Rating: Rated T for violence, dark themes, and some language.

Disclaimer: Oblivion is the property of Bethesda Game Studios.

To better understand the events of this story, please read The Dragonblood Saga I: Honor Bound first. This story has been edited from its original version.

"Open your eyes, darling."

"No."

Martin's arms tightened around me and I struggled to escape from them. I wasn't going to fall for it again.

"Mara, please," he whispered. The pain in his voice was evident.

I shook my head and began my all-too-familiar mantra. "You're not here. I'm just dreaming. You're not here…"

"But I am here."

"You're lying," I insisted. "You're not real."

"You were just dreaming before. It was a nightmare, Mara. Everything's fine. We're both safe." I wanted so badly to believe his words as he gently stroked my hair. Could it be possible? Could I have just dreamed…?

I opened my eyes and hastily squeezed them shut again to block the flow of angry tears. There was nothing there but my empty room. Another dream of him, that's all it had been. Gods, when would it end? It was just over a year after his death, a year of having the same dream night after night. Why couldn't I just move on? Why couldn't I just let him go?

When I thought I was past breaking down, for the moment at least, I climbed out of my bed. Outside the house, I heard the chapel bells ring. I glanced out the window. Anvil's morning bustle had already begun. I could hear their faint voices through the glass panes.

Benirus manor was where I'd ended up after leaving the Imperial City. It was a nice enough house once I got rid of the resident lich, if a bit grand for my tastes, and its dark past kept the locals from nosing about too much. Neither Ocato nor the Blades had found my hiding place, and I preferred to keep it that way. It was a bit cold, the shadows were usually a bit long, and the silence was all but deafening… but what could I do? I couldn't go back. Not after everything that happened.

I walked over to my dresser and pulled on my clothes slowly and deliberately, taking deep steadying breaths. Every morning I woke up, it got a little bit easier. I wasn't sure if it was because I was recovering, or if it was because I was getting more and more numb. I was worried it was the latter. Grabbing the leather tie off the dresser from its place next to my set of elven knives, I pulled my hair back into its usual ponytail.

I trudged out of the house, the soles of my boots thumping against the cobbles of the street, and walked toward the smith. I was running low on arrows, and that was never a risk I was willing to take. Passerby gave me odd looks, but I ignored them and kept walking. People noticed me. They always did. The red hair and scowl tended to do that. It had been a hazard to my occupation once, years ago, and it seemed to be becoming one again. If they talked and the Elder Council finally tracked me down… My wounds were finally starting to heal. I didn't want to have them reopened like that.

Stepping up onto the porch, I pushed open the door. The room inside held its usual gloom. The glint of metal winked out of the shadows from the weapons and armor that hung on racks all around the room. The counter itself was crammed with knives, gauntlets, and an iron helmet resting on a stand. There was only one other patron inside, talking to the smith. The latter caught my eye and nodded. He knew what I was there for. I proceeded to the arrows, checking each to make sure it was satisfactory.

I was sighting down the shaft of the arrow I held when I heard the patron whisper, "Did you hear about that Gate near Bravil?"

I hesitated, lowering the arrow ever so slightly. Gate. Gate? Resisting every urge to whirl around and demand he tell me everything, I pretended to go back to checking the arrow. I was supposed to be lying low. Better to wait and hope I'd find out what he was talking about.

"I haven't heard much," the smith replied, "but they're saying it's like no other Oblivion Gate anyone's ever seen. Nothing's coming out."

"How is it even possible?"

How indeed. My hands shook. Martin's sacrifice was supposed to have stopped that from happening ever again. Had it failed? Or was it something different? There was only one way to find out.

I walked to the counter and tossed down some drakes for the arrows. The smith seemed surprised by the force, but still nodded to me before I walked out the door. I didn't stop. There wasn't any time left to waste. If there was a Gate open, I had to stop it before anyone got hurt.

The guards of Bravil should have been less shocked than they were when I showed up outside the city. Yes, I'd been missing for a year following the Crisis and left next to no trace of where I'd gone, but the Gate took precedence over hiding.

They directed me to a spot some distance out into Nibenay Bay, on a small island that had mysteriously appeared with the Gate. Residents of the city along with ships coming in were giving it a wide berth. As I'd heard before, no one had seen any signs of daedra coming from it in the weeks it had been open, and no one had gone in save for a handful of foolhardy adventurers.

And what was I?

I dragged the small boat I'd rowed out to it in up onto the bank and looked around at the tiny island. Moss covered everything. As I trudged up a narrow path cut into the rock, I passed clusters of violently purple mushrooms. Green vines that occasionally pulsed red lined the trail, along with trees with red-gold leaves, even though it was only late spring. Twisted stone pillars dotted the island. As the wind rushed through them, they emitted high, eerie whistling sounds that made me shiver.

