The cold, swift wind swept up through the snowy mountains, a breath flowing through the lungs of Skyrim in the dead of night. The tumultuous darkness swirling around her, a young female Nord forged a path through foot of snowfall that caked the mountainside. The heavy armor she wore around her shoulders, chest, hips, and wrists made it difficult to move quickly in the conditions, but she had used her life savings for it as well as a sword sheathed at her left hip, and both were no good to her all packed away. Around her head she wore soft pelts as a wrap against the ice cold winds, and she had neglected her helmet for the journey. She uttered under her breath a small prayer to Mara, thanking her for another day of life, she guessed, adding a request for the strength to carry on with the task at hand. Through a dream, the Lady had given her a glimpse at this place, but not her task. Yet Anaya had been waiting for such a calling, a trial that she would not fail to use as proof of her worthiness to her Lady.
She had packed a small shelter and some basic provisions that had served as her camp an hour ago, and now it nestled comfortably in the cloth sack on her back, with only a single line of rough twine to sling over her shoulder to keep it in place. She plodded along the trail she intended to forge in the mountain slope, which was merely a long flattish portion that curved along the rock face, until she came to a parting in the stone.
Several feet tall and only a couple feet wide mouth, the mouth was split from the sheer face of the dark mountain stone. Uncovering her head and moving closer, she could feel no air coming out of the opening, only air going in. This was the reason for her neglecting the helm that came with her armor. She had often thought them too restrictive and blinding, and she figured she needed all her wits about her for whatever Mara had placed ahead of her. She cautiously held the torch into the mouth and could see only splashes of light from the flame tongues dancing off the stone. The mouth only continued further into the mountain in darkness, daring the light to come in after it.
A sudden pang of fear shot through her. It was a familiar sensation. She had felt it when venturing out of the city gates, away from her place of study in the chapel and from home. Back then it was preceded by the sudden feeling of being by oneself and relying solely on oneself for survival for the first time. Only this time it felt more potent, more volatile, and it began swallowing her whole.
She started her breathing exercise, just like she had taught herself, and reassured herself of what she was doing.
No matter how cold the wind or strong its might. Mara is within and forever my light.
This was the place. She could feel her Lady's presence, a warm and gentle pealing in her spirit, and it grew all the warmer when she finished her little ritual.
Holding the torch in front of her, Anaya slowly stepped through the mouth of the crevice, careful with her backpack and struggling against the armor to find room to move.
Another pulse of chilled blood coursed through her as the sudden realization of what a cave actually was entered her mind. Above her was innumerable tons of stone and snow, impossible to move except for down, and only supported by the stone underneath it, through which there was only this small tunnel in which she barely had enough room to crawl. Her breathing quickened, and she had to stop to retake her calming ritual.
No matter how cold the wind or strong its might. Mara is within and forever my light.
Mara surely would not beckon her to this place just to have it fall down on top of her, and Anaya felt her faith in the god of compassion was more than strong enough to lift the weight of a mountain. She pressed onwards, inch by inch, wiggle by wiggle. And as she continued, she noticed the tunnel getting wider, slowly at first, but more and more so as she moved onwards. So much, in fact, that now instead of crawling on all fours and hitting her back against the ceiling, it was now large enough for her to crouch in. But the darkness still persisted, cloaking the tunnel in a rotten sense of nonexistence, as if she were not actually moving through a tunnel at all, but rather through some empty and meaningless-
No matter how cold the wind or strong its might. Mara is within and forever my light.
She still had her torch and half a dozen just like it in her pack. The one in her hand crackled quietly as it emitted enough light and heat to reassure her that she was still very much alive.
Suddenly, the cramped tunnel gave way to what appeared to be a crumbled wall, made of different stone than the tunnel she had just crawled through.
This struck Anaya as ultimately strange. A wall within a mountain? What kind of place was this?
She approached the crumbled wall and found that beyond it was in fact another tunnel, perpendicular to the one she had just come through, but this one had enough room for two even three full sized people to stand abreast. She stepped in, simply taking in the moment. But she could still feel the warm chime of her Divine Lady, urging her onwards.
