What was dying like?

She'd wondered since Miraak perished—no, before. When she'd first learned of the Void. And the daedric Void seemed very much akin to the yawning emptiness beneath her when she stretched out a paw. Except it was real, now. There was no coming back, if she jumped.

Like a pale bird of prey, Maegi sat perched upon a ridge on the mountain, staring down a sheer drop. Trees may or may not cushion a fall, but beneath them was jagged rock. Should she hit just right. . .

Perhaps it was only the fear of fucking up that stopped her. The thought of existing in a broken body—of surviving such grievous injury—of wanting to die and being spared, by cruel fate. . . Eventually, she might succumb, but it would be an agonizing journey into the beyond.

Then again, maybe that was what she deserved.

What mother left her children to burn to death?

You crippled failure.

She sucked in a breath, steadying herself against the poppy sway. Stuck out her clubbed foot; the nothingness beneath it made her stomach clench and drop. The freezing night wind gnawed at her pelt and skin and bones; her face was drawn, each part of her skull sharp and lifted in the moonlight.

There was a binary star on the horizon. She knew it was Miseria and Hypnos. Watching her. Blaming her? The light reflected off her eyes; she blinked, tears welling up.

I'm sorry, Maegi whispered, and grasped for the courage to jump.

Still she remained.

Cowardly to the end.