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5: Flight, Footsteps and Failure

The door creaked open and Bragne entered. It was dark, but she had learned to not rely on her fading vision and instead on her impeccable memory of the keep. She knew the shape of the room; a simple bedchamber once but the piles of books within were an ever-changing obstacle, so she closed the door and remained on the narrow carpet towards the candlelight on a cluttered table. Also a red, pulsing glow that was unfamiliar washed over a tall, robed man who sat and stared in return.

"I truly hope this is important," the old jarl said. "T'is poor manners to usher an old woman from her bed. Poor indeed, even for you."

"Look," the man said and gestured with a gold-skinned hand to a large, dark red stone. It was encased in a brilliant golden frame pendant. At least, it was dark for but a moment, then it pulsed and throbbed with a sinister, crimson light.

"He awakens?" Bragne gasped, then cackled. "His greatness stirs!"

"That was my first thought, but I have sensed little directly. I have, however, been reliably informed by the 'sewer rats' that the guest has behaved strangely at the same time as this reaction. This wasn't what I had anticipated, but I won't let this opportunity go to waste; if we can draw more power into her..."

"Indeed. You must!" Bragne peered into the dark stone and her gap-toothed smile grew with the next big pulse of light. "Whatever you need, just ask. I shall have it sent posthaste."

"Unless you have more of her blood, I doubt there's much you could provide. This is promising, but it is tenuous." The altmer tapped a thumb against his smooth chin as his other hand caressed the stone with an affectionate stroke.

"I wasn't expecting a response as strong as this from a thin-blood amulet, considering I couldn't precisely replicate the same attunement as the Amulet of Kings. Especially with the paltry energy in khajiit blood left to spoil for as long as it had, and while I have theories, I would need time to experiment to refine the channelling. Still, while I doubt success, this must be pursued to its conclusion. This is truly an unprecedented opportunity.

"He may not return to us in form, but perhaps she, as an avatar, will suffice... I'll send scouts to observe."

* * *

It was so warm and comfortable.

The raucous chatter had died down to a subtle murmur. Her eyes were heavy. The cold had been drawn from her bones from both the hearth. The mead and the half-way decent spiced fish she'd had for dinner. The book in her hands bumped against the table but it wasn't enough to stop her from drifting off.

Just bliss.

"Meenie?"

"Guh!?" Tar-Meena snapped awake and sat up, only for her back to twinge. She grunted and stretched as her eyes readjusted to the room.

The Bee and Barb was (thankfully) an argonian ran tavern, although there were still plenty of northerners to spoil the simple wooden fisherman shack aesthetic. Several tables had people huddled together in quiet discussion, and Tar-Meena looked at her own company; a doe-eyed whippersnapper of a girl, Dar-Ma, whose scales had yet to dull from the encroaching years of adulthood and her decidedly more mature, if blabbermouthed, mother Seed-Neeus. They were better company than Tar-Meena had expected, but she still pined for the quiet halls of the arcane university.

"You were falling asleep, Meenie," Dar-Ma said.

"I'm well aware, child." Tar-Meena cricked her neck and rubbed her dark hands together, her scales such a dark shade of red that most of her colouration neared black. "And stop calling me that."

"It's just her way, honoured one," Seed-Neeus said as she scribbled in a ledger and tallied up several small pouches of septims. She didn't break her focus as she continued, "you should be pleased. My daughter doesn't usually give out terms of endearment quite so quickly."

"She's welcome to keep them to herself." The elder argonian sighed, then let her glance linger over the girl. Pale green scales and cute as a button on the outside, all sunshine and rainbows within.

Apparently she was a friend to everyone in Chorrol and if not for Seed-Neeus' prim and proper ways Tar-Meena would have suspected that meant Dar-Ma was the town's easy ride. Yet even Tar-Meena's cynical attitude was fast squashed that the girl was clearly just extremely pleasant. The fact she was fast friends with Tar-Meena's two students, Katia and Quill-Weave, was proof of that.

Still too nice, frankly. An argonian should, as their hard scales protect their body, wear their feelings behind a veneer of standoffish caution. Niceness was the root of all gullibility and people always took advantage.

"You can grumble all you want, Meenie," Dar-Ma said with a saccharine smile, "I can tell you're a good person."

"Oh? And how can you be so sure I'm not some necromancer putting on a front? How can you tell I won't butcher your supple body and sew you back together as a dread-zombie?"

Dar-Ma just kept the smile and said, "because Katia likes you, for one. Quiwy trusts you, for two. And despite the curmudgeonly way you act, you still came all the way up here to attend the wedding. You were the one who informed us of their plans, so you obviously cared a great deal."

"Well, Katia and her 'bigness' is still my job, for one," Tar-Meena bit back, thick with sarcasm, "which makes Quill-Weave and her lesser bigness my duty, for two, especially now that they're officially a couple. Oh, and frankly, in any sort of ceremony where alcohol and bad decisions are rife I halfway expected some great calamity to ensue, which is why we're all here, Dar-Ma; my magic, Seed-Neeus' bargaining and banter, and your... whatever it is you do, child."

Dar-Ma continued to ignore the baited jabs and jabbed back, "yet you smiled when they kissed at Mara's altar."

"I'm surprised you could see much of anything while you bawled like a hatchling eager for a histy-teat."

Tar-Meena noted Seed-Neeus' growing scowl but didn't acknowledge it, yet Dar-Ma's grin didn't abate.

"I didn't realise it was a crime to be happy for a couple that have been through some trying times," Dar-Ma said with a dismissive shrug. "At least I'm open about it, rather than spending so much effort denying my own feelings."

Tar-Meena sighed and finally relented; it wasn't worth the time to argue further and her ageing bones were eager for a comfortable bed. She stood and bared her teeth as her back popped and crunched, then even more as she unthreaded her tail from beneath the backrest of the chair. "Well, if you'll excuse me, it's time I retired."

Tar-Meena wished she could say the same for her job if more 'adventures' like this were on the agenda, but she left it at the current definition and walked towards the guest rooms.

A wild, feral scream brought the hushed chatter of the room to a deathly silence. It was loud, piercing and powerful. Then a dead silence.

"What in Talos' name was that?" gasped one customer.

"We couldn't have just imagined it, could we?" said another.

Everyone was dead still for the dead silence.

"Oh well, must have been the wind."

Conversation resumed in the tavern, but Tar-Meena remained still.

Then there was an almighty knock on the tavern door.

The owner, a middle aged argonian man, called out, "we're still open! Come on in!"

"Tar-Meena!" said the screeching voice from outside. "Darmy! Seed-Neeus!" The voice then sobbed and wailed.

Tar-Meena blinked and looked at her companions, who both looked towards the door, but Dar-Ma gasped first and went wide-eyed.

"Quiwy?"

The three all headed for the door, although Tar-Meena beckoned them to stop. "We don't know what's going on and let me remind you that- hmph." Tar-Meena looked at the staring patrons and briefly spoke the argonian tongue, "my apprentices have lost control in the past. Let me go first," she ordered.

Dar-Ma glanced at Seed-Neeus, who nodded to her daughter as she stepped back. The young lady relented but hopped from foot to foot.

The sorceress put to mind an ice bolt spell and opened the door a few inches. She expected the towering figure of Quill-Weave but she wasn't expecting the state of her; she was clutching her wedding dress and blanket for cover with a background of heavy fog. Her matronly frame was especially obvious since Quill's scales were covered in the condensation and glistened from the tavern lights but more unusual was that her sacs had leaked sap.

