Author notes: This is a plot bunny that took a life of its own as I started to write it to go around a writer's block. It is based on a rather heavily modded TES V: Skyrim to reflect my own installation, with some additional modifications because this story is not limited by things like playability and processing power.

Summary: Your power is rooted in darkness… Dracula's words had been haunting her but little did she know what they entailed and the faraway place she would learn their true meaning.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the following fandoms

- Buffy the Vampire Slayer

- Anything related to the Elder Scrolls Series

"Mommy, can you tell me a story?"

Buffy smiled at the little girl lying near her, hoping it would hide the sorrow in her eyes. True, she had given Sofie a home but there was still that little part of her that told her she had done something terrible, that she should have let the orphan find peace in Arkay's cold embrace rather than making her part of the family.

"Mommy, you are sad again, right?" said Sofie, rising to come hug her.

"A little, sweetie."

"It's all right. I like it here even if I w… would like it if there were other kids here at the castle," she said while bumping her head with her tiny fist, smiling comically to berate herself about almost using the dreaded w-word. "So warm… they really have good ideas on your world," she continued as she snuggled back under the duvet.

Buffy looked fondly at her as she tucked her daughter in. Sure, the Californian Slayer was not as smart as her genius friend Willow, but she knew enough to give tips to local artisans about some things, like a duvet or pajamas. For the latter, she had gone for silk, after she innocently asked if someone ever thought about harvesting and weaving the webs of those icky giant spiders so common in Skyrim.

Ronthil probably overdid it with the bat motif on her pajamas, but it looks terribly cute on her…

"Can you tell me a story about Sunnydale?"

"Sure, but a short one. The sun is already up and you need your beauty sleep. So, this one happened shortly after your auntie Dawn came to live with me. You remember what I told you about the vamps?"

"That's the kind of vampires you had in Sunnydale but they're not real ones… from what you said and what grandmother taught me, I think it's rather like when we use blood magic to raise something dead. I mean, the body's moving but there is no soul in it, just magic and maybe a summoned Daedra so that it has a will."

Buffy could not help but return Sofie's smile, seeing how proud she was to have remembered all of it. The Californian girl had rather mixed feelings on the question but she had to admit that her mother-in-law's arguments were sound, particularly after what Buffy had nicknamed the 'Pet Sematary' incident. Even if she would have preferred to shield Sofie from some unsavory realities, this was not a luxury they could afford. Necromancy 101 had to be among her daughter's lessons for safety reasons.

"Right," replied the Slayer. "They are different. Vampires can choose, just like humans can. Vamps can't because the Daedric Prince who created them didn't want true people, he just wanted a weapon. But there are exceptions. Dracula, as annoying as he is, is one of those…"

A little later, after Sofie had drifted into sleep, Buffy closed the lid of her daughter's 'bed', letting her rest for the day. She could feel the weight of the sun herself, even with the comforting presence of the thick castle walls around her. Once again, she told herself that it wasn't that bad, that with the treatment they had devised, Sofie would continue to grow up normally and only stop aging when around twenty or so.

No ending up stuck like the girl in that movie with Brad Pitt… and more than all, she has her soul and I have mine… despite what we have become.

What she had become… her mind drifted, remembering her arrival in Skyrim, the start of the chain of events that led her down that dark road…

Her head hurt. She remembered falling… no, jumping. Yes, that was it, she had jumped from the tower. Why did she… damned headache, she couldn't think straight and her back was killing her. Glory, it was Glory's fault. The fallen Hell Goddess had kidnapped Dawn, wanted to use her to collapse the dimensional walls. The monster had almost… no, not almost. Dawn's blood had been shed, the process had started and she had sacrificed herself to stop it, to save her little sister and the world. There had been a great light then, a feeling that soon she would finally be able to rest but… it did not last. She remembered something else, voices arguing, maybe about her. After that, she had fallen again – she wasn't sure where – and she had been knocked out.

She was hearing the wind blowing around and feeling something cold beneath her, snow maybe. Where was she? She opened her eyes and saw ancient walls of grey stone, a carved head that made her think of Viking boats and, yes, definitely snow. It was night and something immediately caught her eye: the huge moon in the sky that had more in common with the pictures she had seen of Mars than the one she was used to.