But which way? Anaya thought, and thought for a second that she said it aloud.
She immediately felt a little foolish, for like all of her prayers before this, there came no answer. There never was an immediate or straightforward answer from any of the Divines, because unlike the Daedric Princes, the Divines had no voices except for those of their priests or most devote followers, who could only interpret not mediate.
And what she needed now was more answers, less questions. And a small part of her, perhaps Mara's presence within all man, told her that the only place she could find those answers was ahead.
She held the torch aloft, holding it towards one end of the corridor then the other, but only sneering darkness greeted her. That is, until she heard a slight chittering coming from the impenetrable black. The noise grew louder, echoing off the walls, until a pair of beady black eyes appeared, reflecting the tongues of flame from the torch. Frightened, Anaya took a step back, almost losing the eyes in the darkness, but then a shadow the size of a dog leapt forth from the darkness at her.
She brought her hands up to shield her face as she heard teeth clash against her armored arm. Panicked, she saw a rat larger than any she had ever seen, with matted fur and some of its flesh outright missing, latched onto her armored arm with its teeth. She struck at it clumsily with her fist, impacting the creature but with no real effect. Again and again she hit it until it detached and scurried away. Anaya reeled, breathing hard from the surprise and holding her torch out like a sword in a parry. She was then met by not one set of beady black eyes, but three.
She turned and bolted down the corridor away from the rodents, her armor clattering loudly against itself, holding her torch out in front of her so she might see where she was stepping. Each hurried footfall thudded off the cobbled stone floor and echoed in both the corridor as she pressed forward, blind to everything but the next step. She dared not look back. Her path turned left, then right, each shift another panicked jolt to her senses.
Suddenly, the darkness gave way to faint firelight, and Anaya saw the corridor give way into some kind of chamber, a mantle glowing with orange embers on the far side. She spun around and saw the eyes coming fast. She went for her blade sheathed at her left hip. But one of the rodents leapt, impossibly far and fast, straight towards her. This time, however, she was ready and managed to catch the creature in a gauntleted hand before throwing it into the embers in the hearth. Although the embers were low, the rodent screeched and cried in pain, writhing about and sending sparks cascading out and onto the floor. Turning back, Anaya freed her weapon from its sheath, a rough longsword made of the best steel she could afford. The creatures were fast upon her, but they were simply no match for an armed, armored, and ready Nord. And with three brutish slashes of the blade, the rodents lay dead, scattered across the chamber.
Catching her breath, Anaya looked about the room. There were only three doors, the one she came through, plus two more. For a moment, Anaya debated trying to leave the way she came, to go train with a mentor then return of simply never return. But she could still feel the gentle warm chime of Mara's presence. Her Lady had not abandoned her, so how could she in turn abandon her Lady? Besides, through all the confusion and panic, she was unsure whether or not she would be able to find her way back. That realization brought the ice back into her veins and her mind began to unravel again as she desperately clawed out for her mantra.
No matter how cold the wind or strong its might. Mara is within and forever my light.
After a moment of panic, she placed her trust in her protector and decided to carry on. She picked up her torch, which somehow had fallen from her grasp in the fray, to notice it was about to go out, the oil-soaked wood nearly entirely spent. She strode over to the mantle and tossed it into the embers along with the now flaming rodent. She bent down and with a slight grin, took another torch from her pack and held it over the flames until it caught fire. She found it curious that there were still glowing embers within the hearth, as the rest of the room spoke only of ancient origins. And she doubted the rats she had just slain were capable of creating fire themselves.
Taking up the flame, she inspected the two doors, finding one that led only to what amounted to a closet and the other opening into another long dark corridor. Steeled as to the best of her abilities, she calmly stepped through, feeling the warmth of her guardian and the fire in her hand.
