Addendum of Sotha Sil:

Now that all of the pieces have been told and the Telvanni has set them out in this neat packet, it is time that I, Sotha Sil, tell you of what happened after the Anguish imprisoned himself. It is important that a tale end at the end, not with a fragment missing, as it were.

I returned to my city soon after it became clear that Vivec would survive the knife wound his son had imparted on him. I took with me the Well of Ash, which now rests dead and safe in Clockwork. It was an odd sight, at first; almost unfamiliar, for I was confronted for the first time in centuries with uncertainty. Aem'uvus was an error, a sequence that should not have been, and he ever shifted between forms that were both perverse and beautiful; the child he was, the Daedra he was sired by, the madness that consumed him, the brother he could have been – the student I coveted. After all of those events transpired, I felt in my heart that had I been able to restore him, Aem'uvus would have been the pupil I would be most inspired by; the slate on which my thoughts and memories could be improved upon. In finding the Well of Ash, he demonstrated a skill for research on even the most obscure subjects, and his mastery of magicka placed him well above my Apostles. In the future, once I discover a way to preserve his teetered sanity, I will find those Keepers and take his essence from them. Their bodies will perish without him, but Aem'uvus is a student too promising to remain in perpetual fragmentation.

Perhaps it is difficult to comprehend for some that I would admit this in writing. I am but a mirror; a canvas on which people paint their hopes and resentments. To most who read Dirith's work, this will not appear. It is for those who can understand that Aem'uvus was not a monster because he made the choice to be so, but because he was the result of actions made long before he came to exist. But, alas – along with what happened.

The Apostles welcomed me, but I was in a melancholy mood. Perhaps some of them even noticed. I went to the Planisphere and told the Astronomer that I needed time with my thoughts. He left, and once alone amongst my designs I realised that I missed the uncertainty the son of Vivec had shrouded himself in. He spun a tale that was true but existed elsewhere, and so my calculations were no longer relevant. Where he stepped the planes did not react; indeed, it was as if he were a spectre, a figment of our imaginations, a joint delusion. But he defied analysis even in his final moments. I had felt the love with which he held his mother, could sense that he wished for his pain to end and be made whole in Vivec's arms – but in the same breath he had pierced that knife into his heart. Did he do it because he still felt that residual hate over the death of his siblings? Did he hide his true intentions from me? Did some other part of him exist, too broken to see sunlight?

I then did what I had promised Almalexia I would not do. I committed Aem'uvus to memory. His final moments are stars in the Planisphere, forever to have happened, locked away where no one might trouble him. His maniacal laughter is wound up in soft sparkles against an eternal night sky. The love he had for Vivec exists, and the hatred in his heart burns on.

I see you are confused. I am sorry for that. To appreciate the Anguish's part in the tale behind us, one must first understand the part he played before that tale came to be. I will tell you, now, who he was, who Aem'uvus was, as I have learnt from Vivec and many months of thought.

Aem'uvus, as we are aware, was the most beautiful child of Vehk and Molag Bal. He was also the most unusual in his desire for place. He was not quite Daedra, nor was he a demiprince. He was not as mangled nor as deformed as his siblings; he was not as divine as his mother nor as wicked and powerful as his father. He relied on manipulation, on the foolishness of others, to sate his Daedric appetites. But did this make him more Daedric or more divine in being? Was he a perfect blend of both? Is there a perfect blend of those two opposing forces? Were he and his siblings the prelude of a new race, one even more varied than mortals?

The fire that disfigured him also set him in a definitive existence. He was the Disfigured Son, the Heir of the Dunmer, the Betrayed-Skin – the Anguish. That which he rallied against gave him a sense of belonging. He finally had a part to play – that of he-who-seeks to correct injustice. At the same time, he was both destroyed and created by Vivec's act of betrayal. He had purpose, impetus, and yet without the condemnation of the first act he would not exist as we have come to know him. In truth, Aem'uvus could not have been without the Anguish, nor could the Anguish have been without Aem'uvus. He embodied the perfect paradox; that which is, but is not, and yet rejects both.

That is why, someday, I will restore him as best I am able. Vivec is my brother, and I feel that Aem'uvus has not yet played the end of his part in our lives. Ah, there it is. The uncertainty. I have missed this small luxury.

But I fear that one aspect of the Mad Child has been overlooked, and it is perhaps his most important quality. I refer now to his nature; or, rather, his natures. Aem'uvus demonstrated an ability I have never seen before – the ability to shift himself into roles, i.e. the leader, the tyrant, the wiseman, the assailant, the protector; but he did not merely masquerade as these things. He embodied them in their entirety. To Almalexia he was deviant rebellion, and to the children he was protector and, yes, even saviour. Though perhaps we have seen in our lifetimes creatures who do similar things (an important case to highlight would be Count Verandis and his vampire safe haven in Rivenspire), man, Mer, and Daedra should be semi-static, the latter more so than all else, and the fight to overcome their nature should almost overwhelm them. Aem'uvus was fluid. He is closer than his mother could ever be to achieving true flexibility. I have two theories as to why this might be: the first, that his existence as both Aem'uvus and the Anguish had split his mind, such that he could discard and pick up new guises as easily as one could an outfit: and the second, that the loss of his siblings and Vivec's betrayal had made it impossible for him to assume a static form. Not unlike a child's formative years, wherein the introduction of trauma could bend and snap one's personage, Aem'uvus' loss condemned (or perhaps granted) him with the ability to assume multiple roles and fully embody them, for his own role was based upon paradox. This is, of course, conjecture on my part. It will require further study, which can only be conducted once I have restored the Mad Child.

Why do I add this to Dirith's tale? There is a simple answer. I do not agree with Almalexia that Aem'uvus should be forgotten. She worries that the tale's true heartbreak would show us as susceptible to mortal folly. She clings to her divinity so tightly that it will squeeze through her fingers. I suspect she will not be pleased when I restore Aem'uvus and raise him in the Clockwork City. But there is much to learn from him, and I feel he deserves a second chance – if not for the fact that his actions were driven by grief, then because he still occupies a place within Vivec's heart. In time, I will even come to love him. I do not know yet if this will prove a good thing, or if it will blind me to what he could prove to be.

I speak now not to you, reader, but to the Anguish that reads through your eyes. Allow me this indulgence, for I cannot assure him otherwise.

Anguish – Aem'uvus. I sense that there is more for you, that this is not where your tale ends nor where our paths diverge forever. I do not know how many years will pass before this message reaches you, or even if it will reach you at all, but time has not dampened my resolve. Be comforted that I will come for you, and I will nurture you to full health and vitality. I will keep you from the forces that wish you harm, as powerful as those forces are. Yours is too rare an existence to allow to wither in this state of semi-permeance.

Rest, Mad Child, and collect yourself. Once I have a way to restore your sanity – and I believe I am close – I will protect you until you no longer need me. I will be a mentor, a friend – even a father, if that is what you require of me. Someday not so far in the future, the Clockwork City will be your home.

And, reader – do not seek out the wisdom of Almalexia for your ailment. She will not forgive; and she has certainly not forgotten.