For the Knight Who Moves Like the Flash of a Sword

I know not when or where we may meet again

In this life or in realms beyond

Ephemeral your light may have been

But the spark it kindled will never fade

The life of a hero sure has its ups and downs. Sometimes, you're on the brink of calamity, careening along the razor's edge from crisis to crisis with barely a moment to catch your breath. And sometimes, even though you just know there should be another crisis ready to smack you in the face, it doesn't seem like a whole hell of a lot is going on.

Our arrival in West Weald was weirdly anticlimactic, after the flurry of trying and failing to keep our rogue Daedric Prince contained. There's a weird forest that just showed up one day, and a really bleak blighted area bordering it, and some Daedra stuff going on, but it's all been just... kinda there. I mean we've been checking it all out, and we've learned some things about the forest and taken care of some of the Daedra, but when one of the highlights of your adventure so far is rescuing a pet bear cub, you know it's a slow day.

And then... we met Ithelia. Which in itself seems like it should have been a bigger deal than it was. We just stumbled across this strange lost lady in a ruin that turned out to be one of Ithelia's old shrines, back when people knew who she was. And somehow Leramil knew who she was, and somehow she... didn't. Not really. When I mentioned the term Daedric Prince, she sort of knew that she was one, but everything else seemed... uncertain.

She sensed the Moric artifact I carried, and remembered that the Echonir had been created to remove truths about her from this world. There was a hidden memory nearby, and she wanted to see it. I was not entirely certain that this was a good idea, but Leramil gave me a nod, and I supposed that it would not help our cause to make the disoriented Prince unhappy.

And so we all got to watch past Mora warn past Ithelia about the threat she posed to reality, and Ithelia tell him he was full of it and to get lost. At least Torvesard comes by it honestly.

When the vision was gone, so was Ithelia. I'm hoping this doesn't mean she remembered everything and got real mad and left to start punching people in the face. But I honestly have no idea how to size her up as a potential threat or a potential... anything. She probably does have some powers, of some sort, and she obviously knew that Mora was her adversary, if not her mortal enemy, but she didn't seem hostile to me and Leramil at all, even though we've been known to be readily identifiable as agents of the Great Eye.

Does that mean she's open to negotiation, rather than inevitably trying to kill us? Or is she really just that confused about who she even is? And is it worth trying to be buddy-buddy with her while she's going through the process of rediscovering herself, or will it all end up the same either way?

I guess I should be relieved that our first meeting with the walking existential threat was so unexciting. She didn't seem to be ripping reality apart wherever she walked, and avoiding climactic battles with inexorable forces of nature is always nice. Unless we're just putting off the battle until she's regained more of her memories and powers and contempt for her old enemy and his lackeys. But I'm sure it'll be... No, you know what, I'm not even going to say it. It'll be what it is, and we'll just have to take it as it comes.

We all know I'm not a mage, right? I mean I can use magic, a little, but that's mostly just this thing I do where I draw from the shadows when I need them without really thinking about it. I'm not even sure when or how I started being able to do it, but I'm pretty sure it's not the sort of thing you would learn in mage school.

I did join the Mages Guild, when I was stumbling around Daggerfall trying to find my place in the world, but at the time it seemed like they mostly just wanted me to read a bunch of books. And then I got roped into helping Shalidor with his island problem, and that got me enough cachet that nobody's really thought to ask me about my actual spellcasting credentials.

But I've always left the heavy magic lifting to people like Gabrielle and Valsirenn and Bastian, because they know what they're doing and I'm much more comfortable with my bow and my blade.

I am still an adept of the Mages Guild, though, and I guess enough people still remember my name that it's on a short list of "people to ask for help when you need to go rooting around in a place that's probably really dangerous and might have books."

At least this time they sent a letter instead of having Adelle shout at me across the street. Our petitioner was a Bosmer woman named Nahlia, a Votary knight of something called the Order of the Lamp. I'd never heard of them before, but apparently they provide muscle when mages need backup on their dangerous missions.

This mission was potentially dangerous enough that even the muscle wanted backup. Nahlia had discovered a portal in a decrepit Mages Guild holding on Summerset, and she didn't want to take any chances with whatever was on the other side. And who better to jump through strange portals with than the Savior of Eyevea and close personal friend of Archmagister Galerion?

As Nahlia briefed us on the situation and explained her plan, though, an obvious issue stood out to me. She'd mentioned that the first time she tried to use the portal, it kind of exploded because it didn't like that she was trying to go through alone. And so, she said, she needed a second person to go in with her, because that seemed to be how the portal was "keyed."

A portal requiring the buddy system was all well and good, but if it required exactly two buddies, we were going to have a problem - in the form of the red-headed mage that I was absolutely not going to leave behind if this was going to be the kind of adventure where you really want to have a mage.

Nahlia saw where I was coming from, but I think having to account for my unexpected plus-one mostly made her impatient. "Well... maybe the two of us can explore first, and then see if there's a way to come back for your friend?" she suggested.

Not even being sure if there was a way to come back for him did not reassure me that this was a good plan. And as eager as Nahlia was to get exploring, I didn't mind being stubborn if it meant brainstorming a strategy to get all three of us through.