"Not in Kansas anymore…"

She knew that she should not listen to her exhaustion, not fall asleep in this place. She should find shelter, maybe a way to make some fire. That black, metallic door she could glimpse from the corner of her eye. Now if she could only muster enough energy to rise… she blinked. There was someone standing near her and she was sure he had not been there two seconds earlier. That wasn't even the most surprising thing about him though.

It was her father. His elegant suit looked completely out of place with the snowy ruins around them. He had a bemused grin as he looked at her. His eyes… Hank Summers was a jerk but he had never looked at her like this. This was the kind of gaze she had sometimes seen in the worst of the jocks in high school, those who considered girls pieces of meat. No, it was even worse, sicker. It was the gaze of a man who wouldn't care if she said no, a man who would just take what he wanted from her and then discard her broken remains like trash.

She tried to move, tried to gather some strength in her limbs but to no avail. Her body felt like it was made of lead and even breathing was difficult now. The only good – or maybe even more worrying – thing was that she wasn't feeling the cold as much now.

"So, won't you say hello to Daddy?" he asked while his eyes continued to… molest her.

"You're not my Dad," she replied, finding back some breath. "I don't know what demon you are but…"

"I am not Hank Summers. That much is true. I took this appearance because it is easier for you to relate to it… and because it pleases me to help you hate him more. Anyway, I can reassure you. The paralysis is temporary, just to make sure you listen to me. Do not worry about exposure either, my spell is shielding you from that as well."

"What do you want?"

"That's a good question. You see, I could have let you arrive here, completely clueless and watched you stumble around Tamriel. But I have realized something by thinking about how you behaved in the last months. So tired, so ready to just make your final bow and exit the stage. The problem is that if I am to get what I want from you, I need you to want to live. I need you to want to fight and, most of all, I need you to hate me. The amusing thing is that in order to obtain this, all I have to do is to tell you the truth."

"Okay, I suppose that's honest. So if you're not about to kill me, who are you?"

"I will let you discover the name I use on this world by yourself. What I will tell you for now is that you can define me by two things. The first is that I am one of those who banished Glorificus. By the way… Giles killed Ben. Such a face! Disappointment, maybe even anger, while he just cleaned up after you. Tell me, daughter mine, what would you have done when Glory started to kill again? What would you have told to her victims' loved ones? Would you have told them that your principles about not killing humans were more important than their lives? Or maybe it was something more cunning… maybe you knew that Giles would do it and you let him do the dirty work so that you could look like the noble hero."

She scowled at him. His words had a way of worming into her mind, of making her feel dirty. The worst was that she believed him about Giles killing Ben. Giles wouldn't have taken the risk, he would have killed Glory's human host to make sure she was destroyed. He had done what she couldn't. He had cleaned up after her. He had made up for her weakness.

Weakness? What am I thinking?

She looked at the monster wearing her father's face, seeing his smile. She somehow knew that he was all about strength… no, not strength. Domination was the word she was looking for. He was exerting his power over her and expected her to do the same with those beneath her. He was now crouching near her and feeling her up, to let her know that she was just something he owned.

"A pity I do not have the time to take you using this shape, to brand it forever in your memory," replied the man. "Can you imagine yourself screaming of pleasure under me?" he said while he caressed one of her breasts.

Buffy felt rage growing. It was not only the way he was touching her but also that… holding onto her rage was the only thing that allowed her not to cower in shame. She didn't know what magic he was using but her body was responding to his touch. She tried to bite him as his hand caressed her face, anything to show at least some defiance.

"So feisty… I have observed you many times, daughter mine. Wild, untamed… I was looking forward to welcoming you home."

"Cut with the 'daughter mine'. I am not yours."

"Oh, but you are! You just don't know it. I am the father of a very important part of you. A long time ago, the first Watchers contacted me. They needed a champion to ensure their domination over their world. So I bonded a little part of my essence to the girl they provided me, a cute little thing called Sineya… I still remember her moans fondly. I gave them the first Slayer and in exchange, you all come to me after death. As you can imagine, the Watchers thought a few girls' souls were not that big of a sacrifice for the Greater Good."

Again, she had that feeling and now she had a good idea of why. It was the Slayer in her. The Slayer knew this creature and it was because of it that she reacted that way. It was because of it that she was feeling that what he had just said was true. It was also because of it that his presence was stirring that reaction Slayer had, the one that got them hungry and horny after a fight. She was wet down there and had to fight against the desire to spread her legs for him. The worst was what she could see in his eyes. He knew how her body was reacting and he was seeing the fury in her eyes, the anger at her own, traitorous flesh. He was getting off on degrading her and if he had the time, she had little doubt that he would delight in the horror in her eyes while her body whored itself with him.

