Several Years Later

Alarys Drethen gazed sullenly to the blackening sky, standing amidst the pervading stillness and silence of the forest. Dusk had fallen upon the land, the last traces of daylight swiftly being swallowed by the black curtain of darkness creeping across the sky. A fading splash of pink lingering on the western horizon was all that remained of the passing sun as it descended hastily behind the distant trees and mountains. Though it was only the first hour of nightfall, the pale light of the twin moons could already be seen shimmering high above in the cloudless sky, amidst the growing dark. A chill, gloomy autumn wind sailed somberly all through the land, the leaves of the trees rustling restlessly in its passage.

Alarys continued onward, treading with silent footsteps through the seemingly endless woodlands that comprised Morrowind's sprawling wilderness. The forest would soon be falling into slumber, and at this hour, there was nary a sound to be heard anywhere as the night drew closer. Apart from the slight chill of the nightly breeze, the air was comfortably tepid, and all signs pointed to this being a peaceful night.

Alarys Drethen had been on his feet virtually all day, only having stopped on one occasion for rest since the sun's rising, and as the shape of the moons grew ever clearer in the sky, he knew it would soon be time to call it a day and find shelter. Utterly devoid of roads or pathways of any sort, most would have found it nigh impossible to successfully navigate through Morrowind's vast, unforgiving wilds. But Alarys, having acquired an immense wealth of experience and skills in outdoor survival during his long years as a bounty hunter, knew these lands practically by heart and thus treaded through with relative ease. Even despite all his years as lord of Drethen Manor, Alarys had still retained all of the knowledge he had amassed during his youth. Knowledge that was critically paramount to anyone who, willingly or not, found themselves within the great wilderness of Morrowind and intended to survive for more than a single day.

Roughly half an hour passed, and the last of the sunlight had now faded over the greyed horizon. A scarce number of stars began to gleam beneath the moonlight, with more appearing gradually as the minutes rolled by. The soft hissing of the leaves and grass had stopped when the wind suddenly died, and now all was entirely silent within the slumbering forest, almost eerily so.

Alarys winced suddenly when a great pain speared through his right hand. Coming to an abrupt stop, the Dunmer slowly removed his glove, a surge of dread gripping him as he eyed the rotten, horrifically decayed flesh of his hand.

"Drinking from contaminated water. How could I have been so careless?" Alarys muttered to himself. The Temple healers had proven unable to aid Alarys in any sort of way, and the best he had been able to procure from the numerous apothecaries he visited was a potion that would merely stall, but not eradicate his infection. The disease had already progressed alarmingly fast, having entirely eaten away the flesh of his right hand within mere days, and even as he looked now, Alarys could see the infection had reached his wrist since just this morning. Alarys fully knew better than to drink from unfamiliar water without first treating it, but not having had a single drop in two full days had left him with an agonizing thirst, and in that fateful moment, his desperation had triumphed over his common sense.

Alarys sat down against the nearby tree, the pain in his hand flaming more by the second. Hastily reaching into his sack, the Dunmer took out one of the several vials containing the potion, quickly pouring just a few drops through his lips. Alarys coughed several times as the potion passed his throat, the taste so putrid he practically had to force himself to not vomit. The pain in his hand subsided just a short moment after, but the bitter aftertaste of the potion would linger in his throat for hours.

"I almost think I would rather die right now than taste even another drop of this," said Alarys. Indeed, it occurred to him that there was truly little point in taking the potion. The infection would eventually take him regardless. This vile tasting concoction he had been given was simply a means of delaying the inevitable, hardly anything that could be considered a remedy in any sense of the word.

Roughly ten minutes passed before Alarys got back on his feet and set off again. After only a couple steps, the Dunmer heard a strange, faint rustling in the distance that for a moment sounded like movement. Alarys's eyes frantically scoured all around his immediate vicinity, his hand hovering just above his sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice if need be. All was still again shortly thereafter, however, and Alarys soon allowed himself to relax as he then continued on, but ever his eyes and ears remained watchful and vigilant.