A strategy like... "You said two keyholes. Is that like... two people-shaped things?"

"Uh... I guess?" Nahlia replied. "Why, what are you thinking?"

I glanced at Bastian, who looked similarly perplexed. "Okay so what if Bastian and I could count as one person. Shaped thing."

Bastian raised his eyebrows, and yes I knew how weird that sounded but just hear me out. "Like if you pick me up, and we sort of squish together."

"Squish... together?" he repeated, vaguely waving his hands toward each other. I shrug-nodded, very nonchalantly, but he seemed even less convinced. "Are you sure?"

"Would it work?" I looked at Nahlia.

"It... might? It's not literally two holes we have to fit through, like a block puzzle. It just rejects me, violently, when I try to go through alone. I need another body to go through with me."

"And if that body just happened to have another body attached to it..." I prodded.

Nahlia sighed, but not without humor. "Look, if it's that important to you that he comes along, you can work out between yourselves how you want to try... attaching. Just keep in mind, if it doesn't work we'll have an angry source of unstable magic on our hands, and if it does work there's a not-insubstantial chance we'll have to come out on the other side fighting. So either way maybe try for something... hands-free?"

I will not attempt to recount the ensuing "attachment" strategizing, except that it was hilarious, and I'm pretty sure I caught Bastian blushing, and he might have caught me blushing too but it's not like it's the first time he's had to carry me somewhere and okay that time didn't involve me getting as close as I possibly could to him with my arms tight around his neck, but it also didn't involve a piggyback ride while he held his staff out ready to cast a barrier which is what we ended up going with and by that point I was laughing too hard for anything to get more awkward than it already was.

And so the moment of truth arrived, and Nahlia stabilized the portal as best she could, and I held tight and braced for potential impact if the portal decided it disapproved of Bastian's human backpack. But wrapped in a nice warm blanket of barrier magic, the two of us apparently fit entirely acceptably through our keyhole, and out we came on the other side.

I'm sure I only looked a little smug as I hopped down and nodded at Bastian, and Nahlia was just happy that we'd made it through without getting blown up again. And then, with only a few more magical anomalies to dodge and conjured creatures to fend off, the mysteries of what we came to know as the Scholarium began to present themselves to us.

It was a place that looked an awful lot like the old ruins on Summerset, and smelled of stale parchment and candle wax. It was hard to tell how long it had been since anyone had been there, but it must have been a really really long time.

Before we could start looking for books to stuff into our packs, though, there was that whole unstable energy thing to deal with. The trail of anomalies led us to a central chamber where even angrier-looking energy was converging on some kind of altar. Closing the doors around the room to cut off the flow of bad juju didn't entirely calm things down, so Nahlia decided that smashing the altar's corrupted crystal was our next best plan of (literal) attack.

In her defense, hitting things with swords is often a solid way to solve problems. But in this case it only made the now-unfocused magic even angrier, and also awakened the place's caretaker from her centuries-long slumber.

And that's how we made the acquaintance of a talking crow. Well, another talking crow. I haven't ascertained if she's familiar with the Blackfeather Court, but at least she doesn't seem to have anything to do with Nocturnal. She was, however, the familiar of someone named Ulfsild. Now where had I heard that name before...

...Oh right, she was Shalidor's wife. The one who left him because he was all obsessed with Eyevea. I'd seen echoes of the two of them back when Sheogorath was putting on his theatrics. But I'd never given her much thought apart from her being yet another thing that Shalidor had lost.

But it turns out she had a lot more going on than just being a footnote in Shalidor's biography. She was an accomplished mage in her own right, even before she met and got together with her eventual husband. This place, the Scholarium, was the sanctum on Eyevea where she carried out her own magical work. And now it was the repository for that work, safeguarded like a time capsule before the Mad God claimed the island as his prize in Shalidor's foolish bargain.

Conveniently, the magical secrets Ulfsild had entrusted to her familiar were just what we needed to calm the corrupted magic threatening to consume us all. Once we'd secured a replacement crystal for the altar, the Crow gave me a book - sorry, a grimoire in fancy mage-speak - and guided my fumbling attempt to shape it into a usable spell. I think we ended up with something I could use to zap people? With magic? And they wouldn't like it? But more importantly, channeling that magicka into a focused form pacified the surging torrents of energy, and the sanctum was quiet once more.

Which is good, because we definitely needed a breather at that point. Stumbling over a long-lost treasure trove of centuries-old knowledge isn't something that happens every day. And while there were more conversations to be had, with both the Crow and Nahlia, there was a whole lot of just plain looking around to do too.

It really should go without saying that it was a damn good thing I insisted on bringing Bastian through that portal. The place was made for him. There were practically sparkles in his eyes as the sanctum revealed more and more of its secrets to us. I kept having to drag him away from bookshelves, except for the times when I caught a glimpse of text over his shoulder and ended up standing there reading along with him.

Most of the books we found had to do with historical battles and conflicts. I had seen some of them before, but there were also some ancient writings that must not have seen the light of day for ages. I wonder what that old... Nord? would think of all of the "not real" races and creatures we've seen with our very own eyes.

