Wind… I can hear the wind.
It's cold… very cold. I'm cold.
Am I alive?
The last thing I remember… I was murdered. I was betrayed… by who? Was it… Mercer? Karliah?
Wait… how is it that I still breathe?
I must move. I must open my eyes.
It hurts… but I don't care. I have to—get up!
Eradros's eyes snapped open to a world of blinding white. The sky above him was a sheet of pale clouds, moving slow and heavy. Wind screamed through the mountain pass, hurling icy flakes into his face. Every breath stung.
He blinked until his vision cleared—and saw a shadow standing over him. His eyes narrowed, trying to make out the figure. The world still swayed, his body heavy and numb. When he tried to sit up, pain tore through his chest and shoulder like fire.
"Ah… so you did survive."
The voice was calm, steady—familiar. "I was beginning to think I'd have to fetch the sheets and rope."
Relief flooded him. The pieces began to fall into place, the haze of confusion clearing. He let out a slow, shaky laugh.
"I never doubted you, Karliah," he rasped.
The Dunmer woman knelt beside him, her hood drawn low, a rag in one hand. She pressed it against the bleeding wound in his shoulder.
"Stop twitching," she said. "You'll only make it worse. You've already bled through the first set of bandages. Honestly, why are men such babies?"
Eradros winced as pain flared. "Says the person who shot me! And what in Oblivion was on that arrow? I've never been poisoned in my life—agh!"
Karliah glanced at him, guilt softening her expression. "My apologies. The arrow was meant for Mercer. I didn't know you were with him. The poison was… special. Took days to brew and there was only enough for one shot." She tied off the bandage with care. "I had to make sure you were out of the way before you got yourself killed."
He could see she meant it. Her hands were steady, her tone sincere. Still, he couldn't resist a smirk.
"Well, next time just yell duck or something, would you?"
Karliah laughed quietly, then moved to tend the deeper wound in his side—the one Mercer had left him. The two of them were back at the camp he and Mercer had made the night before. The fire was cold, the tents half-collapsed. Mercer's tracks led away from the site.
"What were you planning to do back there?" Eradros asked. "Were you after revenge? For Gallus?"
"No," Karliah said, shaking her head. "That wouldn't clear my name. It would only prove their accusations true. The poison was meant to paralyze him—long enough for me to capture him and present this."
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a leather-bound journal, the cover worn but well-kept.
Eradros's eyes widened. "Is that… Gallus's?"
Karliah nodded. "It is. Everything Mercer has done—the thefts, the betrayals, even Gallus's murder—it's all written in here."
"So that's what he was after," Eradros said bitterly. "He brought me as insurance. Once he had the journal, he would've killed me anyway."
Karliah lowered her gaze. "I feared as much. Mercer has always been cunning. Manipulative. I didn't know if he had already turned you against me."
"Not a chance," Eradros said quietly. "I never believed it. You and Gallus… everyone in the guild could see what you were to each other. After he died, the whole place changed. The air felt wrong. It was like death itself had taken residence in the halls. And then I saw it—the aura around Mercer, twisted and blackened. That's when I knew."
Karliah's expression darkened. "He wasn't always that way. We all shared the same purpose once—the Guild, all of us. But greed crept into him, slow and poisonous. By the time anyone saw it, it was already too late. Gallus was gone."
Eradros stared into the snow. "How does someone become like that?"
Karliah touched the pendant on her cloak—a winged symbol etched in silver. Her thumb traced it slowly as she drew a steady breath.
"I'll explain once we're back in Riften," she said. "Brynjolf will need to hear it too."
"Are you sure you can go back?"
"If it were just me, no," she said. "But with you alive—and Mercer believing you dead—we have the advantage. For the first time in years, the odds are in my favor." She smiled faintly, though her eyes were weary. "It's been so long, Eradros. Years in hiding, never sleeping soundly, always expecting a blade in the dark. I think… it's finally coming to an end."
She stood, brushing the snow from her knees. "Can you walk?"