"So what now?" she asked, trying to keep what little control she still had on her body.

"Now? You are free… up to a point. Make yourself a life on this world and know that I will wait for your soul to come to me after your death. As I am a loving father, I also leave you with a boon, just some basics that will help you here on Tamriel, as well as a little something to help you not associate with the bad crowd."

He turned her over and lifted her sweater to expose her flesh. She felt his hand caress her and… pain seared through her lower back. She concentrated, mustering all the willpower she could. She would not give him that satisfaction. She would not scream. She would not beg.

"Very good," he whispered in her ear while leaning on her. "I see that you are ready to be strong, daughter mine, ready to be a lion among sheep. Have fun and come see Daddy in Coldharbour!"

She heard his laugh as he left. She curled slowly as she felt life coming back in her limbs. There was a part of her wanting to die, to end it all but… if what that monster had said was true, it wasn't an option. She was damned. All Slayers were damned and she needed to go back, to confront Giles on the matter, to know if he knew or if it was only some Head Watchers like Travers who did.

She tried to rise. With movement something else was coming back too. The cold was piercing now, starting to feel like needles on her exposed skin. Without shelter, she would not survive the night.

And for all I know, I might be in this world's Alaska and sunrise is three months away. Rise, Buffy!

Her legs were finally responding and she got up. She spent a few seconds arranging her clothes and started to move. She wouldn't last long with jeans and a sweater, not with a temperature nearing zero. She started to walk toward the door she had seen, paying a lot of attention to where she was stepping. The hard snow could easily hide slippery ice or worse things, like big, deep holes.

She finally reached the door. It was made of a black metal, maybe some kind of steel. All that she was sure of was that despite its age, there wasn't even a speck of rust on it. She pushed on it and it opened quietly. Too quietly and years of Slaying experience sent alarms to her brain. Beyond it were some kind of stairs going down, in the darkness and a subtle scent she knew all too well. She was in a tomb.

"Later… survive the cold first."

She dug in her jeans' pocket, finding a gift she had kept… she wasn't sure why. She didn't smoke and she… well maybe she didn't hate Spike that much anymore and the Zippo was nice, sturdy and very helpful in case she had to light something on fire. Feeling it ready to be lighted in her hand, she leaned back on the door and closed it. The air was still cold but a little less so. She could still feel some draft which meant the door wasn't airtight and that the air had a good chance of being breathable.

Buffy lit the Zippo and started to look around. There wasn't much here but she could see some wood and old linen laying around. She checked the latter and nodded when she noticed it was dry. Girl Scouts had never been her thing but she should manage to build a fire. She had to. She considered her options. She could go down the stairs and try to see what she could find but she wasn't stupid enough to build a fire in a room without any way to make air. So she would have to stay here, near the door and just go down to gather material.

She started to hunt. There was a room down the stairs but it was mostly buried under rocks, probably from an old cave-in. Still, she had some luck. Her first findings had been a stone vat with grease in it, linen strips and wood. She quickly rubbed some linen on the grease and wrapped it around a piece of wood, thanking for once the adventure movies Xander had made her watch. She felt with delight the heat of the flame as she lit her improvised torch.

Good, I can even put it in that sconce… which means this room was meant to be visited.

She prepared a few other torches then hunted for other material. She had enough to make a decent fire but she needed more. Winter clothes if she hoped to survive outside, then food and water. There were some things that she could use among the rubble though none of that. What she had found were tools that looked like the surgical kind to her.

Got it. Linen strips in quantity and scalpels. They make mummies around here. Still sharp. Better than nothing.

She took one of the stone vats she had found and hauled it back up the stairs. It was heavy but not that big of a deal with her Slayer strength. Another trip and she had enough wood, linen and grease to build a decent fire, plus all of her spare torches. Flames rose and she felt better as she sat on the stone steps near the fire, her back leaning against the wall. She was so tired…

"Sorry, Sir, but isn't the Jarl…"

The bald, middle-aged man turned to smile at his student. While he could have passed relatively unnoticed in California… provided it was at a Ren Fair, she definitely couldn't. Between her gray skin and the red on red, slanted eyes, she would have needed to aim for a different kind of convention where people would probably have complimented her on her costume. For this world, though, she was just another Dunmer, another dark elf.