It was hard to tell exactly how much time had passed. The corridor had twisted half a dozen times over before Anaya found herself in another chamber, this one a lot larger than the last. Moving with her light forward, she guessed she was standing in some sort of laboratory. Stone tables filled with bottles filled the space, their innards entirely black with the ruination of any resemblance of their original contents. She found braziers along the walls, with glowing embers still ebbing eldritch light just like the mantle from earlier. She studied the contents of the tables, but none of the instruments or contraptions made any sense to her.
That is, until she found what appeared to be a small circle cleared of the dust and small spider webs that adorned everything in the ruins. It was the same size as the bases of some of the bottles among the tables, but there were no shattered remains of any bottle immediately near the table in question.
Someone -or something- had removed, deliberately so, a bottle from this laboratory.
Anaya felt the sudden shiver of fear creep up her spine, an icy centipede moving uncomfortably fast toward her neck. She reassured herself, not yet needing her calming incantation. She could still feel Mara's presence, none the quieter, even here. Perhaps this is why the Lady had called her here, but to kill or to rescue, she couldn't say.
Tell me, she uttered in prayer, what this means. What am I to do?
She crossed the remainder of the laboratory to the blackened wood and iron door on the other side. She eased the door open and cautiously peered inside, keeping her weight on the foot farthest from the door, should she need to make a run for it.
Through the door, she could see a room, although not much of it, for unlike the laboratory, it had no hearth. Wielding her light, she stepped in and judged the room to be quite large by the echo of her footfalls. While the torch was bright and lit up a very large portion of the chamber, she felt a still, eerie emptiness from all around her.
Suddenly, the room lit up as braziers similar to the ones in the laboratory came to life, spewing flames ignited through means she did not see. When the room came to full light, she was that she had come into the chamber through what appeared to be a side passage, one of several that joined into the vast grand hall in which she now stood. She saw a raised section in the center boasting a huge banquet table. Like everything else in this place, it was made of stone, banded with black iron, and covered with dust and a tangle of thick spider webs. Nearly two dozen chairs sat around the table, with an excessively large stone chair at the head. And in each one of these chairs sat, to her horror, an ancient human skeleton, skeleton, many hunched over their places at the table, some with arms, legs, and even heads missing.
Anaya realized she had been holding her breath, and released it noisily in almost relief. The sound did not echo, but sounded to her even louder than her armored footsteps.
With that, she immediately sensed movement from all around as, to her horror, the skeletons began to rise from their places, some reaching for ancient and sinister looking weapons on the table or floor, all of them turning with shaky and jerked movement to look at her.
Anaya felt her heart drop straight through her. The animated skeletal remains began moving toward her with clumsy and shuddering steps. Her mind simply could not understand what was right in front of her.
No matter how cold the wind…
These... things had been people once. Alive, flesh and blood, people with faces, eyes, hair... But now they were simply bone.
Or strong its might…
They should not even be moving. How are they moving?
Mara is-
They can't be reasoned with. They can't be intimidated. They can't show mercy.
She could not feel her arms or her legs, only the burning tears as they began streaming down her ice cold face.
Just then, a warm sensation came from her left hand, a gentle chiming in her mind and a golden light in the corner of her vision. Completely unbidden, she suddenly felt a surge of power within her, the very essence of herself rallying to her like a host of banner-men sworn to her service. She could feel a tug at her arm, and she raised it towards the slowly oncoming creatures.
But nothing happened.
The power was still there, surging swiftly through her form, teething and swelling with boundless energy. But it was waiting for something. She pulled her hand closer in to her face, inspecting it. In a blink, it came to her.
Her. It was waiting for her.
Again she outstretched her hand and thought only of a single word.
Go!
A flash of white hot light, accented with gold, burst forth from her fingertips. The nearest skeleton suddenly exploded, bits of fragmented bone flying off across the hall. Again, Anaya leveled her focus to the next skeleton and loosed her magic. Another flash of blinding light and that skeleton too was blown apart, this time the bone itself burning like the torch she had once held in her hand.
Again and again. In a few moments, four of the skeletons had been entirely obliterated, with the remainder now only in two groups advanced towards her, one from each end of the long table.