"I can try," he grunted, forcing himself upright. He braced a hand against a nearby rock, his breath misting in the air.
Both their horses were gone. Mercer had taken them.
"This won't do," Eradros said. "We can't walk to Riften in this condition."
"You won't make it far like this anyway," Karliah said.
Then, faintly, came the sound of hooves.
Eradros turned toward the noise, squinting through the falling snow. A shape appeared out of the white—a horse, its almond-colored coat flecked with frost.
"Sasha," he breathed.
The mare trotted toward him, snorting softly. He ran a hand along her muzzle, resting his forehead against hers.
"Am I glad to see you," he whispered. "I thought Mercer might've taken you… or worse."
Sasha grunted as if in answer.
With her help, they mounted and began the long ride back toward Riften. The journey would take days, slowed by Eradros's wounds. They made camp often, speaking little at first, but gradually the silence gave way to conversation—about the guild, about Gallus, and the dark path Mercer had taken.
For the first time in a long while, it felt as though the road ahead might actually lead home.
It was the fourth day of travel, and at last, the city of Riften lay on the horizon—half-veiled in morning fog, its wooden walls framed by the red-gold shimmer of the autumn forest. Only a sprawling manor in the woods stood between them and the road that would take them home.
Eradros rode quietly behind Karliah on Sasha's back, the rhythmic clop of hooves and the whispering wind their only companions. His body ached, but his strength had begun to return. What he couldn't recover, however, was patience. He'd heard every one of Karliah's stories twice over, and though he found comfort in her voice, his mind was restless.
Then—something shifted.
A sudden push moved through the air, sharp and unnatural. Eradros straightened in the saddle, scanning the treeline.
The terrain here was painted in autumn's dying light—trees of crimson and amber, their narrow trunks casting long shadows across the road. The forest floor was a blanket of orange leaves, stirred by the occasional gust that carried the smell of pine and frost.
And somewhere within that peaceful beauty, danger stirred.
"Karliah," Eradros murmured.
"I know," she said quietly.
He tensed. "Are you ready?"
"You can't fight like this," she warned.
"I'll do what I must." His eyes flicked between the trees. "Are you ready?"
An arrow cut through the air, hissing past their heads before burying itself in the dirt.
Sasha reared with a shrill cry. Karliah pulled her to a halt and swung off the saddle, bow already in hand. Shapes moved among the trees—five men, closing in.
"They mean to kill us before we can reach the guild," Karliah said.
"Not before shaking us down for the journal first," Eradros muttered. "Looks like a game of keep-away."
"How many?"
"Five. Two with daggers, one swordsman, one archer—high ground. And their leader… big one. Bruiser type."
"I see him."
The men advanced, fanning out to encircle them. Then the largest of the group emerged from behind a tree—a mountain of a man encased in steel. His grin was wide and cruel as he raised a hand in mock greeting.
"Well, well!" he boomed.
He stepped close and slapped Sasha's flank hard. The startled mare reared violently, throwing both riders to the ground. Eradros hit the earth with a jolt that sent fire ripping through his ribs. He gasped, clutching his side, but forced himself up onto one knee.
"Ah-ah-aaah…" the big man drawled. "Wouldn't make any sudden moves if I were you. My archer's got plenty of arrows to spare."
He tilted his head with a smirk. "Name's Roh'shak, by the way."
Karliah kept her bow steady. "And why are you telling me?"
"Courtesy, I suppose," he said, hefting a massive steel warhammer from his back. "But you're right—pleasantries are beneath us. We're just the men hired to make sure you never get where you're going."
"Figures," Eradros muttered.
Behind her, he crouched low, one hand gripping the clasp of his cloak. The pain in his chest throbbed with every breath, but he ignored it. He waited until the men closed in—five paces, three, two—then hissed, "Now, Karliah!"
He yanked the cloak free and flung it into the air. It billowed wide, blotting the archer's line of sight. In the same instant, Eradros drew two knives from his boot and threw them past Roh'shak. Both found their marks—two men with daggers dropped to their knees, clutching their throats before falling still.
