A/N: this chapter includes the writings in Kodlak's journal. It's been slightly edited to fit the plot of the story and I recommend you don't skip over it...it's very important.

Vilkas and I walk through Whiterun briskly, with our heads down low and trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. However when we get to the market there are still people staring and a few are whispering. We both do our best to ignore them and try to reach the Skyforge where the funeral for my grandfather will be held. 

"You've got some blood on your face," I stop Vilkas and wet my finger with my tongue and wipe off the dried blood on his cheek. 

"Thanks," Vilkas smiles sadly. We get to Jorrvaskr and I can just about make out the others gathered around the funeral pyre that had been built on the Skyforge.

Vilkas and I go up the steps and we take our places among the other grieving members. Grandfather is laying down on the pyre above the Skyforge and myself, Aela, Farkas, Vilkas and Marco are stood in the front row. Behind us are Vignar, Brill, Tilma, Athis, Njada, Torvar and Ria. To the sides of the funeral stand Eorlund, Danica, Jarl Balgruuf and his insufferable steward Proventus. 

"Are we ready to begin?" Aela asks, her eyes slightly puffy. 

"Aye," we nod our heads. 

"Before the ancient flame..." she begins.

"We grieve," we chant in unison. 

"At this loss..." I go second. 

"We weep,"

"For the fallen..." Vilkas says. 

"We shout,"

"And for ourselves..." Farkas mumbles, barely audible.

"We take our leave,"

Aela approaches the forge with a torch in her hand and then lights the pyre on fire. She stands back, wipes her eyes, and faces the rest of us. "His spirit is departed. Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together,"

The crowd begins to dissipate, Danica going back to her temple,  the Jarl and his steward returning to Dragonsreach and Marco and the others going back to Jorrvaskr. Marco reaches out to pat me on the shoulder but I pull him in for a hug. 

"We're not alone, sister," Marco murmurs. "I've had access to records in Dragonsreach about our parents...I have reason to believe that they are still alive," Marco pulls away from me and follows the other Companions. 

"You coming, Skylar?" Farkas asks me.

"Can you give me a moment with the girl?" Eorlund approaches us. "There are some matters I need to discuss with her,"

"Of course," Farkas nods his head. 

Eorlund waits until there is nobody left at the Skyforge but me, him and my grandfather's burning body. "Do you have the fragments of Wuuthrad still? I'll need to prepare them for mounting again," he asks. 

"Here," I pull out a small pouch that was inside of my knapsack and hand it to Eorlund. 

"Careful with those. Don't want even more fragments, do we?" Eorlund takes the pouch. "Of course, I have a small favour to ask of you. There's another piece, that Kodlak always kept close to himself. Would you go to his chambers and bring it back for me? I'm not sure that I'm the best one to go through his things," 

"Of course," I nod my head. "I'll do it for you,"

"Thank you. I'll be here," Eorlund turns away from me and goes to stand by Kodlak. I walk away from the Skyforge and head down to where grandfather's room was in Jorrvaskr. I ignore the other Companion members, which is just as well because they're also ignoring each other. 

Marco is in grandfather's study, sitting at one of the desks thoughtfully.

"I cannot go through his things," Marco looks up at me. "I can't. But they could give us a hint about our family,"

"One step at a time," I tell Marco. "Get some rest," 

"I can't," he shakes his head. "Perhaps if I had remained here I could have protected grandfather-"

"No," I shake my head. "You would have been killed. The Silver-Hand are ruthless and vile...you wouldn't have survived and I would have lost both of you,"

"I suppose," Marco sighs. "What are you doing down here, anyway?"

"Eorland asked me to get one more remaining fragment of Wuuthrad," I inform him. "It's in grandfather's room,"

"Perhaps we should look together. I would feel better going through his things with you there," Marco stands up from his chair. "Shall we?" he asks and I nod. 

It feels incredibly wrong going through his things, even though it must be done. But who will be the next Harbinger? It would either be myself, Vilkas, Farkas or Aela. Perhaps Aela, she seems to be the strongest out of us four. 

I pull open the drawers to one of the end tables and in it I find two small leather journals and the fragment of Wuuthrad I was looking for. 

"It'a his journal," I murmur.

"Open it," Marco suggests. "Perhaps it will give us a clue about our family...and about who the next Harbinger will be,"

The first journal is dated back to almost 30 years ago...the age when my mother and father would have been teenagers living in Whiterun. 

My son is proving to do well in training today. He will soon be fit for his Trial, as will another newcomer named Arnbjorn. However I sense a darkness surrounding Arnbjorn, one that I cannot quite put my finger on. I shall keep an eye on him. We had to turn away one of our newest recruits, a woman named Uthgerd. She killed her partner in training, despite blatantly telling us that she was too strong to fight against him. The master-at-arms who was supervising the training, Thoren, did not listen to her. May his soul rest peacefully in Sovngarde.

