Hey, hope I didn't get your hopes up with the notification of a new chapter.

So, it's been a while. And that's really saying something when it comes to me, when I've only lately been about a few months between updates. Now it's been nearly a year. Many of you probably thought the story was dead. Some may have thought I was dead. Well, I assure you, neither are true.

Consider the long delay the result of multiple issues. Life kind of kicked my ass a lot lately, and I'm still not out of the woods yet. Plus, I think I've kind of written myself into a corner. "How do I take a dozen characters and throw them at a Daedric Prince?" is a question I've asked myself a lot. Think I've found a way out, finally. Maybe not the best way, or the most exciting way, but a way nonetheless. At the very least, I'll hopefully be past the Hunting Grounds Arc finally, and move on with the story.

Still shouldn't expect a proper update too too soon, but hopefully before the end of the month. I'm going to do my best to buckle down and get it done. In the meantime, a rough teaser for what is to come:

Katjaa

Shaky breaths left her lips. Her dagger was visible only to the hilt, the blade embedded deep inside the Khajiit beneath her. Katjaa scanned the pirate from punctured head to furry toe. Even as his blood freely flowed out of the wound, staining her skin, she wouldn't drop her guard. After all the tricks he'd pulled, feigning death didn't seem impossible.

Vex knelt down beside her, less content to watch and wait. The thief roughly rolled Jag onto his back. His dead gaze fixated met the sky, angled awkwardly due to the dagger propping his head. Satisfaction should have swelled in Katjaa's chest. But she merely felt exhausted, and a well-earned rest couldn't have been further off.

Closure eluded the thief as well, who glowered at Katjaa. "That kill was mine."

"I'm sorry," said Katjaa flatly, her attention centered on the Elder Scroll. She untied the bundled artifact from Jag's neck and laced it around hers. Despite the measurable length of the Scroll, the cradle felt empty; as if it weren't fully there in that moment. No wonder Jag could fight with it in his possession. But the negligible weight bothered her, as if all their hard work amounted to nothing.

An open gauntlet extended into view. She retrieved her bloodied dagger, wiping it off on Jag before accepting the invitation. The hand spun her as she stood so that she faced its owner. Heavy coats of blood and gore marred Arenar's body and his sword. His slashed ear provided the only drops of his own, from what she could tell. His tight jaw yet indifferent eyes sent mixed signals. Perhaps this was his experience with overwhelming odds coming into play. Or maybe he put on a brave face for her. She couldn't decide which was better.

"Well," she said, jiggling the Elder Scroll, "I have it."