The archer fired blindly through the swirling cloak—but his arrow never reached its mark. Karliah's bowstring sang once, and her arrow buried itself in his chest.
By the time his body hit the ground, Eradros was already in motion.
The swordsman lunged toward Karliah, but Eradros intercepted him, blade flashing. The edge stopped at the man's throat.
"And to think," Eradros said coldly, "a moment ago, your comrades were still alive. What do you suppose your fate will be?"
The Nord snarled and parried the blade aside. He was younger than Eradros, his hair a wild red mane, his armor light and battered. He moved like a wolf—quick, fierce, reckless.
"Smug," he spat. "Too smug for someone fightin' with one arm and broken ribs."
Roh'shak laughed behind him, the sound low and cruel. "That was clever," he said. "Mercer said you were a crafty one. But taking out a few green sellswords ain't gonna impress me. You'll have to be a real animal if you wanna survive this."
Two arrows struck his chest in quick succession, ricocheting off his armor without so much as denting it. Roh'shak looked down at the marks, then back at Karliah.
"You're right," he said. "I was talkin' too much."
Karliah exhaled. "Worth a shot."
"Switch!" Eradros shouted.
Roh'shak charged, hammer raised high. Karliah dove backward, rolling past Eradros. He swept his sword low, taking the swordsman's legs out from under him. Then, using Karliah's crouched back as a pivot, he launched himself upward with a kick that connected squarely with Roh'shak's chest.
The impact barely made the brute stumble.
Roh'shak chuckled. "Was that supposed to hurt, mate?"
Eradros fell back, breathing hard, his side screaming with every movement. The swordsman staggered to his feet, red-faced with fury.
"I'm not done with you yet, pirate!"
He lunged, only to stop short as three arrows embedded themselves in the ground before him. Karliah lowered her bow, calm and unshaken.
"Sorry," she said. "He's a little busy right now."
"Out of my way!" the Nord snarled.
"You're too emotional," she said evenly. "You've already lost sight of what you're here for."
"Shut up!" he roared, rushing her.
His twin blades flashed wildly, slashing in every direction, but Karliah flowed between them like smoke—sidestepping, ducking, her movements effortless. When he overcommitted to a cleave, she rolled forward, sprung to her feet, and drove a sharp kick into his jaw. He reeled back, stunned.
Meanwhile, Eradros was caught in a storm of steel. Roh'shak swung his hammer with brutal weight, each strike splitting the earth where it fell. The shockwaves rattled Eradros's bones, his lungs screaming for air. He couldn't keep this up.
He feinted left, dodging another swing. The hammer hit the ground with a thunderous crack, leaving Roh'shak wide open. Eradros lunged in, blade whirling in a spinning slash. Sparks flew as his sword scraped across the man's armor.
Nothing.
Roh'shak didn't even flinch. He loomed over Eradros, grin widening. The warhammer rose once more, black against the amber sky.
Eradros fell back onto one knee, exhausted, breath rasping in his throat.
Roh'shak leaned down until they were face to face, his voice low and mocking.
Roh'shak leaned in closer, grinning as Eradros struggled to stay upright. "Gettin' a bit winded, are we? That's tough."
Without warning, he swung his hammer. The blow struck Eradros square in the midsection, lifting him off the ground with brutal force. The impact sent him flying backward through the clearing. He crashed into the dirt near Karliah, the air driven violently from his lungs.
"Thoryn… to me!" Roh'shak called.
The swordsman turned in frustration. "But boss, I was just about to—"
"I said, to me!"
Grumbling under his breath, Thoryn lowered his blades and returned to Roh'shak's side. Karliah rushed toward Eradros, kneeling beside him as he struggled to breathe.
"Eradros! Are you alright?"
"Nngh… I'll… live," he managed, though every word came with effort.