Her blade was suddenly in her hand, and she felt the comforting wholeness of the steel. She flung herself at the group to her left, brutishly striking high and arcing at one skeleton wielding a savage looking axe. She caught the fiend on the collarbone and felt the bone break under the momentum, like the snapping of so many sticks, only hollowed and suffering from years of rot. As the skeletal remains clunked to the stone floor, she swung again at the next, this time with a raging uppercut, catching the next skeleton under the arm holding its ancient sword. The bone did not break but the force was great enough that it dislodged the arm from its socket, and the limb clattered uselessly to the ground. She swung with her offhand, smashing the outside of her forearm against the skull. The head fragmented but did not shatter against her blow. Clumsily, the skeleton swung at her as it toppled to the ground, its off-hand impacting her unguarded head. Lights flashed in her vision as she recoiled, taken off guard. She brought her eyes back up just in time to see another fiend raise its axe to her hunched over form. She raised her blade to parry, the strike falling straight onto the flat of the edge. In a spurt of dizzy fury, she thrust out with her leg, kicking one of the skeleton's legs in two. The creature landed on top of her, an unnatural sensation, as she pushed it off from on top of her and rolled to the side away from it.
She rose, steadying herself, as another came at her with a low sweeping blow. She backed one step, nearly stepping back onto the remains of the one that she had just shoved off, and struck the blow aside. She swung her blade and, just like the first, cleaved it straight down and into the collarbone. That skeleton sank to the floor, and she laid eyes on only two more, both moving clumsily. Another burst of her power flashed forth, and the two were sent scattering about the floor in pieces. She looked around the room for more, but saw none. There was, however, the one that she had shoved off that was crawling toward her, its one broken leg uselessly moving about. She walked over and put her boot on the top of the skull, ceasing its movement, and with a sudden shift, brought the full force of her weight, armor and all, down on top of the skull. The bone crunched and caved under her boot, and she pulled it out, shaking bits of aged bone off the top.
She found the nearest wall and slumped against it. Her head was light, and her breathing ragged.
Feeling her entire body pulse with lifeblood thick with adrenaline, she yanked from her pack a vial with a blue tag tied to it. She popped the stopper and took several gulps before draining it entirely of its contents. The chalky liquid ran down her throat, giving her the same sensation it had a dozen times over during her studies into magics that left her depleted and aching. Every time, she had loathed the feeling the substance gave her as it seeped into her stomach, but this time it felt like the sweetest of treats.
She could remember other times she had felt like this, but truly it was never quite like what she felt now. It was always this hard ache, a grueling reminder of her inadequacies during training. But this, this felt like heaven. She told herself it was the feeling of being alive, when some small dark part of her knew she shouldn't.
But that still didn't explain that sudden welling of power she had experienced. It was like a flood, sweeping through her, but she couldn't explain it. She had never felt it before of course.
Had that been Mara? Was that her Lady urging her forward? But that was impossible, since Divines never made their presence known like that, or not as far as she knew at least. That only left one answer: That it was her power, and hers alone, that caused all that.
But was she capable of doing all that? Did she really have power of that magnitude within her? And if so, how long had it been there?
She leaned her head back against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on that small, warm sensation within her. She could feel Mara's presence, but this time it felt and little weaker. She dismissed it, picking herself up gradually and looking uneasily about the room.
Behind the largest seat at the head of the table was an immense door, big enough for a three people standing abreast, who would also be twice her size, to walk through. She picked up once more her torch that she had dropped during the fight and eased over to the portal, putting her hand on the door. Oddly enough, she could feel heat through it, a scenario that both concerned her and piqued her curiosity. She stepped through, the ancient hinges creaking and echoing through halls that no one but she has stood in for millennia.
What she saw inside made her jaw drop.
Before her sprawled a massive inner sanctum. A symmetric upper tier of inlaid rooms, many with chairs and benches similar to the ones she saw in the hall behind her, sat behind a walkway that ran along both walls and across the back of the space. After that were rows and rows of steps, all leading down to a central pit, which dropped very sharply into a flat square floor. An iron gate had been built into the center of the square pit, and just above that pit, but still at the bottom of the tiered steps, was a throne just as magnificent as the one at the head of the banquet table in the previous room. This was all visible because of four large braziers cut into the walls of the square pit at the bottom of the chamber, but other than that, it was completely pitch black inside.