At the center of the island, at the top of the hill, was a massive stone sculpture of three conjoined bearded male faces. The one at the center was laughing, and its mouth was filled with a swirling purple vortex of light. I paused, confused. Not only had the sky not changed to its cracked, red state, but it also wasn't the Gate I'd been expecting. There was no fire, no thunder. Just the hum of the portal. A Khajiit cowered nearby, mumbling and wringing her hands. Standing beside her was a man in Bravil Guard uniform.

Before I could speak, he shook his head and pointed to the Gate. "Can't talk now. That Gate has been making noises again. No telling what's coming out."

The Gate let out a horrible shriek, and a Dunmer staggered out. He was dressed in little more than tattered rags, and his hair was tangled wildly. He stumbled and fell to his knees.

"It's not right. Madness! Why? Why?" He shrieked, gripping his head in his hands."Everything is wrong! It can't be done!" The guard approached him, and the mer hastily drew a rusty dagger from his belt. "Stay away from me! I won't go back! You can't make me go back! I… I'll kill you all! You're all going to die!"

The Khajiit scrambled for cover, but it wasn't much of a fight. The guard cut the crazed mer down before he could do more than make a fumbled swipe at him with his knife. Once it was over, the guard sighed and cleaned off his sword.

"I'd stay back from that Gate if I were you," he told me quietly, shaking his head. "Nothing that's gone in has come out right."

I glanced up at the Gate and back down at the corpse before saying, "I'll keep that in mind. Where did this thing come from?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to. Those who've gone in have come back out… wrong." He shuddered a little at that. "I'm just here to warn folks to stay away."

It was odd, to say the least. "What happened to them, exactly?"

The Khajiit came crawling back at that moment, her amber eyes flitting around nervously.

"I've been bad," she muttered to herself. "I'll be punished. They'll all be punished…"

The guard gestured to her. "Look for yourself! Their brains are addled. Got no sense! Perfectly normal people went in there, and this is what's come out."

I nodded and inched a little closer to the Gate, trying to study it. It was like no Gate I'd ever seen before, but that didn't mean anything. People were being hurt and that was a good enough reason for me to try and stop it.

I'd barely taken more than a few steps toward it when a voice roared from the portal, "Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy! Useless mortal meat! Walkin' bag of dung!"

"What in Talos's name–" I gasped.

"… A nice effort, though. A shame he's dead. These things happen," the voice continued with a short laugh. "Bring me a champion! Rend the flesh of my foes! A mortal champion to wade through the entrails of my enemies! Really, do come in. It's lovely in the Isles right now. Perfect time for a visit."

I narrowed my eyes and rolled up my sleeves. Whichever Daedric Prince it was, they were going to regret opening that Gate when I was done.

"I'm going in," I told the guard.

He just sighed at that, like he'd heard it too many times before to care. "It's your funeral. I'll be here to clean up the mess when you come back."

I nodded and strode toward the Gate, unsure of what I'd find when I came out on the other side.

As I stepped through, there was a flash of light and a loud shrieking sound. Whether of laughter or pain, I wasn't sure. When my eyes cleared I blinked in confusion. My memories of Oblivion were red and hot and bloody and dry... which was not what was in front of me. I stood in a small, dark room. The gray stone walls gave off a creeping feeling of claustrophobia. In the middle of the room sat a wooden desk. On it was a book and a small metal box with a wand that ticked back and forth between designs of a happy and an angry face. A small, weedy man dressed in black and red sat behind the desk, watching me haughtily.

"Please, sit," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

"I demand that you close this gate immediately," I snapped. "You have no right–"

His voice was calm as he cut me off and said, "I'd prefer if we kept the bloodshed to a minimum. So, please, just have a seat."

Scowling, I threw myself down into the chair and crossed my arms. The man leaned forward and placed his fingertips together.

"You are obviously here about the door. Good."

"No, it's not good," I snapped. "Which daedric realm does this lead to, exactly?"

"The Shivering Isles. Through the door behind me lies the realm of Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, Lord of the Never-There."

Great.

"Then who are you?" I asked.

"I am Haskill, Chamberlain to the Lord Sheogorath."

I drummed my fingers against my arm and nodded behind me to the humming portal. "Why did that Gate appear in Cyrodiil?"

"Because my Lord wills it to be so. It poses no danger to Mundus, I assure you. The recently-renewed covenant between the Aedra Akatosh and mortals has not been violated. It is a doorway, an invitation, nothing more. Perhaps you will accept it for what it is."

"That's not likely."