For roughly another half hour Alarys journeyed forth, the minutes rolling slowly by as the night ever darkened. The air suddenly grew murky and warm as the Dunmer headed further south, passing through a stretch of boggy swamps and wetlands. The ground grew soggy and damp beneath Alarys's feet, and though he took care to tread around the marshes, he still occasionally stumbled into the odd puddle, and more than once he felt the unpleasant chill of water seeping through his boots. Countless times throughout his long life Alarys had walked this very path he now found himself upon, and thus he knew he was not terribly far away from the city of Tear. The burden of weariness had slowly begun to creep upon Alarys, but he felt no desire to stop just yet. The night had now grown far too dark to see in any direction, but Alarys possessed an unparalleled familiarity with the Deshaan region of Morrowind, and he knew that he could never become lost here, even if he were trying. And so he trekked ever onward, the still breath of the young night bringing to him a sliver of peace and comfort.

Turning suddenly left, Alarys now headed eastward, swiftly passing by more swamps and over several rolling hills and meadows as he neared the edge of the forest. The black, moonlit horizon became more and more clear as Alarys came upon the outskirts of the woods, and the Dunmer then hurried his pace. It was only a few minutes later when Alarys finally emerged from the sleeping trees, standing now upon the wide, sandy coast that led into the vast ocean. The Dunmer at last came to a stop then, and gazed for several minutes into the night sky, beholding in tranquil silence the waxing Masser and Secunda as they shone in their full splendor amidst the glistening sea of stars. Alarys slowly stepped forward, coming to the very edge of the sea where he stopped once more. Far to the east Alarys fixed his gaze, the waters of the ocean utterly still at his feet, clear and pure as crystal, the faces of the moons reflecting upon its surface as if it were a mirror. Time itself suddenly ceased to exist within Alarys Drethen's mind as he stood upon the foot of the great ocean, staring longingly into the black, gloomy void of the night that lay far beyond.

Alarys reached his hand into his tunic, gently clutching the silver locket clasped about his neck. Slowly the Dunmer brought the locket out from under his collar, and with trembling fingers Alarys carefully opened it, a lone tear seeping from his eye as he looked upon the portrait within.

"It was here…" Alarys muttered in a morose whisper. "It was right here, at this very spot, where I asked you to be my wife." A great, overwhelming emptiness and yearning filled Alarys Drethen's heart, a deep sadness far more profound and painful than even the deadly infection slowly ravaging him now.

"I still remember that moment clearly, as if it were only yesterday," said Alarys, his voice nostalgic and reminiscent. A brief, subdued smile crossed his face. "It was a night just like this one. I remember how beautiful you looked as you stood here in the water, the waves gently splashing against you, your hair blowing in the breeze."

Alarys began to feel a fever suddenly coming on at that moment, another frequent symptom of his infection. Beads of sweat poured down the man's brow as his entire body grew sweltering hot. Alarys reached inside his satchel and grabbed the potion once more, only to put it back a second later.

"Bugger that," he muttered, instead pulling out a bottle of ale. Hurriedly popping off the cork, Alarys brought the ale to his lips, chugging half the bottle in mere seconds with not an ounce of restraint or care.

"Warm as piss," Alarys muttered, wiping off several spilled drops from his chin. Alarys recoiled briefly as the bitter taste of the ale licked his throat. "But, then again, I suppose it's not like I'm drinking it for the taste." Alarys finished off the rest of the ale only seconds later, tossing the now empty bottle back into his satchel. Alarys let out a belch, and still standing at the water's edge, the Dunmer gazed in utter silence over the sea again. Though his senses were mildly numbed from the ale, Alarys's fever still persisted, and his vision began to grow hazy and dim as his head burned more intensely, like a flame had been lit within his skull. As his weariness grew, Alarys now wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep well into the late hours of the morning, and so he turned from the ocean, intending to head back into the woods and take shelter beneath the cover of the trees. After only a couple steps, however, Alarys turned back around, stealing one final glance of the beautiful moonlit sea.

And that was when he suddenly spotted a lone figure ahead in the distance, standing in the water.

Alarys's left hand instinctively reached for his blade, but he relaxed and lowered it back to his side only a moment after. For a good minute or two, the Dunmer simply stared in confused wonder upon the figure in the water, utterly perplexed as to how it had just appeared seemingly from nowhere. The mysterious figure did not stir a muscle as it stood within the calm waters, nor did it utter any word or sound. Shrouded in the night's eerie darkness, the dark shape simply stood in the water in unbroken silence, staring ceaselessly into the black horizon.