Eventually, we made it back to the Crow, who was only moderately antsy to get us back on the topic of Scribing. Which, if I hadn't mentioned it before, is what this whole system of shaping spells is called. You start with a basic book - grimoire - to lay the foundation, and then add aspects to it that shape what it actually does. Like I think you could take that spell I made to zap people and tweak it so it would heal people instead. And there are even subtler nuances that give benefits or detriments that you might not even think about until you're in the thick of battle.

I only understood about half of what the Crow was going on about, and not just because I was distracted watching Bastian eating the whole thing up like a ja'khajiit in a moon sugar shop. It was actually pretty funny, the way he hung on her every word with those sparkles in his eyes. I'm a little surprised he wasn't actively drooling, but I commend his restraint.

And then the Crow got to the part about finding an inheritor for Ulfsild's legacy, and I had to start paying attention again when I realized she was looking at me. What, just because I was the one to quell the angry magic, and I guess she assumed I was in charge of this whole expedition, that meant I was qualified to take over Ulfsild's Scribing Emporium?

I never did get the chance to challenge those assumptions, because the next thing I knew we were talking to magical Ulfsild projections and finding a magical lens and playing magical detective to track down a magical indrik. I mean even if it were just Bastian skipping along as I did my best to keep up, I wouldn't have let myself be left behind, so we were both along for the ride wherever it was going to take us.

As we romped through our magical scavenger hunt in Auridon, though, a new thought settled in. What if this whole adventure was about Bastian and not me? What if this time, he got to be the one everything revolved around? What if we just made him the inheritor and called it good?

The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. Bastian could be in charge of figuring out all this magic stuff and get his mage power-up, and I'd be perfectly happy over here looking for urns to loot and fables to read until he needed a wingman for his next field trip.

At least being pretty good at spotting magical wards made me not totally useless as a sidekick. It got us through our secret door, and there in a peaceful Summerset-esque glade stood the majestic form of the Indrik, the first of the Luminaries that had guided Ulfsild in her understanding of Scribing.

If glances could speak, I'd like to think that this was the silent conversation that passed between me and Bastian in those moments:

Me: Well, here we are.
Bastian: Yeah, we made it.
Me: You got this?
Bastian: We got this.
Me: Shall we head on in?
Bastian: Sure, go ahead.
Me: I mean, you can go ahead...
Bastian: Is something wrong?
Me: No, go ahead.
Bastian: What are you waiting for?
Me: I mean...

And then the clearing of a majestic throat convinced me that I'd better just get things moving.

The Indrik greeted me - us? - as the bearers of his fable, and sensed the connection we had already established to the Scholarium. He surmised that we - I - had designs on becoming Ulfsild's inheritor, and he seemed pleased to think that his old friend's magical legacy would live on even though she was no longer in this world.

Placing the fable on its special dais unlocked the door that I had previously closed, and this time the magical energy flowing into the Scholarium was pure and beneficent. The Indrik was quite happy to contribute his power to reviving the Scribing altar's vitality, but he also wanted to ensure he wasn't misplacing his trust in its new keeper. And that's about where I had to finally get something said.

"So before we go too much farther, you should know..." I pointed at Bastian. "He should be the inheritor. Not me."

I'm not sure which of them was more surprised. But the Indrik merely regarded me curiously.

"Is that so?" he said. "The promise of power beyond mortal comprehension lies within your grasp... and you would cede it to another?"

"Well... he is the mage here."

"And yet you come before me, seeking my favor."

"Well yes, but for him."

The Indrik tipped his head, and his insightful eyes appraised me and then Bastian before settling back on me. "You are accustomed to taking the lead, being the one who does the talking. Yes?"

"That does sound about right."

His gaze drifted back to Bastian. "And you are content to follow her lead, let her do the talking."

"Of course."

The Indrik seemed amused by Bastian's forthrightness. "Then I will ask you to speak for yourself, mage. Do you desire this power?"

"I... do, yes. Just imagining the possibilities... my blood is fairly singing with excitement."

"And if I were to ask you, which of the two of you is more deserving?"

That caught us both off-guard. As we exchanged uncertain glances, I'm not sure how great Bastian felt about having to make that kind of judgment call with me standing right there. And what would I say if it were up to me? Could I claim to be deserving at all?

But this was Bastian's question to answer, his chance to speak for himself, and so I simply waited.

"I... don't know," he began hesitantly. "She's done so much more... I think we'd both use it wisely, or try." He furrowed his brow. "I don't know if that's a decision I can make."

I knew what he was doing. He wanted that magic, badly, but not if it meant shoving me aside to get to it. But dammit Bastian, this was not the time to be noble.

"Give it to him," I said firmly, not caring if it qualified as insubordinate. "He can make better use of it than I can. And if either of us were unworthy you'd say so, wouldn't you?"

Fortunately the Indrik didn't seem offended by my challenging tone. He simply chuckled, and closed his eyes, and set about pondering.

"Very well then. Perhaps Ulfsild's legacy has found two inheritors. A most interesting development indeed."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Two inheritors? Like... both of us? Like not just Bastian? Wait, that didn't mean I was supposed to do all that magic stuff too, did it?

