There was once a soldier: Bold, brave and regal in his fine shining armour. Of all of this man's best and brightest of good qualities he was a proud man. Belief in his cause and his post. He was an Imperial man, born to serve and most importantly protect his Emperor.
He stands side by side with his fellow Penitus Oculatus as brothers in arms. The family who had welcomed him, believed in him and asked of him an oath. One that he knew he'd never break as long as his heart beat in his chest and the wind of his breath still flowed.
A chill in the wind shakes him like a ghost walking over his grave, that's what he tells himself. Solitude is cold this time of year. Of course, that must be it.
Nothing more than the breeze. Nothing more.
It is just as the daylight darkens in the keep of Castle Dour that the silence deafens him. There isn't even a noise from his fellows as the man he'd stood with since they'd set out for Skyrim, falls to the ground.
He feels his breath quicken. His heart beat sounding in his ears. It's the only sound remaining as the bodies crumble to the floor.
One, an old friend from the Imperial City with an arrow stuck deep inside his skull.
Two, a fellow from Dragonbridge now unrecognisable from the burns festering on his broken skin.
Three, a guardsman who'd stayed alongside them during their stay at Solitude stumbling forwards clutching the gaping wound pouring blood from his neck.
"W..." A word trembles on his lips but doesn't sound. Arms wide he holds the dying soldier until there is nothing left but a drained body where his new friend had once been. "W..."
Everything this soldier knows, everything he is: The Boldness, the pride, the belief, it flees from him as he meets the eyes of death. Those eyes kissed with blood, blessed by the void turn upon him the very same way he'd seen wolves turn on deer.
He'd dared not blink, but as he closes his eyes those hands are upon him. Tearing him from the floor where he'd held his dying friend and wrenching him against the hard stone walls of the keep. Yet he could do nothing but stare deep into those fearful red eyes.
"W...Why?" His lips tremble, the words escaping his lips just as the cool metal brushes against his neck. With a flick of the wrist, the blade slits the Penitus Oculatus' throat.
He'd asked the question, but clutching to life as he clutches his slashed throat the soldier knew. Deep in those red eyes that stare back at him, that belong to the person taking his life, he knew everything. He had failed in his duty, the Emperor of Tamriel was dead by this murderer's hands months ago. One by one the Penitus Oculatus had been tracked down where ever they may be in Skyrim and each and every one of them had been slain.
With those last flashes of thoughts, the Imperial soldier fell to the ground. Blood still poured from the empty wound, but the spark of life inside him was gone.
Grey lips edged into a small dark smile, "Because you were the last." Sheathing his blade Lyr turned his ashen face towards the twilight sky. Finally he'd had his revenge. An eye for an eye. A death for a death. A family for a family. They had taken his, so he'd taken theirs.
As the cold breath of a newly approaching night kissed his dark grey skin and whispered past his black hair he felt a strange sense of clarity drape it's arms around him. Finally his work was done.
"Azura guide me." His voice came as a deep throaty prayer and soon the Dunmer was swallowed by Azura's twilight shadows and he vanished within them.
Bodies of the last Penitus Oculatus in Skyrim left in Lyr's wake and to all who'd dare wonder, this new Dark Brotherhood was a forced not to be reckoned with.