Even though it was hardly his first time visiting the Eldergloam, Nightbrook supposed he would never get used to how jarring it was to instantaneously assume a wholly incorporeal form. Just as always, he felt horribly vulnerable and unsettled, not to mention his entire being reeled in discomfort from the recent memory of unbearable agony. The moment his bewildered shade materialized in the familiar dull - albeit lush - green, heavily flowered fields of Crow's Wood, the mer let out an overwhelmed gasp, breathing heavily despite having no need for breath as he sank to his knees. His glowing, bluish-purple form swirled with agitation and worry as he tried in vain to regain his composure. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He admonished himself harshly, bringing a hand to his face in an instinctual display of extreme frustration, Of all the things I could've done to protect her, becoming a meatshield was the only idea that came to mind? For goddess' sake, I could've frozen the arrow, or any number of other, far less dangerous things! This is a fine mess I've made for myself. How on Nirn are those two going to hold up against all those Forsworn brutes without me? I might as well have handed them over with my foolish, graceless attempt at 'improvisation'. If I had only had the foresight to do anything else...

Momentarily exhausted by the extent of his own self-hatred, the shade glanced upwards into the heavily clouded, midnight plum-shaded sky, relieved to see it momentarily free of crows. That meant he had some time before his patron would notice - or rather, be inclined to address his return, giving him a chance to try and figure out what he had to say for himself.

That would prove to be a problem nearly as emotionally taxing as the first.

And how do I explain the way I've been conducting myself since I last communed with the Night Mistress, for that matter? I... There's nothing to justify my recent actions aside from my own nostalgia and ... guilt, too, I suppose. I have not been doing my part to serve her as of late, and it would not surprise me if she saw fit to revoke her end of the bargain as well. Gods, I hope she doesn't. It's the only chance I've got to put things right...

The mer pushed himself back to his insubstantial feet, swaying in place as he looked out upon his surroundings only marginally more calmly than he had been before that moment. The numerous patches of white tuberose and gardenias among the lush, albeit off-color fields swayed gently in the slight breeze. The wind felt as if it blew straight through him, leaving a slightly unpleasant churning feeling in his core to complement his growing anxiety. Further ahead, at the crest of the steep, expansive hill, he could barely make out the shape of a dark grey granite shrine - doubtless carved in the image of his Lady's preferred form - through the all-encompassing fog. Doubtless, he was likely expected to approach it, and wait for an audience with her - really, what other choice did he have? He would face her disappointment, perhaps even ire, either way.

Exhaling shakily, Nightbrook made an attempt to put his admittedly strong feelings aside, as he knew they would do him no favors when speaking to his patron. Though his success at this was admittedly minimal, he forced himself to move forward, each step he took up the hill feeling both too quick yet torturously slow. He soon came to stand before the imposing carved monument, careful not to step into the patches of white primrose ringing its base, already beginning to feel small and insignificant in its very presence. It was a feeling he seldom experienced, and a disconcerted frown crept onto his face as he stared up at the currently placid face of the statue of Nocturnal. This discontent of his only grew as he continued to wait at the foot of the shrine, the time he had been given to reflect on his surroundings allowing him to notice that something about the Eldergloam seemed to have changed since he last paid it a visit. Upon closer inspection, the slightly off-color grass seemed more brittle than he remembered, and the flowers seemed so fragile that he was surprised the wind didn't cause them to disintegrate. He also found the general absence of Sentinels or any of his Lady's ethereal servants concerning, as, while her realm was vast and its occupants typically none-too-social, he was used to at least catching a glimpse of a few of her favored mortals lurking around the realm. This isn't right... What could possibly be affecting Crow's Wood this way? Surely there hasn't been any conflict between my patron and another Prince - what quarrel would they have with her? But if not that, what else could the cause of this degradation -however minute- be?

A deep, warbling croak broke through his thoughts and the all encompassing silence as a well-fed crow came to rest on the outstretched arm of the statue. It ruffled its glossy black feathers as it settled into a comfortable position, craning its neck to peer down at the shade, head cocking to the side jerkily. The elf could've sworn the corvid's gaze held a judgemental, vexed air to it as it stared at him, blinking once before cawing again, louder this time. The breeze seemed to pick up in response, the grass rustling audibly and primroses bobbing asynchronously as a result. Almost as if on cue, the mer felt her arrival, the power of her presence alone staggering him. Though he had felt it before, it seemed it still had the same mystifying and alluring effect on him. As this occurred, the statue took on an even more lifelike veneer, with irises the color of slate fixing themselves on the spirit standing below it and smooth, bowed lips dipping into the slightest frown, their expression unreadable aside from the barest touch of frustrated fondness.