Stepping into the water, Alarys cautiously made his way towards the shadowy black shape, a mix of curiosity and apprehensiveness churning within him. As he slowly approached, Alarys immediately noted the figure's small, slim stature, and he knew that standing before him now was a mere child, unmistakably female. Long, raven-black hair cascaded smoothly down her shoulders, though that was all of her that Alarys could presently see. Alarys waded deeper into the water, and even as he drew nearer to this child, still she remained ever unmoving like a stone, continuing to gaze ahead, into and beyond the infinite darkness of the world. Alarys wondered to himself if this child, whomever she was, was even faintly aware of his presence. After just a few careful steps more, Alarys came to a sudden halt, for it was then that the child in the water slowly turned around towards him.

Alarys immediately caught a glimpse of the child's grey skin and red eyes, a sure indication that she was Dunmer. However, it was only when she raised her head, and her face was slowly revealed by the moonlight, that Alarys could at last see her clearly, and the man let out a gasp of utter shock as his heart nearly stopped in his chest.

"No, it isn't possible…" Alarys whispered. "It, it can't be…" As the child stared back at Alarys, her eyes seemingly piercing through him, he could not deny that which he now beheld. Her narrow eyes, her flowing black hair, her slender face, more beautiful and resplendent than even the most flawless of jewels. This child was Valarya Drethen's spitting image. Alarys took a single step forward, his entire body quivering as he was nearly overcome by the storm of emotions raging through him.

"Resenna!" he cried, and the man reached forth his hand to her. The child gave no answer, remaining silent as a shadow as she stood utterly still within the water, gazing firmly upon Alarys. The girl's dark hair blew gently behind her head as a light breeze stirred from the south, and her face glittered a pale hue of pearl and silver beneath the shining moonlight.

"Is…is this a dream?" Never before in his life had Alarys Drethen laid eyes upon anything so beautiful, and as the former slave owner stared in awed silence into the child's gleaming eyes, and she into his, soon did Alarys begin to feel immense anguish and sorrow festering within his heart as he was excruciatingly reminded of his beloved wife.

"How…" whispered Alarys, fighting against the tears welling in his eyes. "How can you look just like her?" The girl remained silent still, and though her face would have appeared expressionless to most, Alarys saw in her eyes a nameless sorrow, a grave darkness, like an everlasting night that lingers without a star.

Alarys stepped forward, reaching out a trembling hand. A sudden gust of wind blew over the sea that moment, and in its passing, the child swiftly vanished before his eyes into the night's darkness. Alarys frantically looked all around in every which direction for a full minute, but no sign of the girl was he to find anywhere, and a great sadness gripped the Dunmer's heart as he was left standing alone in the water, staring aimlessly into the empty black shadows that shrouded the horizon. For a long while Alarys stood amidst his swirling thoughts, pondering what he had just seen. Was it all simply an illusion, wrought by some strange spell placed over him? Was the child some sort of apparition, an unearthly vision sent from far beyond the world of the living? Or was she perhaps nothing more than a delusion of Alarys Drethen's own mind, a figment of his imagination conjured only to further exacerbate his grief and torment?

Alarys was pulled from his thoughts suddenly, for it was at that moment that the stillness and quiet of the night was broken as Alarys heard a light patter of footsteps approaching behind him. Just as he had suspected all the way back in the woods, somebody was following him, and even before seeing them with his own eyes, there was not a shred of doubt in Alarys's mind as to who it was. Slowly Alarys turned to face his pursuer, and a grin crossed his face.

"So, you have come to share your brother's fate," spoke the Dunmer.

There before him at the water's edge Ashara stood. No longer, however, was she the small, timid child who had once served Valarya Drethen. Tall, strong, and fearless Ashara stood now, her immense stature undeniably imposing and mighty as she easily towered several inches above Alarys. A fierce flame gleamed within Ashara's eyes, a light more radiant and bright than even the sun that no shadow could darken. Several long battle scars could be seen within the Khajiit's dark grey fur. The very fabrics of time itself seemed to grind to an utter halt as the Dunmer and Khajiit stood before one another, each of their eyes piercing into the other more intensely than even the sharpest of blades. Brightly above them the moons shone, their luminous gaze fixed firmly upon them.

"My, how the kitten has grown," Alarys remarked with a chuckle. "It seems not too long ago that you were scrubbing pots in my kitchen and dusting every last room of Drethen Manor from dawn till dusk. How quickly the years do pass." Ashara gave no answer, but her eyes narrowed into a vicious glower, and the fire in her eyes blazed all the more fervently.