But yes, that is what it meant. The power of Scribing was to be placed into both of our hands, should we each have what it took to master it.

We did still have to prove ourselves, of course. One extended lecture about the nature of power later, we were given a selection of tasks to undertake that would illustrate what power means to us and how we would choose to use it.

I peered at the list of errands in Bastian's hands. "Do we each pick one? Or do we take two apiece?" I whispered, hoping he'd understood the assignment better than I had.

"Two in total," the Indrik said, having overheard me. "Your first step is to come to an agreement on which ones."

"Does that mean we can do them together?" Bastian asked.

The Indrik smiled. "More than that. You must do them together."

The big deliberation ended up being pretty straightforward. As much as we appreciate teamwork, gladiatorial matches against other adventurers seemed kind of pointless beyond personal glory and spectacle. And after all of the world-ending threats we've faced together, proving our strength against a mere bandit captain hiding in a cave would be a trifle.

Tracking down the remnants of the Worm Cult still trying to reenact the Planemeld and ruining their day, though... that was an easy choice for someone who has a history with Molag Bal and someone who really doesn't like cultists. And after they conveniently deployed an array of animated skeletons against us, all we had to do was swing by the still-slightly-zombie-infested environs of Phaer to finish off our cleansing of the undead.

The Indrik perked up from his meditations when he saw us reappear. "Ah, you return. You have witnessed power unleashed upon the world, and you have brought your own power to bear in response. What have you learned, I wonder, and what may I now learn about you?"

I opened my mouth to launch into a report, but he preempted me with a quiet "hmmm" and another one of those contemplative stares.

After a few moments of studying, he had his answer. "So, you use your power to defy the forces of evil. To stop bad people from doing bad things. To do that which must be done, that which no one else can do."

It was Bastian's turn next. "And you, you seek to uphold justice, to fight for the right." He chuckled. "I know someone you might get along with." His gaze softened. "But more than that, you use your power to protect. The innocent, those who cannot fight for themselves... and those whom you hold most dear."

His gaze flitted back to me, and he smiled. "A most interesting partnership indeed."

"Does that mean we pass the test?" Bastian asked.

"You have not failed," the Indrik said indulgently. "But while you have completed my trials, I would now bestow upon you a task. A favor in consideration of the power you seek to borrow. A wrong that has gone too long un-righted."

It turned out that even illuminated manifestations of pure magic make mistakes, just as the Indrik knew I had. He had acted in haste and hubris, using his power to protect a hunted fawn without considering that it might be going overboard. And ever since, both the fawn and the hunter had been caught up in a never-ending chase, while the fawn remained overwhelmed by a power it had never asked for.

We released both hunter and prey from their predicament, and the Indrik reclaimed his gifted power. And while the fawn found sanctuary in its protector's glade, Bastian and I went on to seek out the other three Luminaries who had once lent their power to Ulfsild's venture.

The Netch kind of warned us what we were getting into with its colorful, perhaps-not-quite-biographically-accurate rendition of its fable. But just in case we weren't paying attention, the ghost-squirrel chase through the Scholarium halls and the multiple pranked doorways to its domain were also pretty good clues.

While the Indrik was a portrait of stoic dignity, the Netch was anything but. Buoyancy is the name of its game, and what it wants most is to see the joy in life and help others see it too. Even if that mostly manifests in jokes, practical and otherwise, that may best be appreciated by those who don't take them too seriously.

The Netch was very quick to clarify that it had games, not tests, for us to undertake. Helpful games, designed to take some of life's weight off of others. Any number of them could have been perfectly suitable for Bastian and me, but we went with a little light fishing, retrieving some purloined goods from a mine, and culling the surplus Daedra population. (For the record, I won our little fishing competition, 2-1.)

The Netch's final trial had more weight to it, but that simply meant it was more in need of lifting-up. A man approaching the end of his life had long been estranged from his son. By following the trail of his life experiences (aided by Nahlia's trusty portals), we were able to help his spirit pick up the pieces of his life's regrets and put himself back together long enough for one last loving family reunion.

"Grief is heavy," the Netch said when we returned. "Not good for floating. Regret, that's even worse." It may not have been talking directly to me, but I certainly got the message. And I'd say we were all feeling a little bit lighter by the time Bastian and I went on our way.

Next up was the Gryphon. At least the fable said it was the Gryphon. It was a bit sparse on details beyond that, which might have had something to do with the much smaller critter scurrying around stealing pages out of the book.

Fortunately one page had been left behind in all the scurrying, which got us to the first set of hidden wards, which got us to our little page thief. Who, fortunately, had figured out by then that we were friends trying to help rebuild Ulfsild's library and not brigands trying to pillage it, so he was happy to help us with the rest of the pages and wards.

We hadn't heard anything about a fox Luminary, but he turned out to be just your regular everyday native of the Hunting Grounds. He'd befriended the Gryphon long ago after the big guy saved him during an unfortunate bakery-related incident, and had tagged along pretty much wherever he went ever since. And now, ever since the Scholarium had been sealed away, the Fox had been returning the old favor watching over his friend. Which was good, because the Gryphon wasn't in much of a state to watch out for himself.

