A/N: This is a timeskip to after Mana kills Alduin. I'm going to be covering THAT story in the 'first' story in the series: Broken Throne.

[ACT II – INTO DARKNESS]

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Mana listened intently to Jarl Balgruuf's speech as he rallied the spirits of the soldiers. Personally, she felt an empty, dull hole in her sternum. This whole war exhausted her, the petty squabbles between the Imperials and Stormcloaks frustrating.

Alduin's blood was still fresh on her hands and already she had picked up another sword. She was an Imperial asset now, because Nirn was her home, and she'd been fighting for it since she stepped foot in Skyrim. They had the best hope of keeping the other races from becoming enslaved by the Aldmeri Dominion. She backed them, but her heart wasn't in the fight, and she doubted it ever would be.

Mana adjusted the helm over her face. For her fight against the rebels, she'd put her Blades armor into storage, not willing to take up the mantle of 'Dragonborn' again. She was just another soldier in this fight, not a hero. The helmet hid her face, slits in the metal allowing her to see and breathe. Even with her hearing muffled by the leather interior, she could hear through slits in the metal as the Stormcloaks approached the city, flaming rocks colliding heavily with the walls. The fire was dull compared to a dragon's.

Her orders were to hold the interior of the city. While the soldiers streamed through the streets, she waited on the steps to the palace, silent.

It had taken nearly two days for the entire procession of Stormcloak forces to travel from Windhelm to Whiterun, and by the time they arrived, many of them were weary, including Alaya.

She was to be on the front lines, and for what she understood, this was going to be a foolish fight. Whiterun was not nearly as impenetrable as Markarth, which Alaya had discovered Jarl Ulfric had already taken as a general to the Imperial army, but they were not the Madmen of the Reach – these were trained Imperial soldiers, the best of all in Skyrim. She wished to be anywhere but there, but her honor held her steady.

Someone made the cry to advance, and all of the Stormcloak men present charged. With a feeling of deep fear, she began her advance as well.

Alaya was not to engage in combat unless completely necessary. She was a healer, not a warrior, and from the moment of her initiation, Jarl Ulfric made this completely clear. The fight passed in a hurried manner; not frightening except in the behavior of the allied forces. An inhuman growl passed her lips, and that was more frightening than the combat itself. She still was unused to the Circle's Blood. She hated it, though; absolutely loathed the thought of that horrible, unclean blood in her veins. She wanted it out.

Once, while Mana was on her long absence from the Companions, the religious woman was found in her chambers in Jorrvaskr weeping, soaked with blood. It was then that Farkas took it on himself to ensure her safety while she was on the premises. He sat with her at night, and when her beast blood took her by surprise, he would hold her down until she snapped out of it, then sit there, unknowing of what to do as she wept, muttering prayers to Stendarr.

The Stormcloaks kept fighting; kept destroying things. Alaya was at their heels, ready to patch a wound or mend a man closing in on his death. Once the group reached the base of the bastion's steps, they were met with a lone warrior, taller than many men, sporting a long tail, idly swishing. Alaya recognized that tail anywhere. She was well acquainted with its owner, dressed from the tips of her ears to the base of her padded feet in Imperial heavy armor – Mana.

So that's where she's been, Alaya thought, a rumble in her chest. The helm adorning her own head covered not nearly as much as Mana's did – the moment she locked eyes with the feline's gleaming sight, she knew her friend recognized her.

Mana drew her sword as the Stormcloaks approached. They would not reach the palace, not while she was still breathing. And she was fairly certain that she would be the one leaving this encounter. She scanned their formation, assessing their positions and weapons. To the back was a lone healer, and under the helmet she saw the eyes of someone familiar. Because she doesn't forget someone's eyes, and they belonged to someone she hadn't talked to in months.

Mana's grip tightened. For a moment she was confused: a Breton fighting for the Nord rebels? Why would Ulfric even agree to let her...? Ah, she was a healer, and they likely had a lack of healers and magicians, due to most Nord's dislike for magic. The Paladin would be an important tool to them. Guilt churned in her stomach, but she kept her blade poised and shield raised. And by whatever gods were listening to her, she hoped Alaya wouldn't make Mana kill her.

Mana's senses were soon filled with blood and gore, and Alaya's bright blue eyes were fixed points. They were neither uncertain nor afraid, and to be honest, it chilled Mana a little. The Stormcloaks had killed Imperial soldiers and in turn she killed them, ripping through them without a thought, as though they were made from cloth instead of flesh.