Instinctively, the thief fell upon one knee, bowing his head in a sign of deference and immense respect. "Lady Nocturnal," he stated by way of greeting, not looking up from the earth beneath him.

"Barranir." Even though it dripped with the faintest hints of disdain, his lady's voice still held that rich, entrancing consistency that reminded him greatly of thick, pure honey, "I had hoped not to see you returning here so soon - and with so very little to show for it."

Nightbrook could not keep himself from grimacing at that; though he expected she would be displeased with him, that did nothing to make this situation any less tense or difficult to diffuse. "I know, and I am sorry for it."

"Not very, from what I can tell. You've become an undependable, sentimental fool, Nightbrook, and it seems you have allowed your regret to cloud your better judgement, as they have significantly impacted your service to me. If we are to keep our agreement, things will need to change drastically on your end."

"I understand that my actions have been less than satisfactory," the softly glowing apparition began, "I will take whatever steps you require of me to remedy this, if you see fit to give me such an opportunity."

"I am not so cross with you as to terminate our previously very profitable arrangement without giving you a chance to make things right, my little crow. But I doubt you will much like the terms." The statue shifted ever so slightly so her arms were held at a much more comfortable looking angle, the bird letting out a perturbed call before flying off, looking for a sturdier perch. "I cannot have you wasting my time looking after some no-name descendant of an estranged friend of yours. What's done is done, and there are some things that no good deed can atone for. You must accept this, and move on. It is a complete waste of your talents - and my gifts to continue on in this fashion.."

"But, I-" Nightbrook cut off his outraged outburst as he knew acting irrationally and from emotion alone would only weaken his case, struggling to find some way to justify his desire to look out for the young, inexperienced Breton. "Mistress, though I know that you are displeased with me, and rightfully so, I hope you understand why I am so concerned. Her lineage aside, I have come to care about Helvia's well-being a good deal, and it hardly seems fair to leave her, inexperienced as she is, to the designs of Vaermina. You know how she treats the unwilling individuals that incur her interest. She needs someone to look out for her, now more than ever."

"Well, isn't that noble of you. It isn't your place to act as her self-appointed protector. There will doubtless be others to fill that role, and, really, you're only fooling yourself if you think you could shield her from the grasp of a Prince. Ultimately, her survival and allegiances- or lack thereof - are entirely up to her. For that matter, the one formerly known as Mélisande can look after her own, if she sees fit to do so, although she may only act to further her own interests. I can not allow you to continue making a fool of yourself while also neglecting to serve me in the way that you swore to - on your very life, as it seems I must remind you. You're wasting my time when you use my boon so carelessly, and I would have it end now."

Barranir didn't answer right away, his teeth dragging over his lower lip in a display of distracted agitation, loathing that what Nocturnal requested of him was quite reasonable, considering the circumstances. He had been negligent of his duties, and even if the usual thievery he carried out in the name of his lady had grown relatively dull in the lack of challenges it generally held, he had no excuse for abandoning it entirely. For now, at the very least, it was in his best interests to do as she requested, and push the current issue no further, lest she lose her patience with his admittedly weak entreaties. And, for that matter, she was considerably less cross with him than he had expected - something that concerned him when he considered it alongside the changes he noticed in the plane. Something was definitely not right.

"I understand. I will press the issue no further."

Her carved lips twisted into an amused smirk. "I very much doubt that, but for now, that is much appreciated." The statue's regained a more solemn, serious expression before she continued, "For there is something rather important I require of you upon your return to Nirn.

"Doubtless you have already noticed that the Eldergloam is not as it was when last you laid eyes upon it. These changes have not come about of my own accord. You are not the only one of my acolytes that has strayed from their purpose, and there are some in particular who have gone so far as to abuse my gifts to them. Some time ago, I bequeathed one of my artifacts, the Skeleton Key, to a follower of mine by the name of Gallus Desidenius. I deemed him responsible to bear it and bring wealth to both my realm and his guild, based out of Riften, but, what to you would be only a few years ago, he was murdered, and the key taken from him. And the culprit obviously knew the value of the item they obtained, as they have taken great pains to ensure that I am not quite certain who is to fault for this great and detrimental abuse of my power."