As the self-appointed shield of the Scholarium, the Gryphon had reacted badly when Sheogorath threatened Eyevea. And knowing that even a mythical being was no match for a Daedric Prince, Ulfsild had frozen him in place to keep him from doing anything injurious. Thus he had remained, frozen in mid-flourish, until (with the Fox's blessing) we released Ulfsild's chilly wards.

The pent-up roar he let out would have at least given Sheogorath pause. Fortunately he recognized we weren't the Daedric Prince of nonsense (heh), and the Fox smoothed things over well enough to get us into a conversation.

Once he had come to accept our dedication to Ulfsild's legacy, the Gryphon wanted to see if we were similarly dedicated to his principles of protecting the innocent and defenseless. Sounded like we'd finally met the justice-minded acquaintance the Indrik had mentioned, and I wasn't the only one who picked up on the interesting combination of personalities in the room.

"Does their dynamic seem familiar to you?" Bastian side-whispered as we went for the list of commissions.

"What, the honor-bound stickler for justice and the free-spirited acquisitions expert? I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

The tasks that the Gryphon considered "safeguards" were a peculiar mix. I might have predicted the slaying of various baddies, and the retrieval of some kind of Aetherial shards from Ayleid ruins wasn't out of the ordinary, but pickpocketing and Thieves Guild heists? Was I reading this right?

Well that would at least make the task-choosing process easier. "Okay, I know which ones we can cross off..."

"Wait. Let's not be hasty," Bastian said, reaching for the parchment.

I raised an eyebrow and waited while he gave the list another mulling-over.

"I've been thinking about what the Gryphon told us," he said deliberately. "It seemed strange to me, that someone so devoted to justice would condone thievery. He might be able to excuse it in his little friend, as just a lovable quirk, but asking us to steal from other people..."

"We don't have to take those options if you don't feel good about it," I said.

"I know, and that would be the easy answer. I know it's what you expect. But... maybe the lesson here is that justice doesn't always look like we think it should."

"So what do you want to do?"

He took one last mulling breath, and then held out the paper. "I'll leave it up to you. I know you have certain skills, and maybe you should get a chance to use them. I'll go along with whatever you choose."

"Even..." I gestured vaguely at the list.

"Yes, even those." He grinned. "It might even be fun to see you in your element."

I narrowed my eyes, slightly melodramatically. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Bastian Hallix?"

"Hey, I'm trying to be supportive here."

"I know, but... are you sure? We can always go find a lich to kill."

"We can, if that's what you'd prefer. Or, we can punish an unscrupulous merchant for swindling sick people and help your friends in Abah's Landing stimulate the local economy."

You know, sometimes my partner finds the most unexpected ways to remind me how much I appreciate him.

We took care of business in the Rift quickly enough. The herb retrieval errand was meant to be stealthy, but we can be forgiven for leaving a few dead Worm Cultists in our wake. And then Bastian stood watch on a street corner in Riften, pretending not to notice as I relieved my greedy mark of his ill-gotten gains.

The trip to Hew's Bane was more involved. On the way I regaled Bastian with some of the old stories of intrigue and close escapes, maybe leaving out some of the more incriminating details. I left him to browse the marketplace while I picked up the day's heist assignment from the Den, and then it was off to the Underground Sepulcher.

Fa'ren-dar was surprised to see me arrive with an accomplice, but he knew better than to ask questions, and Bastian did his best not to look too law-abiding. The two of us paused at the door while I scanned the entryway and tried to recall my mental map of the place. It had been a while, but I could feel the old route coming back to me.

"Are you ready?" I asked Bastian.

"Ready as I'll ever be. I hope." He was trying not to sound nervous. It was probably hitting him how completely out of his element he was.

I could still leave him here and take care of business myself, but... "Just stay close to me. Move where I move, wait when I wait, keep to my shadows. I'll take care of the locks. If we do our job right, nobody will get hurt, and no one will even know we were here."

"Understood."

I gave him another moment to steel himself, and then we were off. There would be no holding back for his sake this time, but he made sure to stay right at my heels as I forged ahead. We had to be patient when a lantern trap guy decided to take his job super seriously right in front of the big prize, but soon that lock capitulated like all the rest, with plenty of time to make it back to the exit.

And then, just as I was starting to get self-congratulatory, a clunk and a whispered curse behind me, and a growl as a bandit realized someone was there who shouldn't be. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bastian instinctively pull out his staff, but this wasn't the time for fighting.

"Just run!" I hissed between clenched teeth, barreling forward and hoping that my shadow cloak would obscure both of us long enough to confuse our pursuer.

I can only imagine what the rest of the bandits thought of the sudden wind blowing through their quiet lair, or their sputtering crony dashing in its wake. The commotion got their attention, though, at least long enough for a few of them to stick confused heads out of side rooms. And then one of them decided to get a better look, by coming straight out into the hallway directly in front of us.

I'm still not sure how I pulled it off, but in slow motion it must have been beautiful. I darted around the woman, somehow pulling Bastian to the side with me, and as she started to move past us I stuck the tippiest tippy toe out in front of her, holding onto Bastian to keep my own balance. She stumbled into her careening comrade, and just like that the pursuit was lost to a flurry of angry shouts as we resumed our getaway.

