PART 1

The darkness in the cave was almost solid. Fiery eyes were watching the sleeping traveler from a short distance. A howl tore the silence, great white fangs flashed in the night and the traveler was no more a human, but shredded pieces of flesh…

I woke up screaming.

For the fifth night in a raw, I had the same nightmare. I have been dreaming of my death since I passed the icy lands of Ykalon and entered the Illessan Hills. This was certainly something not to take lightly with my search (hopefully) coming to an end.

I am Shek'tee, daughter of Shek'maa, of the clan of the Wild Forest Cat. I am a werebeast in a quest to find the Coven of the Glenmorial Witches.

I entered the Illessan Hills the next morning. I walked across the land asking for the whereabouts of the coven. I found nothing. Most of the local people knew nothing about it, and those who knew were apparently too scared to talk. The Coven of the White Wolf was considered a story told to scare children.

After the first disappointing weeks, I had taken shelter in a local tavern. I was hoping that a good meal and a night in a soft bed would ease my mind and drive the nightmare away. The full moon was a week away, so I could pretend I was a normal Khajiit for the night. I was enjoying my simple feast and my ale, lost in thoughts of my homeland in Elsewyr, when a man sat in front of me at my table.

"Dreaming of the moon, young Khajiit?" he asked.

I took a good look at him. Not that there was much to look at. He seemed clocked by darkness, and his features were hard to make out in the dim candlelight. One thing was clear though. A pair of fiery feral eyes flashing under his dark hood.

"None of your business, stranger", I replied.

"Oh, a touchy one!" he answered, clearly amused. "You certainly look in better shape than the others. But know this: Stay away from the White Wolf, and you may live to see the spring. This is too big a pray for your little fangs, young pup". And with this he left.

"Hey, wait a minute", I said, and run to the door after him. But when I looked outside, there was no trace of the stranger.

A wolf was howling in the distance…

I slept well that night. The nightmare was gone, briefly at least. But I had another strange dream. I saw a clear mountain spring, my face reflected at the water, and a raven's wing falling from the heavens.

I had no mood of searching that day. I walked in the nearby forest, took my werebeast form and run, just run, through green meadows and ageless trees. I thought of nothing. I just gave myself to the thrill of the vast, open spaces and dark forests in the way only a wild beast can. And there it was.

I thought I was dreaming. There it was, a sparkling mountain spring. I rose in two feet, shifting back to Khajiit. I walk to it, and I felt a soft caress at my cheek. A raven's wing had fallen from the heavens. I picked it up. My werebeast's senses picked up more: soft incense and chanting. I followed the lead, and found my self in a waterfall. Beneath it there was a cave entrance, well hidden by mortal eyes. I entered the cave.

PART 2

The cave was big and humid. Near the entrance a young woman in leather was standing guard, holding a spear. She looked at me, then nodded in admission. I walked further in. The air was heavy on the incense scents, a mixture of sandalwood and cedar. Many young women were around, taking little interest in me. They were working on herbs and candles, drying plants and mixing them in pestles. I reached near the end of the cave. And there was the White Wolf.

It was a huge statue of a wolf, decorated with pine cones and feathers. A hole was dug in the ground in front of it, looking like an entrance. I managed to squeeze myself inside a narrow path and crawl downwards a muddy tunnel. I felt like I was descending to Hell.

I reached at the bottom, in a small cave with carvings on the walls. Strange, inhuman shapes were dancing all around me, creatures that were both animals and humans. Or maybe neither. A cloaked figure was sitting in front of me, staring at a fire, which burned in the middle of the small sanctum, breathing the herbs that were burned in it. Then the figure spoke. I could not tell if it was a male or a female. It spoke in an eerie, ageless voice.

"Welcome, Seeker of the White Wolf. I have seen you approaching in my dreams for sometime now. I am Lun, the Shaman of the White Wolf."

The figure showed me a spot near the fire. I sat down.