"Tar-Meena, it's Katia!" Quill cried, her face twisted in sorrow and her cheeks dripped with tears. "she's run off and I don't know what to do!"

Seed-Neeus stepped beside Tar-Meena and peered through, "well, let her in! The poor girl's in hysterics!"

Dar-Ma darted between the more mature argonians, flung the door open and rushed to Quill, who sniffled and picked the smaller girl up. They hugged each other tightly.

Tar-Meena looked behind her as more and more patrons encroached on the dramatic scene, and she hissed at them to back off. She then turned to her companions and said, "let's get somewhere private and find out exactly what on Nirn just happened."

* * *

"How high is it?" Katia asked as they all looked at the vast, flesh-coloured wall before them.

Slut answered, "some say it's, like, as high as the highest mountain. Others say we're as deep as the deepest depravity."

"Nah, that would mean it's based on our fuckhole," Whore giggled. "There'd literally be no way out of that. Even if we tried to crawl out of our own ass, we'd be here until the next era."

"It shouldn't be that deep. This is based on Quill-Weave, right?" Katia pondered. "She's more a fan of fingers, tongues and a little grinding rather than deep penetration. That's more my speed."

"No wonder you get along so well," Slut snickered. "All we're good for is, like, servicing others and getting fucked over."

"Okay, let's get one thing clear." Katia turned and scowled at both of her defeatist doppelgängers. "We are all capable of some pretty impressive things here, okay? Katia Fucking Managan is a hero now, so how about we start acting like it?"

Whore shrugged. "Nah, the only impressive thing we can do is the pineapple and yo-yo trick. When was the last time we did that?"

"Like, when Quill-Weave first saw us at that tavern in Anvil, I think?" replied Slut.

Whore giggled. "Oh wow, can you imagine how big a pineapple we'll need at our size now? I mean, we could probably use a sturdy barrel for the yo-yo."

Katia rolled her eyes, extended her claws, and started to climb the wall. There were no gaps or crevices but the wall was pliable so she gripped the flesh as hard as she could. The whole area shook and a deep rumble echoed through the vast chasm before the wall undulated and threw Katia off.

"What the fuck was that?" she said as she stood.

"Well, duh!" exclaimed Slut. "We're in Quill-Weave's cunt and you're, like, trying to climb her literal insides! Probably a nice tickle."

Katia pressed her hand against the springy surface and induced another rumble. She listened deeply and figured it was a moan; the size difference was so vast that the voice was just deep bass, with the flow of sound echoing around the vast chasm. Katia scratched her neck and thought she felt something, then smirked and snapped her fingers.

"Right, my necklace!"

"The pearl necklace? I could go for a good pearl necklace right now," Slut giggled.

"I know, right?" Whore also giggled.

Katia bit her lip and felt around her neck, then pulled away. She shivered and felt that familiar, normally dreaded sensation of her body growing and she looked down at her duplicates as she finally got some distance from them.

"Not that this hasn't been fun," she said, sardonically, "but fuck you two, I'm out of here." She looked up and still saw nothing, then back down, then admitted, "well, I will be."

"Hey, you can't just take Harlot's body!" Whore called out. "Only guys can do that, and even then only temporarily until they're spent and we're still deeply unsatisfied. That's how it works and we even sometimes get a few septims for our trouble."

"Who's gonna stop me? You?" Katia huffed at them as they didn't come up to her hips.

Whore rubbed her hands together as her ears flattened and said, "well... no. But come on, we're still part of you! You can't leave us behind just because you're all married and big."

"I can and I will. I'm not some drunken plaything any more. I'm not someone to be used and discarded by every fucker and asshole out there!" Katia felt a fire in her belly, so she decided to spit it up. She thrust a thumb at herself and shouted, "I'm doing the fucking now! I'm gonna get big again, I'm gonna make passionate love to my wife, we're gonna go home and I'm gonna..."

Katia stopped and blinked. The fire had forged something within her and she realised what she wanted to do. A goal, but not something as petty as just becoming a mage.

She remembered M'aiq's words then nodded and continued, "I'm gonna become a fucking general in the imperial forces! A magic hurling, axe wielding badass! And I'm gonna be a good partner _and_parent! Me and Quill's kid is gonna be anything he wants to be. And Quill? I don't know what she wants now, but I'll help her make it happen! And you know fucking what!?"

Both of her ankle high twins looked at each other, then back up at her and asked, "what?" at the same time.

"When I've done all of that, I'm gonna buy some land and make my own village! I'll be a mayor, or a chief or jarl or something. Wherever it is, I'll make a home for the people who've helped me instead of just fucked me over. Dar-Ma, Seed-Neeus, Tar-Meena... all of them. I want to give them something back for everything they've done for me." Katia reflected on her words and pounded a fist into her other palm. Just like M'aiq said, she had been dragged along by the things that kept happening to her, but now she had a real, grand goal. Possibly even achievable too!

She just needed to get out of Quill's 'cavern' first.

* * *

Tar-Meena rubbed her snout, then sighed.

"You're telling me that Katia is out there, out of her mind on hist-sap. Okay, I expected worse. We just have to find her and keep her safe until it wears off."

Dar-Ma entered through the damaged wall and Tar-Meena nodded to her as the girl spoke. "The guard said she wasn't moving especially fast but then she suddenly ran and dived into the lake. They also found this on the bank." Dar-Ma handed over a long length of leather rope with a pearl set into a silver pendant, Katia's growth inhibiting amulet, to a look of slack-jawed horror on Tar-Meena's face.

"I- Bu- What-" Tar-Meena shuddered, shook and screamed, "Fuck!! Tre-fucking-mendous!" She paced about with her hands wrapped around her head. "I'll start writing my resignation to the arcane university and prepare myself for the gallows for being party to an international incident where Skyrim got buried beneath a million tons of khajiit ass! IF I- we-" She stammered and seethed before again screaming, "fucking anyone survives!

"Every damn step she takes will be longer than the last! And by the sounds of it, she drank more sap than any non-argonian ever has!" She finally started to calm and the dwemer cogs of her mind spun smooth, elegant and logical. " Okay, she'll probably be alright. That would have been lethal for one of us, But Katia? Her growth may allow her to absorb more and more sap but the healing factor should prevent any lasting harm. But we're still collectively fucked. What do we even do?"

Quill-Weave continued to sob as Seed-Neeus, and in fast order Dar-Ma, hugged the giantess as best they could as she sat against the wall.

Tar-Meena stormed across the room and took in the mess; there was hist sap and female ejaculate everywhere that wasn't covered by wooden splinters and planks from the broken wall. Her eyes narrowed on the sticky and sweet amber substance that had pooled near the ruined bedding and she growled under her breath. Tar-Meena was a thinker and a knower, so she had to use both and she had to be right.

She had left Blackmarsh to pursue a career in magic and otherworldly entities, the daedra and their 'gods', the princes. Beside the more conventional and understood arcane pursuits, she also knew the dangers of dealing in sap and the power it held over the people of the root. Not that she hadn't dabbled before; she was an argonian, after all. Beyond its use in gifting a soul to argonian young it had other unique properties that linked all argonians together by a mysterious force. Sap that Katia was now digesting and was likely now a part of her, which no doubt addled her mind as her khajiiti brain tried and failed to make sense of the argonian collective.