"Why are you here, girl?" Alarys then asked. "And answer me truly." Ashara inched forward a single step toward Alarys, her eyes not once leaving his.

"You know why I'm here, Lord Drethen," she answered. Ashara's voice was calm, but a fierce, unwavering determination stirred within her words. "You killed my brother, that night of the slave revolt. I watched helplessly as you put three arrows in him, before carving into him with your dagger. I held him as he drew his last breaths, as his eyes darkened forever." Her voice trailed off, and just a few brief tears dripped from her eyes.

"K'Jhari died right in my arms, the only family I ever had," said Ashara. "And for all these years since that dreaded night, I have dedicated myself to learning the ways of the blade, training rigorously each and every day for hours on end. This has been a day long in waiting, and countless nights I have dreamt of this very moment. And now, here, I have found you, Lord Drethen, and at long last I can avenge my brother's death."

"A pity," said Alarys. "A grave pity. Your brother killed my wife and unborn child, knowing full well it would spell his own death, and all to protect you. He died so that you could be free, so that you could have a chance at another life. You could have returned to Elsweyr, and be living amongst your own kin. You could have done anything you wanted, gone anywhere you wanted, and been anything that your heart desired. The world was yours for the taking, girl, and I know that is what your brother would have wanted for you."

"But instead, you choose the path of revenge," said Alarys. "You would recklessly throw away your own life. You would throw away the very freedom your brother died to give you. A grave pity indeed."

That moment, Ashara crossed her arms, drawing the twin silver short-swords at her sides, giving them several twirls in her hands. Alarys only gave the Khajiit girl an amused smirk.

"I have no quarrel with you," said the Dunmer. "I let you go once already back at the plantation, and will do so again now. Leave me, this very moment, and let me live my remaining days in peace. I have no desire to kill you, girl. Valarya was always fond of you, and it is partly for her that I am extending to you this kindness. Sheathe your blades, girl, and never cross paths with me again."

Even before Ashara had spoken a word, Alarys knew already that she would not be deterred from her course. The Dunmer subtly reached his left hand to his sword, preparing himself for what he knew would be his last fight, win or lose.

"I have come too far to turn away," said Ashara, and she advanced another step, pointing a blade toward Alarys. "I will not rest until you've been made to answer for K'Jhari's death." In acceptance of the challenge, Alarys drew his Daedric longsword, the fearsome blade nearly blending into the very darkness of the night itself.

"It almost pains me that your brother's death is going to end up so grievously wasted," said Alarys. "Of all the paths in life you could've chosen, you choose the path of fools. If you are so adamant to face me, then I will not deny you your wish. Come, girl, if you dare, and I shall reunite you with your brother."

Not another word was spoken then between the Dunmer and Khajiit. Ashara raised her blades in the air, and letting out a fierce cry, she charged at Alarys, her eyes glowing, and her feet as swift as the wind itself. Alarys planted his feet and lifted his own blade, and a shrill ring echoed for miles across the vast sea as their weapons met. Upon deflecting Ashara's opening blow, Alarys immediately shot forward, his sword whirling high above as he unleashed an offensive of several lightning swift attacks. Ashara easily batted away his strikes with her twin blades, and just at that moment the Khajiit suddenly spun through the air like a whirlwind, her blades encircling all around her. Alarys was knocked back for just the briefest of moments, and though he successfully parried and dodged Ashara's incoming blows, he was greatly taken aback by her nimble maneuvers, as well as her graceful, ruthless speed and skill. Diseased and fatigued he may have been, Alarys Drethen was no less a formidable foe, and the Dunmer's Daedric sword whirled with dazzling speed through the air as he rained forth a heavy barrage of counterattacks.

Ashara kept a solid defense against Alarys's flurry of blows, but as she closed in to retaliate, the Khajiit clumsily overextended herself, causing her to swing too far and momentarily leaving herself open, and Alarys rewarded her error thusly. The Dunmer's blade sliced along her left arm, leaving a superficial, but still painful wound. Ashara gave a pained cry as her sword fell from her hand, and blood began to seep through her fur only seconds after.

