Prologue: I Can't Be Dead
Not much longer now and I'll be home Minyth, my love. The plan my friends and I have made has worked, and we have returned to Nirn. Thinking of you and Isldor is the only thing that kept me alive during my captivity in Coldharbour, knowing that you were home and safe, with our son. Even after all the torture, the Daedra put me through, I can't imagine how painful this past week must have been for you, not knowing what happened to me. Soon I'll be able to talk to you in person once again, rather than only through this makeshift journal.
"And so, it falls to us. We must stop Molag Bal and his Dark Anchors, or our world is doomed." the Prophet speaks with a serious and daunting tone.
The Imperial man sitting before him scratches his scraggily unkept beard and stares vacantly into the distance, with a makeshift journal clasp in his hand, giving no response.
After some seconds the silence is broken by the blind Prophet. "And yet, something else ails you, Vestige." He says it as a statement, rather than a question.
The Vestige, who wears naught but the rags of a prisoner, takes a moment to realize that he is referring to him. He looks at the Prophet. "You can call me Leodes, you know. I know you like keeping things mysterious by calling yourself the Prophet and all, but I prefer my given name."
The Prophet says nothing in regards to this, and Leodes continues looking vacantly into the distance, until he himself is annoyed with the silence, and admits what's bothering him.
Leodes sighs. "It's just...I know we didn't really have any time to talk about this before, what with trying to escape that hell hole and all – which I'm extremely grateful for - but...you keep making it sound like I'm supposed to be this mighty hero needed to save the world or something."
He pauses and looks away with a guilty expression. "I can't be that hero, Prophet, I'm sorry." He chuckles.
"I'm just a town guard. I stop thieves and back alley thugs, not Daedric Princes vying for world domination. Besides, I have a family to protect and provide for. I can't just leave them to go off on some grand adventure, and to be honest – I have no desire to get involved with any more Daedric schemes. Spending a week as a prisoner in Coldharbour was enough for me to last several lifetimes." He laughs lightly. Leodes flips through the pages in his journal to distract himself.
The prophet sighs and sits down in his chair. The creaking sound echoes in the cavern they reside in. Water drops into a puddle, and some bats fly away from their perch.
"I understand. It is always difficult to accept one's destiny, Vestige. Especially one such as yours, but it is still your destiny and yours alone. Despite your prior life's commitments and your limited experience in battle, I believe you were chosen for this for a reason. The visions I saw from the Elder Scrolls clearly showed you at the center of these events."
Leodes scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "Well, I'm honored that you think I'm so special, but your visions must have been wrong. There's nothing special about me, certainly not enough that could make a difference in a war against a Daedric Prince. That's not self-pity, that's just a fact."
"That's not true. Out of all of the Soul Shriven that Molag Bal created, you were the one accidental success he was not expecting. Something about you made him fear you. I know because of my connection to him when I was in his prison. I could feel his emotions, and sometimes his thoughts, as he did mine. Did you not wonder why you looked different from the rest of the Soul Shriven, or why you were kept away separately, guarded so heavily, and experimented on constantly?"
Leodas sighs heavily and looks straight at the Prophet's unseeing eyes. "Oh, not this again. I told you already...I'm not dead, okay? I'm not a Soul Shriven. I still have my soul. I may look half dead and in need of a shave, but I assure you I am one hundred percent alive. My mind is my own. I feel emotions. I feel the need to eat, drink and sleep. I feel warmth and cold. I bleed, heal normally and still feel pain - I should know, I felt a lot of it during those experiments, and why can't they have just been torture for torture's sake? It's not like a Daedra needs much reason for it, it's a source of amusement for them."
The Prophet squints and points a finger in the air toward Leodes. "Vestige, the fact that you still look and feel so alive, is the very reason they were so interested in you. What exactly that changes about you I do not know yet, but the Daedra seemed to have an idea. It is up to you to figure that out, for whatever it is may make the difference in our efforts to stop Molag Bal."
Leodes shrugs. "I don't know what else to tell you, Prophet. I'm still the same, very much still alive, me. I'm still Leodes, who is both a father and a husband, and a Daggerfall guard who is very, very late for my post, while my family is probably worried sick about me. I need to get back to my life and enjoy what few years I still have left before the world ends if anything about what you said is true. I'll use what connections I have to get you an audience with my King, and maybe he'll even pass on the word to Emeric in Wayrest. The Daggerfall Covenant can help you get Lyris back, and do more to stop Molag Bal than any one single town guard could do."
Leodes stands up and starts walking to leave the cavern. The Prophet sighs in frustration and calls out to him.
"Going to see your family now will only put them in more danger, Vestige. Molag Bal's minions will not stop their attempts to capture you and return you to Coldharbour."
"No, you're wrong. I can't protect them if I'm sitting out in a cavern hiding from them. I need to be with them, and there's nothing you could say that will change my mind. Now, goodbye."
As the imperial man in tattered rags nearly leaves the cavern, the Prophet speaks under his breath. "I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me for this, Leodes." The Prophet raises his staff toward him. "Akular obliviate soth dolibix."