The old argonian sorceress took out an old journal and thumbed through the worn, tired pages; her old thesis on sap and magic and how it interacted, and located an old ritual. Communion. The Great River.

She looked at the puddles of sap, at Quill-Weave's sacs, then at the broken wood and finally grimaced.

"I have an idea..."

Tar-Meena took up a few of the still dry lumps of kindling and threw them in the fireplace, then with a wave of her hands, threw a flame into the pile. Before she even checked that the fire had taken, she cupped her hands and scooped up as much sap as she could and brought it to the growing flames. It trickled through her fingers and between her hands onto a larger plank. She then licked a finger clean of the nectar before she wiped her hands on her robe.

The sorceress knelt by the fire as her mind swam from the sap; a blissful, nostalgic feeling of home, of her people... but she bit her lip and focused.

"I'm probably going to babble and writhe like I'm possessed. This is because I could actually be possessed, but it may be crucial so try not to disturb me." Tar-Meena cast a sideways glance at her kin. "At the same time, if I start choking on my own vomit, set myself on fire or bite off my tongue, you have my permission to wake me up."

"What are you going to do?" Seed-Neeus asked.

"This ritual is designed to allow communion with the hist." Tar-Meena glanced at Quill's swollen belly with a long stare, then said, "but I expect to be interrupted with someone specific."

Specifically, Eyes-In-Stars.

Tar-Meena had read the reports from Quill-Weave about her adventures to the south around Leyawiin. She wrote at length about her interactions with Eyes-In-Stars and the less official tone spoke volumes about an infatuation. At first she suspected romantic, but after learning of Quill's amorous feelings for Katia, it led Tar-Meena to realise it was perhaps more of a mentor/student relationship despite the limited time they spent together.

Beyond Quill-Weave's reports, Tar-Meena had even read about Eyes-In-Stars and his alledged attempt on Emperor Martin Septim's life. How much of that was true largely depended on how far Tar-Meena trusted the word of a known bigot high elf agent of the empire known as Agent Briarbird, a man who would be legend were it not for his secrecy to the public at large.

Eyes-In-Stars, a travelling alchemist and potion peddler besides his almost unknown position as a hist shaman, had helped cure a plague that struck the imperial city. Ever suspicious, Briarbird investigated the argonian but failed to find anything incriminating. When Emperor Septim had learned of Eyes-In-Stars' assistance with saving so many civilian lives from the disease, he and a couple of other alchemists were invited to a celebratory dinner.

Again, Briarbird confronted Eyes-In-Stars as a suspected assassin, but found nothing illegal on him and Emperor Septim refused to allow the altmer to press the issue. He deemed it an insult to a saviour of the city.

After a grand dinner, each alchemist was taken to a private meeting with the emperor and given a boon; expensive rewards that saw two modestly wealthy local alchemists now live in grand estates. Eyes-In-Stars, just prior to his meeting with the emperor was said to have fallen ill, but the meeting took place all the same.

It was only after the argonian had left in a hurry after the meeting that the guards found Emperor Septim confused and pale. A suspected poisoning had taken place and hist sap had been found in the food prepared for the only argonian in attendance. Sap Eyes-In-Stars had clearly ingested, vomited and forced into the emperor, since traces were found on his lips and a handkerchief in his office.

That would have been damning, but the emperor recovered within the hour and refused to say what had transpired. Briarbird assumed the worst and pursued Eyes-In-Stars before the emperor's recovery. It was unknown what exactly occurred, only that both Eyes-In-Stars and Briarbird both entered an inn where the argonian had rented a room, but the inn was burned to the ground soon after. The charred remains of an altmer and an argonian were found.

That would normally be the end of it but hist shamans are almost impossible to kill. If you wound them, they would take partake of water, plants and soil to replace their blood and flesh. If you cut off their head, they would take root and become one with whole fields of plants and bide their time to restore themselves. Age meant nothing, as they would refresh themselves by the hist. Their spirits could latch on to those they had formed bonds with, and when an argonian or their partner gave birth, the shaman would take over the child.

If Eyes-In-Stars was now Quill's child, that would answer a great deal. Quill had produced an absurd amount of sap, no doubt an effect of carrying a shaman. They were all but hist trees in humanoid form and Quill's reaction was stronger than any on record; argonian females outside of Blackmarsh did develop a bust, and certainly they were on average larger the longer and farther from home they were. Quill's were ridiculous by any measure, even despite how they had been reduced from Katia's consumption.

Tar-Meena was a senior mage, one of the most powerful in Cyrodiil, but going against the will of a hist-shaman honestly made her afraid for the first time in decades. But if it was to die by daedric curse-grown khajiit or be driven mad, killed or possessed by Eyes-In-Stars. Tar-Meena figured there was at least a chance to learn something if she kept her wits about her.

She leaned forward over the flames and inhaled the fumes of the hist as they bubbled and cooked, and after a moment of stillness, collapsed.

It felt both nostalgic yet alien... awash in a embrace of the hist, as if floating on a steady but gentle river. All her fears faded as she relaxed and let herself flow.

"Well, hello there, cutie."

Tar-Meena opened her eyes to a plain grey sky. She was half-immersed in shallow water instead of floating in the great river. As she sat up, she felt a presence beside her and brought her hands up and cast a spell.

A spell that fizzled. Or more appropriately, nothing happened as she made the gestures towards a swarthy purple to passionate red spectrum scaled argonian man who smiled at her. If this was him, he wasn't as reported; she had been told of a deep blue argonian with purple accents, complete with deep and dark blue eyes with little flecks like stars on a clear night. Yet while he had some of these features, his colours were decidedly more towards a red tones... Quill-Weave's colours, Tar-Meena noted. His eyes, however, stood out as most damning.

Vibrant yellow. Just like Katia's eyes, although reptilian in style instead of feline. It had to be him.

Tar-Meena felt paralysed and powerless, yet the man took her hands in his, caressed and looked them over as if studying a flower.

"Can I say your hands a rather fetching tone, like a deep and heady cyrodillic red wine or a shimmering, lustrous garnet," he said as he helped her to her feet. "Not that you aren't a fine catch all over, my dear. All that power and beauty, yet so modest in how you keep your gifts to yourse-"

Tar-Meena broke free from her confusion, pulled her hands free and raised them as fists. "Eyes-In-Stars. I won't be taken! I'll fight for my life if I have to!"

Eyes-In-Stars shrugged and raised own his hands, but in surrender. "I yield!" he chortled. "Whatever the good lady wants... I'm sure you have questions. Of course if you'd rather take me in, I'll willingly go anywhere," he said as he spread his arms wide, "if you'll but take me in your arms!"

Tar-Meena balked and stammered as her heart raced; a trick! He was trying to break down her resistance with his... alluring gaze and the way he studied her body, as if she was carved from gold or marble. A beauty instead of the old, frumpy woman she was. She wouldn't be tricked!

"I- wait, are you hitting on me? That's obscene! You're an unborn child!"

"Precocious little scamp, aren't I?" he said with a wink.

Unimpressed, Tar-Meena barked, "I have questions, shaman, and you'll answer them!"