"You are right, Brelyna. We are still negotiating with the Jarl to have the authorization to make some proper research at the Saarthal site. This is an emergency however. We already lost too much time pinpointing the exact location of the event."

The girl nodded as she continued to follow her teacher. She was studying Conjuration at the College of Winterhold and she regularly assisted Phinis Gestor with his research. A few hours ago, one of those experiments had gone wrong and they had determined it was because of a portal opening in the nearby site of Saarthal. From what she had read on the matter, the site was the mostly buried remnants of an ancient Nord capital city that had been wiped out by the Snow Elves during the Merethic Era.

This was why they were negotiating the treacherous slopes to reach the bottom of a hole where stood an entrance leading to what was left of the city's catacombs. It hadn't snowed last night and she could still glimpse some footprints in the hard snow below. She looked better, thanking the fact that the sun was still too low to wash everything in white reflected light.

Yes, something has fallen here in the snow… something humanoid. Then it got up and went for the door.

She looked around for her teacher and saw that he was casting several spells to analyze the remnants of the portal. She decided to inspect the door in the meantime, taking care not to walk on the footsteps. Now that she could observe them better, she could see that they were made by rather small boots with a clearly marked heel.

"Sir!" she called. "Someone went in there recently."

The man nodded and came to rejoin her while she carefully pushed the door. Nord tombs too often sheltered a kind of undead called Draugr. No such things here, just cold air and a shape in the darkness, sitting near the almost cold ashes of a fire. She concentrated, and cast a light spell. It would surely give her away but better that than to stumble in the darkness. Another quick spell and she felt a little safer while her skin briefly took the appearance of bark.

The 'shape' was a human girl in light clothes of a kind she had never seen. She looked pale and… Brelyna started to move quickly, approaching the girl to better examine her. Since she had come to Winterhold, she had been taught repeatedly about the danger cold represented and what symptoms to look for.

"Hypothermia?" asked the professor as he came to stand behind her.

"She needs a warm bath and…"

"We will have Colette look at her once we are back at the College."

Brelyna felt the girl move. She looked her in the eyes and saw some fear, soon accompanied by a move of her hand, a hand holding an embalming tool. The Dunmer girl smiled at her, she hoped in a reassuring way while she lifted her hands slowly so that the stranger could look at them and see she was unarmed.

"My name is Brelyna, do you understand me?"

Seeing the girl's intrigued stare, she pointed her face while saying 'Brelyna', then pointed at her.

"Buffy," replied the girl, while keeping her armed hand ready to strike.

The Dunmer nodded then said 'Professor Gestor' while pointing at the man behind her.

"Do you understand me this time?" she asked again, following a hunch and using Daedric.

The girl shook and looked at her strangely. It wasn't that surprising for the Dunmer. The language of the otherworldly Daedra rarely had a good reputation.

"Yes… but I don't know how. Are you human?"

"No, I am an elf. We need to get you someplace warm quickly. Do you agree?"

The girl seemed to consider her options, probably having to decide if she could trust them. She finally nodded, looking like she had exhausted what little energy she still had. Brelyna saw her close her eyes again.

"Brelyna, hold her tight," said Phinis. "I am recalling us back to the College."

The Dunmer nodded and hugged the girl while the human teacher incanted. Magic soon warped space around them and silence reigned in the old tomb once again.

Buffy woke up and the first thing she noticed was that she was feeling comfortably warm. The second was that she was naked and tucked in a nice bed.

Well, maybe a little on the coarse side for the linens but I'm not about to complain.

Feigning sleep, she looked around, seeing arches of grey stones and paneled windows that made her think of the ones of a cathedral. One of those even had some picture in colored glass, a symbol that looked like an eye in a star. She was otherwise in a room with several beds – though only her own was occupied – and smelled of… it wasn't the smell she had come to associate with hospitals, the one she hated. It was nicer, reminding her of the herbs section at the Magic Box.

The gray-skinned girl she had taken for a hallucination back in the tomb was sitting in a wooden armchair next to her bed, reading an ancient-looking book. Her clothes themselves looked ancient. A dark purple tunic over pants and a shirt of the same color, the belt being held by a heavy silver buckle that just screamed Viking to her.

