Blackwater Islands Yes, this is the familiar tune of Sheogorath's bone flute.

it was hard, this place of truth. ava followed wordless after her sister, seawater still dripping from her pelt. 

the bones, the dust, the altar — all examined with a mismatched gaze. 

it was the hewn stone that drew anathema towards it. ava hung back, trepidation in her posture as the weight of this dark place settled around her. was it charnel house or crypt or cathedral? she could not tell.