A tree stump sprouted from the waterlogged ground behind Eyes-In-Stars and he sat. Tar-Meena felt the water ripple against her calves and looked down as another had appeared behind her. She was also suddenly aware she was naked, but felt oddly at ease. Just as Eyes-In-Stars was, and his lithe but solid build did little to quell Tar-Meena's flustered state.

"We might as well get comfortable. What can I do for you?" His voice was sweeter than honey, but the sorceress shook her head and collected herself.

"You're aware of Katia Managan and her 'condition', yes?" As soon as he nodded, she continued, "she's partaken of the hist and is out, lost and growing because of your trickery."

His affable front finally broke and he turned serious. "I'd normally debate how a woman enjoying the taste of another is trickery, or how I could be at fault for people being attracted to each other, but you're right. That was partially my doing."

"Then hurry up and explain. The longer this goes on, the harder it will be to correct it."

"Oh, you'll be fine; time here is moving a damn sight faster than... well," he said, gestured to the sky and chuckled, "out there, as it were. But yes, my Ritual of Passing hasn't exactly gone to plan.

"Allow me to explain, and before we start the whole song and dance about me being privy to information you know and I shouldn't; we're co-mingling, my dear, so I've been reading you since you entered."

Tar-Meena glowered and Eyes-In-Stars smirked then offered an apologetic bow. She simply grumbled, "whatever, just say your piece."

"As you wish," he said and cleared his throat. "Since Quill-Weave wasn't pregnant when I propositioned her for her assistance, I am to be born of root within her; no child shall be harmed by my scheme. I will be a child without a father or soul nor true connection to the true hist, destined to die soon after birth unless I take over. I'm also afraid re-attaining my old and burnished spirit will take a lot of sap and my parent's little journey to what I'm guessing was north of the border confused me; my egg hatched inside Quill-Weave, and in the conversion, I accidentally triggered her sacs early.

"She was only supposed to provide the sap at my birth and hungry attention, but her body clearly mistook Katia herself for me; I am partially born of her soul, after all, so when Katia no doubt got a good couple of handfuls (not that I blame her, as I bet Quill-Weave was stunning), it's led to this whole mess. Quite frustrating, indeed." Eyes-In-Stars rubbed his fingers over his chin.

"So that's it? Your plan is over?"

"Oh, no, of course not; more sap can be made, and Katia will be no worse for wear once she digests or purges the hist but she has... impulse issues." Eyes-In-Stars smirked and managed a sheepish chuckle. "I didn't expect her to drink Quill dry, but I guess old habits never fade.

"Anyway, it's not all bad news. The amount of sap she has consumed has let me guide her hallucination a bit as well; she won't have gone far, but of course on legs hundreds of feet long, little strides make a lot of distance. I can't be specific about where she's gone as I'm not in control, but I've tried to direct her upward."

Tar-Meena tilted her head and he extrapolated with, "she's going to try and climb, and in Skyrim there's a lot of mountains, so hopefully she won't have gone far and she should be very obvious. The rest of her misadventure is up to whatever thoughts she encounters from the hallucination, from the surface and present phantoms of thought to her deeper and darker struggles, so do be careful. I believe you're one of the people who can shrink her, so I wish you luck in correcting my mistake and offer my most sincere thanks." He bowed to her, tilted his gaze up and winked.

"Yeah. Thanks for nothing." Tar-Meena sighed, then had a long think. "While I'm here, what was your plan with Emperor Martin Septim?"

Eyes-In-Stars shrugged and said, "I didn't tell Quill-Weave, and she's my mother now, what makes you think I'll tell you? Let me just say that whatever happened to Katia, that curse and how she handled Mehrunes Dagon, as well as what has come to pass since, has interfered with the way things were originally supposed to be. I need to make a few changes, because the results could be catastrophic otherwise. Oh, and don't worry; I already did what I had to with the good Emperor. I suspect he'll be a fine ruler with many years left in his reign.

"Anyway; you should see about finding the good Ms. Managan, yes? Oh, wait, it's Mrs. Managan now, isn't it? I'm glad they got together. Still, helping her will certainly be a difficult task, so I can offer one last bit of help."

Eyes-In-Stars raised a hand and a stone column formed. A column with a cubbyhole at the base. A small bundle of plants formed in the opening and formed a sprout. It looked like a flame within a structure.

Tar-Meena studied it for a moment before she realised it was a depiction of the hearth she had used to commune, and asked, "what about it?"

"The sap you placed on there; take the remnant and consume it," he said, then his brow furrowed, and he snickered. "It will help you in one of many ways, if you'll allow it. I think you'll enjoy the results."

"Thanks, but no thanks, trickster! I have a job to do and I intend to see it through without your machinations or involvement."

"Oh, very well." He stood and clasped his hands. "Just consider it. Please?"

Tar-Meena suddenly gasped and screamed as the stump she sat upon plunged beneath the water and took her down into the depths. The world was naught but inky black liquid for a time.

Candles and lanterns. She was back in the wreckage of the Riften house. Dar-Ma was holding her by the shoulders, cradled on the girl's lap.

"You okay, Meenie?" she asked.

"We have to find Katia. She's going to be climbing somewhere high."

"Oh... that might be a problem," Quill-Weave said as Tar-Meena sat up. The giantess wiped her drying cheeks and nodded to the elder argonian before continuing, "I'm sorry you had to see me like that, I've-"

Seed-Neeus chimed in, "you don't have to explain yourself, dear. You can ask half of the residents of Chorrol what I was like when gravid with my precious Dar-Ma; it's a wonder half of them don't have bite-scars. Poor Otius actually does, much to my shame, when he insisted on trying to help when I was beside myself with the contractions."

Quill smiled at the merchant and gave her a hug, then she looked back to Tar-Meena and said, "if Katia's growing, odds are the only peak tall enough will be the Throat of the World."

"Yes, I somewhat expected that. No matter." Tar-Meena stood, and winced from her ailing back. "and no time like the present."

"I'm going with you," Quill said as she also struggled to her feet and clutched at her belly.

"In your state and phase of pregnancy? Don't be ridiculous," Tar-Meena snapped. "I understand you're big enough to best most any bandit or brigand, but I will not let you risk travelling at night to find someone not fully in control of her actions. Besides, Katia's my apprentice and will always be my duty."

"And she's my wife! I'll-" Quill yelped as her belly writhed and a small foot kicked from the inside.

"I'll go," Dar-Ma said.

The two mature argonians watched, both equally surprised, as Dar-Ma jogged over to her travel pack and produced an unstrung bow, a quiver, an elven short sword and began to strap on some leather armour.

"Young lady, you'll do no such thing!" Seed-Neeus chided.

Tar-Meena added, "Listen to your mother, girl!"

"I'm not leaving your old crusty butt to go out there and possibly get ambushed by thieves, savaged by bears or even smashed by Katia." Dar-Ma expertly set the string of her bow, then wrapped the belt of her quiver over her back. "She's my friend and I owe both her _and_Quiwy my life, so it's time to return the favour." She tested the bow string then slung it over her shoulder and waited by the broken wall.

Tar-Meena couldn't for the life in her muster an argument as she looked into the young woman, still fresh faced and very much a child, yet the sorceress could see it; a small scar around her snout, the soft palm and inner-finger scales were fast developing callouses from both drawing the bow and holding her sword. Her armour wasn't just leather; splints of elven metal were woven in for concealment and showed signs of repeated repair and improvement to the fit. This child wasn't going to stay put; she was both iron willed, steely gazed and had seen battle. If left behind, she would pursue out of sight.

