Blackfeather Woods hush, my baby; baby, don't you cry

Peryite, my lord, my god, receive my prayer. . .

The Daedric prayer began, traveling on and on, detailing each and every one of her blessings in life and giving thanks for all of them. A rotting squirrel, gone bad before it could be plucked from the cache to consume, was placed atop the altar, beneath the thin shadows of the bones placed there.

Relmyna. Can you hear me? She often reached out to the old Listener, attempting to make amends. But the Void was loud and fathomless, and she could not sort through the voices to find the woman. Perhaps she was hiding. Perhaps Relmyna was disappointed with Maegi, for leaving at the worst possible moment. I'm sorry.

Help Relmyna to forgive me, o Peryite, Maegi whispered, stomach churning. Help her to see why—

Sudden nausea struck, and she bent, retching, drool trailing from her lips. It seemed for a moment like it would be just that—just dry heaves—and Maegi straightened once more, only to double over again with something more akin to pain. Bile—hot, stinging—

Vomit splattered on the ground, the remnants of her last meal. She was about to turn away from it in disgust when she noticed. . .movement. . .among the steaming chunks. A long, thin creature, a tiny snake, weaving its way through the waste. She must have made a sound, for it lifted its faceless head to stare (how did one stare without eyes? yet it did so) directly at her, sending fear through her already-trembling form.

Maegi. Peryite. Come in the form of pestilence, naturally. Your children will be born soon. Two beautiful boys, twins—tiny manifestations of those most dear to you.

Thank you, she murmured, not knowing what else to say. Peryite, apparently satisfied with the response, dived back beneath the vomit and began to writhe. . .in time with the frantic pounding of her heart.