Now that she could look at her better, she also noticed how subtly alien she was. There were the ears of course, pointed ones similar to the ones of the Vulcans in Star Trek. Her traits were angular and would have looked strange on a human female. Yet, the way she held herself… this reminded Buffy of Willow when she was still in her 'shy nerd' phase.

"You are awake?" asked the gray girl as she closed her book.

Again, she had used that language, the one she understood without knowing why. The one she knew she had never learnt though she had the impression she may have seen pieces of it in Giles' books.

"Yes," she replied.

"Good, how are you feeling?"

"Better… warmer."

"That's good. From what we could find out, you fell asleep and your fire went out during the night. If we had not found you…"

"Thank you… but how?"

"Professor Gestor and I detected the opening of a portal to a Plane of Oblivion last night. We came to investigate as soon as we located it. We found you, someone wearing clothes that are… not local. We brought you back here to the College and Professor Marence healed you… which led us to another discovery."

"Which one?"

Brelyna looked embarrassed, as if she was trying to find a tactful way to say something.

"Listen… you have to realize how lucky you are that we were the ones to find you. When the teachers saw your tattoo, the first thing they noticed was that it was magical. So they analyzed it and from what they found out they deduced that the probability you were willing was very low."

"Ta…"

Buffy stopped, remembering the searing pain on her lower back just before the monster left.

"Do you have a mirror?"

"There is one in the examination room."

Buffy got up, draping herself in the outer blanket. The stone floor was cold under her bare feet but she didn't care. Her need to know what the monster had done to her was greater. She followed Brelyna as she led her into another, smaller room. She lost no time and came to stand before the big mirror, removing the blanket so that she could look at her lower back.

"A tramp stamp… he had to make it a tramp stamp," she said softly in English.

She had to admit that at least it looked like a well-done tattoo and not the cattle brand she had feared at first… though from another point of view it made it worse. It was a grinning, vaguely reptilian-looking demon head with two horns coming out of the side of the skull before curving front and downward. All of it was done in loving detail using multiple shades of black and red. So much detail and fine precision that anyone with a passing knowledge of tattoos would have a hard time believing she had not sat willingly through several painful sessions to get it inked.

"Let me guess," she said while she draped herself again in the blanket and sat on the examination table. "This is a bad symbol around here."

"Yes… and from your question I guess you don't know about it."

Buffy shook her head.

"Well… this is the symbol of Molag Bal and yes, he is bad news. To give you an idea, one of his titles is the Prince of Rape. Most people seeing that tattoo will believe you are one of his worshipers."

The monster's words echoed again through Buffy's head. He had said that he left her with something that would help her not to associate with the wrong people. He had in fact made sure that most decent people on this world would think she was evil.

"Let me guess, some of those people won't even let me try to explain."

"Yes. In particular you must be very cautious with the Vigilants of Stendarr. They are an order sworn to purge Daedric taint from Tamriel. They would rather burn you at the stake than let you 'tempt them with your vile words'."

Buffy frowned. She had felt the venom in Brelyna's voice when she spoke of those people.

"You don't like them."

"The College is not popular with them… well most wizardly groups aren't and who I am is not helping."

"Hem… sorry to ask this but it's because you're an elf?"

Brelyna had a little laugh. It was too tired to be a giggle but still…

"Sorry. It's… refreshing to speak with you, because you don't have the preconceptions the others have. My family is part of House Telvanni, one of the big noble houses among the dark elves. Our House is renowned for its wizards and for its 'might makes right' attitude. Personally…"

Buffy suddenly knew why she was liking this girl so much.

"You're just tired of having to live up to other people's expectations," she cut in, remembering her own experience in the matter.

"Yes. At least, here in Skyrim I don't have all of my relatives comparing everything I do with what my ancestors did. Just the fact that most Nords distrust magic and the Telvanni's bad reputation to make up for."

"You awake, good," said a petite brunette woman as she entered the room.

Buffy frowned a little. While Brelyna had been speaking fluently in the mystery language, the newcomer did not seem to master it well. She was maybe in her early forties and was wearing clothes similar to what the dark elf wore, though white rather than purple.

"Sorry. Daedric not good," said the woman. "I Colette Marence, Restoration Teacher and Healer. Brelyna translates."

The woman then switched to a different language and the Slayer's frown deepened. She was not good enough in that one to make conversation but she knew it. She had deciphered enough of Giles' books in that one. It did not sound like when Giles read something aloud which probably meant a different dialect but it was still Latin.