Nearby, Roh'shak bent down and picked something up from the ground. He held it up with a pleased chuckle. "Well, well, well… look what we've just gotten our hands on."
Both Eradros and Karliah looked up in shock. Gallus's journal rested in Roh'shak's grip.
"The journal!" Karliah said, stunned. "How did he—"
"Must've fallen when you two took that spill," Roh'shak said casually. "Or maybe during all those cute little flips you dropped it. Doesn't really matter now, does it? Bottom line is we got what we came for. Thoryn… why don't you finish up."
Eradros tried to push himself upright. Pain flared through his ribs and shoulder, making the simple movement nearly impossible. Karliah grabbed his arm to help him, but it quickly became clear he could barely stand.
"This isn't worth our lives," she said quietly. "We should retreat. We'll find another way to expose Mercer."
Eradros shook his head slightly. "Tie my arm up behind my back."
Karliah stared at him. "For what? You're in no condition to fight."
"Do it, damn it."
"We're not going to win this," she argued. "I've been running for years… what's one more day?"
Eradros didn't answer her. He simply sat there, waiting. The determination in his expression made it clear that arguing further would change nothing.
With a frustrated sigh, Karliah pulled a thin leather lace from her wristguard. She took his injured arm and tied it tightly against his waist behind his back. The movement sent a spike of pain through his body, but he didn't complain. His eyes were fixed ahead.
Thoryn approached slowly, savoring the moment. He had wanted nothing more than to kill Eradros ever since Mercer had briefed them about him. Now he would finally prove himself.
"If I knew you were this stubborn, I'd have made two poison arrows," Karliah muttered. "Come on."
"I'm not running anymore."
The sharpness in Eradros's voice made her pause.
Eradros was rarely emotional, even in dire situations. But now something had shifted. This wasn't the calm calculation she was used to seeing from him. This was something deeper.
"Forgive my rudeness, Karliah," he said quietly, taking a breath. "But you misunderstand. My whole life has been running—from the law, from my troubles. It's all been one long marathon."
He coughed, a small amount of blood escaping his lips before he wiped it away.
"That's why I came back. There's someone who needs something more than that from me."
Slowly, he pushed himself fully to his feet. One arm was bound behind his back, while the other lifted his sword and pointed it directly at Thoryn.
"So if I'm going to stop running… what better time than now?"
"Enough talk!" Thoryn snarled. "Let's be about it!"
He rushed forward, both blades ready. Eradros lowered his sword slightly and extended it outward. Thoryn leapt, swinging toward his neck with a vicious slash. The blades cut through empty air.
He landed, confused, only to realize he was kneeling with his back to Eradros.
"Get up," Eradros said coldly.
The command stung worse than any wound. Eradros could have killed him right there. Instead, he demanded the man stand and continue.
They clashed again moments later. Steel rang through the clearing as their blades met again and again. But something about Eradros had changed. His usual measured style was gone, replaced with something far more aggressive. His movements were faster, more savage.
Thoryn's frustration grew with every exchange.
"Dammit! Why won't you die?"
"Stop playing around!" Roh'shak barked. "The guy's got a lame arm for crying out loud. End this!"
Thoryn attacked harder, swinging wildly in his anger. One of his wide swings left him open. Eradros stepped in and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man's chin. Thoryn staggered back, barely keeping his footing.
Eradros pressed forward immediately, launching a flurry of aggressive strikes designed to break his guard. Each time Thoryn tried to block, the force of the blow knocked his blade aside.
"This is the difference between us!" Eradros shouted as he struck again. "Amateurs should stay in their place!"
When Thoryn's guard finally collapsed, Eradros drove forward with a shoulder charge. The impact slammed Thoryn into a nearby tree. His head struck the trunk with a dull crack, and he dropped unconscious to the ground.
Eradros turned slowly toward Roh'shak.
"Well, it appears you're out of dogs, Roh'shak."
The large man chuckled. "I guess you're right… and I don't really like paying for shitty work. Why don't you do me a favor and finish him for me?"