Haskill shrugged slightly. "Very well. Then you will not hear what my Lord has to say."

My eyes narrowed. "… What do you mean?"

"Only that He knows of you, Mara Fides. He was convinced that you would come."

I gaped at him. How… why…

"What does he want from me?" I asked in a voice that was barely there.

"My Lord seeks a mortal to act as His Champion," he said, still as deadpan as ever. "Perhaps it is this. He only told me that he wishes to speak with you. As for His intent… to attempt to fathom it is a foolish endeavor. His will is his own; his reality follows suit."

I sighed and sunk lower in my chair. I was going from fighting daedra to talking to them? What was this world coming to?

"What happens now?"

"You do as you will. You may leave the way you entered. Your life will be none the worse for your time spent here. Or, you may continue onward, through the door behind me."

The door in question was solid metal. At the top was an embossed design of a screaming face. It wasn't exactly promising.

I continued eyeing it warily as I asked, "And if I do go through?"

"Who is to say? There are always choices to be made. The Realm of Madness is no different in that regard. Your choices are your own. Enter or do not, but make your decision. I have other duties to which I must attend."

There didn't seem to be any good options. Go through and subject myself to the Mad God's whims, or leave the Gate alone to hurt more innocents? It was barely a choice, and I hated that.

"Fine. I'll do it," I grumbled.

"Good. My Lord will be most pleased." He got to his feet and nodded to me. "You'll want to pass through the Gates of Madness. Oh, and mind the Gatekeeper. He dislikes strangers to the realm. Enjoy your stay."

He opened the door and there was nothing but a black void beyond the threshold. He quickly stepped through and was gone. The door slammed shut behind him.

When I got up from the chair, the walls around me shook and rumbled. My heart pounded and I reached for my bow as my gaze flitted around. The walls suddenly exploded into a cloud of thousands upon thousands of black, fluttering shapes. Butterflies. As they flew away, their wings brightened into vibrant, jewel-like colors.

I was now standing outside in the night. The open sky above me was filled with red stars and far away spirals of golden light. There were no moons. Shaking my head, I drew my bow and headed down the path ahead. It was lined with broken columns and passed beneath the roots of massive, twisted mushroom trees. At least that much was familiar.

I jumped back as a blue-green wisp streaked past. The sound it made was high and clear as a bell. Not watching where I was going, I stumbled into a puddle in the middle of the path. I cursed and hit the stones in frustration. There was barely enough light to see when I wasn't underneath the canopy of roots. Why, by the Divines, did I think it was a good idea to go through there at night?

There was a snorting, grumbling sound. Then the sound of a sword being drawn and a roar. I jumped to my feet, drawing an arrow and firing an arrow blindly into the dark. A shriek tore from the shadows, then a thud and a splash. Water lapped over the toes of my boots. When another wisp, an orange one, rushed past, I saw a froglike creature lying dead at my feet. It held a sword that was almost more of a cleaver in one hand and a crude shield in the other. Its eyes stared up at me, dull and white.

I lowered my bow. This wasn't going to be easy.

When the sky began to lighten, it illuminated the tops of what looked like roofs in the distance. I squinted at them. Yes, they were roofs. There was a town ahead. It wasn't exactly what I'd expected from a daedric realm.

Built over rocky outcroppings and patchy areas of marshland, the town looked ancient. The roofs were missing slates and all the walls were dirty. Bridges and ladders linked them all together in the places where the ground turned into swamp. Still, it all looked very… human. Not daedric. Odd.

"I tried to warn them," a voice said from nearby.

I stopped. There were two shadowed figures ahead, standing under a building that arched over the street. The speaker was a Redguard in wildly purple hose holding a torch.

"They should have listened to me," he continued, shaking his head in a pitying way.

His companion, a dunmer whose hair was all done back in anxiously knotted braids, groaned loudly. "We'll be swimming in blood soon. Yuck."

As I cautiously approached, I saw the torchlight illuminate the Redguard's wicked sneer. "Let's go watch."

"Just as long as we don't catch any of their diseases. Adventurers always get strange diseases…"

"Come on, it'll be fun watching them get knocked around up there."

As they hurried off, I heard the Dunmer snap at him, "Just don't get any blood on me."

After a moment of hesitation, I followed. People from outside were getting themselves hurt. That couldn't be good.

The pair raced out of the small town and up a hill lined with crumbling stone steps. At the top, I could see the shadowy form of a giant wall. Then I heard the sounds of clashing metal and screams of pain. Through the gloom, I caught a glimpse of a hulking figure tearing an armored figure in half.

That was when the morning light finally filled the area, illuminating the thing as it roared in triumph. I stepped back, gasping in horror.