The exit awaited, but we couldn't breathe easy just yet. On a normal run the only hazard left would be the sentry patrolling the entryway, but right now the last thing I wanted was to be stuck waiting for a lantern to amble past while the seconds ticked away and the squabbling bandits got closer to getting their act together. Especially since those big laundry baskets aren't exactly made for two.

But the sentry wasn't going to make us wait for her lazy rounds. There she was, lantern raised, coming to see what all the fuss was about.

We weren't even going to make it to the basket. But if my memory didn't fail me, wasn't there a hidden room just there...

Mustering the last dregs of my shadows, I grabbed Bastian's hand and dove for the crumbling stone walls. Which, thankfully, were still good and crumbly right where we needed them to be.

"All right, what's the ruckus, you louts?"

The lantern's glow swept past us, barely brushing the edge of our cover. I watched, keen and poised, until the lamp's cruel periphery had passed. And then we were off. My shadows had nothing left, but we didn't need them. One last stretch of hallway, and there was the door, and there was Fa'ren-dar. The gate shut behind us, and we collapsed into breathless heaps, plenty of time to spare.

We just looked at each other, flushed with adrenaline and panting for breath, and as I finally let myself start to relax, I found something infectious in my partner's smile.

"That... was... exhilarating!" Bastian exclaimed as soon as he had enough wind back.

I grinned. "Careful, Stendarr might hear you."

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. These things are best left to the professionals. And I don't expect to be joining their ranks any time soon."

I just shook my head. Yeah, that wasn't happening.

"But... you do good work. And I'm glad I got the chance to see it."

There was something sincerely appreciative in his eyes, and the flush on my cheeks might have gotten a little warmer. But, we were still on the job, and Fa'ren-dar was ready to move out. In the spirit of the occasion, I told him to pass my cut on to anyone in the Guild who might be having a tough time and could use it, which he was happy to do.

Back at Justice Central, the Gryphon and the Fox had had some time to catch up, and had come up with a final trial for us that was both clever and productive. Safeguarding the general populace was great, but the Scholarium needed to shore up its own defenses now that it wasn't hidden away within Ulfsild's wards. And what better way to fortify the premises than to steal some creatia from Daedric Princes and use it to whip up a cadre of animated armored sentinels?

I think the Fox was more excited about sneaking into Oblivion than I was, given that none of our target realms were new to me (and none of them were the Colored Rooms, although it was probably just as well not to have that distraction). Apocrypha and the Deadlands were old hat for Bastian too, but I think it was his first trip to Evergloam. He seemed especially vigilant there, and I'm not sure if it was a relief or a disappointment that the trip was so uneventful.

So now the Scholarium has elemental armor guys standing around ready to pounce on any troublemakers, which they hopefully won't decide includes us. And we secured the blessing of our third Luminary, along with a bonus endorsement from a little Daedric fox.

That left one more Luminary to meet and impress. A dragon who loved riddles more than treasure, and wanted to know the machinations of our minds. Fortunately Bastian and I both have a decent noggin for puzzles, and even more fortunately we had some advance coaching from one of Ulfsild's projections.

No matter what, we were instructed, we were not to say anything about whether we were or were not Ulfsild's inheritors. We were just supposed to march in and demand to take the Dragon's trial. So that's what we did, and with a certain amount of consternation about our reticence, she agreed.

The challenges, of course, started with riddles. Between the two of us we figured them out fairly readily, although we still went around to see what our colleagues thought because we could, and when will I turn down an opportunity to see what people have to say?

And then, with the requisite flowers picked, safeboxes cracked, and beasts hunted, we returned for the Dragon's final contest of wits: the production of an unsolvable riddle. It's an irony in itself, probably, that even with all the chasing around we did, it was really Ulfsild who did all the work to make that riddle happen. All we had to do was follow her instructions and spring the trap that she had laid all those centuries ago.

The Dragon might still be debating with herself whether we really are Ulfsild's inheritors. But either way, she found us worthy of her sigil, and so the full power of the Luminaries was restored to the Scribing altar.

Well, almost the full power. There was one last wing to be explored, and one last Luminary's blessing to win. The Crow was more than just a caretaker and supervisor. She was a Luminary herself, created by Ulfsild in the last days of the Scholarium's sovereignty, bearing an imprint of the Archmage herself.

She told me to gather any allies I wanted before embarking on this final trial. Bastian was a given, as both my partner and my fellow inheritor, but Nahlia was also happy to see our journey of exploration to its final chapter. And so the three of us set out together, just as we'd traversed that first set of keyholes. (But with less piggybacking. Thankfully that buddy system thing turned out to be a one-time entrance requirement.)

The Crow's domain was a place of pure magic. I could tell that Bastian was overwhelmed just being there, so this time it was me sticking close and being vigilant while Nahlia scouted for dangers ahead.

The ensuing process of vow-making, brazier-lighting, labyrinth-traversing, and guardian-fighting not only proved our worthiness once and for all, but completed painting the picture of Ulfsild's experiences and goals as she watched her life's work slip out of her grasp.