"He isn't worth the stain it would leave," Eradros replied coldly. "But you… are definitely dying today."
He raised his sword again.
Roh'shak's grin widened. "Big words coming from half a man right now. You honorable types are all the same—screaming your ideologies at people who couldn't care less. I don't carry that kind of weight. It's all about the coin for me, simple as that. And that's why it'll be you dying here today."
Eradros lowered his stance. "Say it with the hammer. Talking's over."
He charged.
Roh'shak swung upward with his weapon, but Eradros spun to the side and slipped past the attack. The hammer crashed into the ground with tremendous force, leaving a crater in the dirt. Roh'shak wrenched it free and brought it down again, but Eradros avoided the strike with a back handspring.
"What's with all the dance moves?" Roh'shak laughed, swinging again. "I thought this was an actual fight! I thought you were going to kill me!"
Eradros spun into a slash that struck the man's armor with a loud clang, leaving only shallow scratches. He followed with several more attacks, spinning and dodging whenever Roh'shak retaliated.
The brute slammed his hammer into the ground again, kicking up a cloud of dust. For a moment he thought he had crushed Eradros, but as the dust settled he felt a sudden weight on the handle of his weapon.
Eradros sprinted up the shaft of the hammer and kicked Roh'shak square in the face. Using the weapon as a springboard, he vaulted over the man's head. Roh'shak staggered, disoriented.
Eradros landed behind him and delivered a spinning slash to the vulnerable joints in the back of his legs.
Roh'shak screamed in pain as his legs gave out. The massive man collapsed to his knees, his heavy armor now feeling more like chains than protection. Sweat dripped from his brow as he struggled to catch his breath.
Eradros walked around until he stood directly in front of him, sword pointed at his face.
"What? You gonna kill me now?" Roh'shak sneered. "You couldn't even kill my lackey. Like I said, you honorable types are all the same."
"Your lackey will wake up and choose a different profession," Eradros said quietly. "Hopefully. But you're projecting. Calling this honorable doesn't change what we are."
He leaned close enough to whisper into the man's ear.
"I'm a piece of shit just like you. But at least I clean up my own mess."
Roh'shak snorted. "Is that right? Well, get on with it then. I ain't got all day."
Eradros raised his sword.
"Gladly…"
Karliah could not hear the words exchanged between them, but she saw enough to understand what was happening. Eradros raised his sword to his side, holding it low for a moment before drawing it swiftly across his body. Roh'shak's broad grin faltered, twisting into a desperate gasp. The breath left him in a ragged wheeze as his body toppled forward, collapsing heavily into the dirt at Eradros's feet.
For a moment the clearing was still.
Eradros stood over the fallen mercenary, chest heaving as he struggled to steady himself. The fight was finished. Slowly, he bent down and retrieved Gallus's journal from the ground. It was back where it belonged.
He turned to sheath his sword, but the motion never finished. His knees buckled beneath him. The blade slipped from his hand and clattered onto the ground as he collapsed.
"Eradros!" Karliah called, rushing toward him. "What's wrong?"
She dropped to her knees beside him. His breathing was ragged and uneven, his skin burning beneath her touch. The fight had pushed him far past his limits. His injuries had reopened, and the strain of the battle was finally taking its toll.
"Come on now," she urged, slipping his arm over her shoulder. "You're not dying here… we're almost there. Riften's just up the road."
With effort, she pulled him to his feet. The two of them staggered forward together, moving slowly toward the city. Every step was a struggle, but they kept moving. Once inside the city walls, they still had to reach the Ragged Flagon and the Cistern beneath it. If they were going to clear Karliah's name, the guild needed to hear the truth.
—
Deep within the Cistern, Brynjolf sat behind a cluttered desk, surrounded by scattered reports and ledgers. The information he had been receiving over the past few days made less sense the longer he studied it. Every thread he followed seemed to twist back toward Mercer in one way or another, yet nothing connected cleanly.
The infiltration he had sent Vex on had only complicated things further.
