. “You were never a traditional student. Had you gone through the usual process, you would have heard all about it. Here we are.”

 

A room – more like a cave, really – opened up around Aithne as she stepped through the doorway. Three figures, two standing, one sitting, were gathered near some large ancient mechanism that sat rusting in the center of the room. As Brelyna and Aithne approached, the picture grew clearer.

 

Onmund and J’zargo stood on either side of a slumped figure whose hands were bound tight and lashed to what looked like a metal handle connected to the machine. As the girls approached, the figure lifted their head and Aithne gasped and stopped in her tracks.

 

“Merks?”

 

He sneered. “Bitch?”

 

Aithne’s attempt at a reply was forestalled by Onmund, who shouted, “Shut up, you murderous bastard!” and slammed Merks in the cheek with his fist.

 

Aithne gasped again as the crack filled the room and Merks’ head snapped to the side. She looked at Brelyna. “I don’t understand. What…”

 

“He tried to kill you and is responsible for the deaths of your family.” Brelyna motioned at J’zargo, who placed a hand (paw?) on Merks’ head and slowly extended his claws until they bit into the struggling student’s forehead. Merks screamed as blood began to ooze from the wounds. “J’zargo saw him.”

 

Aithne’s mind seemed stuck in a swirling pattern of confusion. “He…what? No, a dragon killed them. It was…”

 

Brelyna shook her head. “The dragon’s breath only reached Urag and Chtonji,” Aithne winced as their names were spoken, “because this…excrement tried to murder you.”

 

“Mur…”

 

“Lies!” Merks jerked against the restraints and J’zargo’s claws. “I was nowhere near…”

 

“J’zargo was standing right there. You thought you were clever but J’zargo’s eyes are sharper than humans’ or even elves’. Here is something you do not know about Khajiit – invisibility spells do not work on us. It is why J’zargo always has to ask if the spell worked when J’zargo casts it. J’zargo saw you quite plainly.”

 

Merks paled while Aithne’s brain finally caught up to the conversation. A shock went through her followed by a wave of fury and grief that blotted out all else in the room. She screamed, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??!!”

 

“With ME?!” Merks screamed back.  “What the hell is wrong with YOU?! EVERYTHING is YOUR FAULT!”

 

The statement cut through Aithne’s fury and she paused, but she could not make his words make sense. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I’m talking about YOU! You TRIED TO KILL ME WITH THOSE BOOKSHELVES. You REFUSED DIRECT ORDERS FROM ME! You DELIBERATELY chose MY SPECIALTY in the duel JUST TO SHAME ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE! You FUCKING KNOCKED ME OUT WITH MY OWN FUCKING AWARD! ALL of this just because I FUCKED YOU! Bitch, you were a SLAVE! I had EVERY RIGHT to fuck you!”

 

Aithne opened her mouth, then closed it again. What could she say? Technically, he was right on all accounts. She had been a slave – it hadn’t been her right to fuu blap the shelves. When he had ordered her to go with him when she first met J’Zargo, she had, indeed, refused. And she certainly had chosen his specialty for the duel. Even though it wasn’t so she could shame him. Exactly.

 

Okay, if she was being brutally honest, shaming him had been at least part of her motivation.

 

It was the last part she took exception to. She hadn’t fought him because he had fucked her - it was his right, as he said, and if he had just fucked her like a normal person, she never would have gone to the extremes of dropping a roomful of bookshelves on his head. It was much more about his baby-Sutfu-like way of approaching the matter. His pathetic but earnest need not just to fuck her, but to dominate her.

 

She chewed her lip as she thought, only dimly aware of the stares from the others as they waited for her response.

 

Even the domination shouldn’t have mattered. She had been a slave. If he wanted to chain her up and magically draw-and-quarter her, that was technically his right as well.

 

She wondered, briefly, what Urag’s response to that would have been. He hadn’t felt any attachment to her at that point. He probably would have just been angry about all the blood on his books. The thought made her laugh.

 

Of course, that drew more anger from Merks.

 

“You think this is FUNNY bitch?! YES I tried to kill you! Obviously I didn’t want the others to die, much as I loathed Urag and that hellspawn of yours. That was just bad timing. But HELLS YES I wanted you to die! You should have died YEARS ago! It is what SLAVES who REBEL DESERVE!”

 

Aithne sighed and sat on a boulder, its top smoothed flat from generations of students using it for the same purpose, no doubt.

 

She was tired. So very tired. No matter which way she turned, it was clear she would never know peace. The black pit yawed open beneath her, but it no longer filled her with fear; it beckoned her, whispered sweet promises of oblivion if she would just let go and allow it to take over. She dipped a mental toe and it felt warm, inviting. She wanted nothing more than to submerge herself in it, to lose hers…

 

“Aithne?” Brelyna made a motion toward her but Aithne shook her head.

 

“You know what, Merks? You’re right. On all counts.”

 

An almost physical shock passed its way around the others in the room, including Merks. His surprised expression quickly turned to suspicion, though.

 

“I know I am. What’s your game?”

 

“No game. You are right – I was a slave. Whether I ever should have been is irrelevant. I had no right to antagonize you when you were fucking me in the Arcaneum. I had no right to pull down those shelves. Thank you for teaching me that spell, by the way. I had no right to refuse you. Technically I had the right to hit you over the head in your room but neither of us knew that at that point. I should have done as you commanded.”

 

She took a deep breath as everyone gaped at her.

 

“What do you want, Merks? What will make you finally leave me alone? Will killing me do it?”

 

Merks’ mouth snapped shut as his expression turned from surprise back to suspicion. “It’s what you deserve.”

 

“No doubt. Tell you what. I’ll stand against the wall. You can blast me with whatever spell you want. I won’t fight. I won’t Funnel it, I won’t put up a ward, I won’t resist at all.” She ignored her friends’ gasps and Brelyna’s “Aithne!” “If it kills me, then you get your wish. If I somehow survive, you will swear to leave me alone. And mean it this time, not like your false promise at the duel.”

 

Merks’ expression remained skeptical. “This is some trick. I know it. What are you trying to pull?”

 

Aithne shook her head. “No trick. Here.” She stood and removed her clothes, ignoring the others’ continued protests, then held out her arms and turned in a circle. “See? No hidden protection, nothing. You can scan me, if you want.”

 

Merks’ eyes narrowed and Aithne felt the fuzzy residue of a magical scan pass through her.

 

“See? No active spells. I am just a simple woman.”

 

“There is nothing simple about you. Fine. Tell your jackals to release me. I accept your conditions.”

 

Aithne nodded and motioned toward J’zargo and Onmund. When they hesitated, she added, “Please,” then turned and walked to the wall.

 

When she turned around again, Merks was on his feet rubbing his wrists. A deep scowl twisted his face.

 

Aithne spread her legs and held out her arms, consciously mimicking the pose the chains had held her in, then took a deep breath. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

 

He took his stance and began his cast and Aithne sighed and closed her eye and let go.

 

Here, at last, was peace. All her struggles, all the pain, the torture, the humiliation, the terror, the absolute gulf of despair that promised to overwhelm her as soon as she gave it another chance – it would all be gone. There would be nothing left but a silence so deep, she would not even be aware of its existence. There would be nothing because she would be nothing. At long last, her journey was over.

 

A tear strung down her cheek, but it stemmed not from sorrow, but from relief. When the roaring flames stuck her, she embraced them; while they scalded her body, they purged her soul. The blackness was burned away until all that was left was pure, clean pain that filled every agonized molecule of her being. It lasted for a moment and for an eternity, and then there was only blissful nothingness.

 

 

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