Chapter One.
The night was deathly silent. All the normal sounds that accompanied the sunset had been stifled by some unseen tension. For hours now, there had been no howling wolves, no chirping crickets, no squeaking bats. Nothing. The landscape itself, bleached pale under the wan light from the twin moons, Masser and Secunda, seemed to be holding its collective breath, as a lone rider slowly peaked over the hilltop. The horse itself held a dangerous aura and a terrible beauty. Intelligent ruby eyes glinted under a mane of black silk, and her midnight coat gleamed in the shadows. Her magnificence was glaring in contrast to her rider – a shadowed figure who sat straight on her unsaddled back, glaring at the wilderness around him with dark, wary eyes.
"Even the hunters can become the hunted sometimes", he mused under his breath. Sensing nothing that posed a danger to her rider or herself, the horse began her descent, seeming to need no guiding hand from her master. The cloaked man looked around once more, peering through the darkness. The mare halted as a bush to their far right gave an slight rustle. The man tensed, eyes flashing under his black hood and with a slight flick of his wrist and the soft snap of leather, there appeared a silver stiletto knife in his hand, whose edge glowed red in the darkness. The blade thin enough to slip between ribs, yet strong enough to withstand the impact of bone, he carried several such weapons upon his person, ready to be unsheathed at a moments notice. He twirled the knife between his fingers as he surveyed his surroundings. There was a tense silence, when time itself seemed to stretch, the straining blanket of apprehension that overlay the landscape stretching taut... Until a rabbit came bounding across the winding path, eyes rolling with fear and ears flat against its head. The man smirked and sheathed his weapon as his horse sprang forward, eyes glinting malevolently as her jaws opened to snatch up the terrified creature and swallow it whole.
"Shadowmere," he chuckled reproachfully, a hint of sadistic humour in his smirk, "Don't you think that was a tad unnecessary?"
The horse snorted derisively, shaking her head to disperse the drops of blood which spattered her nose. Lucien idly admired the way the crimson splashes contrasted against the white rock, the broken relics of some long-forgotten Ayleid fortress. Shaking his head in rueful amusement, he clicked his tongue softly. Once again, horse and rider strode off into the night, forgoing the main road that led into Cheydinhal and instead following the path curving up towards the ruined fort in the distance, an ancient stone sentinel watching over the sleeping town.
Lucien smiled to himself. It felt so good to be home again.
As the night faded, and the dawn grew over Cyrodiil, a lone guard huffed and puffed against the chilled wind blowing across the Niben Bay.
The air around the bay was quivering with unchecked magic. Flashes of colour and streaks of lightening spread across the clouds as they raced towards the small island which stood isolated in the murky waters. A strange stone door shimmered in the dawn air, and the guard looked at it fearfully. 'By the Nine', he thought miserably, 'Why is it I always get stuck with this sort of job?'
The door itself seemed no threat, despite the hideous visage it presented. A gaping mouth flanked by two faces, one placidly facing east and the other snarling to the west. The guard shivered. Nothing nasty had appeared through the portal as of yet, but he knew his luck wouldn't last forever. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind, then the clouds raging overhead came screeching towards the door, the air condensing into a swirling white mist. There was a crash of thunder and the echoes of manic laughter could be heard on the rapidly dying wind. Then, as suddenly as the storm had appeared, it abated. The rising sun broke through the bank of clouds, and the air lost its oppressive feel. The sky gradually lightened, and the guard sighed in relief. He was nearing the end of his shift, and of his rope too. Calming himself, he turned and settled himself more comfortably against the rocky outcrop and promptly near fell off it in shock when he noticed a solitary figure laying prone and motionless in the dust.
The guard hesitantly drew his silver shortsword and crept closer to the body, alert for any threatening or sudden movement. Seeing none, he approached more calmly, and knelt by the figure.
At least it's still breathing, he thought, although he wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing yet. He placed a heavy gauntlet upon the figure's cloak and pulled the fabric back carefully, only to reveal a pair of raging black eyes staring right back at him. He jumped back, startled, as the figure sat up and shrugged the cloak off its shoulders. It was a young girl, maybe 18 or 19. He couldn't tell what race she was, which astounded him. As a Bravil guard, he prided himself upon being able to recognise anybody's background simply from their appearance - from the more obvious Khajiit and Argonian, to the more subtle Altmer halfbreeds. But this girl's appearance flummoxed him. Her hair was a deep black that was accented with a crimson tint, like a raven drenched in blood, and it grew wild and curly. She had small pointed ears that peeked through her locks, not quite as pronounced as an elf, not quite as rounded as a pureblood human. Her skin was so pale it was almost glowing, and her enormous eyes were as black as the Void. They were full of swirling anger, almost hypnotic in their apparent madness. But her face remained blank, almost bored looking. She was pretty enough, with a small graceful nose and pale lips, but there was something unsettling about her. The guard started. She was examining him just as much as he was her, and the look of confusion and fear that flashed across her face for an instant surely mirrored his own. The silence stretched, until at last, the guard straightened his cuirass carefully and coughed.