"So, you seek the Ring?" the shaman spoke again. "What do you expect from it?"

"I seek knowledge without fear, sleep without thirst, nights without hunger. I want to walk the world without the need to hunt the innocent", I said.

The shaman giggled. "And who are the innocent, young Khajiit? Oh, but that's another matter… What offering do you bring?"

"Offering?"

"If you wish to invoke the White Wolf, you must toss an appropriate offer into his sacred flames".

I was in trouble. I had never thought of an offering. Then, as if my hand had its own will, I reached and grabbed the raven's wing I had collected earlier. I tossed into the fire and the flames lit up in a greenish light.

"Very well, young Khajiit". The shaman started chanting in a low voice. It took a handful of dried herbs and threw them into the fire as well. Smoke rose and covered us. I felt lightheaded and sleepy. Almost as I was flying. From afar, I saw light in the center of the smoke. And a figure, a large horned beast came down from the cave wall towards me. I was in presense of The Deadra prince Hircine.

The Deadra Prince came closer. He looked like a young man with magnificent deer horns. He was accompanied by a huge gray wolf.

"Who dares to seek the Horned One, the Lord of the Hunt, the White Wolf?"

I bowed in respect. "Oh White Wolf," I said, "I am a humble Khajiit. I am Shek'Tee, daughter of Shek'Maa, of the clan of the Wild Forest Cat. I am also a werebeast. I seek the ring that will free me from my hunger."

"So, you seek the Ring." His voice was like a thunder in a clear sky. "I'm afraid I cannot help you. A once trusted friend and ally has taken it from me. But, if you deliver my divine wrath to this traitor, you will be allowed to keep the Ring for yourself. Will you do my biding?" he asked.

"I will, Oh Horned One. Where will I find this enemy of yours?" I asked.

"He has taken refuge in a nearby ruined castle. His name is Lassir. He used to be my shaman, my priest and a mighty werewolf. Now he shames the werebeasts and has embraced the Dark Arts. Deal with him and you will be in my favor."

The image of Hircine started to fade. I found myself in front of the Statue and a smiling Shaman.

I had my orders and my mission. I thanked the shaman and left the cave.

PART 3

It took me three days to reach the desired destination. I traveled as fast as I could, to reach the ruined castle before the full moon. It would give me some advantage against ordinary enemies, but my rival this time was a werewolf as well. But during my short periods of rest I faced more attacks than I had the whole past month. It seemed as if Lassir knew I was coming and tried to delay my arrival long enough for the full moon. The monsters he sent to delay or even stop me were no match for me. Just my everyday skeletons, atronachs and imps.

I spotted the castle from afar. It must have been glorious once. But now its towers lied on the ground, its walls shattered to pieces, as if a God had stepped over it. I looked around for an entrance, but I could find none. My guess was that Lassir had taken refuge in some kind of underground tunnel system, maybe the castle's torture chambers. Night was almost upon me. I set a small camp, and decided to rest a while. I could start my search first thing in the morning.

I was lying in my humble camp, next to a dying fire and staring at the skies. A wolf howled in the distance. The clouds parted, allowing an almost full moon to shine upon me. I felt the upcoming change. I felt the need for blood rising within me. My senses were sharpened, and I could smell fresh blood near me. The temptation was too hard to resist. I grabbed my trusted Deadric staff, CrimsonFang, and followed the smell.

It led me to a grave. In the tombstone I read:

Well, this Baron would have been a magnificent man, I thought to myself. But I still smelled fresh blood, and not a corpse, as it would have been expected. I put all my strength to open the tomb, but in vain. Frustrated, I hit the tombstone with my staff. Fiery sparkles lit the night, because CrimsonFang was enchanted with FireStorm. And the tomb opened. Either I had hit a secret lock, or it was magically locked and opened by fire. I looked inside. Broken steps led into darkness. The smell of fresh blood was stronger, mixed with another. The foul stench of death embraced me. I entered the grave.