It was futile, Alaya soon realized, trying to keep the men at her heel alive, or at least on their feet, fighting. Not long after she saw Mana, the rest of the men were overtaken, until no one was left but them, the air between them charged as a lightning cloak.

Alaya said not a word. She was not about to step down, else be called a traitor or a coward. She was neither of these.

Mana wasn't about to say anything either. For all she knew these people had been Alaya's friends, and for the most part Mana didn't hate the Stormcloaks. Many were just fighting for their homes, and she would be a hypocrite for belittling them for it.

Alaya had made her choice, and Mana had made hers. She raised her blood-stained sword again.

A look of fear crossed Alaya's face, but she lifted her shield – the shield of Ysgramor – up to block Mana's first strike. She pulled her mace from her belt, screaming a battle cry. It was not her normal yell – one of near delight and revelry in a combat well matched in her favor – it was one of mourning, one of regret and final hope. She held her friend's blade on her shield for a long moment, expecting Mana to hiss something to her in the heat of it.

Mana said nothing, yellow eyes burning with unmasked pain and fury, before twisting the blade off the shield and slashing towards the healer's torso. For the respect of their friendship, she didn't aim for the neck.

The blow caught Alaya's armor hard, staggering her off balance. She wasn't exactly trying. To an onlooker, it was the healer with no combat skills whatsoever about to be slaughtered, her opponent playing with her before her demise. She knew, though, that Mana would know she was holding back. She stared into her Khajiit friend's eyes pleadingly, face haggard and worn. The two months apart from each other hadn't aged only Mana. There were faint lines between her brows from sheer use.

Mana, bile rising in her throat, lashed out with her shield, bashing against the smaller Breton's body. Without hesitating she kicked the healer's legs out from under her. Mana raised her sword to deliver the final blow, to end her life, but ... froze.

A small shriek escaped Alaya as she hit the ground. She flinched, lifting one arm so she might not see her own death ... but nothing came. The silence rung in her ears – why wouldn't Mana do it? A brief prayer to Talos and Stendarr left her, under her breath in a ragged whisper. She wanted to return to Farkas' care, where this nagging, tingling feeling at the back of her mind was less worrying. A tug in her stomach indicated her fear might get the best of her.

"Mana, get back, please!" she begged, "Imprison me, knock me out – do anything but kill me!"

Shivers went town the Khajiit's spine. This wasn't anything at all like...

Hissing in anger, she swore under her breath in Ta'agra, lowering her blade. She was begging. She couldn't handle the begging, not this time. All her strength had been sapped, and there was no way she could kill another loved one. Not again. Not when she could stop it.

Instead, she raised her shield, and with a clean blow knocked the other woman unconscious, just as she asked. She could take her back to Breezehome, at least for a little while, until she could smuggle her out of the city.

Mana idly wondered if the gods were with or against her.

Though Alaya was obviously out cold, occasionally in her unconsciousness she would twitch, or growl, or something else completely unlike her. There was something else different, something about her scent that was hard to place.

Hours passed, plodding on and on. Though Alaya was not sleeping, nightmares still plagued the darkness behind her eyes. And once she woke, she nearly panicked again at the sight of an unchanged Mana. She leaped from the bed, backing herself into a corner, "Mana! Mana, I don't wish to hurt you, please. Get away!"

Mana lifted the helm off her head, placing down on the bedside table, never letting her gaze leave the scared Breton. It puzzled her that Alaya thought that she could hurt Mana (presumably fatal, as she wouldn't be so worried about minor wounds), and that she wasn't angry.

Though it was true Mana had, in a way, saved her life, they had also met in battle after not seeing each other for months. The gap between them was wholly evident to Mana, who'd been through more than she could care to recount in the last few months, but it was obvious that Alaya still thought and worried about her.

The battle had only ended a few hours ago, and the guards were still going through the city looking for bodies. Most of the civilians had been holed up in the Dragonsreach dungeons, out of the line of fire, and would be returning to their homes when dawn broke. Many would need accommodations until their homes could be repaired, but all in all the battle went better than expected.

"Sit down," Mana spoke gruffly.

Alaya, feeling that she was at the Khajiit's mercy, obeyed, "Please, a lot of things have happened and I may have no time to explain myself. So please, stay back, I'm warning you."

