I wake up with a headache having no idea where I am. Ugh, must be Turdas. I never got the hang of Turdas. With a view of green and sunlight in my eyes, I assume this is Valenwood and relax. I’m also leaning against a Hist tree, giving me a real crick in my back. I stand up to stretch and take a look around.

  “Neri!” Eran exclaims. “You’re finally awake!”

  “Guess I am,” I say. “What happened?”

  “That’s what we’ve been wondering,” Eran says. “I hoped you might be able to shed some light on that.”

  “Where are we?” I wonder.

  “Valenwood,” Merry says, coming up to us. “I recognized it as being near the place where you burned down a village.”

  “Which time?” I ask.

  “The one where it was deliberate,” Merry clarifies.

  “Which time?” I press.

  Merry sighs. “When the Vinedusk Rangers were chasing off a group of Colovian invaders and felt that the best way to do this was to ask you to set fire to literally everything.”

  “Oh yeah! That!”

  “The strange part is that the village was not dropped straight on land that was already here,” Merry says. “The land itself seems to have expanded to make room for it. No quakes or cracks. The Ayleid ruins near here warped a bit in the process. Very odd.”

  “The Argonians here are erecting a shrine to Malacath,” Eran says. “And they’ve pledged allegiance to the Aldmeri Dominion. Neri, what did you do?”

  “I… don’t really remember,” I say. “What did you see?”

  “You were glowing,” Eran says. “First a little, then a lot. The crystal shattered and the tree started growing green leaves. And then… I think it was Molag Bal and Malacath? They had a shouting match in the sky.”

  “It was terrifying!” Farry says, having wandered up at some point. “I don’t know how your friends were so calm!”

  “Do you want to know how many times echoing voices in the air have shouted in my general direction?” Eran says. “I’ve lost count, actually. This wasn’t even directed at me so I figured the worst thing to worry about was being within blast radius of a god fight.”

  “It would be quite a thing to explain to my ancestors how I died,” Merry observes. “I mostly expect it to be something ridiculous.”

  “I haven’t yet found a problem that couldn’t be solved by getting high and doing something stupid,” I say.

  “This really should not be a method that works,” Merry says with a sigh.

  “Was that when the tree wound up in Valenwood?” I ask.

  “Not just the tree,” Eran says, gesturing, and I finally look up.

  The Argonians call their stepped pyramids “xanmeers”. There is now a xanmeer in the middle of Valenwood. Well, more of the northern edge, really.

  These Argonians don’t build mud huts. I’ve apparently just dumped a group of ancient people into the Second Era, long after their civilization has changed. Black Marsh might have other Argonians in it, but they’re ones who followed a different path set by Hist trees who made different choices. These might pass for modern Argonians, but they’re reptilian equivalent of Chimer.

  “Sorry, I’m not entirely sure what happened here myself,” I admit. “The Hist made a deal with Malacath now?”

  “I hope that works out better for them than their last deal,” Eran says. “Although considering they’re on Nirn rather than in the Ashpit, that’s probably already an improvement.”

  “Ah, but the Ashpit is great!” I say, then pause. “Probably not so much for Argonians, though. Hopefully this part of Valenwood is moist enough for them.”

  “And so Neri gets high and somehow solves everyone’s problems while unconscious,” Merry comments. “Again.” His voice is dry enough to make an Argonian itch.

  “It’s probably just as well that I can’t remember much,” I say. “Considering what I do remember involved the Hist being awkward and over-enthusiastic about shoving memories and emotions around. I’m glad not to come out of that thinking I’m an egg or something.”

  Before heading back to the Hollow City, I let Dra’bul know what’s going on, then stop in at Baandari Trading Post to let them know that they suddenly have some scaly new neighbors and encourage them to be nice. The world has changed and they will need some time to adjust, but at least they have a hope for a future here rather than in Coldharbour. Molag Bal’s gonna be pissed that I keep stealing his playthings.

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  Having explored much of the area to the west of the Hollow City that isn’t blocked off due to impassible terrain or lack of terrain, we set off to the east this time. We shortly run across a Khajiit couple who aren’t doing so well. The woman is badly wounded and near death when I come up and start trying to heal her. The man tells me about how they sought refuge in a cave and this was a terrible idea and anyone really could have told them that this was a terrible idea. They mention that they surely would have died if it weren’t for a Wood Elf woman helping them. Gelur?

  “This healer, do you know where she is now?” I ask.

  “She said she was going to try to help free some mages who had been captured,” the Khajiit man says, gesturing off toward… well, another bit of Coldharbour, really. “Thank you for the assistance, walker. Hopefully we will be able to find true shelter soon.”

  I nod. “There’s a safe place not too far in the direction we came from. Shouldn’t be anything in the way unless some Daedra have wandered through in the last five minutes.”

  We head off in the general direction the Khajiit pointed in, and come upon a very familiar Bosmer woman.

  “Gelur!” I say. “Are you alright?”

  “Well as can be under the circumstances,” Gelur says, her grim look breaking into a grin. “It’s good to see you guys, though I didn’t realize Ilara-daro turned into a Bosmer when I wasn’t looking.”

  Farry chuckles. “Sorry, no. I’m Faraniel. Although Neri insists on calling me ‘Farry’. Which is fine, really. We haven’t found your Khajiit friend yet, although from what the others say, she must be amazing.”

