Choice and change, regret and redemption. Some themes are just kind of eternal, aren't they?

Once things had settled into their new normal in West Weald, Bastian and I ended up wandering south, and found ourselves in southern Reaper's March right about the time a star fell from the heavens near Moonmont. Or at least that's what happened according to the Twilight Cantor who entreated us to investigate Azurah's portent of someone in need.

Now it probably shouldn't be that surprising to see an undead necromancer, considering the standard lich modus operandi. But when a new ghost cat friend helpfully led us to our person in need, we certainly weren't expecting to find them waking up inside their own tomb. (Side note, was the ghost cat the star? Did he fall out of the sky? Maybe it's better not to ask too many questions when it comes to ghost cats.)

Anyway the inhabitant of said tomb was just as surprised as we were to find himself in that state, although memories of his apparent death were hazy. Along with his memories of pretty much everything else. Waking up from being dead would be pretty disorienting for anyone, I suppose. For him it had been a long dream, of wanting to be swept up into Azurah's embrace but being cast down instead.

And so he found himself back on Nirni, an indeterminate number of centuries after his first go-'round. His name was Zerith-var, and he introduced himself as a necromancer of the Order of the Hidden Moon. The same Hidden Moon that now lay in ruins in the Ashen Scar, news that he found hard to accept.

The plaque in his tomb commemorated his sacrifice in ending the threat of something called the Rajaska. He explained that they were a type of especially powerful dro-m'Athra who had once been moon-singers, which sounded like their version of Twilight Cantors. He recalled going to face their leader alone, not expecting to survive, and was relieved to know that his efforts had succeeded in restoring peace to the land.

But his work wasn't done, it seemed. His body had remained preserved, seemingly of its own accord, and even after all this time it hadn't decayed at all. Almost as if Azurah knew that she would need her servant again someday, and had seen to it that he would have a mortal form to return to when the time was right.

It wasn't long before the nature of his renewed purpose became clear. The Rajaska were back, along with their nefarious leader, and our Twilight Cantors were struggling to counter them even as they became their newest targets.

Now you'd think that someone with extensive experience fighting baddies that you've never seen before would be a valuable addition to the team, especially if he also has a skill set tailor-made to deal with those baddies. But then you wouldn't be one of the Inquisitors of the Torval Curiata, who seem much more concerned with enforcing the Riddle'Thar whether anyone wants it or not than with protecting the Twilight Cantors they had pressed into their service.

So we're dealing with super-evil singing dro-m'Athra, and trying to protect the Twilight Cantors, and dodging a bunch of surly inquisitors who decided that Zerith was a heretic and needed to be eliminated along with me because why not. Good times.

Along the way, more and more of Zerith's past came to light. He'd remarked early on that he didn't want to ruin my first impression of him by delving into the sorrows of his old life. It seemed like a self-deprecating joke at the time, but it turned out he had more of a personal connection to the Rajaska, and to their leader, than simply being a champion of lost souls in time long past.

He might have considered himself a lost soul, in a way. He described himself as having walked a bent path, even if he himself didn't become bent the way the dro-m'Athra do. His monastic training had prepared him to walk through the dark without being consumed by it, shielded from the lure of Namiira's music.

But that didn't mean the lure wasn't there. He was headstrong in his younger days, convinced he had everything figured out and nobody else could keep up with him. When he finally met someone who could, and they managed to survive their initial head-butting, the bond that developed between them went beyond the bounds of platonic or professional partnership. They came to love each other, and that love came to be more important to them than following the rules that would keep them at arm's length.

They also came to fear losing each other. And with that fear came the desire to protect, the desire for power. And that's just what Namiira offered, to the seductive beat of Lorkhaj's drums. Zerith had the fortitude to resist, thanks to his spiritual training. But his lover did not. And thus did the moon-singer Ravith become Ravith-morna, the first Rajaska.

I give Zerith a lot of credit for allowing me and Cantor Krin'ze to witness his memories of those events. And I don't blame him for not being able to bear showing us the entirety of what came next. For him, the final battle against Ravith-morna had happened only yesterday. The wounds in his heart were still fresh. And although he knew that he would have to face the lingering repercussions of what he had done, and what he had failed to do, in that moment shining the light on those misdeeds was simply too painful.

"Forgiveness cannot abide when truth festers in shadow." It's not every day that you get wisdom like that from beyond the grave. And while it might have been easier for Moon-Singer Talbira's spirit to reveal the truths that Zerith perhaps preferred to let fester, the point was for him to get there on his own. It wasn't about forcing him to face the punishment or shame he might have deserved. The goal, for Azurah's servants more than anyone, was always forgiveness.