"Mana does not want you to explain yourself," Mana growled, "You will sit there and stop threatening me, unless you wish to be tied down."

Alaya's eyes were forlorn, "If that will help, then yes. Please … I don't want to hurt anyone. It happens when I'm scared."

"Khajiit has no idea what you are talking about, but calm yourself. You are not leaving this house until I say so."

Tears wetted Alaya's eyes, "I am trying my best, Mana, really."

Mana was starting to get annoyed again, because she thought this was just ridiculous, "In the name of the moons woman, what are you talking about?!"

"The Inner Circle... I became a member of the Inner Circle after you left and..." she broke off, taking ragged breaths, "They ... they're servants of the Daedric Prince, Hircine! I never ... I never wanted any part in it, I wanted to back down! I wanted to go away, but Aela ... she's a crazed zealot!"

"Hircine..." Mana sorted through what she knew about that god, and what he represented in other cultures, "They made you a werebeast?"

She nodded, trembling, "Part of the initiation ceremony was slaughter. We went deep into the wood, where a keep of werewolf hunters sat, and killed every man in the keep. I wanted no part – Aela called me a coward."

Mana frowned, "You cannot control yourself?"

Alaya shook her head solemnly, "Farkas tells me it's normal for the first couple moons. I wish I could believe him more than I do."

"It was a question," Mana amended, "Khajiit doesn't know very much about the beast-blood, but I know it can be controlled."

"How? Tell me! I must know!" Alaya fought back the excitement coursing through her body.

"Mana has a … friend, that knows much about this," she shifted. Knowing Alaya, she wouldn't be very happy about this. "I could bring you to him – he may be willing to help you."

"Of course," Alaya nodded eagerly, "But who is he?"

Mana grimaced, "You wouldn't have heard of him, he tries to remain underground. But he knows more about this than we do, and maybe more than the Companions."

"Stop beating around the bush, Mana."

Mana sighed, "His name is Percy, and he is an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood ... maybe their leader now. Mana is unsure."

Alaya made a noise of discomfort, "Out of the frying pan and into the fire, friend. I do not see this going well."

Mana shook her head, "He will not hurt us. He is just ... eccentric, and a pain in the behind. Harmless if you do not threaten him."

"What if I ... become a threat over the course of our discussion?"

"You cannot hurt him, and he will know if you cannot control yourself," Mana almost smiled. "Your curse may threaten lesser men, but not us."

A weak smile forced its way onto Alaya's face, "Thank you, Mana, for your endless kindness. May the gods bless the land you walk."

This time, Mana let loose a snort of amusement, "Mana is pretty sure the only blessing I possess is one of endless bloodshed." She stood and made her way out of the room, "Stay here, and if you feel like you will change, let me know. We will leave when we can."

"No, it will not come, for Stendarr's blessings, if I remain as calm as I am."

"...Right," Mana closed the door behind her. She headed down the stairs, keen on finding out what Lydia had made to eat.

A week later, after the city had been mostly brought to order, Mana and Alaya made their way out of the city, the Breton wearing robes that hid her face. Now they were on their way to Dawnstar, riding at a steady pace.

Alaya had never felt so primal in all her life.

Passing by the wildlife in their raw states was like walking through a banquet hall. Just smelling them on the wind gave her a twinge in her belly. At the back of her mind she wondered if Mana had always had a sense of smell so keen. Alaya thankfully was able to focus her attention by gnawing on a piece of cured venison most of the day, but as they neared Dawnstar, her stores ran out. Idly, she chewed on her lip, "How much longer, Mana?"

"Not long. We will pass through the town – their sanctuary is on the northern shore," Mana assured. "Only, when we arrive, do not say anything. Mana will do the speaking."

"As you say," she said apprehensively.

"Mana knows Percy, but not his associates. I do not think they will take well to someone preaching religion at them," Mana looked at the other slyly.

Alaya let out a disgruntled snort.

"You don't have to like them, but don't antagonize them," Mana concluded.

"Can we just... not talk to anyone but Percy?"

"Yes, but I don't think he'll want to leave the sanctuary with an unknown so close by. Just in case, yes?"

"I suppose, so long as there is no bloodshed."

"I doubt there will be," Mana snorted.

