I was born 87 years ago. For 65 years, I've ruled as Tamriel's emperor. But after all these years, I've never been the ruler of my own dreams…I have seen the gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye can see.

Behold: in darkness a doom sweeps the land…

This is the 27th of Last Seed, the year of Akatosh, 433. These are the closing days of the third era, and the final hours of my life.

Tales of Tamriel

THE JAWS OF OBLIVION

In the light of midday, the Imperial city walls shine reflected light onto the citizens milling about their day. White Gold Tower stands as a monument to the past, proudly shining in the sun with hope for the future. It's beautiful light shines down on the people of Tamriel; Dark Elves, Imperials, Bretons, Wood Elves, High Elves, Orcs, Argonians, Redguards, Nords, and Khajiit…it didn't matter what race. Life was at peace on this gorgeous day, and nothing in the city implied that anything was amiss.

But the real events were not happening in the sunshine of the Imperial city, but in a place where the light barely touched, where only dirty, dingy beams reached through the bars into the dark prison cell, landing softly on the red fur of it's prisoner.

The prisoner was brooding in the darkest corner of her cell, green eyes flashing in the reflected light. Her catlike ears flitted around at any small sound, her eyes darted to any movement. Although because there were few, the elegant Khajiit stayed relatively still.

Across the hall in another cell, Valen Dreth, a plucky, irritated Dunmer noticed the stillness of his prison mate and, mistaking her stillness for sleep, initiated conversation with her.

"Wake up, kitty kitty," Valen hissed through the bars. The Khajiit flipped her ears towards the grating sound of his voice. "Kitty, kitty?" Valen snickered.

The Khajiit approached the door to her cell to better glare at the amused Dunmer. She flexed the claws of her hands and flicked her tail in irritation.

Valen sneered at her. "That's it. There's a rat here in my cell, Khajiit," he taunted, "A fat, tasty rat. Does the kitty want it? Is the kitty hungry?"

The "kitty" bared her white fangs menacingly, but otherwise said nothing.

Valen's expression changed, from mocking politeness to downright meanness. His angled eyebrows revealed his untrusting expression.

"You'd better take whatever you can get in here, Khajiit. They don't feed the new prisoners." He seemed to take delight in this fact as his face rose to a sneer again. "Didn't you know that? First they starve you. Then they beat you. Then, if you're lucky, they kill you. That's right. You're going to die in here!"

The Khajiit growled and hissed through the bars at the ornery Dunmer, but stopped as she heard the dungeon door creak open, with voices floating through.

Valen heard it too. "Hey! You hear that? The guards are coming. For you," Valen cackled uncontrollably as he retreated into his cell.

The Khajiit listened to the guards' steps continue down the steps. Some of the steps didn't sound like the heavy clink-clank of the guards. She tuned into the voices.

"My sons…they're dead, aren't they?" a gloomy voice asked.

"We don't know that, Sire," a rapt, female voice said, "The messenger only said they were attacked."

"No, they're dead," the gloomy voice replied, "I know it."

"My job right now is to get you to safety," the female said as she marched into view, another guard by her side.

They turned to face the Khajiit's cell, and she got a better look at them. The female had a shrewd, stern face with puckered red lips. She and the guard standing next to her wore different armor from the usual prison guards. It had arching shoulder pads and was a deep gray accented with gold. The helmet featured a nose piece in the shape of a golden snake. The guards also had katanas hanging at their sides.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits," the stern lady demanded. She glared at the Khajiit as though it were her fault.

"Usual mix-up with the Watch," the other guard stammered to explain, "I…um-"

"Nevermind. Get that gate open," she demanded. "Stand back prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

The Khajiit returned the glare, but stepped slowly back to stand in the shadows under the window. The guard hurriedly pulled out a key and unlocked the door, charging in.

"Stay put, prisoner," he warned with a menacing finger

The woman followed in with another guard and a man. "Good. Let's go. We're not out of this yet," she told the others.

The other guard, a Redguard, nodded, but the other man stood there silently, with a grim expression. The Khajiit realized this must be the owner of the gloomy voice. The man was most definitely not a guard and was dressed lavishly in fur trimmed clothing. His gray hair and wrinkled face revealed his old age. He wore a heavy, diamond-shaped amulet around his neck, which seemed to be glowing red faintly in the dark dungeon.

His downfallen expression lifted as he surveyed the prisoner, as if he were seeing an old friend come to cheer him up.

"You….I've seen you…" he said as he stepped closer. "Let me see your face."

The Khajiit exposed her beautiful mane-braided into many small braids and pulled back by a black headband-as she stepped into the dingy light of the window. She suspiciously eyed the amulet man as he studied her face.

"You are the one from my dreams," he said slowly, "Then the stars were right and this is the day."

The prisoner couldn't recall meeting such an important man, let alone in his dreams. And she wondered what he thought would happen this day, other than a handful of guards barging in her cell and intruding upon her relative peace.

The man looked to the ceiling as if praying. "Gods give me strength."

"What's going on?" the Khajiit demanded, breaking her silence at last.

The man returned to his worried expression. "Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My Blades-" he indicated the guards "-are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route."

The prisoner still stared at him suspiciously.

Oddly enough, he smiled. "By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

"Who are you?" she spat.

He assumed his previous expression and responded calmly. "I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way."

The Khajiit couldn't help but roll her eyes. This man spoke of fate, of serving one's country. Where had fate gotten her? Landed in a grimy prison cell across from a rude Dark Elf.

"Why am I in jail?" she asked, almost sarcastically.

"Perhaps the Gods have placed you here so that we may meet," the emperor suggested. "As for what you have done, it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for." He paused and smiled, almost looking proudly at the dirty Khajiit prisoner. "What is your name?"

The prisoner hesitated. She answered slowly. "K'Lali. My name's K'Lali, and I go my own way." she asserted.

"So do we all," the emperor nodded sagely, "But what path can be avoided whose end is fixed by the almighty Gods?"

"Please, sire, we must keep moving," the woman interrupted. She pressed a stone in the wall which caused a secret passage to open.

"Better not close this one," she said, leading the way through the passage, "There's no way to open it from the other side."

The three Blades led the emperor through the tunnel to a door. K'Lali peered down the passage after them. The Redguard eyed her slyly as he passed.

"Looks like this is your lucky day. Just stay out of our way."