The sorceress smirked and nodded, then approached to follow.

"What's that?" Quill-Weave suddenly asked. All eyes turned to her as she gestured to the fireplace.

Tar-Meena looked at the low flames of the fire and joined in the confusion. A hardened lump of sap that seemed to radiate more light than the fire itself. As if it panicked upon being spotted, it slipped free from the charred wood, clattered along the floor and came to a stop near Tar-Meena's feet.

"Seriously, what is that?" Seed-Neeus asked.

Tar-Meena looked at it, then Quill-Weave and her pregnant belly, then back at the lump. She turned to move on with her mission but something held her back. Tar-Meena gulped, took an alchemical ingredient pouch, inverted it and plucked it up by using the thick leather as a glove. She could feel it through the material; it was warm but not uncomfortably so. She looked at it as it glowed softly inside the pouch and pondered on Eyes-In-Stars' words. Some ancient instinct made her salivate at the thought of devouring it, but resisted the urge.

At last, she turned to Dar-Ma as she strung the pouch to her side and said, "after you, child. Let's go find Katia."

* * *

"Could you imagine how much dick we could get at once by literally having tits bigger than a city? How can normal women even compete?"

"Totally! There's a whole new world of fetishes to use! I heard people say, like, they wanted to be stepped on! Or sat on?"

"Oh, oh! Or insertion! Imagine them squirming inside! Oh! Or... putting people in our mouth."

"And, like, swallowing?"

"Some might, others just want to be kinda licked and suckled on like a hard candy then spat out."

"Imagine how cute those dicks will be when we're that big! Like, I wonder if we can shrink too? Get so small that we get worn like a sausage-skin!"

Katia growled, pinched her brow then slapped her hands over her flattened ears. She wondered why in the fuck she let this sex-mad clique stay with her. Of course it wasn't exactly her choice as they performed the same motion that Katia herself had to remove her amulet and started growing too. Then they caught up when Katia hurled a (fruitless) ball of light upward to try and spot the exit which stunted her growth for a few moments. It was strange that she saw no light but her growth stopped all the same.

Now the two chatty Katia's were back up to her hips and obsessing over the sexual elements of her much maligned curse. Even worse was that the longer she listened to them the more she believed they were her true, if now repressed sexuality. The one that existed before she took Dar-Ma's desire for meaningful romance and female companionship and implanted it over her own.

No, these two had to be tied to the libido she had when drunk; that insatiable monster who would quite literally sleep with anything willing to show interest or offer another drink, only given the lewder scraps of overheard conversations from the people rebuilding Anvil about what they wanted Katia to do to them. Or with them. She couldn't help but remember M'aiq's words about the exotic outsider and couldn't think of a more exotic creature than she was.

That said, She was a one argonian woman now and she had priorities that she wanted to make ironclad, and if they ever shut up and asked her, Katia would shamelessly admit that right now all she wanted was a long, comforting cuddle from her Quilly. Listening to their casual nymphomania was depressing after she had spent so long indulging without knowing how it felt to be respected and loved; it felt good on the inside as well as the outside.

To Katia, it was a vineyard that took decent, hard work to nurture and for the payoff of infinite positive feelings on tap instead of scrounging for enough for just one more glass of short lived pleasure. It was no contest.

Focusing on the task at hand once more, Katia must have been growing for what felt like hours yet no escape was in sight. The frustration made her duplicates all the more obvious and it bolstered her yearning.

Just tits, dicks, asses and cunts. Also feet, crushing and eating people which dug up the old memories and made her feel sick. The nausea turned to the urge to dry heave but instead the bile came out in a different way.

"Will you two just shut the fucking fuck up!?" Katia screamed at them.

They both looked at each other then obeyed. Then both started to sniffle and weep.

"We're sorry, Harlot... uh, I mean, Katia," said one.

"Real sorry. We're just so horny!" said the other.

"Can't you, I dunno... just fuck each other? It would just be masturbation."

Both looked at each other and the tears dried up. Then they grimaced as they looked over each other's bodies.

"Eww, woman on woman action?"

"With no dicks!?"

"That's revolting!"

"No way!"

"Shouldn't happen!"

"Are you actually part of me or not? Me and Quill have fucked plenty of times and it's been outstanding!" Katia let the memories flow once more and the memory of claws and scaled fingers running through her fur, the sound of Quill's moans, the damned feel of that muscular tail pumping her made Katia shiver and gasp.

One of the pair suddenly moaned the deepest, longest and most feral yowl she could. Katia looked and saw one of them covering her mouth, then her twin wrapped a hand around her own pert tit and groped herself, then one another. For a third time they looked at each other.

"Like, we could give it a try."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"

"So, like, let's do this."

Katia didn't watch, but she could hear the sounds of licking, kissing and small gasps and grunts. She sighed with relief at their yammering finally being halted.

Then a tickle in her nethers and the wetness. Her nipples grew erect.

"Oh, fuck, they really art part of me." Katia paced about as the endless flesh wall continued to at least show progress, but the burning between her legs was growing faster than she was in height it seemed. "Shit. Oh, alright. Nothing to kill but time... okay Katia, just like masturbation," she whispered to affirm to herself.

Katia turned about and looked at the tangle of yellow furred limbs as Slut and Whore attacked each other with inexperienced but lustful vigour, and soon started to rub their glistening slits against each other. Katia then cast the smallest spell she had, which let the growing pair catch up to almost the same height, and she fell into the pile as the three identical khajiiti entertained themselves.

* * *

Tar-Meena kept to herself as a rule. She ran the library of the Arcane University well, where she would wrangle the young mages into keeping the Mystic Archives spic-and-span, orderly and a fine place to do research from the lowest apprentice to the most upstanding archwizard. If people were hungry, had a nervous disposition or oral fixation, then they should plan around their meals or take something to calm their nerves in advance, because Tar-Meena refused to let them get their grubby hands on the books or loose bits of nibbled quill pens or other detritus land in her hallowed library.

Everything was in its place. Any stains on the books would find the perpetrator buying a new copy from their own pocket or suffer the consequences. If a copy couldn't be found or if the book was especially rare, then they would be ejected from the guild until they found one. For Tar-Meena, the library was her empire.

Unfortunately, she was also an expert (some would say the expert) on daedra. The effect of the Oblivion sourced curse on Katia and Quill-Weave meant she was the authority on watching them. Emperor Martin Septim himself had asked her to watch after them and help them; they were citizens, they were protectors and they were, as ashamed as Tar-Meena was to admit it, a resource to subdue any rebellion or invasion of the empire. It sounded clinical, but it was true, despite how fond she had grown of them.

This meant the job was so crucial that Tar-Meena had been forced to take up the task. There were rewards, of course; she didn't even know how she would use the money offered and she was glad that Katia and Quill-Weave were good company, however annoying they could be.

It was interesting. It was frustrating. It was exhausting. It was fulfilling.

Right now, it was awful. This was reinforced as Tar-Meena clutched at a heavy gash on her belly and summoned her magicka to heal it; the exact sort of snake-shit she had retired from travelling to avoid.

A bandit camp. Tents, mud, a bonfire and badly equipped but vicious assholes. Tar-Meena was not going to die in such a shit hole of a place.