He rubbed his temples, frustrated. Letting Eradros go after Mercer might have been a mistake. The guild was already strained enough without losing another member.
A young thief approached hesitantly.
"Brynjolf… you might want to come see this."
Brynjolf barely had time to rise from his chair before the hidden entrance opened. Karliah stepped through, half-dragging Eradros beside her. They moved slowly, his weight hanging heavily on her shoulders. After only a few steps more, both of them collapsed onto the stone floor.
Brynjolf's expression hardened immediately.
"You better have a damned good explanation for showing up here, traitor."
Karliah struggled to her feet, trying to lift Eradros again. "Please—he's hurt. Can you see to him?"
Brynjolf studied them for a moment before signaling two guild members nearby. "Get him to a bed."
Relief washed over Karliah as the men carefully lifted Eradros and carried him toward one of the cots along the wall. But the moment she straightened up, cold steel pressed against her throat.
Brynjolf stood before her, sword raised.
"Start talking," he said quietly. "Now."
Karliah met his stare. "I am not the person Mercer has made me out to be. I did not kill Gallus. I did not betray the guild."
"Words," Brynjolf replied. "Show me proof."
"I have it."
The weak voice came from the bed. Everyone turned to see Eradros struggling against the hands trying to keep him still as they tended to his wounds. With shaking fingers he reached into his jacket, pulling out the worn journal.
It took every ounce of strength he had.
He tossed it toward the floor beside the bed.
"There… proof," he gasped. "Mercer betrayed me… in the sanctuary. He wanted that journal. He murdered Gallus… because Gallus knew he was stealing from the guild… and killing anyone who got too close."
Brynjolf slowly lowered his sword. He picked up the journal and began flipping through its pages while Vex and Delvin stepped closer to read over his shoulder.
Silence filled the room as Brynjolf read.
Page after page.
His brow tightened with every entry until he finally snapped the book shut in frustration, pressing a hand against his face.
"This can't be real…" he muttered. "Mercer's been deceiving us the whole time. Every bit of it… a lie. Everything he said about Karliah… lies."
He turned toward her.
"I'm sorry I ever doubted you. We believed that story for so long without any answers. It was easier that way."
"I appreciate the apology," Karliah said firmly. "But we don't have time for it. Mercer failed to get the journal, which means he'll move forward with his plan immediately. He can't afford to hide anymore."
Brynjolf straightened. "What are we looking for?"
From the bed, Eradros managed a weak reply.
"Check… the vaults."
Brynjolf glanced toward Delvin and Vex. Both nodded immediately.
The three of them headed for the vault chamber. Delvin stepped forward to unlock the heavy door before Brynjolf and Vex moved inside.
What they saw drained the color from their faces.
The chests were empty.
Every single one.
Only a few scattered coins remained, glinting mockingly at the bottom of the containers. Vex's fists clenched as her whole body began to tremble with rage.
"This whole time…" she growled. "That son of a bitch has been right under our noses. When I find him…" Her teeth ground together. "I'm slitting his throat."
Delvin rubbed the back of his neck. "So… we're already too late then?"
"Not yet," Brynjolf said, opening the journal again. "According to Gallus, Mercer found the Eyes of the Falmer. Every thief worth their salt has hunted for those things. Looks like this is the final stop on his little… be-trail."
Delvin brightened. "Aha! I see what you did there. Be-trayal."
He looked around.
No one laughed.
"Serious moment, right," he muttered. "Um… you were sayin'?"
Karliah stepped forward. "What Brynjolf means is Mercer knows where the eyes are. Gallus discovered it before he died. If we find Mercer, we find the treasure."
Vex cracked her knuckles. "We're going to kill him… right?"
"Easy now," Brynjolf said. "He'll answer for everything he's done. And the coin from those eyes will refill every chest in this vault. In fact…" he smirked faintly, "…he's about to make a very generous donation."
Karliah's expression remained serious.
"This won't be like your usual heist. Mercer is… twisted now. He can't tell right from wrong anymore, and the power he's using is corrupted."