Slowly, carefully, I started the way down. My feline senses helped me go over broken steps, and helped me see a bit inside the darkness. A green light was soon seen in the distance. The smell of blood was now all around me and in a while I could not help myself. Forgetting all precautions, I started running towards the source of the light. I kicked the door in front of me open, and found myself in an altar room.

Hundreds of candles illuminated the room and the air was heavy with frankincense. A horrible scene took place before my eyes. Upon the altar in the center of the room lied a small girl. Her limps were strapped at the sides, and her veins were slit open, letting the blood flow into huge resins. A hooded figure was standing upon her. All I could see were his fiery eyes shining. He laughed, and the candlelight trembled.

"So, my young Khajiit, you could not resist your nature after all. Look what I have prepared for you." A clawed hand waved over the child's body. "Delightful, isn't she? Come, share my humble meal and share my knowledge with me. I've waited a long time for someone to be my apprentice… and my mate." His voice was trembling with malice and lust.

My thirst for blood disappeared in an instant. "I'm here to kill you, sorcerer, not to join you!" I shouted.

"Oh, is that so?" I heard the amusement in his voice." Then, let's see if you can find me, kitten!"

In a blink of an eye, a clawed hand flashed and the girl's throat was slit open. She died before I could move my tail. The necromancer waved his hands, and from the four corners of the room several zombies appeared. He waved his hands once more, and he disappeared in green smoke.

I howled in fury. Four of the zombies attacked me, while the rest hurried on the girl's dead body and started chewing on her.

I remember few things about the next few minutes. When I saw those rotting corpses feast on the dead child, a red fog covered my eyesight. I started to wave my staff around, breaking bones, smashing sculls, tearing up dead flesh. With every hit of CrimsonFang the fiery spell was cast, and all the zombies soon were lit up and burned slowly to ashes…

When the massacre was over, I rested for a moment. I was covered in various body fluids, all disgustingly stinking. I hated water, but there was no way I would lick myself clean. I had to find a well as soon as possible.

I approached the dead girl. The terror of her last moments was visible in her face. I closed her eyes and chanted an old khajiit prayer for the dying, asking from the Forest Spirits to guide her safely to the Otherworld. Then I casted a simple fire spell, setting the dead body in a purifying pyre. Through the smoke, I thought I saw her face smiling. She whispered to me "Follow the Drummer". And then I thought I saw her leaving for the Otherworld riding a huge white wolf.

A wolf howled in the distance.

The mind can play strange games sometimes. Follow the drummer? What on Oblivion did she mean?

I left the altar room. The corridor was divided in three paths. I took the right one, and followed that direction. On my way, I came across various dead creatures: zombies, litches, vampires and even more vampires. I hate vampires. There's a vendetta between the Khajiit and the Vampiric Tribes of Tamriel, which dates back to the Era of Creation. But that's another story…

My path brought me to a corridor with a pit hole blocking the way. Above the pit there was a hanged corpse. I was exhausted. I could feel the moon above the dungeon turning dangerously close to full. I felt blood cravings again, but so far I had found nothing I could feast on. The place was full on dead things. I looked down the pit, and saw a clearing. I climbed down a few meters, and entered a crypt. The pit continued further down, but this was a good place for a short rest. I sat a small fire to get warm, cuddled up and closed my eyes…

As in a dream, I heart a soft drumming noise. I stood up, stretched to clear my mind and body, and tried to listen up. Yes, I did hear a drum. The sound came from the bottom of the pit. I examined its walls. They were slippery all right. I wouldn't take any chances climbing. I searched my backpack and found a levitation potion.

After consuming it, I continued my descent into Hell…

I had almost reached bottom, when I heard voices. My potion effect was almost off, so I drove my fangs into the pit walls and just hanged there, few meters above the room behind me. There were two individuals discussing something important, judging from their tones. One of them was Lassir. The other one I did not know, but I knew this: his voice was not one of a living person.