The hall might have been big, but space seemed to warp around the chamber, and the heat took her off guard. It was a fire heat, but none she had ever felt before. It was not wood fire, or oil fire, but something completely different. Along with this question stood others less significant like how long it had been trapped in there, and who was the last to breathe it, but she pushed them as best she could from her mind.
She stepped inside, but just as she did so, the large door slammed shut behind her with a thud that echoed for a bit around the inner sanctum. Anaya drew her blade, eyes darting around the chamber and struggling against the almost complete darkness. She saw no one and nothing out of the ordinary, but something about the throne at the head of the pit caught her attention. She moved closer, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly.
She closer she moved the more she realized that there was something on the throne. It wasn't a skeleton, at least not yet. It appeared to be the corpse, clad in rugged armor that was deteriorating as much as the flesh of the dead man that wore it. But while the man, Anaya judged the sex by the wiry white beard that it bore, was long dead, his flesh was not quite decomposing. The skin had long been ancient leather and clung to the man's bones so that every single one was visible. The face was pulled tight, eye sockets black and pitted, while the rest of his hair was concealed under a half helm. She had heard the legends, the childhood cautionary tales, of long dead Nords, embalmed and entombed in their ancient strongholds since the times of dragons, that would come out and steal children that would wander too far from home or any waylaid traveler on a road just a bit too far from civilization. But she never suspected to actually find one, and now she felt a tad foolish for thinking so. Draugr, she thought they were called, and she took a frantic few steps back as the long dead corpse began to move, slowly at first but then faster, up out of its throne and for a wicked claymore leaning against one of the arms.
A good thing too, for just as she finished her step back, she saw the corpse swing at her, a trained and experienced swing, and felt the air of the weapon wash against her face.
Her heart jumped a foot. She had been that close to death. This was different than her fight against the skeletons. They bore little resemblance to their previous humanity, and were slow and clumsy as well. But here was a corpse, a dead but not dead corpse, whose movements were as controlled and fluid as her own. But unlike her, the person that this corpse belonged to was probably vastly more experienced than she was, judging by the power that the creature stood with.
And that advantage showed itself again. The man swung down with a one handed overhead strike, which was normally impossible with a greatsword, but Anaya fell back and away, stumbling onto the stone steps. Everything felt like it was designed to throw her down into the pit. Anger imbued within her, rising like a wild beast that had been kicked, as she extended her arm and unleashed a measure of her power. Light flashed and the man's chest exploded with white hot fire, which made him stagger but not fall. She watched in horror as the flames licked and danced off the man's body, like a firecracker thrown against a brick wall, leaving only slightly burnt flesh underneath. It roared something at her in a language she didn't understand or recognize and charged. She saw the swing coming, a flat side swipe from her left, and she reeled back, bringing her blade up to guide the blow away.
But the strength of her foe was too great, and the second their blades touched, she felt her grip break and the sword clattered down the steps and into the stone pit.
Fear, crippling and unyielding fear, began to creep up her back. In a fury she released another burst of her magic, aimed at the man's face, but it moved to the side. A cold and decaying hand grabbed her outstretched wrist with unnatural strength, and with the flat of its blade to her back, threw her headlong into the pit.
She landed on the iron bars, every part of her aching from the impact. She looked back towards her attacker, waiting for the next assault, but the Draugr simply looked at her, the head with glowing blue eyes bobbing back and forth like it wasn't quite sure what it was looking at. She stared at it, puzzled, before a voice echoed through the room.
"Well, we have another," a man's voice came, silvery, but cold as death itself.
She didn't see the source, but she could see a pair of glowing yellow eyes from a recess up and to her left, in the upper tier of the sanctum. Anaya suddenly felt pinpricks up and down her entire body, a sense similar to that of a deer that had just locked eyes with its hunter.