Brynjolf frowned. "Power? What power?"
Karliah hesitated.
This wasn't knowledge meant for the entire guild.
"I'll explain everything," she said finally. "But first we must wait for Eradros to recover. We will need him for what comes next."
"Is it really that important?" Brynjolf asked.
"Trust me," Karliah replied quietly. "Without him, we stand no chance against Mercer."
Brynjolf considered her words before finally nodding.
"Alright then. Everyone out of the vault."
The guild members slowly dispersed, leaving the chamber quiet again.
Eradros would need time to recover—at least a couple of days. In that time, Brynjolf and Karliah would prepare for the confrontation ahead.
Mercer Frey had robbed the guild, betrayed its members, and nearly destroyed everything they had built.
Now, something had to be done.
Two and a half days later…
The sun had long since set over Riften, and the city had begun to quiet as its people drifted back to their homes. Lanterns burned low along the wooden walkways, and the usual drunken chatter from the taverns had begun to fade into the cool night air.
Eradros was finally back on his feet.
After nearly three days confined to a bed in the Cistern, he had stepped outside to stretch his legs and breathe something other than stale underground air. His ribs still ached, and every deep breath reminded him he wasn't fully recovered yet, but he was alive—and that was enough.
Earlier that evening, he had received a strange note written in Karliah's hand. It had been brief and to the point, instructing him to meet her and Brynjolf at a location southeast of the city.
No explanation.
After days of being bedridden, he decided he might as well indulge her curiosity.
By the time he arrived, the night had grown deep and still. The moon hung overhead as he approached what appeared to be the entrance to a cave. Outside stood a large dark stone, carved with a winged insignia.
Eradros slowed as he approached it.
The symbol was unmistakable.
It was the same insignia etched into the blade Gallus had gifted him the night before he left the guild.
Eradros had never known what the mark meant. Gallus had simply handed him the sword and said he'd earned it. Looking back now, the memory carried a strange weight. It had been as though Gallus knew something was coming… that things within the guild would change forever.
He had never said where he was going.
And no one ever saw him again.
"Look who's finally up and walking," Brynjolf's voice called out. "How you feeling, lad?"
Eradros turned to see him leaning casually against a nearby rock.
"I've seen better days," Eradros replied. "But I still draw breath. What's going on out here? Why are we meeting in the middle of the night?"
Brynjolf shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I got the same note you did."
Karliah stepped forward from the shadows, holding a heavy iron key in her hand.
"There is something I wish to show you both," she said. "Something that may be the key to stopping Mercer."
Eradros glanced toward the cave entrance again.
"And what exactly is this place?" he asked. "And why does that symbol match the one on the sword Gallus gave me?"
Karliah placed the key into the lock.
"This… is Nightingale Hall."
Eradros blinked. "You mean Gallus… was a Nightingale?"
Brynjolf frowned. "Wait a moment… Nightingales? I thought those were just legends."
Karliah pushed the door open. "I assure you they are anything but. Come. I'll explain inside."
The three of them stepped into the cave.
Inside lay what looked like the abandoned sanctuary of a forgotten order. Beds, chests, and old furnishings were scattered throughout the cavern. Tattered banners bearing the Nightingale insignia hung from the walls, and training areas and long tables hinted that this had once been a place of refuge.
But time had not been kind to it.
Dust coated nearly every surface, and much of the furniture had begun to rot or collapse. It looked as though no one had lived here for years.
Karliah moved ahead of them, lighting torches along the walls as they went deeper into the cavern.
Eventually they reached a large circular chamber. The floor had been carved away to form a recessed center, and in the middle stood a tall pillar bearing the Nightingale insignia. Three narrow walkways extended outward from it, each leading to a smaller stone pillar.
Karliah turned to face them.
"Are either of you familiar with the legend of the Nightingales?"
Eradros nodded slightly. "They're said to be the children of Nocturnal. Blessed by the night… or that's the way the story goes."