It's a galling irony that it can be much easier to forgive others than it is to forgive ourselves. Just look at me giving Zerith pep talks about redemption and not letting our guilt define us, after all the angsting I've done about my own failings. It's also easier to fix external things than what's inside us. We can gather scattered scrolls and bury weathered bones and sharpen dulled weapons, but repairing a broken spirit is never that simple.

But going through those motions, showing care to simple objects that could be just as easily overlooked or trampled on, can be an effective primer for showing care to others - and to ourselves. There are lessons we can learn about reaching out and taking the time to make the world just a little better in ways that may seem inconsequential yet have meaningful and lasting effects. Guilt leads us to wall ourselves in, but a cloistered soul, however devout, cannot truly do Azurah's work in the world. We have to make ourselves just a little bit vulnerable, when it would be so much easier to hide away in the very shadows we can't bring ourselves to face. And while we dwell in those shadows, and they dwell in us, those festering wounds of guilt and remorse will never truly heal.

As it happened, it wasn't Zerith who drew back the shadowed curtain on that fateful moment from his past. Our attempt to confront Ravith-morna directly, aided by the song Talbira's spirit had shared with Krin'ze, only gave the Rajaska the opportunity to taunt her former lover with a vision of the first time that song had been used to bind her.

In that moment, when Zerith was the only one who could strike Ravith-morna down, he faltered. She wasn't just the most dangerous dro-m'Athra the Hidden Moon had ever seen. She wasn't just the murderer of countless souls and the corrupter of countless more. No matter what she had become, some part of her was still his Ravith. And if he consigned her soul to its end, when she still refused Azurah's light, he was only consigning it evermore to the Void.

He couldn't do it. And in that moment of insurmountable weakness, he turned his blade on Talbira instead. In the aftermath he may have convinced himself that it was a mercy to ensure that she wouldn't be corrupted too. And when the remaining adepts of the Hidden Moon assumed that her death had been a noble sacrifice, he did not correct them. But he knew what he had done. He lived with that truth festering in the darkest recesses of his heart, through all the years that followed, right up until the day he went to face Ravith-morna alone with no intention of coming out alive.

I wonder if it was any consolation for him to know that Ravith felt the same way about him that he felt about her. He wanted desperately to bring her back to Azurah's light, and she wanted just as strongly for him to join her in the Void. That was why, he believed, she didn't kill him once she was freed from Talbira's binding song. As long as they stood on opposite sides of that river, they each had a different afterlife waiting for them, with no chance of spending eternity by each other's side. Or so it would have been, if their respective afterlives didn't apparently have different ideas.

I'm not entirely sure what brought Ravith-morna back to the mortal plane. I might have imagined that she shared Zerith's unwillingness to let go of what they had, but he said something about the Void sending her back someday if we failed to take care of her permanently, so maybe that's just how the Void uses its servants. It does seek to consume all souls, after all. And Ravith-morna's plan to summon a Moon Beast to waylay souls on the path to Azurah's Crossing certainly fit that directive.

Zerith's revival, meanwhile, could have just been the fulfillment of his heroic destiny as Azurah's servant. He tried real hard but couldn't quite get the job done the first time, so Azurah kept him in reserve so he could try again. And that basically is what happened. But there was more to it, of course. It wasn't just about Zerith saving the world from the Rajaska. He had to save himself too.

I think I understand that dream Zerith had, based on what I've learned about Azuran faith. She teaches that her children must love themselves, and the Khajiit in particular see themselves as lovingly fashioned by her hand. To insult themselves is to insult her. To accept themselves is to honor her love for them. And that's why forgiveness is such an important tenet, and a necessary step on the path to the Crossing.

Zerith had never taken that step. He died believing that he had forsaken his claim to Azurah's love, that he was completely unworthy of her redemption. He was even ready to join Ravith in the Void, except that at the last he couldn't bring himself to completely renounce Azurah.

Maybe he didn't really care where he ended up when he went to meet his end. But that longing to be embraced by the Moon Mother remained. When she rejected him, and cast him down instead, it must have reinforced that sense of unworthiness. If even she couldn't accept him, how could he accept himself?

But she wasn't truly rejecting him. She was basically saying "go try again and come back when you really mean it." The only thing making him unworthy of the Crossing was his inability, his unwillingness, to embrace the light that would banish the shadows within him. The light that he was accustomed to sharing with other souls as he guided them to the Sands Behind the Stars.

