Prologue

3E 342, 14th of Morning Star

"Six are the walking ways, enigma, enemy, teachers
Begat by precursor gods, come we now their creatures
Embody splendor in your name, and wisdom in your features

Six are the guardians, three fore and three incarnate
Here to test your hero's ways, and show that you can learn it
The truest works we shall behold are those made by the silent"

A small babe fell asleep to his mother's voice.

It was a cold morning in Wayrest, the sun had not yet risen and stalactites of ice hung from the Breton-styled buildings. The whole city was quiet and asleep still, there were no sounds save for a few chirping birds. The darkness shrouding the city had only just begun to fade and the clouds in the sky moved across Secunda and Masser. Eventually, a faint noise started to fade in from the distance, it was a horse's trot. The trot became more and more audible until a figure could be made out through the mist. It was the silhouette of a hooded rider on horseback making its way toward the city. The trot stopped suddenly and the rider dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and continued on foot.

The sun had by now just peeked over the horizon and a ray of sunlight hit some of the hanging ice gradually creating a small droplet of water at the peak of the icicle.

The figure was tall and covered in pitch black robes, their face hidden like a Bosmer in the woods. They were approaching the city with both caution and purpose. The figure continued to move into the city and walked along the main road before diverging into the smaller roads of the residential area. The figure walked as if they knew exactly where to go, taking sure turns along the paths and walking with certitude.

By now, the sun had risen completely, along with some of the city people. The docks began to come alive as sailors and fishermen readied their boats for the day at sea and merchants began setting up their stalls in the market area. The figure stopped moving. They were standing in front of the door of a house. The house seemed inconspicuous, it looked the same as all the other ones around it—small, bland and wooden. For some reason the figure stopped in front of this one. The figure was about to move when the door opened. A handsome young Breton, presumably in his mid to late twenties, with a freckled face and frizzy, light brown hair covering his forehead stepped out of the door. His green eyes stared at the black hood, concerned. He immediately asked:

"Who're you?"

There was no answer. The hooded figure looked up and for the first time his face was visible. It was a High Elf with eyes as black and dead as night. He produced a dagger from his cloak and, before the Breton man could retaliate, he found he could not move a muscle, he was frozen stiff and fell forward as he lost his balance. The Altmer had cast a paralysis spell on him and he fell right into the assassin's dagger. At that moment a scream came from inside the home followed by a great ruckus. The hooded figure hurried into the home and searched it's interior violently. His eyes fell on an empty crib. The elf cursed then quickly searched further into the home where he found an open window. He fell in pursuit of the fleeing mother and baby.

When he exited the window, he could see a woman with dark, bushy hair running with something in her arms right before she disappeared behind a corner into a main street. The elf gave chase, running swiftly. By now the streets were beginning to fill up and the woman carved her way through the people. She had to think on her feet and realised she'd have no hope of outrunning the menace. She bumped into a man dressed like a priest. She quickly placed the baby in his arms, she had cast a calm spell on the baby to stop it from giving its position away. The man was shocked but the desperation in the woman's eyes stopped him from saying anything. She gave the baby one last look, her eyes became watery before she pulled her gaze away and ran to the side of the road. She grabbed the closest thing to the size a a baby—a pot on the side of the road, she ran as she wrapped it in the baby's blanket. When the assassin rounded the corner the mother had disappeared behind, he scanned the crowd, using his height to his advantage. He saw some people moving aside and then quickly saw the cause. It was the woman who was running furiously. The elf gave chase, she could not outrun him, her only real chance would be to hide and the elf knew this which is why he needed to keep his eyes on her at all times.

The elf cut through the crowd like an Akaviri blade through horker fat. The woman continued to run until she was no longer in the crowd, she was running toward the city gate. The elf saw this as an act of foolishness. Why would she give up the cover of the crowd and the tightly packed city? Out in the open she was doomed, she was forced to outrun him and could not hide. In reality, she was drawing him away from the real baby.

The elf remained in hot pursuit, following her closely. By now they were outside the city walls and running on an incline through the woods. Finally, their chase was halted as the woman stopped at the edge of an enormous cliff, overlooking crashing waves and jagged rocks. The elf came up behind her and stared at her back, she still appeared to be holding something.

"Give me the child and you can go unharmed," the elf said making it sound as if it was a good option for the woman. The woman turned around holding a pot covered in blankets. The elf's heart skipped a beat and he almost lost his nerve.

"Where is the child!?" The elf shouted with veins in his neck and spittle flying from his mouth.

"You'll never have him." The woman said, expressionless.

"Tell me or I'll have to force it out of you," the elf threatened. Though he knew it would be no use if she were to jump off the cliff. He needed her alive if he was to find the baby. He was about to say: I'm not going to hurt you or your child, but he bit his tongue, he had just killed the father. The woman's eyes began to tear up and she took a step backwards placing her at the very edge of the daunting cliff. "You don't have to do this, be rational woman!" she sniffled then shouted:

"I love you my son! I'll be waiting for you with your father!" she closed her eyes, stepped back and tumbled to her death.