And then the floor fell out from under her.
She fell sideways, enough to see a floor with a large stack of stones at the bottom. She managed to turn herself and saw several wooden beams crossing the abyss at the outer edge of the round pit. Just as she saw them, she slammed into one, the aged wood crunching under the impact and weight of both herself and her heavy armor, then giving way to send her plummeting once again. She hit two more of the beams before impacting against the stone pile, which flung her off down the side like a child's rag doll. She hit the floor, and her armor crunched and clanked around her. She finally came to a stop, bruised and aching from the impact, but mostly intact. She slowly and gently pushed herself upright. When she looked up towards the mouth of the pit, she saw the iron bars had closed high above her, impossible to reach, and above that were the burning yellow eyes, looking down at her, through her, and it reminded her of the way a child looked at a plate of sweets. The thought made her stomach turn to liquid until the eyes vanished, leaving her at the bottom of the shaft.
When she looked around, she saw no light, and when she went for her pack to fetch a torch, she realized it had fallen off of her during the fight. To add insult to injury, she longed for her weapon, which was still in the pit at the top of the shaft, well out of her reach. Her heart raced and her breathing became panicked.
No matter how cold the wind or strong its might, she started, looking inside herself for that charm of Mara, the warm presence that was evidence that she was here for a reason.
But the presence was nowhere to be found. Panicking further, she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself in order to look for her Lady. But there was only silence.
She pulled her legs into her chest and began sobbing, half from the pain, half from the exertion of the past several hours. How could Mara leave her in a place like this? She was so certain she had been on the right path. But was that even true? Was this even what Mara had intended of her? Or was her Lady a cruel and deceitful Divine that preyed upon the blind faith of her followers? She felt anger build beside her grief, a nauseous concoction rising in her throat.
But in the silence something caught her ear, something she would only be able to hear in complete silence. She jerked up reflexively, bringing her arm up to her face in defense, thinking it was whatever creature those haunting yellow eyes belonged to. But nothing happened. She still could hear the sound, a soft humming like a hundred choir children, but gentle and quiet like a feline's purr. She could see something behind the stone pillar, something of smoky essence emanating a soft, pure white light. She rose unsteadily to her feet.
When she rounded the corner, she saw at the base of the pillar what remained of a man, still and lifeless, rough bright robes hanging about him, the unmistakable stain of blood turning the fabric dark.
He had copper hair falling around his face, which bore an expression of peaceful rest, resigned but proud, which he would bear for eternity.
The wispy essence surrounding the body began to separate from it and took the form of a man before Anaya, the features matching that of the restful man. The forlorn eyes of the form looked at her, its expression blank like the death mask its host bore. But the eyes looked at her, not through her, and its mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but no words came out.
Anaya tried to find her own, but had none to offer against her dry throat.
"Lady Mara", Anaya heard an ethereal voice speak, echoed like it was speaking down a long corridor at her, mournful as a grieving lover. "I have failed you. I answered your call. I came here, a light in the darkness, to meet the undead nightmare within these walls. I heard them, Lady Mara, the cries of the pained souls-"
Just then Anaya's vision turned murky like milk water as her senses left her. She saw a man, cheeks gaunt and skin pale as a white rose, hunched over an arcane work table, hands folded and eyes closed in intense focus. She heard a woman's scream, was a flash of blue light that was quickly pulled into a dark black stone, and the man's eyes shot open, yellow fires burning then fading into darkness. She saw many people seating around a banquet table. Most wore common clothing, and a few wore scraps of armor. All of them bore wounds, the most common was a thin slit across the throat, as well as others. She counted twelve. She saw the dead man, his bright robes all the brighter against an orb of arcane light, padding through the halls of the ruin, past the remains of the twelve seated at the banquet table, and into the inner sanctum. She saw yellow eyes and darkness throwing themselves at the light, the yellow eyed monster's staff, topped with the black stone, trading blows with the robed man's blade. She saw the monk strike with at the dark black crystal, shattering it into many pieces, before the blue light splashed everywhere for a moment then the next was drawn into the steel of his sword. A furious cry erupted from the monster, and it lashed out again savagely, drawing life blood from the monk. She saw the monk's body plummet down the shaft and impact hard against the stone column, the sound of breaking bones echoing off the walls.
