A/N: Hello all, and welcome to the very first chapter of the sequel to Shadows of the Heart, Whispers of the Night. This story will broken up into several 'books' and cover several arcs. But before we begin:
You are getting a trigger warning for this story. You will see various suicide attempts throughout. Mentions of rape will also spring up. I'm not pulling any punches here. If this isn't your kind of story, please walk away now while you have the chance.
Whispers of the Night
Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…
*Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 1*
Geldis was wiping a mug clean with one of his many rags in the Retching Netch Cornerclub when he heard one of the miners talking about a rumor that had been circulating a lot in recent weeks. The dunmer recognized the man was one of his most consistent patrons, and he lent an ear out to listen in on the conversation considering the topic of conversation.
Business today was unusually slow, with the only patrons so far being Captain Veleth, the miners that just entered, and that poor woman who came to the island a year ago. Geldis glanced over at the blonde Nord, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the poor girl. She was young, and yet the sad look in her brilliant golden eyes was enough to tell him that she had suffered a lifetime of pain.
She was clad in simple clothes, wearing a long sleeved white shirt and black pants that clung to her frame. A half dozen small glasses were stacked neatly in front of her, and she downed another shot of Geldis' famous Bretonese whiskey. She had been in the cornerclub for a good portion of the day drinking, and she looked absolutely miserable.
"Hey, did you hear what happened to that wreck a quarter mile outside the Bulwark?" one of the miners asked in an excited whisper. "Apparently, the reavers were all massacred! In the middle of the night, no less!"
"By who?" his friend asked. "Do you think it was her?"
"The Black Swordswoman? Aye. According to the Redoran Guard who were sent out to search the ship for any survivors, the bodies were all riddled with crossbow bolts and torn asunder," the first replied. "No doubt it was her. I tell you, the last thing I want to do is come across her. Nords are bad enough on their own. But one with an enormous sword, a crossbow, and a hatred for the daedra? That's one nightmare I'd really prefer stay in my dreams."
The blonde woman didn't pay the remarks any mind. Instead, she merely tapped the bar again, signaling for another drink.
Geldis let out a sigh and put down the glass he was wiping, walking over to her. Under normal circumstances, he had no problem with making coin. But this felt like the situation with Bralsa Drel all over again. He felt like he was exploiting her, making profit off of her misery.
"Miss, I think you've had enough for one night," he said gently. "Perhaps it would be best if you called it a night and headed home." He'd have Master Saoron escort her back if he could; the woman was in a severe state of intoxication and it would be all too easy for someone to try and take advantage of her in her inebriated state. However, the Breton was currently out assisting the Redoran Guard again and Geldis didn't know when he'd return.
The blonde scoffed, her left hand pushing some of her golden locks out of her face. "I'm fine. Just pour me another drink."
"Miss, I—"
"Just do it." Her right hand trembled ever so slightly, and the blonde winced before clutching it. Pain flashed across her features, and Geldis could make out the bandages that resided underneath her white shirt. She was obviously suffering from some kind of injury or ailment. The dunmer would've loved to ask her what it was, but in the year she had been a resident of Raven Rock he had long since found out that she was a woman who did not reveal much. All he ever got out of her was her name.
Alana Ehler. She was striking to look at, particularly for a Nord, with fair hair that reached the middle of her back and unusual golden eyes. Her simple clothes hid a powerful figure; she could swing a pickaxe for much longer than anyone else who worked the ebony mine and chopped wood without ever seeming to get tired. A simple amulet of Dibella was worn around her neck, making it obvious that she worshipped the goddess of beauty.
But apart from that, Geldis knew very little about her, apart from her first visit to the island. He had no idea why she always looked so miserable, or why she even came to Solstheim. How could a woman who was once a powerful warrior be reduced to this? She nearly got into a fight with Second Councilor Arano when she arrived here permanently, but luckily Captain Veleth was able to break up the confrontation before it got ugly.