It was getting dark by the time they approached Dawnstar, and they did not stop to rest there. Instead they made their way north and east up the coast, past the town to an outcropping of rock. There was nothing in sight, yet Mana dismounted. Alaya remained in her saddle, and the horse whickered and blew nervously through its nose, puffing steam into the night. Alaya pulled her shawl closer on her shoulders.

"Wait here," Mana heeded, before stepping closer to the wall of rock. As she got closer, a door emblazoned with a skull came into view. Stepping closer, she came face to face with the door's empty sockets, and spoke quickly under her breath.

Message delivered, she returned to Alaya and the horses. "You should dismount," Mana told her. Alaya slid down off of the massive draft horse, and trotted up to her friend.

It was only a few minutes that they had to wait. Mana knew that they were likely discussing what to do with them (let them in or chase them away?) but was confident that Percy would convince them to trust her. After all, the assassin did owe her a favor – a big favor. In the meantime she kept her silence. Not many knew that the Brotherhood had survived, and it was best it stayed that way. Really, assassins and sell-swords had a lot in common, the differences in methods and exposure.

The familiar mix of blood and honey hit her from downwind, and a smile curled her lip. He knew she was twitchy, and gave her warning. He was too good to be exposed unless he wished it. Sure enough, she turned and found him standing behind them, cheerful grin in place and dark eyes shining.

Percy looked younger than his actual age, and carried an aura of playfulness around him. He was wearing an embroidered, dark red tunic with a leather vest, pants and boots, along with a long cloak that looked like it was lined with fur. His blood red hair was pulled up into a ponytail and overall he was a splash of color on the bleak landscape. If she didn't know him, she wouldn't have been able to guess that he could disappear so thoroughly.

Something about this man seemed very wrong, and on a normal day, Alaya would probably have attacked him upon discovering his identity as a Dark Brotherhood agent. She felt the tell-tale twinge in her gut, and averted her gaze, holding her growls in her teeth.

"Mana! What a surprise," Percy chirped in greeting. "I wasn't expecting you to visit little ol' me so soon. Business or pleasure?"

"Business," Mana said, though a little tense. She could see Alaya trying to control herself.

"Aw, and here I thought you actually liked me."

"You touch either one of us and Mana will disembowel you," the Khajiit rumbled in reply. Instead of being offended, he just laughed like death threats were an everyday occurrence. To be fair, it probably was to him. The Khajiit rolled her eyes, the tension gone. "This is Alaya Dawnbreaker, and she has a bit of a ... problem."

Percy nodded, and smiled at them intently. "Is she a friend of yours?" he turned to look over the other Breton, the grin never leaving his face, "Well, my dear lady, we will most likely be able to help you in one way or another. If not, we may be able to point you in the right direction."

Alaya trembled violently, which drew their attention immediately. Tears of rage began to stream down her cheeks. She hunkered down, nervous and anticipating, a faint growl escaping past her teeth. Mana looked over her in concern.

For a moment, Percy actually looked speechless, and then raised an eyebrow at Mana, "I'm guessing that this has quite the story?"

Mana gave a brief nod, "You can smell it, yes? She cannot control herself."

"I see," Percy's smile never wavered, "Then you best come inside."

Winking at the two of them, Percy strode back to the black door, waving them inside as the stone shifted open. The inside of the sanctuary was dim, but not overly dark and the cold receded the deeper they got. Mana kept close to Alaya, her armor-clad hand on the girl's shoulder, putting herself between the twitchy werewolf and any initiates that got a little too close. Fortunately they seemed to see that their leader did not want to be approached and stayed within the shadows.

Percy led them deep into the complex, past bedrooms, training rooms, what looked like a torture chamber, and even a garden. They stopped in a room was obviously Percy's quarters. The assassin motioned to the table and chairs in the middle of the room as he shed his outer cloak and tossed it over the bed. While Mana seated herself and the paladin, Percy rummaged around in the cupboards until returning with a bottle of wine and three golden goblets.

Alaya felt extremely claustrophobic. As soon as they were settled, she curled in on herself, dangerously close to a transformation. Farkas had told her it hurt a lot until you got used to it, but he had also told her it hurt more to restrain it. And she had been restraining it for days on end. Her vision grew blurry, patchy, grey, even.

"Would you like some?" he offered Alaya as he sat down in a chair opposite them, sprawling comfortably in it like there wasn't a feral wolf in the room.