Dar-Ma leapt over a broken section of fortress wall with a flamboyant flip. Before she landed, she plucked three arrows from her quiver. One now between her index and middle finger, one between her middle and ring and one held in her teeth.

She loosed the first straight betwixt the eyes of one unkempt bandit, flicked her wrist and caught the second arrow in place of the original and launched it into the throat of another foe's neck. The one between her teeth was snagged as she spun, bow held out and she didn't pause her pirouette as she launched it at a spellcaster before he could throw the flame in his hands. Dar-Ma finally stopped.

With a wave of her hand she summoned a ball of light and rushed back around the ruined wall. "You okay, Meanie!?"

"I've had worse!" Tar-Meena snarled and raised her hands once more. A dual axe wielding female dunmer leapt at the argonian only to receive a shard of ice as wide as her arm through the eye-socket. As the dark elf cartwheeled backward from the impact and crashed in crumpled heap, one last man fled before the dark elf even hit the floor and was gone deep in the fog before Dar-Ma could narrow her aim.

The wily sorceress had no such trouble. Another gesture and she saw the flow of lifeforce of her companion and the bandit, who lurked nearby as he tried to hide behind a fallen tree. With a grim smirk she cast a second spell, lifted the log and dropped it on him with her telekinesis. Then she lifted it again and dropped it once more.

Then a third time.

Finally, she ground the bastard into the dirt with the end of the log like a mortar and pestle until the last of the bandit's life-force faded from view.

"Fucking savages."

Dar-Ma darted around the camp and retrieved as many of her arrows as she could, then raided one of the first bandits to fall of theirs before returning to the Tar-Meena's side, They were both breathing heavy but Tar-Meena was more strained.

They stumbled on the bandit camp on the shore of the lake, which they had rounded with the knowledge of Katia's growth combined with the fog-sodden ground in hopes of locating footprints. These criminals must have been disturbed by the giantess' passage as all of them were wide awake and eager for a fight. It was only by poor luck that the two argonians were spotted first and were forced to engage.

Tar-Meena needed to catch her breath, even if she refused to admit it. She panted, "where'd you learn to shoot and move like that?"

Dar-Ma smiled and responded, "well, if you live deep in the woods like I do, you learn to take up the bow to hunt and protect yourself." The smile lost some of its strength. "I taught Quill a lot of what she knows about archery, which leads to your second topic; she taught me parkour while we were together."

"Oh," Tar-Meena grimaced as air refused to fuel her muscles into motion, so she kept talking. "I must say it serves you well. You have my respect, child."

"You're no slouch either, Meenie." Dar-Ma sat beside the sorceress and carried on the compliment with, "you've got a real air of mysticism about you."

"Hard earned and hard learned, young one." Tar-Meena finally stood despite the increased effort. "Are we still heading in the right direction?"

"Yep," the younger argonian said.

"Oh, come on. You didn't even look."

"Don't need to."

Tar-Meena sighed and glowered at her. "Just because I gave you my respect doesn't mean you can sass me, hatchling."

Dar-Ma just pointed to the ground.

Tar-Meena glanced, then gasped.

A massive footprint with extra indentations for khajiit pads. A footprint several times longer than either of them were tall.

The sorceress stepped away and looked at the print end to end and used Dar-Ma's long-legged five foot ten height as a guide.

"That's got to be just shy of thirty feet long, which means," Tar-Meena said, then gulped. "She's at least two hundred feet tall."

"We'll find her, Meenie, and I know we need to act as quickly as we can but_please_ take as much time as you need."

Tar-Meena tilted her head at the contradiction.

Dar-Ma pouted. "Oh, don't give me that look. You're exhausted; you have been since we got here, and you've not slept much. I had no doubts you'd be kicking tail and frying fools alone if you were maybe ten years younger, but if there's one thing I'm known for, it's caring. From every poor unfortunate who lives in Chorrol to every new friend I make, and I look after people. The only reason I haven't told you to go back is because between Quiwy and yourself, you're in better shape for this do-or-die task."

Dar-Ma walked up to the slack-shouldered mage. Despite her moves to resist, the young argonian pulled her into an embrace.

"You have to look after yourself, Tar-Meena. The second we save Katia, if you need anything, any burden you need carried, you tell me and I'll do it."

Tar-Meena sighed and pulled herself away, then muttered, "I'm not dying any time soon if that's what you mean." She cleared her throat and continued, "it's just the rigours of old age come for us all and I was quite content to stick to the Mystic Archives. You're not wrong, though. Ten years ago, I'd be running rings around you, whippersnapper!" She surprised herself as she laughed, then coughed from the rising embarrassment although Dar-Ma looked appeased.

"Come, let's get a move on. We've got to be getting near. Let me renew the spell on you."

The sorceress conjured her magic again; old magic that bolstered a persons mastery of athletics and cast it on both herself and Dar-Ma, and they both took off at a steady jog as fast as anyone else's sprint.

The footprints were evenly spaced for most part, but as Katia grew each was just a little farther away. Tar-Meena knew that the khajiit's growth was exponential; she always grew over a quarter of her height extra per minute, magical interference not withstanding. The bigger she was, the faster she grew.

They had to be getting near the Throat of the World, and they were approaching from the right direction as well; a small village happened to be at the start of the famous seven thousand steps at the eastern base.

Tar-Meena once wondered if, as per the norm, the nords exaggerated the number of steps to reach the top and had a thesis that it was actually seven hundred and forty eight steps, but having seen the peak herself, she wasn't so lucky. Same with her idea that the mountain was around two thousand feet tall, but again that was thrown out as, from sea level, it was about ten times that and more.

Tar-Meena winced at the idea of Katia being as big as the mountain, but the idea of a 29,000 foot khajiit was a very realistic projection which spurred the ageing argonian through her ever encroaching limits.

* * *

"Why isn't this fucking working?"

"You were the one who said it felt amazing, Harlot."

"Wait, weren't we, like, calling her Katia or something?"

"Yes, yes you were, now shut up and keep licking."

Katia wasn't sure what was wrong, but the three khajiit pile was about as effective at achieving orgasm as it was dignified. Clumsy strokes, complaints about taste and accidental kicks to the face were rife and it dawned on Katia that she really had no idea how to please another khajiit. She even struggled to masturbate. The act was almost alien her.

She could guess the likely cause; Katia still had hangups about casual sex. Every day she spent in a relationship built on respect and true attraction, the more she hated her older self; the fact she would drink to suppress her shame, even sleeping with more and more people to get another drink. The stories and rumours that surrounded her back home were a fast way to bring her mood down.

Not that she was especially happy at the moment. Katia was now just as horny as her party and the frustration were doing things to her mind. She kept feeling gusts of cold air blow against her, and she swore she saw a spot of light above, but whenever she looked, it was gone. The ground gave to her weight more and more and the wall, while it still yielded a distant and massive groan, felt like soft soil instead of supple flesh.

Katia extricated herself from the woman-pile, from which Slut and Whore only stopped for a brief moment before they continued their efforts with each other, and tried to come to her senses.

She looked at the vast flesh wall and run a hand over it as slowly as she could, both as an experiment and out of longing. Another distant, booming moan and she decided to apply a little more pressure. The spongy flesh yielded, and after Katia decided she was too small to do any real damage, she dug her fingers in (but decided against extending her claws) and squeezed.

