The festival carried on in full swing. Music thundered from the college steps, laughter rolled through the streets, and lantern light painted the night in warm, golden hues. The air was thick with roasted meat, mead, and sweet spice. Everywhere I looked, people were smiling, clapping, drinking, swaying to the songs.
I tried to smile too. Tried to let myself slip into that rhythm. Taarie was still by my side, guiding us through the crowd with her usual sharp poise, her red dress glowing brighter with every torch we passed. She looked… radiant. Like she belonged here.
But I couldn't.
Every time I felt myself relax, the weight of that earlier gaze pressed back against me. My eyes kept darting over shoulders, between stalls, into alleys. Every shadow stretched too long, every face in the crowd lingered too long. It wasn't paranoia. I knew someone had been there, watching.
And even now, I swore they hadn't left.
"Are you even listening to me?"
Taarie's voice snapped me back. I turned, realizing I'd been staring past her shoulder while she'd been talking. Her expression was pinched, irritation flickering across her features.
"Sorry," I muttered. "What did you say?"
Her lips tightened. "Forget it. It's not worth repeating if you're just going to stare into the crowd like some nervous hound."
I flinched. "That's not—"
She stopped in front of me, folding her arms. "What's wrong with you tonight? You've been distracted since we got here. Do you not want to be here? Is that it?"
Her tone cut sharper than I expected. For a second, I felt the words rise in my throat—the truth, raw and choking. I can't tell you. There are gods watching me. They'll kill you just for being near me.
But the words didn't come out.
They couldn't.
So instead, I just stood there, fists clenched at my side, silent.
Taarie's eyes narrowed. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw something softer—hurt, maybe—behind her glare. But she smothered it fast.
"Fine," she said, her voice colder now. "If you don't want to be here, you could have just said so." She turned sharply, breaking away from my side. "Leave me alone."
She walked off into the crowd, her red dress vanishing between bodies and lantern light.
I reached a hand out. "Taarie—"
But the name caught in my throat. What could I even say? That she was right? That I was dragging her into a mess she couldn't begin to understand?
No.
Better this way. Better angry and safe than smiling beside me while the eyes of monsters followed.
So I let her go.
The rest of the night blurred together. I wandered through the festival, half-heartedly listening to the bards sing and the crowd cheer, but none of it stuck. Every laugh sounded distant, every song muted. The space at my side where Taarie had been felt heavier than the crowd pressing around me.
I thought about trying to find her again, to explain somehow—but explain what? That Daedric Princes had their claws in me? That a man who wasn't even supposed to exist anymore might be watching from the shadows? I'd sound insane. Or worse, I'd drag her into the same madness.
So I stayed silent.
And when the festival finally began to wind down, when lanterns dimmed and people drifted home, that's when I felt it again.
The weight.
That same suffocating presence, colder than the night air. Watching.
This time, I didn't ignore it.
I turned, eyes scanning the thinning crowd. And there—at the edge of the square, half in shadow—stood a figure. Hooded, still, watching me.
The same as before.
My chest tightened. I didn't think. I just moved.
Pushing past lingering festival-goers, slipping between torch posts, I kept my eyes locked on him. He didn't move at first—almost like he wanted me to see him. Then, as I closed the distance, he turned and slipped into a narrow side street.
I followed.
The cheers of the festival dimmed behind me, replaced by the hollow echo of my boots on cobblestone. Shadows swallowed the alley, torches few and far between. My pulse hammered, every nerve screaming that this was a mistake, but my legs carried me anyway.
Whoever he was—whoever they were—I needed answers.
Even if I wasn't ready for them.