Alaya attempted to speak, but only a muffled growl came out. Her skin, she noticed with a dull horror, felt as if it had been set on fire. It was the best she could do to refrain from howling in agony as her mouth tasted sour, longing for blood to sate this primal appetite.

Percy gave a little sigh, propping his head up with one arm, elbow resting on the arm of the chair. "Mana, if you would leave the room...?"

The Khajiit did not look happy at the prospect, but rose anyway. "Make sure she does not hurt herself," she growled.

"Of course," Percy smiled over the rim of his glass, waving her out, "And don't let anyone in, I've lost enough recruits this month. They never seem to learn, do they?"

As soon as the Khajiit was gone, Percy rose from his seat and approached a dresser. With what seemed like little effort he pushed it up to the door. "It's best if you get the tension out first," he explained, "You can control yourself, but suppressing yourself like this is dangerous."

As he approached her, she scrabbled back. Fur protruded from her skin, and then overtook her. In not a minute, the beast was free, staring down Percy, a hunger in its eyes. It was not Alaya, nowhere close, and yet she could feel every second of it. She longed for his blood but it was not her longing. She heard a cacophony in her ears she was certain wasn't there. The beast flexed its claws, analyzing the one hot blooded creature in the room with a dangerous lust.

Percy's grin took a savage edge, "Don't worry my dear, you can't hurt me – not permanently, at least."

And just as she changed, he matched the transformation. His body grew in size and dark, almost black fur covered him. Instead of the patchy pelt of the female, his was thick and glossy, and his glowing red eyes retaining the amused glint from his other form.

She lunged at him immediately, howling as her claws embedded into his fur, sunk deeper into his skin and her jaws honed a savage bite at his neck. He didn't push her away, instead digging his claws into the fur of her scruff, holding her in place. "Don't fight it, dear. It will only hurt more," Percy's voice was distorted by the transformation, but still clear. Her teeth sunk into his throat, and he let out a chuckle around the gurgle of his own blood.

A small series of grunts, filled with ecstasy, left the young feral wolf. She ripped and tore at him, fought him and gorged herself on his blood until her lupine form could have no more. It hung, mystified by the fact that he was still alive and holding her scruff. Slowly, her human form met her again, and she was happy she could not see the carnage she had left yet, as her vision was still fading in and out. Unsteadily, her head rolled slightly around on her shoulders.

Now that her transformation had faded, Percy dragged her over to the bed and laid her down on it, stepping away as the flesh of his throat melded itself together. When the healing stopped he also slipped into his human form. It was only a moment later that he went over to the door and dragged the dresser away, letting the disgruntled Khajiit back inside.

Alaya saw Mana and smiled wearily, "This has been a trying week, friend."

Mana nearly smiled at the parroting of words, "Yes, it has."

"So!" Percy interrupted, clapping his hands together, "What are we going to do about you?" Mana shot him a scathing glare when the corners of his mouth slid even further upwards.

"No."

"Oh, come on, I didn't even say anything!" Percy said in mock outrage.

"You were thinking it."

Alaya frowned, "I ... do not know what to do with myself. I cannot live being so tainted by such unclean blood."

"Unclean blood, huh?" Percy examined the bloodstains on his shirt, "One of those religious folks?"

"She is a ... Paladin, I believe is the term?" Mana nodded to herself, "Not a Vigilant, though."

"THOSE guys are buckets of crazy, and that's coming from ME," he laughed. "Well, whatever floats your boat. I don't think unclean is the word I would use, but it's true I'm not overly fond of the Daedra."

"What do we do?" Alaya tried to push herself up, but her body was exhausted.

"Well, you got a few options," Percy retrieved his bottle of wine and took a sip straight from the bottle, now that it was apparent the others didn't want any. "You can learn to control your inner beast, or you become a hermit for the rest of your life. Mind you, if you can't control yourself your life might be a bit short, because you'll lose your mind completely after a few years and become a mindless animal, slaughtering senselessly until someone puts you out of your misery." He smiled, "Or we can kill you outright."

Mana shot him another glare, and he raised a hand in surrender.

Alaya became distraught, "There's no ridding myself of the beast?"

"Hmm~," he looked off into what seemed to be the distance, "I have no idea if that's possible. Though, to be honest I've never really pursued the idea, because I like being a werewolf. The idea of hunting forever in the afterlife might be a bit daunting, but not totally unpleasant." Percy gave a bark of laughter at something, "I wonder who has dibs on me first...?"