  “I hope she’s alright, wherever she wound up, then,” Gelur says.

  “She’s resourceful,” Eran says. “But this place will break you if it gets the chance. I hope she came out somewhere nearby.”

  “It’s likely all the expedition forces wound up in this area,” I say. “After seeing what’s around here, I think this part of Coldharbour is basically a quarantine. Molag Bal seems to have dumped a lot of things he’s taken from Nirn and wants to keep but could potentially cause problems for him out here.”

  “Makes sense,” Eran says. “Keep encroachments to the borders, far away from anything important.”

  “How are you doing, Gelur?” I ask.

  “Under the circumstances, not too shabby,” Gelur says. “I’d be lying if I said this was the most awesome thing that ever happened to me. I’ve just been trying to help who I can and stay out of trouble. Sadly, I haven’t been able to accomplish as much as I’d hoped, so I’m glad you’re here. There’s a lot of people in trouble who need help.”

  “In your defense, you’re in unfamiliar terrain,” I say. “If these Daedra were in Valenwood, they’d be fucked. Up until they respawn and come back, admittedly.”

  “Yes, we are here to make sure there are fewer Daedra in Valenwood,” Gelur says with a smirk. “There’s some mages who have been captured who are being held here. The Daedra are putting on some sort of sham trial for some reason. I wasn’t able to free them but I did figure out where the key is and the crystals we’ll need to break to get in.”

  Find a key and break some crystals. Typical stuff. We push through, smack a bunch of Daedra, and get inside. It doesn’t take long to locate and free the mages. The Daedra want to execute the prisoners after the trial that we sadly already missed, and put up a shield to prevent us from leaving once we get inside. The mages break through the shield while me and my friends kill anything that tries to stop them from doing so.

  With the Daedra dead for the moment and the shield broken, we get outside, which isn’t really safer but at least no one is immediately trying to execute anyone. One of the rescued mages mentions that he was raised in the Shivering Isles.

  “Damn I wish we were in the Shivering Isles right now and not here,” I say. “This place is just depressing. The Shivering Isles is only half depressing. And there are colors other than blue. You guys should get to the Hollow City and regroup with the others.”

  “What about you?” one of them asks.

  “We’ll be fine,” I say with unwavering confidence that I don’t even allow myself to question. Questioning leads to doubt, and doubt leads to fear, and fear leads to ruin. Or something like that.

  One of the mages opens a portal to the Hollow City, which hopefully actually gets them to the Hollow City, otherwise we’re going to have to rescue them again.

  “It’s been touch and go for a bit,” Gelur says. “I’ve had to avoid or kill a lot of Daedra. But now I’m back with you, so we can’t fail.”

  “Let’s keep thinking that, yes,” I say.

  “Pfft, I’ve never seen you actually fail at anything you try to do,” Gelur says. “Sure, there’s setbacks, up to and including you dying horribly over and over, but they’re just setbacks and you always keep at it until you don’t fail. Molag Bal annoyed you. You’re going to wind up hitting him, sooner or later.”

  “You could be killed, too. I can’t bring you back. Well, unless you become a lich. Or stick around as a ghost. Or get turned into a vampire. Or I summon you with weird books that make you purple.”

  “When you put it like that…” Eran says.

  “When you put it like that, I would prefer to be with my ancestors than any of those options, thank you,” Merry says. “I will threaten to not haunt you if you get me killed with stupidity rather than heroism.”

  “Gelur, it’s horrible,” Eran says. “Not only are the Daedra immortal, but we might wind up having to re-kill annoying Worm Cultists we already killed once or twice! We killed so many of them and all that did was take them from Nirn and put them here.”

  “Truly, if they are unhappy with that circumstance, they perhaps should have done more research on their choice of religion first,” Merry drawls.

  “It’s not like it’s hard to find books that say ‘Molag Bal is bad’,” Gelur says. “Nobody ever refers to Molag Bal as the Lord of Happiness.”

  “God of Friendship,” Eran adds.

  “Prince of Biscuits,” Merry continues.

  Farry looks at them wide-eyed like they’re insane to mock the lord of this realm so openly. As they shoot more humorous appellations back and forth, I realize I’m doing the same thing. I never really stopped fearing him. And there, watching my friends fearlessly mock a god who could have them tortured for thousands of years for it, I realize that the reason they’re so fearless might be because of their absolute faith in me.

  “Harbinger of Ice Cream,” Gelur goes on.

  “Father of Bunnies,” Eran says.

  “King of Hugs,” Merry says.

  I can’t even muster up some words to them to try to temper their confidence a bit. I don’t want to have to pretend and play up my ability or anything, but I don’t think anything I can say would dissuade them even if I wanted to.

  “Cuddler of Souls,” Gelur says.

  “Juggler of Schemes,” Eran says.

  “God of Punctuality,” Merry says.

  I can’t help but start laughing softly at this. Their confidence is infectious. Maybe Gelur has a point. I’m not going to give up. I won’t surrender or submit again. I’m free, and strong, and not alone. I can do this.

  “So, did you guys find anything good to eat out here yet?” Gelur asks.

  “I… haven’t tried to sample anything, no,” Eran says. “You haven’t been eating the things out here, have you? I can’t imagine that eating Daedra is healthy.”