Just then her vision returned, and she saw the form of the man before her again, his shape rippling silently like still waters being disturbed at the slightest touch.
"I have failed you, Lady", he spoke. "I was not able to complete your sanctification ritual. The souls, they are trapped within my blade. I was unable to return to your temple to sanctify them. I can-" The voice faltered with a pang of sorrow. "I can still hear their cries. Please Lady Mara, take this burden from me. The souls inside do not have long, and I am not worthy of your blessings." And the spirit looked on expectantly.
Anaya stood stock still for many moments, unsure what to say. This spirit was mistaking her for Mara. But why? What should she do? What would she say?
No, she thought, what would Mara say?
She took a short breath and spoke nervously, "You have not failed me. Rest in peace."
"Take my blade from my body, and I shall find your peace."
Anaya looked to the man's remains. Sure enough, the hilt of a fine blade could be seen under the man's robes. She reached down and grasped it, a chilled sensation racing up her arm. She hefted the blade and scabbard, expecting it to be much heavier, and attached it to her own belt.
"Thank you, My Lady. I await my peace within your loving arms."
And with that, the apparition faded as would steam blown away by a stray wind, leaving Anaya in near total darkness.
Her senses slowly returned to her. She could only stand there, repeating bits of the conversation in her mind.
When her eyes had adjusted to the very low light, she looked down at the sword, its hilt made of a fine silvery steel wrapped in black leather, boasting a simple pummel except for a small ruby caged in the metal. She freed the blade and saw a fine edge with no chips or chinks, but there were shallow engravings she could not make out. Suddenly she felt a something behind her, but she turned to see nothing. Instinctively, she backed against the wall just as a portion of it lifted. Distant torchlight spilled in as a figure came racing into the room, stopped, and began looking madly back and forth. Anaya saw the yellow eyes before her and recognized the gaunt cheeks and pale skin.
She stopped breathing, the blade still in her hand. She stared intently at the back of the man's neck, exposed above the collar of his black leather vest.
She had never killed a man before, and she had always figured it to be easy, given the right situation. She imagined pain and rage filling her up as she drove a blade into her first kill, who would have to be some evil maniac bent on the slaughter of innocents. And here she was, blade in hand, aiming for the sweet spot she saw in front of her.
"The souls inside do not have long." That part of the conversation with the spirit came back to her, whispered in the back of her mind. She shot her eyes sideways for another look at the blade, the keen edge completely in shadow.
She could end him, right now, and prevent him from hurting anyone ever again... but she would risk those twelve souls still sealed within the blade. They would not pass on to... wherever it was they were destined. They would haunt the sword, haunt her, for a very long time. Perhaps forever.
But it would stop this man from doing any more harm.
Anaya steeled herself for what came next. She was only two feet from the man with his back turned to her, but only one foot from the door. Quick as a shadow she stepped through the door and found the release latch. She grabbed it and twisted with all her might. The rock wall slid back into place, and she heard a shriek come from the other side.
She followed a series of tunnels on the other side and eventually found herself outside, a bright sun low on the horizon greeting her. The snow sparkled and shone with brilliant light all around her. From the sounds of the birds, she guessed it to be morning, and even though her pack was still deep within the ruins, she didn't care. Town was only a dozen miles away, and in town was a chapel to Akatosh, who would help Anaya sanctify the blade as much as Mara would. All she had to do was get there. And compared to what she had just gone through, ten miles across a beautiful and brisk morning landscape to a town bustling with people was, literally, walk in the morning sun. And as she began down the hill, she held her head high, the gentle, warm chiming of Mara present both within and without her, she heard the gentle rumble of collapsing earth from the tunnel behind her, as Mara gave her late priest his final rites and her newest disciple a path to walk.