"Focus," Mana deadpanned.

"Right. Well, I've got fuck all in the way of curing you, but if I WERE trying to cure myself, I'd go after Hircine himself, y'know? Normally I would think it was suicide, but I'm sure you two'd actually have a chance, actually." He looked over at Mana pointedly, "How many Daedra have you met, Mana?"

"There is a thing I think I heard about when Farkas was talking to the Harbinger. About there being some ritual, though I'd rather not resort to that – who knows what foul deeds we would have to do to complete it," Alaya scowled.

"A Companion, eh?" Percy smirked, "And here I thought you were some priest. But you've got blood on your hands too?"

"Only the blood of those who have harmed another; hardly bad blood to have on one's hands if you ask me," she snapped. His personality was beginning to grate on her.

"Oh~, you're a fiery one! All righteous anger," the grin only grew wider, "A bit hypocritical, but nobody's perfect."

"Percy," the Khajiit warrior hissed, "I was not joking about disemboweling you."

"Believe me," Percy looked over at her with a bit of a leer, "I know." And to ruin any chance of being serious, he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Mana promptly pulled a dagger from somewhere and lodged it between two of his ribs.

Alaya startled. So it was just wishful thinking to believe she had not truly torn out his throat.

Instead of being angry, he just continued to laugh and pulled the knife out of his side with a wet sound, and started twirling it between his fingers. "I swear you have more hidden knives than I do!" he chuckled, "You've been holding out on me!"

Alaya was rendered speechless. Mana just continued to glare at him.

"Will you help her or not?" Mana growled impatiently. Her tail lashed back and forth in agitation.

"Weeelllll," Percy leaned his weight on one leg; "I suppose I could teach you a few tricks in working with your inner beast and all. It might take some time and effort on your part, and I can't guarantee success. I've never had these sorts of problems."

Mana sighed and massaged her brow with one hand, "Very well."

They both looked over at Alaya, who was staring at them from the bed. Percy grinned at her, "So, any questions?"

She shook her head, wearing a minor look of disgust.

"What's the matter, sugar? Having second thoughts?"

If Alaya had more strength, she would have slapped him for that. He was not on the right terms with her to be using pet names. Instead, she sat and seethed, trying her damnedest to refrain from having another episode.

"Huh," Percy looked over at Mana, "Did I break her?"

Mana rolled her eyes, "Shut up."

"Do not act familiar with me, Daedric scum," Alaya spat.

"Pretty ballsy for someone in the middle of a building full of assassins," Percy's smile became cold, but it looked more mocking than threatening. His eyes were still full of amusement. "You should be glad that no one else can hear you, girl, because I can assure you, they are not so kind."

Stepping between the two, Mana growled at the both of them. "That is enough." Her voice had a powerful edge to it.

In response, the assassin gave the Khajiit a heated glance before the seriousness fell away from him as easily as water. He turned his back to them and finished the bottle of wine that had been half-full when he'd first gotten it.

Alaya obviously still wanted to chew him out more, but she stopped as Mana shook her head at her. "When can she start?" Mana asked, tone clipped.

"We can start tomorrow, if you will. Though I doubt I'll have much to pass on, as your friend here is just lined up for failure. It's a wonder that she's sustained her conscious mind this long already."

She narrowed her eyes, "It is better than nothing, yes?"

"Oh, definitely, but don't hope too hard."

Mana gave a grunt of understanding and helped Alaya to her feet, "We'll meet you by Nightcaller Temple at dawn."

Percy just waved a hand dismissively, like he understood that keeping them in the sanctuary was a BAD idea.

[End of Act II]

A/N: So yeah sometimes the perspective jumps around, but again, this is literally a transcript of a roleplay. I can't stress that enough. So even though I've edited it, it's still two separate people writing it. Also, while we had a vague idea of where the hell we were going with our plot, many things come up as we're writing it. The editing is mostly contextual, and actually pretty minimal. We're not all that concerned with the plot being perfect. Having said that, as we are currently in the middle of writing Act V (as I write this note), I can safely say that I'm happy with where its going to end. The middle of the story is mostly banter between Alaya and Percy lol. No really, it gets WORSE.

And about the end of the Companions quest: we discussed that in length, and thought that it would be boring to follow the quest. Which is why 'not following canon' is on the summery.