"Correct."
Brynjolf crossed his arms. "And what does that have to do with us stopping Mercer?"
Karliah took a breath.
"Gallus, Mercer… and I were Nightingales."
Eradros stared at her. "Wait—Mercer too?"
Brynjolf's expression darkened. "Is this the twisted power you mentioned?"
"Precisely," Karliah said. "But there's no time to explain everything. Each of you take a pillar. Then we can begin."
They hesitated, but eventually stepped onto the three smaller pillars surrounding the center.
Karliah stood on the last one and raised her voice.
"I call upon you, Nocturnal—Queen of Murk, Empress of Shadow. Hear my call!"
Brynjolf and Eradros exchanged confused looks across the chamber.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the air above the central pillar began to shimmer.
A strange light gathered in the darkness, swirling and growing until it formed a bright, glowing orb above the Nightingale insignia. It floated in the center of the chamber like a pale moon suspended in a sea of shadow.
Moments later, a voice echoed through the room.
"Ah… Karliah. I was beginning to wonder where you had run off to. I had hoped it was to retrieve something very important. My key… perhaps?"
Karliah bowed her head.
"Forgive me. Gallus and I… we did not see the signs. Mercer is no longer the servant he once was. He has become something else. I have come to throw myself upon your mercy—and to make an offering… if you would have it."
"Your soul already belongs to me forever, child," the voice replied. "What more could you possibly offer?"
Karliah lifted her gaze.
"Would two more suffice, your grace? To serve you in life… and death."
The glowing orb drifted slowly toward Brynjolf and Eradros, as though studying them.
"Hm… I do enjoy new souls," the voice mused. "This one has a stalwart heart."
The orb hovered near Brynjolf for a moment before drifting toward Eradros.
"And this one…"
The light brightened around his face.
"His is a soul worth all the riches in the world."
Eradros frowned. "What… what does she mean by that?"
"You may speak directly to me, child," the voice said. "I do not bite. I admire a man who wishes to become greater than what he is. Born to a low lot in life, yet you have tasted fortunes beyond most men's dreams. Yes… you will do nicely."
The orb returned to the center of the chamber.
"Well then," Nocturnal continued. "What say you both? Will you serve me in life… and death… in exchange for my blessing?"
Brynjolf shrugged lightly. "I don't know much about the afterlife. Never been the philosophical type. But it's my job to see the guild put back to rights. If this is what it takes… then I'm in."
"And what about you, pirate?" the voice asked.
Eradros remained silent for a moment.
"I'm bringing you your precious key… and Mercer's head," he said finally. "That should be payment enough. My soul remains my own."
The chamber fell quiet.
Karliah's stomach tightened as she glanced upward, worried Eradros had spoken too boldly.
"You're an arrogant one, aren't you?" Nocturnal said at last.
"Your grace—" Karliah began.
"Unnecessary," the voice interrupted. "He does make a fair point."
Karliah blinked. "I… don't understand."
"You would not retrieve the Skeleton Key or defeat Mercer without their help, correct?" Nocturnal said. "Very well. It is a fair trade."
The orb pulsed brighter.
"You shall have my blessing. But know this—if you fail to return Mercer or the key… your souls will belong to me."
Suddenly the air around them stirred.
Their clothing began to shift and reshape, transforming into dark leather armor. Masks covered their faces as hoods formed over their heads.
Eradros felt a cloak settle over his right shoulder. Karliah's armor formed a long cape down her back, while Brynjolf's draped from both shoulders.
They now stood fully clad in the armor of the Nightingales.
"Go forth," Nocturnal commanded. "And see this matter corrected."
The glowing orb suddenly vanished, plunging the chamber into darkness.
Then six faint white lights appeared in the room.
Three pairs of glowing eyes.
The eyes of the newly sworn Nightingales shone through the darkness, illuminated by Nocturnal's blessing.
With them, nothing could hide in shadow anymore.
Not even Mercer Frey.
Chapter End—