"Buffy, this is Colette Marence, the Restoration Teacher. She says that you are very lucky and that most humans would have died in your circumstances. Hypothermia would normally not have been as severe but that general exhaustion made you fragile. She advises rest and says that Professor Gestor is clearing things with the Arch-Mage so that you can stay here."

"I am not a wizard… in fact Buffy and magic are non-mixy."

Brelyna translated back and Buffy suddenly saw the glare of the older woman. She knew that glare. It was a patented 'you are wasting your life' Mom glare. There was another rapid string of sentences in Latin while the dark elf girl listened.

"Hem… Professor Marence says that this has rather to do with a lack of proper education and that everybody should know at the very least a few novice spells, particularly Restoration ones. According to the tests she did when healing you, you have a magicka pool that is deeper than average along with your other gifts."

"Gifts?"

Again a glare, this one of the 'I know what you did, young lady' kind. Colette said a short sentence to Brelyna and this time Buffy understood something like 'private' out of it.

"Sorry, but there are some results from the tests Professor Marence wants to discuss directly with you," said the Dunmer.

Buffy could see that Brelyna did not like being left out, even if she understood the need. It probably went alongside thoughts like 'is this newcomer a danger?'."

I have to decide… to trust or not to trust. Even if I like Brelyna, I only have their words that… no, I have more. Maybe hypothermia would not have killed me if I had been completely fit but the fight against Glory burnt my last reserves. Hell, even if I am well enough to function, I still feel like I need a loooong vacation. They brought me here, healed me and I am not in chains. This is not the Initiative… maybe they are evil cultists of that Moby Gal guy and they just took me in because their boss told them to. Overthinking…

"Buffy," said Brelyna. "I can almost hear the gears in your mind. You are wondering if you can trust us and given who you messed with recently, I understand perfectly why. So, I give you my word that if you want to leave, you can. The question is what will you do afterwards?"

"Yeah… alone in a strange world and not even a language I can speak without having people take out the pitchforks… the kind of fun that isn't. What will happen if I stay?"

"A good question," said another, female voice in Daedric as she entered the room.

It was a petite brunette woman who showed some resemblance with Colette, though not enough to be of the same family, but rather in the way two people of the same ethnicity could look alike. The first thing Buffy noticed was how sharp the woman's eyes were and how strict the bun of her hair looked. The man Buffy had seen while only half-awake in the tomb – Gestor if she remembered well – was following her.

"I am Mirabelle Ervine, the Master Wizard of the Mages' College of Winterhold," she said. "This means that I handle the day-to-day operations of the College. From what Phinis has told me, you are not from this world and have nowhere to go… I will be direct. I have two ways to allow you to stay. The first is not pleasant as you would be considered as… the result of an experiment."

"I think I will pass," replied Buffy.

"A sensible choice. The second is to enroll you among the apprentices. Normally, this is a place for higher learning and we do not allow people without at least a modicum of magical education. I will allow for an exception given your exceptional circumstances but under two conditions. The first is that in two months, I want you able to do two things. You will be able to hold a basic conversation in the Imperial and Nordic tongues. You will also be able to demonstrate the casting of basic spells in the five schools of magic. The second is that I want to know why you gained so much attention from a Daedric Lord. I insist that this latter point is not a matter of nosiness. It is a matter of security for the College."

Okay… she's the local version of McGonagall. Reassuring in a way. At least with her I know where I'm standing. Better than having a smiling Dumbledore with lots of hidden motives…

"I agree," she said. "The language that I suppose you call Imperial… we have a variant of it on my world but it's a dead language, only found in old texts. I can read it, but I never learned to speak it."

"That will make things simpler," replied Mirabelle. "Let's get you into something more presentable than this blanket, then we will go to my office. Brelyna… you come with us and take notes."

"Yes, Ma'am," said the dark elf, smiling to have a reason to be included.

A while later, now clad in purple robes similar to the one of Brelyna, Buffy sat in a chair near the fireplace of Mirabelle's office. Brelyna was sitting at the desk with a quill and lot of paper while Mirabelle and Phinis sat in front of the Slayer. Colette had declined as the interview would be held in Daedric and just asked for the notes afterward.

"So you want to know about my world… as my Watcher was saying, the world is older than you know…"