The flesh didn't just give, it tore and... crumbled?

"Oh fuck!" Katia gasped and stepped back out of fear that she had just wounded her lover, only to trip and fall over the writhing mass of yellow limbs as Whore and Slut continued their fruitless sex. She rolled backwards until bent over herself and opened her eyes to see another Katia. A smug and grinning Katia clone who looked down at her with a strong dose of contempt.

"Oh, hey, Courtesan!" said one of the tangled women.

"Shit. It's not what it looks like!" said the other.

"You're not Harlot," Courtesan said as she ignored the other two.

Katia rolled to the side and stood up, took a moment to look at the crumbled flesh in her hand, which lacked any blood and simply looked like smaller chunks of the wall, almost like frozen meat. With a wince, she wiped it off on her thigh, then looked at the new duplicate. Far from the vapid, sex-starved pair, this one held herself with a far more dangerous air. Confident and assured.

Katia replied, "apparently I'm possessing her, but no, I'm pretty sure you're all a part of me. I can figure who those two are," she gestured over her shoulder to the sheepish pair who stood quietly, "since they're my old libido and sex drive in some function. Not sure why I need three representing that."

"Very astute. Slut is your femininity," she said as she pointed to one, then the other, "Whore is technically your libido. Harlot is, or I suppose was, your sense of fulfilment and worth in others, which is probably why you managed to coerce her into going turncoat since you're all about confidence and bonding these days; birds of a feather and all that. But now you're wondering," Courtesan purred as she circled all three of them like a true cat on the prowl, "who is this new one? This Courtesan, hmm?"

Katia scowled at her smug face and responded, "you're a 'closer', right? I figure you're a dominant force here, maybe that part of me that I use when I pin Quill down and eat her out until she's babbling incoherently."

Courtesan tittered. "So very close! Dominance is certainly a part of me. I've instilled this into Slut and Whore so often since we were cursed, but you wouldn't let us indulge very often. We're all from the same dark recesses of those parts of you that you now choose to ignore, although I had my little taste of freedom recently."

Katia looked at the two meek copies, then bit her lip. "You're that itch I've been feeling, aren't you? The urge to not just dominate, but destroy."

Courtesan giggled into the back of her hand. "You're not wrong."

She walked behind Slut and Whore and wrapped an arm around each. While they let her do so, each looked uncomfortable. Maybe even afraid of the woman who, besides her attitude, was exactly the same as them.

"I'm curious. You're all parts I find bad for me. I'd ask where my positive traits are. Things like joy, confidence and the like, but I guess I have to embody those now. So why can't we just be a two woman deal and work this nonsense out?"

"Oh come now, Harlot. Do you think people tie themselves into knots over the good parts of their minds? If we had a chance to talk to our best selves, it would just be an echo chamber. No," Courtesan giggled and gently kissed Slut on her cheek, who held her breath the whole time as if anticipating a bite. "As always, you give your worst parts the most thought. But I agree with you on one thing; it's a little crowded here."

Courtesan's grabbed Whore by the neck, extended her claws and raked. There wasn't even time for blood to spray before the khajiit evaporated into smoke which weaved and wormed in the air. Courtesan smiled and inhaled, which drew the vapours into her mouth. The cocksure cat-woman gasped and coughed a few times, then shivered.

Then in one big surge, she swelled. Her muscles bulged and hardened but rather than diminish her curves they, too, grew from those befitting her old skinny body to the sort of curves Katia wished she had. Courtesan then cried out in orgasmic bliss as she first enlarged to Katia's height, then beyond it. She only finished when Katia came up to her hips. She smiled with long, savage looking teeth and the pupils of her eyes were thin and snake-like.

"I'm that little voice that's tricked you into drinking oh so many times in life, fooled you into more beds than anyone can count and dragged your old name through the mud. The master of your dreams as you grew afraid of your parents being taken away by their duties to their lord because nobody else loved you. That intoxicating fear was my nourishment for so long as your gift for magic weaved terrifying images for so very long, but then things changed.

"I was given power when you happened across that little curse but you_still somehow_ resisted! I seek that again. Frankly, I'm quite impressed and frustrated at your durability and your new ability to call on others for help. Especially of being beaten back by that cunt of a wife of yours as she feeds your ability to be sensible. I regret blessing her with my power."

Katia flinched at the malice directed at Quill, but was still too confused to argue back.

"Need another hint? Or shall we cut to the chase? These days I go by a specific name. One you gave me."

Courtesan sneered and loomed over Katia and spoke in a tone that made the smaller woman shiver. But how it was said was nothing compared to what she said.

"Call me 'The Empress'."

Katia's veins turned to ice and she stumbled backward. The side that had been in charge when Katia rampaged through Anvil and thought long gone, now on the prowl and ready to strike in her own mind just as she had tried to not long after joining the legion. Nothing but a high and mighty monster who sought nothing less than domination for her own pleasure. The persona formed from Katia's old phobia of royalty.

She noticed her equally terrified twin. "Slut, come here!"

The dumb bitch stood still, deathly afraid with her ears flattened back and tail drooped on the floor. She finally looked at Katia, then up at The Empress, and ran into the darkness around them.

"That's fine. You're the real prize." The Empress said with an elegant giggle and began a slow, sultry and hip swaying saunter towards Katia with her claws extended. "It's time to finish what I started back then. To take my rightful place! Not the petty table-scraps your lesser failures provide! I want my empire!!"

Without her height advantage or strong build, Katia attempted to pull from her magic, but again, nothing; not even the sensation of it flowing in her. Just an empty void inside, much the same as the area around her. So she did the only thing she could.

She ran.

* * *

The most recent tracks of their lost friend suggested a five hundred foot khajiit. While at rest, or rather when Dar-Ma re-cast her light and Tar-Meena her speed spell, they could feel the slow and rhythmical quake of the ground from Katia's footfalls. At that size it meant they were still a long distance away.

The old argonian had begun to stagger and Dar-Ma, only a little out of breath by comparison, kept on insisting that she help. Yet pride, with which Tar-Meena was a long-standing acquaintance, was a bitch and she rebuked each offer. Except it wasn't pride; she was trying to put on a brave face at increasingly short odds.

Even as her vision blurred and the cold sapped through her scales, she couldn't even believe in success. All she wanted now was a chair in the warm, cosy common-room of the Bee and Barb inn to await their almost certain doom. Even without the threat, Tar-Meena would honestly prefer a social gathering than anything else in the world right now.

Frankly, deep down, she expected she would die here, so anywhere would be better than this Divine forsaken mountain.

They had made good progress despite Tar-Meena's waning stamina; a brief gap in the low flying cloud revealed a couple of lanterns and a few farms hiding in the fog. Ivarstead. As much as she had struggled already, Tar-Meena's low morale found a deeper pool to dive into when she realised that the slow gradient approaching the village was nothing compared to the spiral trail that led from the foot of the tallest mountain in the empire. Not to mention if the trail was even passable any more, as Katia may have destroyed or buried it in an avalanche or any number of obstacles that could stop them reaching her before she smothered the region.

Dar-Ma, however, simply said, "we'll make it, Meenie. Just... please, let me know if you need help."

Tar-Meena managed an "uh huh" and staggered on; she could read the girl like a book and knew the platitudes and weak optimism were a last line of defence about her shared rising dread. The sorceress cast a stamina recovery spell, which did little against the crushing tide of her full fatigue, then renewed the enchantment on both of their athletic abilities.