*

Belethor's daughter, Colette, keeps visiting Jondann after training hours. Colette is a sweet girl (unlike her sleazy father) but I do not trust my son with her heart. Jondann is a reckless boy and Colette is a kindhearted soul. If a love blossoms from this, it will truly be doomed. Besides, the girl's mother is a Thalmor agent. The damned Elenwen. I do not know how Lady Elenwen recovered from the scandal of being impregnated by someone who was not another Altmer (and out of wedlock too) but she managed it.

I close the journal and screw my eyes shut tightly. This can't be happening. I can't be related to that Thalmor bitch Elenwen. I thought the suspicious look she had given me was purely because I was not an Elf like her but maybe I was wrong. Maybe she recognised me...maybe that's why there were Thalmor agents in Dawnstar looking for me.

"Skylar?"

"Our grandparents include a sleazy little shopowner and a Thalmor psychopath," I say hollowly. "I don't want to read anymore. You do the research on our family, Marco, my heart can't take any more of this,"

Marco opens up the second journal and flips through it. He pauses. "Skylar...you may want to read this one. I swear there's nothing on our family here but it is important regarding the next Harbinger,"

I sigh and open the first page to grandfather's second journal.

In my dream, I see the line of Harbingers start with Ysgramor. Each of them ascends to Sovngarde, until we come to Terrfyg, who first turned us to the ways of the beast. He tries to enter Sovngarde, but before he can even approach Tsun, he is set upon by a great wolf, who pulls him into the Hunting Grounds, where Hircine laughs with welcoming arms.

Terrfyg seems regretful, but also eager to join Hircine after a lifetime of service as a beast.

Then I see every next Harbinger turn away from Sovngarde and enter the Hunting Grounds of their own accord. Until it comes to me, and I see great Tsun on the misty horizon, beckoning me. It appears I have a choice. And then, at my side, there was a young woman who seemed familiar to me, but also unfamiliar at the same time. As I look into her eyes, we turn to see the same wolf who dragged away Terrfyg, and her and I draw weapons together.

I realize this is only a dream, but a strong enough dream to inspire a man like me to take to writing, so it must be of some import. I have not written since the tragic events of losing my son, and daughter-in-law.

*

I've spoken of my thoughts to the Circle, withholding the part about the stranger lest Skjor worry I will no longer seek his counsel, and I was not surprised to see them torn by it. Skjor and Aela are strong in the ways of the beast, and even seemed to suggest that the Hunting Grounds would be their choice of afterlife, if it were truly a choice.

Vilkas seemed most troubled. The boy is as fierce as a sabre cat in battle, but his heart's fire burns too brightly at times. He felt deceived, and I don't blame him. Farkas didn't know what to think, but I believe he will come around with me and his brother eventually. He usually does.

I don't know what to do about Skjor and Aela. I know they respect the Companions, and me, but they take to the blood more deeply than the rest of us.

***

Fortune smiles upon us. Yesterday, Vilkas was telling me how difficult it had been for him to give up his transformations. Until we can pursue a true cure, the twins and I have chosen not to give in to the beastblood. For me, it's provided a clearer head, but Vilkas seems to be suffering a bit for it. Farkas seems completely untroubled. That boy continues to amaze with his fortitude.

While Vilkas was confiding, through the shadows of Jorrvaskr, I saw a newcomer approach, who wished to join our numbers. It was the stranger from my dream...and I suspect there is more to her than meets the eyes. Everything about her reminds me painfully of Colette, my son's lover. But it cannot be her. I left her on Solstheim, to be cared for by her brother...my grandson.

When Vilkas saw her, he began speaking obliquely, not wishing to air our problems in front of our guest, and I had to be doubly cautious not to reveal anything of our secrets to the newcomer while also not revealing the details of my dream to Vilkas. I don't know how the politicians deal with these sort of machinations daily.

In any case, I've sent Vilkas to test the newcomer. We'll she if she is truly the great warrior I dreamt of.

***

Alas, the newcomer is indeed who I thought she was. My own dear granddaughter. Skylar is also the Dragonborn - whatever horrors she witnessed throughout the course of last year I do not wish to imagine. Skylar has already impressed some of the Circle with her mettle. I still keep my own counsel on her place in my dream, for now. I wish greatness for her, but we can only see what kind of destiny she is carving before hitching to her.

In the meanwhile, I look for ways of cleansing my blood. The writings and legends on the subject are sparse and contradictory. I don't wish to engage any wizardry on this matter, but I fear they may be the only ones who best know how to navigate these worlds of knowledge.

It's apparent to me now that Terrfyg's choice to turn us was indeed a mistake. Magics and their ilk are not in keeping with the spirit of the Companions. We face our problems directly, without the needs of such trickery. I can only hope to guide us back to the true path of Ysgramor before the rot takes me.

***

Skylar continues to impress. I don't know yet where she will stand on the question of the blood, but the question has not been presented yet. Skylar does know that we carry the beastblood, and appears curious about it. Soon enough, I can explain our troubles, and hopefully see what role she will play.

I have revealed to her the nature of our relationship. She was incredibly shocked and even more so when I explained some of her heritage to her, including her crazed uncle Madanach. I can only hope that she will follow my path, and not the one that took her mother, my son and Madanach.