Ashara retreated, briefly cradling her wounded arm. Alarys was not about to grant her any respite, and the Dunmer was soon upon her again. Alarys lunged forward, delivering a mighty thrust of his sword, which Ashara only barely deflected with her remaining blade. The girl swiftly steeled herself and came for Alarys again. The Dunmer soon found himself greatly struggling to keep up as his strength waned by the second, but Ashara only came upon him more relentlessly, her movements nearly indecipherable as she spun, leaped, and soared through the air, quick and lithe as a shadow. For several minutes the blades of the two combatants danced and clashed. Alarys's defense remained intact, but he knew he could not hold off the Khajiit girl for much longer. He managed to kick Ashara right in the stomach, and as the Khajiit staggered, Alarys brought down his blade with every ounce of strength that yet remained.

Ashara parried the blow just in the nick of time, and then, in a moment Alarys would never have expected, she ducked to the ground and deftly maneuvered to his exposed right side. With one swing of her blade, Ashara cut through Alarys's tunic, slicing him deeply across his waist. The Dunmer gave a pained grunt as a jet of blood spewed from the wound, but before he could even retaliate, Ashara rolled directly behind him, bringing back her sword arm. With all the force and fury she could muster, Ashara thrust forth her sword, and the blade planted firmly all the way through Alarys's right leg.

Alarys Drethen gave an agonized cry as he plummeted to the ground, the pain of a thousand flames spearing through him. Any movement of the wounded leg he attempted only made it feel as if it were being viciously torn off, bones and all. Panting and gasping in utter desperation and helplessness, Alarys clutched the gaping hole now in his leg, blood pouring like a rushing river onto his fingers. He glared in seething, unfettered contempt at the Khajiit girl standing over him, his heart still wild with rage.

"No…this isn't over," Alarys growled, his eyes beaming with wounded pride. "I won't…I won't lose. Not here, not to you!" The Dunmer grabbed his sword and planted it into the ground, and clenching firmly onto the hilt for support, he attempted to stand back up. His efforts would prove to be for naught, and the Dunmer collapsed right back to the ground as his wounded leg gave out. Ashara promptly kicked the sword away, and then stepping closer to Alarys, she held her own sword to his throat.

"So, this is how my story ends," said Alarys, giving a joyless chuckle that moment. "Bested by my wife's chambermaid." For a good minute neither of them spoke a word, a tense silence lingering between them as they glared heatedly at each other. Alarys briefly shut his eyes as the pain in his leg grew more unbearable with each second, a pool of crimson forming at his side. Having now all but accepted his defeat at Ashara's hands, as well as his impending death, Alarys looked upon Ashara, his stoicism ever enduring as he waited to feel the sting of her blade that would end his life.

"Go on, girl, finish this," said Alarys, wincing as he continued to bleed. "You've beaten me, the first to ever do so. This is what you came for, isn't it?" Ashara opened her mouth to answer, but no words would come. As she looked into Alarys's eyes, Ashara actually began to feel a tinge of pity for the man welling inside her.

"Go on, girl," said Alarys again. "If you're going to kill me, then bloody well do it already. Avenge your brother, and put me out of my damn misery." Ashara kept the tip of her sword pressed to Alarys's throat, but for whatever unknown reason, she remained unable to deliver the killing blow. In another moment that Alarys did not expect, the Khajiit suddenly knelt in front of him, and she slowly reached for the locket around his neck.

Grasping the locket in her fingers, Ashara carefully opened it, gazing at Valarya Drethen's picture in a long, sullen silence. The young Khajiit's heart grew heavy that moment, a lone tear seeping from her eye. As Ashara looked upon the portrait of the one she had served during her life as a slave, and the one who had ultimately granted her her freedom, Ashara's thirst for vengeance suddenly began to wane and melt, like snow upon the passing of the first spring rain. After roughly another minute or two, Ashara closed the locket again, standing back up before the wounded Alarys.

"I'll not punish you with death," she spoke then, echoing the very words Alarys had said to her as she watched him take K'Jhari's life. Ashara sheathed her weapons, and it was at that very moment she realized this was not the same man who had killed her brother. This was not the rich, powerful, mighty slave master who had ruled the Drethen plantation with an iron fist. No, this was a man who had lost absolutely everything. A man left utterly broken and destroyed, like a mighty mountain suddenly crumbled to dust by an earthquake. Ashara knew there was nothing she could do to him that the passage of time had not done to him already, and deep in her heart, the young Khajiit knew that to kill Alarys Drethen in the pitiful, wretched state he was in would be almost disgraceful.