At this point they were about as quick as Dar-Ma could run unhindered, but this close to their goal meant observation was more crucial than speed; they would soon have a better idea of Katia's state and might be able to find a solution which was a better fit Tar-Meena's waning endurance.

They passed straight through Ivarstead and didn't stop at the demands of the night watch guards, and once across a bridge the pair finally reached the mountain proper, where grass and dirt paths soon gave to snow and grey stone embedded into the ground.

"Something seems wrong," Dar-Ma said as the trail began to wind about too drastically to allow any sort of speed and snow just a little too slick to risk anything but a brisk walk.

The sorceress sucked in a breath but choked on the frozen fog in a coughing spasm, but eventually rasped, "in what way?"

"We're dealing with a woman who weighs... I don't even know, but we've felt the tremors up until now. I get it's been too foggy to catch sight of her, but why is it suddenly so quiet?"

"I'd normally be inclined to-" Tar-Meena stopped and gagged. It felt like she dislodged a chunk of her lung and it had been replaced with a block of ice. The pain was so bad she stopped dead in her tracks as one hand covered her chest and the other covered her mouth as she fought to control her breathing.

"You're not well, are you?" Dar-Ma stared at the old argonian as she fell to her knees.

"I'm fine... just old." She stopped and cast the stamina recovery spell a few times and finally felt like she could breathe again. She was grateful for Dar-Ma's respectful silence, even as she drew near in case the old sorceress tried to stand, but she remained on her knees and continued, "I suppose too old. I should be minding the library back home with a crackling fire, not..." she took a few sharp breaths and tried to force her lungs to work harder. "Not gallivanting around the ass end of the northern empire in the early hours of the morning, a ways up the tallest mountain in the deepening cold."

"Everything's telling me to carry you back to Ivarstead, but I know I can't," Dar-Ma said, full of sorrow as she shivered from the cold. "... I hate how powerless I feel. I've spent my life doing whatever I can to help the people I care about, yet I know you need to be here, you need to climb this mountain or-"

A low, bass sound similar to a roar echoed across the air.

"Shit... you think that's Katia?" Dar-Ma renewed her light spell.

"I'm both hopeful it is and isn't, but the latter's just me being frightened." Tar-Meena shuddered as she settled onto her knees. "It's funny, despite her size, I've always considered her a very gentle soul, if ignorant and foolish. A good girl, which is a shame considering what she's said about her past and the pressures put on her now. Yet she's the most dangerous entity I've ever seen, even beyond the ken of the daedra." Tar-Meena tried to stand and Dar-Ma wrapped an arm around the elder's shoulder to support.

"I know she's made mistakes but she's trying to do the right thing. I admire her; she's been given incredible power, so much that it's obvious she didn't need to join the legion or help people to get by, she could have just abused her strength and taken what she wanted after being beaten down by fate for so long, yet she chose to help people and stay humble. I pray to the Nine we aren't too late to help her from hurting anyone. She's a good friend and I'm glad I met her, and I'm even more glad she's found love at last."

"That's mature of you, considering your history with Quill-Weave." Tar-Meena took the first long breath she had in a while, "when you deal with matters that harm the heart, especially lost loves, it's easy to turn bitter and cold."

Dar-Ma stared for a moment with her mouth open, lost in thought, then chuckled and said, "ah, it suddenly makes sense."

"What makes- hush," Tar-Meena snapped.

"It's alright! I won't pry, hones-"

"I said hush!" Tar-Meena raised her hands and a crackle of energy burst from her fingertips and she glanced about, stern faced and serious. "Something's here!"

Dar-Ma had barely unslung her bow when a roar made her yelp in panic, immediately followed by a hulking figure that leapt on her and struck her to the ground, then lumbered atop her.

"Dar-Ma!" the sorceress screamed.

The white furred humanoid slammed the girl with two thick arms which landed in a sickening thud against the young argonian's body and yielded a pitiful gasp. Tar-Meena recognised the beast; a frost troll. She summoned forth a bolt of fire, the beast's weakness. It was only a petty spell by comparison to her others. The librarian cursed her caution of learning anything more elaborate out of fear for lighting her books on fire.

The ape-like creature snarled and ignored the pain and just slammed down on Dar-Ma again as its three black eyes glistened from the fire that lingered over the snow-white fur.

Tar-Meena realised she was overthinking and went by instinct. She hurled a surge of lightning at the brute. It struck with enough force to stagger it but the burn wounds were healing before Tar-Meena's eyes, so she conjured another bolt but the monster hammered another devastating blow before the flash of electricity struck the creature in the face.

The impact sent the troll into a spasm as its muscles locked. It collapsed into the powder then it rolled a short distance down the hill and twitched violently.

"Hold on, child!" Tar-Meena gasped as she realised she had spent too much mana for a worthwhile healing spell, merely one for a cut or bruise. Even as her hands touched the girl, the sorceress knew it wouldn't be enough.

Dar-Ma's shoulder was dislocated and forearm was bent at an awful angle. Her snout was visibly dented. Her eyes were sunken and listless and she wasn't breathing; just a sickening gurgle as blood spattered from her twisted maw.

Tar-Meena had healing potions but the girl was in no state to swallow. Instead, the mage pulled a mana potion, tugged the stopper free and quaffed it as fast as she could muster. The surge of power let her summon a much stronger healing spell, and she unleashed the energy into the fragile girl. Bone knitted and scale reshaped.

Then a snarl from behind.

Tar-Meena was swiped at with a clawed hand. A slap of such vicious strength that it flung her several feet from Dar-Ma. The primitive beast, enraged from its fast closing wounds, charged at the prostrate sorceress, who once more couldn't breathe. Her mana was still low and she was too rattled from the strike to take out another potion.

A wild thrust of a clawed hand embedded into Tar-Meena's chest. She couldn't even gasp in pain as icy cold air entered her lungs through a new, lethal vent. Just a whimper and the world became unclear. Death was certain.

Tar-Meena hated when she was right. To die here...

A muffled voice. A kind voice but filled with bile and hatred but the words indistinct. The white figure above her spun and roared as arrows embedded into it's chest, neck and eye with rapid frequency. So rapid and precise that every missile to the face sent it a step backwards. Farther and farther, until with a slip of one of its stumpy legs, it careened out of view down the mountainside.

The kindly saint of a girl descended on Tar-Meena. She gasped at the state of the mage, hands reached but paused as blood filled the sorceress' lungs.

It was over.

Tar-Meena reached up and gently caressed the girl's face. She wished to say she was sorry, to apologise for acting so hostile at times, then for being a burden, but most of all she wished to apologise for failing to help Katia, to leave an impossible task as Dar-Ma would likely now be forced to try and get Quill-Weave to help while Katia continued to grow.

She felt it, as her arm fell loose and lifeless to her side; the great river pulled at her spirit. It wanted to bring her back to the hist tree of her ancestors, to learn from her experience and grow stronger, then respin her soul anew, fresh and unspoiled in reincarnation. She welcomed it. She was so tired.

Dar-Ma's silhouette reeled back in panic, and even as Tar-Meena's mind faded it stood out and seemed strange. A glow appeared, then vanished as she felt something crawl down her throat.

Then blackness.

* * *