Most people probably don't build things with the intention of losing them. When Ulfsild settled into her life with Shalidor, and the two of them built Eyevea into their own magical utopia, she couldn't have imagined that both her marriage and her work would be undone by one thoughtless bargain that she had nothing to do with.

It says a lot about her, then, that her efforts at damage control were so successful, especially considering how little time she had before Sheogorath claimed Eyevea. Letting the Mad God run roughshod over the Scholarium would have been disastrous, spelling the end of Scribing and likely doom for the Luminaries. Trying to spirit the contents of the Scholarium out of Eyevea would only have drawn attention, and as sorry as Shalidor was for having gotten them all into this mess, Ulfsild couldn't really trust him not to botch things even further if he tried to help.

And so the only way to protect the Luminaries and preserve any glimmer of hope for the survival of Scribing was to hide the whole shebang away and lay the groundwork for some future successor to pick up where Ulfsild left off. And she had to do it all on her own.

Isolation was a recurring theme for both Ulfsild and the Luminaries, I noticed. As much as they considered themselves a family, and even when Ulfsild's marriage was intact, in many ways she felt alone as she walked her life's path. Her ability to see magic set her apart from her peers back in the Reach, and I wouldn't be surprised if she felt relegated to Shalidor's shadow despite being his match in both magic and temperament. And when she embarked on her journey to bring Scribing into the world, she chose to do it without leaning on her husband or friends. Well, aside from the friends made of magic that she made along the way.

It's entirely possible that the power of friendship was one of the lessons Bastian and I were meant to learn as we tag-teamed our way to inheritorhood. The Indrik could have instructed us to do our tasks independently, or made us compete against each other, or just appointed one of us the inheritor and had the other one sit it out. But he wanted us to experience the journey and overcome the challenges as a team, and looking back it's clear to see how we were stronger together than we would have been apart. I don't doubt that we each could have handled our trials just fine solo (maybe with some different task choices in certain cases...), but we had a much more effective and enjoyable time of it working together.

Maybe that's an advantage we have that Ulfsild didn't. I don't know if she would rethink her aloofness if she could see us in action now, but I think Crow-Ulfsild has come to appreciate the vitality that our motley crew brings to the Scholarium. Just as we can - and should - appreciate our friends and allies while we have them, even if we someday have to say goodbye to what we've built together.

Which leads me back around to what happened right after we completed the Crow's trial and the Luminaries gathered to congratulate us on bringing Ulfsild's master plan to a successful conclusion. The inheritors were crowned, Scribing was saved, and everyone was happy. But the story wasn't over yet.

The Crow let the celebration settle before getting back to business. "We have many reasons to rejoice," she said. "But there are two matters we must attend to before our work is truly done. A final sigil to be acquired and added to the Scribing altar, and a question to be answered about the future of the Scholarium. Namely, who will tend to it now that my role as provisional caretaker is complete?"

Bastian and I exchanged glances while the Crow fluttered to a closer perch to address us.

"The two of you took up the mantle of inheritor together, like a cloak wrapped around your shoulders as you walked side by side. Different as you are, you have both proven yourselves in your own ways. Now that your trials have ended, and you no longer need to bear that mantle as one, I wonder where your respective paths might lead you."

She looked at me and tipped her head thoughtfully. "You, I sense, are not one to be tied to any particular place. Many adventures await you, and you will want the freedom to fly wherever you are needed. I expect that Scribing will find a great deal of practical use as you continue to make your way through the world. And that confining you here would do both you and the world a disservice. Would you agree?"

"I'd say that's a pretty fair assessment," I said, already picturing Nirn self-destructing while its customary savior had her nose obliviously stuck in a book.

The Crow nodded, and then she looked at Bastian. "So then, I turn to you, mage. This place was created as a sanctum for those who love magic with every fiber of their being, a place where their skills could be honed and their dreams would know no bounds. Can you see yourself making a nest here? Would you take up a new mantle, as guardian and master of the Scholarium?"

It shouldn't have hit me so hard to realize what she was asking. Of course, if it wasn't going to be me, then...

Bastian seemed similarly blindsided. "You... you want me to be its master?"

"Your love of magic has been well noted. The joy and reverence you exude as you walk these halls. Your devotion and determination to protect and nurture. All of us believe that this place would be in good hands if those hands were yours. Should you be willing to accept the duty and the gift we would entrust to you."

I watched him as he grappled with the question. Everything the Crow said was true, but...

"If I did... that would mean staying here, wouldn't it?" he asked.

"That's right," the Crow replied. "This place would not be a prison, of course, but a home. Just as it was for Ulfsild and is for us Luminaries. A home that you could shape to your liking. Within reason, of course."

He was silent, and seemed to draw into himself to consider the matter. It was a lot to think about, especially with everybody staring at him waiting for a response. I realized that it wouldn't help to have me staring at him too, and looked away so I wouldn't unduly influence him. It needed to be his decision. If it was something he wanted for himself, then how could I be anything but happy for him? It was a perfect setup, really, one inheritor to go out into the world, and one to hold down the fort at home. And I mean it's not like I would never see him again, I could always come and visit whenever I needed to scribe a new spell...