His return was a second chance, to save both the world and himself. It wasn't a do-over, Ithelia-style, because going back to do things differently was never an option. He could only move forward, living with the choices of his past, but making better choices for the future. Righting the wrongs of his yesterday by righting the wrongs of today. And that began with facing the darkness within his own heart, shining the light inward, so that he might more effectively shine it where it was needed most.

And somehow... it worked. The Rajaska needed a good drubbing first, of course, and she was quick to remind Zerith that it was his own heart that had opened a conduit for her to return. Her darkness had called to his, making a connection across the planes. But now the only response it found was light. Forgiveness. The open arms of Azurah, as Zerith commended Ravith's spirit to their mother's loving embrace.

Some part of her, maybe the part that was always his Ravith, must have persisted in longing for that embrace. And that was the part that emerged as the darkness burned away. Souls can only be saved if they want to be, and Ravith's refusal to accept that salvation is what destined her for the Void. Maybe she just needed to see redemption in action, to have proof that no one is beyond Azurah's reach. That she could be made whole again, just as her counterpart was.

And so the world was saved, and future generations of Khajiiti souls won't have to worry about getting snarfed up by a giant shadow beast. Leaving us to go back to our wanderings, and me to ponder what we can take away from the experience. Beyond the obvious lesson to JUST FORGIVE YOURSELF ALREADY.

The connection between love and darkness is something to think about. I mean Azurah's love was kind of the solution to all of our problems, and love in general is supposed to be a good thing. But this isn't the first time we've seen love get corrupted. Or love spur people to awful deeds. Or love turn to possessiveness.

Was it selfish of Ravith and Zerith to indulge their love so completely? Probably. It's that old love versus duty thing all over again. There was a reason their order strongly discouraged that kind of intimacy between partners. All Namiira needed to do was convince Ravith that Azurah would never allow them to be together if she knew they loved each other more than they loved her. They could have said "oh okay, then we'll cool it down and keep things platonic," but neither of them was willing to give up what they had.

Their past paints a pretty compelling picture, and it's relatively easy to analyze how they got to where they ended up. But... what about the present? How do I reconcile what happened once the light finally overcame the darkness, once the good kind of love had finally triumphed?

Ravith was the love of Zerith's life. There was a time when the thought of letting her go pained him more than death. And his inability to let her go led to more tragedy than he could have imagined. His guilt, his grief, the gaping Void-hole in his heart... it all stemmed from how very deeply he loved her.

But that was his old life. I can't say if he harbored any secret hope that the two of them would reunite, even as he claimed he had long ago given up hope of redeeming her. Those things are easy to say, but the heart can't help wanting what it wants, even if it's wishing for the seemingly impossible.

When the time came, though, and the seemingly impossible had come to pass, and the glowing golden form of Ravith as she once was stood before him, neither of them spared a breath on rekindling what they once had. Ravith would finally pass to Azurah's Crossing, and Zerith would continue to walk his second pounce. Without her.

He could have gone with her to the Crossing. Once, that would have been all he wanted, to spend eternity with her in the Sands Behind the Stars. But in that moment, when Azurah was opening that door to him, there was a stronger force pulling him away. The potential of a new life, a new path he could walk unburdened, a new friend who had shown him how to accept Azurah's forgiveness for himself.

And he understood, without having to think about it, that he and Ravith were no longer the same adept and singer who couldn't live without each other. They had both changed, in his estimation for the better, and letting go was now simply the natural thing to do.

Is it really so easy? To decide you're just... done caring?

Maybe that's not fair. Zerith's heart hadn't turned to stone, and there was warmth in the way he looked upon his erstwhile beloved. Redeeming her meant something, something immeasurable, even if it didn't lead them back into each other's arms.

But... to love someone so deeply, so much that it almost defines who you are, and then to just... not anymore... How do you just give up like that, when what you've always wanted is standing right in front of you?

Or am I just projecting again? We knew this was going to be about me eventually. I mean I am pretty much the poster girl of wishing for the seemingly impossible, even long after any sense of reason would have said to move on.

But we wouldn't be here if moving on was that easy, would we. If I knew for sure that it was all over and there was nothing to hope for and nothing to be gained but closure. If I hadn't found that damned book. If I could imagine that that smile in the Crystal Tower was really the last I would ever see of him. Maybe then... maybe I wouldn't still be pining for the impossible all these years later.

But as long as there's a chance... as long as he might need me... as long as I can imagine one day seeing that smile again... the last thing I want to imagine is looking into those eyes and admitting that the love I once staked everything on didn't mean that much to me after all.

I can't do that to him. I can't just cast him aside. Even if it's just my own pride, my own stubbornness, even if unburdening my heart would leave it light and free to find new potential along my path... I already know, for better or worse, that I can't accept something that feels so much like admitting defeat.

