Blackfeather Woods and when at last the work is done

dated for the ~24th of February; remaining vague about who is with her

She walked into the trees like a kid home from college—a confident stride into territory she knew better than herself, and yet all had changed. The border was faint; the presence of wolves dramatically faded. Maegi breathed in and caught the barest trace of Relmyna, and could weep. A little stronger, Kove's smell. Flicker's. But it was clear that they had gone.

The Melonii trod the winding paths of her youth, feeling lost for words. With the absence of physical bodies, the spirits had grown stronger. They pressed in on her like stifling shadows, whispering in her ear. The daedra, the dead. Those lost to the Void, and those who were the Void and always had been. Friends, enemies. The tiny voices of those who'd passed so young, they hadn't even begun to live.

The ravens squawked overhead. A pang went through her as she thought of Blue (is he safe?)—and then, as if reading her mind, one swooped low, talons whistling past the crown of her head. It flew down the path ahead, toward some unseen end.

Maegi thought of following it, and then declined. The last time she had followed a raven, it had led her far from where she needed to be. Far from home.

She reached the Blood Garden, carefully avoiding the thorns that sought to snag her flesh with each step. The young woman found a relatively thorn-free place and sat among the roses, staring ahead.

"We're important. Our pack started with our grandmother, Meldresi Melonii. She was the first one to start the Dark Brotherhood in the Teekon. But she died before I was born, and she's buried here, somewhere."

Meldresi. What would she think of this? Her woods, abandoned so readily by those who claimed to worship her.

"She would have wanted to kill you, too."

Potema's voice in her head used to be a detriment, dragging her down into despair. Now it only sought to spur Maegi on, if only to prove the damned witch wrong. How foolish she had been, to even entertain the words of a drug-addled maniac. She supposed she couldn't be too hard on herself. She had been young, after all. But she wished she would have had this kind of wisdom then.

Was her mother dead, too? She hoped not. It would mean Maegi hadn't been the one to strike her down, and putting aside everything else—all the traumas, all the nightmares—that was one thing she couldn't live with.