"Ilsabet..." he said quietly, without looking up.

"Mmm." I didn't move either.

"Would you be angry with me... if I gave up this opportunity?"

It took me a moment, but then I looked at him, not sure I was hearing him right. "Gave it up? You mean..."

"This is the perfect place for me, isn't it?" he murmured, almost to himself. "A haven filled with books and magic, the most incredible mentors I could ask for, no limits on what I could accomplish... It should be my dream, shouldn't it?"

"Of course," I said, hoping I sounded suitably encouraging. "How could I possibly blame you if you wanted to stay here?"

"That's why I'm asking what I'm asking. What if..." He finally looked up at me. "What if I said I'd rather stay with you?"

So I hadn't heard him wrong. He was actually considering giving all this up?

"The Scholarium will always be here, right?" he said, as if to convince me of his thought process. "If one day we go our separate ways, the books and magic and mentors will be here waiting for me. But the time I could spend with you, the things we could do together, whatever I miss out on now, there's no getting it back. Right?"

I didn't know what to say. I could see what he was getting at, but was he really sure...

"If I'm being stupid, feel free to tell me," he said. "I know this isn't a decision to make lightly, and maybe I should give it more time to think it through. But the more I think about thinking about it, the tighter my gut clenches up. So... would you hold it against me if I went with my gut, whether it's rational or not?"

In that moment it was like we were the only two people in the room. I couldn't tell if he was waiting for me to validate his foolhardiness or talk some sense into him. He was worried that I'd be upset with him if he didn't make the obvious sensible choice. But if that wasn't what he really wanted...

I shook my head. Of course I wouldn't hold it against him.

He let out a relieved breath and turned back to the patiently expectant crow. "I'm sorry, Crow. All of you, I -" He looked around at the assembled Luminaries. "I know what this responsibility means, and what an honor it would be to accept it. But if you want an honest answer, I don't think this is something I can do. Please, forgive me for letting you down."

The Crow chuckled in a way that I might have called tension-defusing. "Do not let your feathers be ruffled, inheritor. I posed the question, already suspecting I knew the answer. But it was right that the offer should be made, and that you should have the chance to consider it and make the choice for yourself. If you feel the winds beneath your wings lifting you aloft, you need not hesitate to soar wherever they take you. Nor do you need to fear that the Scholarium will be left forsaken without your commitment."

The Crow turned her attention to Nahlia. "As it happens, I have spied another with the potential to be just what the Scholarium needs."

Nahlia started at the realization that everyone was now looking at her, and pointed to herself apprehensively.

"Yes, you, Knight of the Lamp. Though you do not claim the title of inheritor, you have overcome your own challenges and proven your own strength of mind and heart. That you stand here alongside the inheritors, those who call you ally and friend, is a testament to your dedication and loyalty. I am even willing to look past that little mishap with the altar crystal in consideration of your subsequent reliability."

Nahlia flinched but tried not to look too guilty.

"You have served as a protector and pathfinder, and shown your love for this place and its inhabitants," the Crow continued. "And so I ask you: Will you serve as librarian and custodian as well? Will you take your place as the Scholarium's master?"

"M-me? I, um..." Nahlia nervously looked to me and Bastian, and something occurred to her. "Maybe... we should see about that last sigil while I take some time to think things over. Oh, what will the Votary Commander say..."

One last portal-hopping trip brought us to a little cottage in Eastmarch, where Ulfsild's final projection awaited us. As her life drew to a close, she looked back fondly on her time in the Scholarium and the luminous friends she'd left behind. But she'd made a new life for herself, a happy life, as a simple but respected hedge wizard no longer overshadowed by a larger-than-life husband.

She couldn't know for sure if her message would ever be viewed, but I think she rested well in the knowledge that she'd done all she could to preserve Scribing, and in the hope that it wasn't all in vain. And as we carried the Crow's sigil back with us to complete the altar's restoration, I could imagine that somewhere in Aetherius a wandering soul felt just a little lighter.

Nahlia was feeling better about the whole master of the Scholarium thing, too, knowing that even the great Archmage had struggled and sacrificed and that it had all been worth it in the end. She's been settling into her new role quite well since convincing her commander to approve her new assignment, and the cohort from the Mages Guild has been busily preparing to open the Scholarium to a wider array of eager students. So I'd say Scribing has a bright future, even if its official inheritors are off doing their own things.

We do stop in fairly frequently, though, to try out new spell combinations and satisfy Bastian's insatiable hankering for more books. I'm still not sure I would call myself a mage, but I suppose I get a little closer every time I craft a spell that doesn't blow up in my face. And it's nice to have a quiet retreat where I can just wander around and focus on the little things, like where the Fox might have hidden his latest stash and that torchbug floating above a certain table that I swear changes colors each time I pass by.

And of course it's always nice to chat with our friends. Nahlia mentioned meeting a flirty Covenant knight once, which made me wonder... but no, I'm probably reaching for that one.

Anyway, that was a whole adventure, and I'm not sure if it was more or less tiring than chasing after Daedric Princes. It was something different, at least, and we got through it just fine.

I might leave the reading to Bastian for a while, though.