Nightbrook couldn't keep the surprise from showing on his face upon hearing Nocturnal's current plight. What kind of powerful, twisted individual could not only do away with a favored agent of his lady, but also evade her reach so well she had need of him to regain one of her most powerful artifacts? His brow furrowed at the thought, frown deepening with concern and the barest hint of unease.

"As they continue to use the Key, while not doing so in my name, it has impacted my reach, and thus my ability to bequeath any boons upon any of my followers. Frankly, it is somewhat of a relief to know that you, at the very least, were able to return to me, and our connection is such that I will be able to return you to Tamriel once more. But if you were to perish again before this is sorted out, I could not guarantee it," Nocturnal warned darkly, an uncharacteristic tone of worry - perhaps even a hint of fear? - palpable in her voice. "It is beyond me how they have managed to keep themselves from my reach for so long, but it has likely become easier for them to do so as my hold on Nirn has weakened. I would assume that at this point, they know this, and it is my hope that their avarice and greed might be their undoing. That's where you come in, my crow.

"I need you to infiltrate Gallus' old guild. There is a good probability that someone who knew or worked with him closely knew of the key's existence and decided to take it for themselves. Initially, Gallus worked closely with two guild members by the names of Karliah and Mercer - who also were disciples of mine, who, coincidentally have both been avoiding contact with other agents of mine - as well as one another. I am uncertain if either remains with the guild, but at the very least, it is somewhere to start from, and I suppose it is also possible the murderer and current bearer of the key might not be a Nightingale at all, but a regular thief with even less of a code of honor than the typical Riften sort." It was clear from her tone she was not over fond of that particular Guild, and for more reason than the loss of her Key. "I trust you'll handle this task with the usual tact and delicacy you've shown in past endeavors, and that you will not cease in your investigation until you have found the culprit and retrieved my artifact. Have I made myself sufficiently clear?"

"I will do as you command, Lady Nocturnal," the specter responded, raising one brow in question as he asked, "By your own estimate, how much time will I have to enact your will?"

"I... am uncertain, at present. However, I would not like to test just how long this individual can abuse my boons at my own expense. The sooner the Key is returned to me, the better." The statue's expression darkened to something bordering on hostility as she continued, her tone holding hints of a threat, "I do not think I need to explain what will happen should you decide to cross me as well - or should you not make any efforts to do that which I have asked of you. Remember this as I return you to Nirn, Nightbrook."

This time, it happened with very little warning. The statue placed its palm against the center of the thief's insubstantial chest, and his entire form shifted, becoming static, wavering, inconsistent. Dizzying nausea buzzed through every particle of his being, the Evergloam now careening wildly in his incredibly distorted sight. A high pitched whine broke through the biliousness of his current state, before an incredible pressure set upon him and rent his very soul from Nocturnal's plane.

The statue solidified shortly after and the Night Mistress' presence abated, leaving the granite effigy with an expression of exhausted disquietude. A lone cawing pierced the now tenable silence as the crow resumed its perch on the figure's arm, beady eyes fixed on some unknown thing on the horizon. 

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Bet you thought you weren't going to see this guy for a loooong time, huh? But hey, he's got his own fic now and it's not even for Oblivion! And it's not even a prank, or anything! Initially, I was going to release this on April Fool's Day. However, things came up and this wasn't finished by then, so I didn't, but like hell was I going to wait until next year to start working on this. 

I mostly wanted to write this because I feel like I was really unfair to Nightbrook as a character while he was around, as he basically became a bland 'love interest' until a comedic reveal even took that from him. The poor guy actually deserves some development and the extremely long and moderately convoluted backstory he has was so fun for me to create I couldn't not use him in another story. So yeah. He's back. Just not going back to Mage at any point, probably. Sorry 'bout that!

And hopefully trying to write two fics at once won't be as much of a colossal mistake as it was for me in the past, as I'm only publishing the prologue now because I've got a decent backlog of chapters to post on an actual schedule. Are you guys proud of me? Anyhow, I'm not sure how often I should update this - I was thinking actually trying to make Mage bi-weekly and put out one chapter of this a month, but I'm not sure if that's a reasonable schedule? Three chapters of things monthly might be stressful, so maybe just putting out a chapter bi-weekly and alternating books might work. What would you all prefer for me to attempt to do, if you have a preference at all? Any input you might have would be helpful.

Also, it may be slightly evident I'm a bit out of practice. I apologize for that, and will edit these chapters once I've been writing enough that I actually gain some modicum of skill in the medium again. Thanks for sticking with me!

I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter, and, if you did, please let me know with a vote or comment! Writers live off that stuff, you know. Have a lovely day!

- AA