Geldis never forgot the first time she came to the settlement to talk with Master Saoron in private about something, over a year ago. Even then she didn't talk much, but it was clear from the way she carried herself that she had seen her fair share of hardship and suffering. Her eyes showed everything; the eyes were the windows to the soul as Elder Othereloth so often put it, and one look was all he needed to see that her soul was one that was filled with sadness.
Geldis let out a defeated sigh and poured her another drink, sliding it over to her across the polished wooden top of the bar. Alana took it and downed its contents quickly, and without another word she pulled a hefty bag of gold out of her pockets and left on the bar.
She was clearly intoxicated; the poor girl was stumbling all over the place and leaning against the walls of the cornerclub to prevent herself from toppling over and hitting her head on the steps. How she made it up without falling was a miracle.
The dunmer innkeeper could only shake his head. Part of him told him he should be grateful for her business; she was keeping the cornerclub afloat with the amount she drank. But the other part of him couldn't bear to see this. He appreciated good business, not the kind that was morally dirty and had equally tangled webs attached to it.
With her gone, he turned his attention to the patrons he had left. The two were still eagerly talking about the mysterious hunter known only as the Black Swordswoman. From a lone survivor of a dremora attack, the Black Swordswoman was a Nord woman with a massive silver zweihander sword that seemed to be made up of two separate blades, one smaller than the other.
She was dressed entirely in black clothes with a hood over her head, and she fought the dremora with all the ferocity of a starved saber cat. She was unusually vicious in combat, using her two swords to cut through the tough daedric armor. According to the survivor of the attack, she didn't even pay him any mind once she was done. She just fused her swords together and walked off without a word.
In a small settlement like Raven Rock, word began to travel fast about this mysterious new daedra hunter. Within a few months, several other reports of coming across brutally massacred daedra throughout all of Solstheim became the newest gossip in town. Who was this demon killer? Where did she come from?
Who was next on her list?
Those who worshipped the Tribunal, the daedric princes of Mephala, Boethiah, and Azura, grew more and more fearful by the day. It was no secret that the daedra hunter was on the island, living in their very midst. Yet it was if she was a phantom of their imagination; no one could find her.
"Hey, that blonde who was just in here ought to know something about it, right? Maybe we should pay her a visit," the miner suggested. His lip curled up into a sinister sneer, and he stroked his long knotted beard. "Not like anyone will complain if she goes missing."
"And risk bringing down a demon killer on our heads? No thanks." His companion shook his head frantically, signaling for Geldis to pour them some drinks after a long day's work in the ebony mines. "I prefer keeping my head on my damn shoulders, thank you very much. Besides, what the bloody hell would she know about the Black Swordswoman? She doesn't ever leave town."
"Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it is for the better. We don't want someone so dangerous looking for us." He sighed and took his flagon of sujamma, sipping it. "Bloody hell, Geldis. Did you change your recipe again? This is absolutely amazing."
"I did." Geldis nodded and smirked quietly to himself. He had planted a little nightshade into their drinks. Not enough to be fatal, but enough for the two to be subdued for the better part of the evening. Once they fell unconscious, the innkeeper would have Veleth take them to the Bulwark for public indecency. Such rude and callous behavior was disgraceful, especially towards someone who was so damned miserable. What threat could she possibly pose now? The damn girl didn't even carry a weapon on her, as far as he could tell.
The dunmer didn't even have enough time to begin preparing a proper batch of his legendary sujamma before both of his remaining patrons fell face first into the table where they sat. He chuckled to himself and watched as they slumped to the ground unconscious, having fallen out of their chairs. "And that, my friends, is why you don't act like complete idiots."
He walked up towards one of the Redoran Guard who was posted inside the cornerclub as security. "Excuse me, could you find Captain Veleth? I happen to have two rambunctious individuals who need to spend some time in the Bulwark for their…incredibly inappropriate behavior in my club."
"As you wish, Geldis." The guard nodded and promptly left. It was hard to tell what his fellow dunmer was thinking, being encased head to toe in the thick and powerful bonemold armor. But Geldis was positive that he was probably thinking of how irritating it was to be a damned errand boy when he had trained for most of his life to be an elite soldier. Sadly, the only action any of the elite soldiers had in the past year or so was fighting off the cursed beings known as ash spawn.