***

I'm amazed that Aela thinks she can keep a secret among this drunken rabble. Especially with the loss of Skjor (my heart aches), emotions are fraying, and the walls of discretion are the first to fall.

Apparently she and Skylar are waging their own separate war against the Silver Hand, in retaliation for Skjor's death. Their hearts are noble, but the course of vengeance is running hot, and I fear the counterstroke that may come if they do not rein in their fury.

Skylar shows valor, though, even in this more underhanded time. We have not had cause to speak much, and that is something I deeply regret. I have high hopes for her destiny, as I realized that Skylar's appearance in my dream may indeed mark her as the Harbinger to succeed me.

I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Skylar can carry the Companions's legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Only Skylar stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts. I trust that my heart is not biased by our kinship bond.

I will not speak to her of any of this, though. It is too much to burden another with. My hope is that she and I can keep counsel over the coming years, that I can impart the wisdom of the Harbingers. All things in time. Firstly, I will seek her assistance in the matter of the witches of Glenmoril. It would appear that our path to the cure is not without some poetic justice for the tricksters who first cursed us. However, that matter will have to wait for soon it is her eighteenth birthday and her brother, and my grandson, will be gracing us with his presence. I have missed my family and I am truly blessed to be reunited with my grandchildren. 

"I'm the next Harbinger," I say numbly. I hold the remaining fragment of Wuuthrad in my hand tightly, as if it were a lifeline. 

"It would seem so. Congratulations, Skylar. Take my advice and wait a few days before breaking this news to the other Circle members...the past few days have been a lot for all of us," Marco says wisely. "Now go return the Wuuthrad fragment to Eorland. You have a duty,"

I nod my head and walk briskly to the Skyforge, feeling eager to get to the Underforge as soon as possible. But my thoughts are also clouded by the tragedy of Kodlak's death...and the new news that my other grandfather resides right here in Whiterun...if I squint hard enough from where I'm stood at the Underforge, I can just about make out his shop. I bought my Christmas presents from that shop once...did he recognise me? Perhaps not. Did Elenwen recognise me when I was in the Thalmor embassy? I touch my pointed ears and shudder to think that I inherited those from her. Elenwen had piercing green eyes too, that almost burned like a fire...not unlike my own. I try to conjure up Belethor's face in my mind. He has similar eyes to Marco, I suppose, but that's where the resemblance ends. If anything, Marco takes after Kodlak. 

"You're back," Eorlund looks up from the grindstone when I trudge up the stairs. Vilkas's stamina potion is beginning to wear off. I hand him the final fragment. "Thank you. Your shield-siblings have withdrawn to the Underforge. I think they're waiting for you,"

Eorlund turns away and goes back to repairing Wuuthrad and I go down the steps and towards the Underforge, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to stay awake. I slip in through the secret entrance and I'm greeted by the sound of the other bickering. 

"The old man had one wish before he died and he didn't get it. It's as simple as that," I hear Vilkas declare angrily. I turn the corner of the stone corridor and emerge in the very chamber that turned me into the beast I still am. I feel a stirring inside of me, like the wolf desiring to come out. But, as always, my dragon soul conquers it. 

"Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you might think, Vilkas," Aela reminds him. None of the three of them have noticed me. 

"That's fine for you. But he wanted to be clean. He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. But all that was taken from him," Vilkas points out. 

"And you avenged him," Aela says simply, as if that explains everything. 

"Kodlak did not care for vengeance," Farkas speaks up. 

"No, Farkas, he didn't," Vilkas, for once, agrees with his brother.  "And that's not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood,"

Aela sighs. "You're right. It's what he wanted, and he deserved to have it," 

"Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death. You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor," Vilkas says thoughtfully.

"There the souls of the Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel. We can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces. Like it has been for a thousand years,"

The grinding sound of stone is heard as someone enters the Underforge. The three jump and then they finally notice me, all with a look of surprise. They look even more surprised when Eorlund saunters into the central chamber, with a battlaxe on his back. 

"And dragons were just stories. And the elves once ruled Skyrim," Eorlund looks around at our faces. I don't have the heart to remind Eorlund that the dragons are back and the elves, technically, do rule Skyrim. "Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be. The blade is a weapon...a tool. Tools are meant to be broken and repaired,"

Eorlund takes the battlaxe from its strap on his back and holds it out for us all to see. Everyone looks stunned. Eorlund's actually gone and fixed the damn thing. 

"Is that..." Vilkas's voice trails off. "Did you repair the blade?"

"This is the first time I've had all the pieces, thanks to our Shield-Sister here," Eorlund nods at me. The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered. The flames of Kodlak shall fuel the rebirth of Wuuthrad...and now it will take you to meet him once more,"

"Well, then it's decided," Aela says determinedly. "We will go to Ysgramor's Tomb and cleanse Kodlak's soul!"

A/N:

We're almost at the end of the book...though there's two more chapters after this one and an epilogue! We're also not done with the Whitemanes, as there's going to be a second book after this one. I can't say what it's about though, otherwise it'll be a total spoiler for what happens soon. Trust meee.