Otatso Wetlands You can break me if that's what you want

The boy's disappointment was so easy to read, it almost hurt Miraak to see it. So many wolves admitted their disappointment in his resemblance; his very presence seemed to conjure up memories, bringing wistful thoughts of his sister to mind. How much of an effect did she have on the wolves of Blackfeather, he would never truly know, nor grasp. He could only observe the results. So I've heard, He said, a slight smile crossing his face. Again and again he was reminded of it, both here and at home. His memories of Meldresi were strange; while they were extremely alike in appearance, that was all they ever completely shared. She was two years older, an adult by the time he was born. While he gravitated towards her — she was a tantalizing person, it seemed — she was too far away to ever truly grasp. She was a priestess of Mephala, he an assassin. Their mindsets, their beliefs, could not be anymore different.

He could not say if she was nice. Those who served Mephala and Sithis, no matter how polite and pleasant they seemed on the outside, could not be completely defined as nice. But, perhaps things had changed for Mel'. Perhaps, when she became a mother, things changed for her. He would never know. How did you know my sister, Xan? He was young, and if he was getting his timelines correct, he must have been still a pup when she was alive, or at least when they first met. He wasn't her son, luckily; Pietro, Meldresi's youngest, died, as Damien said. But perhaps, like Xan, he was seeing ghosts in these wetlands as well.