" You are a fool!" the unknown man cried. "You've led this Khajiit bitch into our Lair!"

Obviously, that was I.

"Now, dear friend, calm down," said Lassir with a steady voice. "there's no way she will pass through our minions. And, after all, this room is well hidden".

I smiled viciously and jumped down. Both of them were surprised.

"Oh, but you are so wrong, Sorcerer," I said. All I had to do was follow the drummer".

"Drummer? What drummer?" asked the other man, both confused and angry.

"It seems I have underestimated you, kitten", said Lassir. I do not know what you are talking about. But please, come closer, let me introduce you to my old friend and ally. Meet Baron Mor'Shir".

The Baron bowed to me and smiled. Huge white fangs were shining in the candlelight. Great, a Vampire, I thought to myself.

"The Baron and I have been many centuries together, kitten," said the necromancer. "When I left the Glenmorial Coven I hid myself in this ruins, studying the Arcane Lore I had found in a cursed tome. In my studies I have invoked many creatures, some of which you have slain within these walls. But the Baron was my greater success, although I was assisted by the curse written on his tombstone. He's a powerful Vampire, as you've probably noticed all ready. And his of an Ancient Tribe. He has been my companion and mentor for a couple of centuries now, but he has been malnutritioned lately. There isn't plenty of fresh flesh down here, you know. Lucky us you've showed up…." The Necromancer laughed.

The Baron started moving towards me, with a bloodthirsty look in his red eyes. Great, I'm between a Werewolf Sorcerer and a Vampire Ancient, I thought. Had the girl trapped me somehow? All I did is follow the drummer…

As the Baron attacked, the Sorcerer lied back on his throne to enjoy the fight. I was no match for a Vampire Ancient, not in this shape and with so little magic left. All I could do was to defend myself, taking advantage of my feline agility, leaping forth and backwards, climbing on walls and curtains, avoiding blows and spells. But while my reflexes were doing my fight, my mind was wondering why the girl had tricked me so. Was there a hidden meaning in her words? Who was the drummer? It should be someone in this room, because this was where the drumming came from.

A moment of bad reflexes, and a powerful blow from the Baron threw me to the other side of the throne room. My head hit hard on the wall and I almost passed out. I saw the Vampire closing up on me, and all I could do was listen to my blood drumming in my head. And then I realized who the drummer was.

This place was a mausoleum. No living creature walked these halls, just ghosts and wraiths, vampires and zombies. No living creature but one. The one who had summoned the dead ones. And the only sound within these walls, apart from the cries of the damned, was the sound of one beating heart. A faint sound, just something only a werecreature could here. Someone like me. And the source of the sound was Lassir's heart. My days at the Mages guild had paid off. I remember that the only certain way of getting rid of the summoned entities was to dispose of the summoner.

I gathered my last magical power and casted a paralyzing spell on the baron who was ready to bite my neck. I push him off and run to Lassir. He had no time to realize my intentions. A howl tore the silence, great white fangs flashed in the night and the Sorcerer was no more a human, but shredded pieces of flesh…

I had never dreamed of my own death. It was Lassir's death I had dreamed about, and he knew it. He stared at me for a moment, then stared at his heart in my bloodied handed, still not believing. His heart was still beating in my hand, and he just closed his eyes and died. I swore I saw relief in his last look.

Behind me, the Baron had turned to dust. And so had all the undead of this castle. I searched the dead body on the throne and found Hircine's ring on a chain around his neck. I took it and put it on.

*********************************************************

I hurried back to the surface. I found a small spring, cleaned myself up and fell asleep.

That night, I dreamed of a girl playing with a White Wolf. And the Wolf turned and talked to me.

"Rest, now, young Khajiit. You have served me well and you are now one of my beloved. The thirst for blood is relieved from the moment you wore my ring. You will crave for human flesh no more".

In my dream I smiled. I had a human heart for supper before going to sleep that night, and I thought it was delicious.