Later, long past midnight, the Underforge's hidden door creaked shut behind them. One by one, the members of the Circle descended into the torchlit cavern. The stone walls seemed to pulse with shadows clinging thick against the ancient shrine.
Skjor stood at the center, arms folded. His recounting of Kael's words hung in the air like smoke no one wanted to breathe.
Farkas broke the silence first. "He said it stood taller than a man, broader than a bear, and its eyes—two colors that glowed. That doesn't sound like any wolf I've heard of."
Aela leaned forward, her hands gripping her knees. "Nor smelled like one. Corruption in the blood… That's not natural. Not even Hircine's touch does that. A beast shouldn't poison itself."
Njada snorted. "Maybe Kael imagined it. He's new to the blood. First transformations twist the mind. I nearly saw ghosts my first hunt."
But Kodlak shook his head. "No. I've seen the boy's eyes. He speaks the truth. Whatever he faced, it was real." His voice carried the weight of certainty that silenced further doubt.
Torvar frowned, arms crossed. "Then what in Shor's name was it? A werewolf twisted further? A rival gift?"
Silence stretched, until Skjor's jaw tightened. "There are stories. Old ones. Of wolves whose blood is touched not by Hircine, but by… others."
Aela's gaze snapped toward him. "You're speaking of Daedra."
The word soured the air. Even the brazier's crackle seemed to quiet.
"Maybe." Skjor didn't flinch. "Molag Bal delights in twisting flesh and blood. Boethiah in corruption and betrayal. Who's to say such a beast wasn't born of one of them?"
Njada shifted uneasily, spitting into the dirt. "You're saying Daedra are hunting in Skyrim now?"
"No." Kodlak's voice was stern, but troubled. "I'm saying we cannot yet know. But if a Daedric hand is involved, then the Companions walk in dangerous waters indeed."
The Circle fell into grim silence.
Farkas' fists clenched. "And Kael? He fought it, survived it. Shouldn't he know what we know?"
"Not yet," Kodlak said, eyes narrowing. "He is strong, yes, but untested. If Daedra are at work, knowledge will only weigh him down before his legs can carry it."
"And the boy..." Vilkas finally spoke whilst pushing his back off the wall.
"... It's too fast. He has been with us what—weeks? Less? Yet his strength grows by leaps and bounds. You've all seen it."
"He works hard," Farkas rumbled. "Harder than most. And he listens. That's rare enough."
Vilkas shot him a look. "Hard work does not let a man's eyes change in the middle of a fight. Did you not see? When he cut down the beast, his gaze burned. Like ours. That kind of control take months or even years of practice."
For a long moment, the chamber was still.
Aela's lips curved, though whether in amusement or challenge, none could tell. "So he's learning faster than expected. Is that such a terrible thing? Perhaps Hircine smiles on him."
"Or perhaps he's not what he seems," Vilkas snapped. "You forget, sister, that the beastblood does not settle so cleanly. We all struggled, clawed our way through the haze of it. Yet Kael… he takes to it like he was born with it. Doesn't that trouble you?"
Farkas shifted uncomfortably. "I like him. He fights with honor. That's enough for me."
Skjor finally stirred, his deep voice cutting through the debate. "Honor does not shield us from danger, Farkas. I've seen men wear noble faces while hiding knives. You are right, Vilkas—the boy grows too quickly. Too smoothly. It reeks of something unnatural."
"He's one of us now," Farkas growled, rising a little from his bench. "Would you cast him out on nothing but suspicion?"
"No," Skjor said. His gaze, sharp as steel, swept the chamber. "But I will watch him. Closely. If there's a truth he hides, it will show itself soon enough."
Aela tilted her head, studying the flames. "Perhaps that's what draws me to him," she murmured. "He carries secrets, and secrets shape men more deeply than blood or steel. I'd know what his are."
Vilkas slammed a hand against the table. "That curiosity of yours will be the end of us all, Aela. If he is dangerous—"
"If," she cut in smoothly. "And until you prove it, brother, I'll keep my own counsel."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackle of torchlight. Finally Skjor spoke once more, his tone colder than before.
Skjor's gaze flicked to the shrine. "Then let us decide quickly. Because if this beast was a herald of something worse… it won't be the last time one of us bleeds for answers."
The Circle murmured in agreement, though unease lingered in their eyes.
"But for now, keep this under wraps. We don't want to incite panic, especially when all we have are speculations..."