"You're right, Lord Drethen. Revenge is the path of the fool," said Ashara. "Killing you won't bring my brother back. K'Jhari always taught me the importance of showing forgiveness to others, even those who gravely wrong us. I do not think he would ever have wanted me to kill you, and I know now that the only way my heart will heal from his passing is to forgive what you did, and live my days in the way that will best honor his memory."

"Bugger your sanctimonious epiphanies, girl," Alarys spat. "I'm already staring death in the face as it is. Just kill me now, and spare me any more suffering." The Dunmer clutched his bleeding leg all the more tightly. Ashara gave no answer, and she could only look down upon him with pity swelling in her heart.

"Come on, girl. Don't make me beg," said Alarys, tears now flowing from his eyes. "One thrust to the heart, and I'll be dead before I can even feel it." Ashara, holding firm and true to her virtues, simply shook her head in refusal.

"Farewell, Lord Drethen," was the Khajiit's answer, and it was after that she began to walk from the beach and back towards the dark gloom of the slumbering forest. Upon taking only a few steps, Ashara turned back to face Alarys again.

"Before I leave," she began, her voice tender, "I just wanted you to know…" she paused briefly. "I just wanted you to know, I'm sorry about Resenna." Ashara did not wait for any sort of answer from Alarys. Wasting not a second further, the Khajiit made for the borders of the forest, and only a moment later she was gone, vanishing beneath the trees like a specter into the blackness of the night.

Alarys's right leg was utterly drenched in his blood, that even now only continued to gush out from his wound, spewing forth like a fountain. After only one futile attempt to stand and walk, the Dunmer spent the next ten minutes painstakingly crawling across the beach, leaving a thick trail of red behind him with every movement. Reaching the edge of the woods, Alarys continued until he was just a short ways inside, covered by the nightly darkness. When the pain at last grew to be too unbearable, the Dunmer rested himself against the closest tree, cradling his wounded leg. With no medical supplies of any sort, Alarys had no means of treating the wound, or even stifling the severe bleeding. Looking to the face of the moons that peeked through the trees, Alarys took several long deep breaths, trying to relax himself as best he could. Knowing there was naught he could do but await his end that loomed drearily over him, the Dunmer laid himself comfortably against the tree and stretched out his bleeding leg.

Alarys reached into his tunic and took out the locket once more. "Soon, my love," he said, gazing longingly at Valarya's picture. "Soon, we shall be together again."

Alarys began to feel increasingly faint as he lost more and more blood. His senses swam and swirled chaotically in his mind, and before long his entire body was soaked in sweat. At this point, the Dunmer barely possessed the strength to even stay awake, and he offered no resistance as what he knew was to be his final rest drew ever nearer upon him. Alarys closed his eyes for a short moment, and when he opened them again, that was when he saw her.

"Resenna!" he gasped.

There within the shadows of the forest stood the Dunmer child once again, her eyes glowing eerily like rubies in the pitch blackness of the night. As before, the girl uttered not a sound, but only stared at Alarys with a keen, unwavering gaze.

"Don't go, child," pleaded Alarys, and he reached out his hand towards her. "Please, don't go." Despite the great pain ravaging him, Alarys attempted to stand once more, but there proved to be no need. For at that moment, the child walked towards him, her gaze still fixed upon him. Alarys watched her utterly mesmerized as she stepped slowly through the trees, entirely casting all else from his mind.

"You can't be real," he muttered with a whisper, looking upon the girl as if transfixed. The child's uncanny resemblance to Valarya became almost too much for Alarys to bear, and while seeing her so closely now brought to his heart an ephemeral feeling of comfort, so did it also bring to him searing grief and despair.

The child knelt down by Alarys where he lay. Though she remained ever silent, the solemn expression on her face suddenly gave way to a smile. A smile more warm, bright and serene than the light of a hundred suns. The girl then slowly extended her hand to Alarys, and through her swaying black hair he saw blooming in her eyes the very same tenderness, affection, and unbridled love he had seen so many times in Valarya's eyes, and had come to miss so dearly since her passing.

With his last bit of strength that yet remained, Alarys Drethen reached out to the child. And at that very moment, as their hands joined together, he gave a smile, and he then closed his eyes.

"Resenna…"