"Ahem, are you... are you alright, Miss?"
He didn't notice the slight twitching of her ears as he spoke. He did, however, catch the look of irritation cross her face before it smoothed out again. His fingers warily strayed towards the hilt of his now-sheathed sword, the barest whisper of a threat and a movement she did not ignore. Her eyes shot to meet his again, and he gulped in fear as he saw the barely concealed rage encompassed there grow exponentially.
"Where am I?"
Her voice did not match the savageness in her eyes. It was restrained, yet steady. Her accent lilted with her words, sounding almost musical. But the fury remained in her tone as she began to glance around, already having decided that the guard was of no immediate threat to her. As he observed her, a soft scent reached his nostrils. It was reminiscent of the house he grew up in; a mixture of baking bread and lavender soap, the smell of his mother's perfume. He relaxed instantly as he inhaled, dropping his guard completely as the comforting aura of his childhood settled across his shoulders. He smiled beatifically.
"You are not far from Bravil, Miss. My name is Gaius Prentus, I'm one of the town's guards."
'The poor fool sounds almost proud of it', she thought, vaguely amused.
"What's your name? Where did you come from?" he asked, hesitantly. She did not deign to answer.
'She must have come through the portal,' he reasoned, shuddering as he recalled the nightmares he'd had over what lay on the other side. Noticing his glance backwards, the girl's gaze shifted behind him and darkened. She glared at the horrendous stone faces looming over them, and – to Gaius' amazement – actually growled at them.
"I'd stay back from that door if I were you. Nothing that's gone in has come out right"
'Ah, now I see.'
She chuckled darkly to herself, before returning her cold stare back to the imbecile who was still blabbering. She raised an arched eyebrow as she waited for him to stop. Sensing her impatience, Gaius stuttered to a halt. He shook his head, confused. He had fought countless skirmishes, and faced all kinds of hideous foes, from bandits, to vampires and even trolls. Why did he fear this small slip of a girl, who was unarmed and obviously in a weakened and fragile state? She had barely said anything at all, and it was clear that she had no intention of answering his questions. He felt uneasy in her presence, as she seemed to be unhinged, yet he could not abandon his post.
"Bravil is that way, Miss." He pointed over her shoulder and hoped she'd take the hint. "You can take one of the boats back and..."
Whatever his next words were going to be, they never got past his teeth. The girl had sprung as soon as his gaze had shifted to the town behind her, lightning fast and obviously not as unarmed and helpless as he had previously assumed. She wielded a strange black dagger, razor sharp with what appeared to be a bone handle. It flashed out of sight under his chin, and he staggered back as blood sprayed out, soaking his armour and the girl's face, who froze with an insane grin on her face. Her hand shaking with excitement, she grazed her fingertips across her drenched cheeks and gazed curiously at the blood clinging to her fingers. Raising them to her mouth, she licked it off slowly, closing her eyes as she savoured the hot, metallic taste. Gaius slumped to the ground, blood leaking into the grass as his fearful eyes slowly glazed over. A final choking, shuddering sigh escaped his lips, and his hand fell away from his ravaged neck. The girl smirked in satisfaction, and licked her blade clean, two tiny fangs glinting in the pale light of the dawn.
'Wasn't he dull?'
Turning around, she glanced at the outline of Bravil's town walls in the distance. She considered them briefly, before turning back and stepping over the still-warm corpse. Her feet led her to the water's edge, and without the slightest hesitation, she carried on walking. Water-walking was a fairly common ability to those versed in basic Alteration spells. But this was different. She didn't just walk across the surface of the lake. Black ice spread across the surface of the water where her feet made contact, only to recede again once she had moved on. In this manner, she made her way across the water, her tiny figure disappearing into the hazy mist that drifted across the opposite shore.
The image shivered as the magic holding it in place receded. A frame of mist was all that remained, hanging in the air. A wave of a cane dispersed it, and the figure holding it gave a laugh of delight. "Well, Haskill", came a low yet melodic voice. "I believe you owe me a bottle or two. She's barely been there ten minutes and she's already murdered somebody. You have to admire her bloodlust." The figure bent over, cackling madly.
The other man stood nearby, looking as bored as usual.
"It would appear that our dear Relmyna may have exceeded herself with this one. Tallys certainly takes after her... well, 'Mother' " came the droll reply.
"Indeed. The little minx...", the first figure said, giggling softly. He sat back in his throne, brooding under the vast branches of the tree behind him. The man who had been addressed stepped back politely and prepared to leave the vast chamber in which they stood, before a sarcastic cough sounded behind him.
"I don't recall saying you could leave, Haskill. Where do you think you're going?" asked the first man, poking his steward in the chest with his cane.
"As ever, nowhere, My Lord. Nowhere."
"Good man. Bring out the cheese!" The man in the throne rubbed his hands together gleefully, "We have work to do!"