Is that how Zerith felt, when he looked into Ravith's eyes and bid her swift passage to the Crossing? He certainly didn't seem defeated. He seemed... renewed, settled, perhaps at peace for the first time in ages. Maybe letting go of his obsession was a victory in itself.

Hum. Obsession. Is that what it really is, to want something so badly for so long...

I'd like to say I wouldn't murder someone for Darien. He wouldn't want me to, for one thing. And if the alternative was killing him... wait, didn't I think about that once, long ago? When the wound in my heart was still fresh? And even then I knew that both of us would accept our duty, if it was something that needed to be done, even if it was the hardest thing we'd ever have to do.

But as always, it's easy to think I'm above making the same mistakes I see other people make. As if there weren't any number of other incredibly stupid things I would do for that man. Being permanently spring-loaded to punch a certain Daedric Prince in the face might qualify, if punching Daedric Princes hadn't already become something of a pastime for me. But would I abandon my responsibilities to chase after him? Would I betray friends for him? Would I grasp at power no matter the cost if I believed it would help me protect him?

I feel like I've already made some of those choices. After Summerset, and with Ithelia, and with Mora... but can I really claim to be immune to the lure of darkness, as long as I'm clinging to that pride and that stubbornness and that unwillingness to let go of my certified Heart's One Desire?

There was something else Zerith said, about him and Ravith being different people than they were before, that I should probably consider too. Darien already warned me, in his own way, that he might not be the same "him" in the future. And it certainly would complicate things if he were, say, a glowing ball of light or an actual sword.

But I've changed too, in the years since my path intersected with his, even if those changes weren't quite so drastic. I'm certainly not as young and impressionable as I was when I fell for him. There's a lot I probably wouldn't let him get away with now, and I'm not even sure his flirting would work on someone so jaded and worldly. And that's if he still sees me as a worthy object of his affections and doesn't have higher standards as a ball of light.

Look at me, trying to come up with reasons why it wouldn't work between us anymore. ...Wait, am I trying to talk myself out of loving Darien? So it won't hurt so much if we have to say goodbye for good?

And then... what if I never even have the chance to say goodbye? What if this is just how it always is, hanging here in limbo, clinging desperately to the chains weighing me down the same way Zerith clung to the shadows poisoning his soul? How long do I hold out before I say okay maybe that's enough?

Grrraaaaggghghhrrrr I should have just made Ithelia tell me what the hell is going on with him. There ought to be somebody who can put me out of my misery. I mean at a certain point "yeah you can be done, here's your closure" is a kindness. Even if... No, at a certain point you just have to be open to the idea that the things we wanted once might not actually be the best things for us. That's what Zerith did. That's what plenty of people do. That's what I should be entirely capable of doing, if I can just get the hell over myself.

But not today. Not right now. I'm not that strong, and there's still hope to hold onto. Right? I don't have to commit to anything, one way or the other, until there's a really good reason to?

Sigh. There's probably a lesson here about not thinking myself into an absolute confuddled mess. And maybe that's the sign that I should just move on with whatever this rambling soliloquy is supposed to be.

I almost wonder what Zerith would say if I could talk to him about this, but that's harder now that he's not traveling with me and Bastian. I had finally gotten him to accept custody of the Moonlight Blade, which I have to say looks super snappy with his armor and shield, when he told me he thought the time had come for our paths to diverge.

"You're sure?" I said, having kind of gotten used to having a solid tank around.

"You are kind to ask, my friend. But... yes. There is work I may yet do here on Nirni, ways in which the Hidden Moon may yet make its light known. As much as that work would benefit from your presence, I would not call you away from the path you must tread. And..."

He glanced at Bastian, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "As much as I could ask for no better tamiit, I am not so greedy as to claim a title that already belongs to another. I would not wish to become... a hindrance."

I am choosing to believe that he hadn't surreptitiously joined the "Ilsabet and Bastian, sitting in a tree" club, but whatever his reasoning, I certainly couldn't begrudge his choice to strike out on his own in search of new wrongs to right and souls to save. I'm guessing he'll be in touch with Cantor Krin'ze, and with any luck the two of them will be sharing a new brand of Hidden-Moon-infused song-styling with the world before long.

In the meantime, I think we might be heading for more familiar pastures. Bastian mentioned wanting to visit his sister in Wayrest, which sounds like an opportunity for me to spend some quality time with my parents before we meet back up in Daggerfall or something. Assuming my mother doesn't spend the entire time prying into my love life, being home for a little while sounds pretty nice right now.