Chapter Text
The Harbinger carefully constructs a makeshift altar to Mara, goddess of love, on a small end table in her sitting room. She inhales the scent of lavender and faint traces of smoke as she wreathes the token amulet in wildflowers. Her heart pounds heavily in her chest as she kneels in her underclothes, lighting the last stick of incense.
She tips her head forward in prayer.
A cool wind blows through the room, causing the candles on the Harbinger's desk to flicker ominously. A tremor runs through her body, her skin prickling in spite of the room's warmth.
A voice whispers inside her head...
My child... love is complicated.
But you must choose your path carefully...
The woman's heart slows, her breathing calm. The incense smoke hangs thick in the air, burning her eyes as she opens them.
She remains motionless, hoping for further guidance, but the wind settles, and she is left alone in the hollow silence of Jorrvaskr.
"Is the moon darker than usual?" asks Farkas, taking another hearty swig of mead. He leans back in his chair, tilting his chin towards the mead hall's windows.
Vilkas glances up from his meal, following his brother's gaze. "Looks like a lunar eclipse."
The Harbinger lights another candle, casting flickering shadows that dance along the walls. "I hope the others can travel safely with so little light."
"I believe Ria took a Scroll of Candlelight with her," Vilkas reassures, his tone steady.
The other Companions had left early that morning, lead by Aela, on an important mission in Dawnstar. With only the Harbinger and the twins behind at Jorrvaskr, Tilma and the other servants had been granted a well-deserved week off.
The hall is eerily quiet, the crackle of the hearth the only sound breaking the stillness, punctuated by the occasional sound of plates and mugs being shuffled across the table.
"It's been ages since I saw a lunar eclipse... or at least since I bothered to notice." The Harbinger sits and brings a glass of ale to her lips, staring upward. "It seems almost magnetic, now that I'm a member of the Circle."
Hours slip by as the three Companions finish their modest meal of bread, cheese, and preserves—culinary skills being in short supply among them. The moon, Masser, climbs higher and higher in the skies, casting its haunting glow upon Tamriel.
Several drinks in, the Harbinger launches into a tale of her recent travels. "So I was in Riften the other day. Yes, yes, I should steer clear of the Thieves Guild, but I stumbled upon— oh, are you two alright?" She pauses, noticing the twins shifting uncomfortably in their seats. "Am I rambling?"
Vilkas turns toward her, his face reddening in the candlelight. "I'm... just tired. I think I'll turn in for the night." He stands abruptly and clears his place at the table. As he heads towards the sleeping quarters, he leans down to whisper something to his brother before disappearing down the stairs.
"Alright, that was... odd," the Harbinger remarks, turning her attention to Farkas. "What about you?"
The towering man also stands. "I'm going to get some air. It's just a little too warm in here."
The Harbinger furrows her brow. "Really? It feels the same as always to me."
Farkas awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. "I'll be right back." With that, he slips out the back door of the hall, letting it swing shut behind him with a definitive clack.
The Harbinger sighs, clearing their places before pouring herself a glass of water. She sips it slowly, tapping her fingers on the table as she waits for Farkas' return. After several minutes of growing impatience, she finally decides to follow him.
She finds her fellow Companion sitting beneath a tree in the back of the training yard, the thinnest beam of moonlight guiding her to him.
She settles into the grass beside him. As the shadows deepen, she whispers, "It's getting darker out here." The crisp autumn breeze blows past them, reminiscent of her earlier prayers.
Farkas' eyes fixate on the inky expanse of the sky, where the moon sits at its highest point.
"You shouldn't be out here..." he exhales.
The Harbinger turns to him, confused. "What?"
Farkas looks up to meet her eyes, his own aflame with a desperate hunger. "I said you shouldn't be out here... I... I'm losing control."
"The transformation?" The Harbinger asks, her voice a mixture of concern and fear.
He shakes his head vehemently, his face a deep crimson. "No, not that. Please, just go." He digs his fingers into the ground.
She grips his arm, her resolve unwavering. "Farkas, I'm not leaving you like this."
"I said go!" he roars, wrenching his arm free of her grasp.
Her eyes grow wide as they stare at each other.
Farkas lunges forward in a primal surge, seizing her by the shoulders and pinning her to the cool earth beneath them.
"I warned you," he growls. "I can't stop this."