Geldis headed down to his club and plucked a broom off the wall, sweeping up a small pile of dirt from the floor into a pile. He preferred keeping the cornerclub as tidy as possible, in case either First Councilor Morvayn or Second Councilor Arano stopped by to pay him a visit and have a taste of his sujamma.
He didn't have to wait very long before Captain Veleth came down into the club. The old dunmer strode in with his usual confident swagger, his elven battleaxe firmly secured on his back. "Ah, Geldis. I heard you had some rather rambunctious individuals in your club that required a much needed escort to the Bulwark."
"Indeed." Geldis nodded, pointing over to the two unconscious dunmer on the floor. "There they are. I have to ask you, have you heard any news regarding the Black Swordswoman?"
"Not at all, apart from rumors." Veleth shook his head, frowning. "A Nordic daedra killer with a large sword hasn't been found anywhere within Raven Rock's jurisdiction. If, and only if, should she come here with ill intentions will I have my men react accordingly. Otherwise, I say we should be thanking her; she's made our job of hunting down foul necromancers and dremora easier."
"True. Having such a skilled warrior amongst us would have a lot of benefits," Geldis acknowledged, helping the captain carry the two unconscious drunks out of his cornerclub. He had one man draped over his shoulder and Veleth carried the other, and outside waiting for them were two Redoran soldiers. "Here you are. Make sure you let them know what caused their arrest, whenever they wake up."
He handed his baggage over to the guards and marched back down into the cornerclub to finish making his next brew. The dunmer sprinkled in a few of the native ingredients he picked up from Milore earlier in the week in the brewing vat and gave it a stir, and he heard the clanking of heavy steel boots. He knew those footsteps anywhere and didn't even need to look up to know who it was. "Ah, there you are, Master Saoron. Another rough day assisting the Redoran Guard?"
"I'll say. Damn things are getting bolder and bolder by the day." The tall Breton shook his head and took a seat at the bar, his glass sword dangling from the belt on his armor. He brushed his fingers over a pair of healing cuts on his left arm and glanced at the pile of glasses on the bar, sighing. "I see Alana was here earlier. I must have just missed her, I take it?"
"Aye." Geldis nodded and poured the brunet man his regular, a pint of ale with just the right amount of foam. "I've seen all kinds of drunks in my day, but I don't think I've ever seen a depressed drunk as bad as her. Not even Bralsa was this bad."
"I'll try and talk to her in the morning," Saoron replied, downing a mouthful of his drink. "But I doubt it'll amount to much. I've seen her in this state of mind before; it takes a lot for her to pull herself out of it and not give in to the devil on her shoulder telling her to end it." His amber eyes were somber, and he wiped a bit of ale from his lips with the back of his hand.
"Did you hear any new rumors while you were out?" Geldis asked. "About the Black Swordswoman. Captain Veleth hasn't heard anything apart from the usual rubbish. Bloody superstitious folk around here, I tell you."
"Not a word." Saoron shook his head, taking his steel gauntlets off and running a hand through his brown locks. "Whoever she is, she's good, though. It takes a lot of strength to use a zweihander, but to use one of the damn things one handed? Even I would think twice before engaging in a swordfight with her."
Geldis chuckled at that. Saoron was one of the finest swordsmen his old eyes had the pleasure of watching. He loved absorbing damage with his shield and timing his attacks to counter his enemy. Very simple, but very effective. That's who he was. Not flashy, but he got the damn job done and efficiently. The Redoran Guard couldn't stop praising him for keeping a cool and collected head whenever they fought off the ash spawn attacking the Bulwark. He may have not been a mer, but he was just as welcomed in the community as the Severin family.
"I don't know. I think you might be able to keep up with her for at least a little bit, considering you have an eye for strategy," the dunmer replied. He felt a little more at ease knowing that Saoron was going to hopefully try and talk to Alana. The girl needed it, more than anything. She needed that person who she could turn to for when things were their roughest.
She needed that shoulder to cry on, for her sake more than anyone else's.
"Saoron, keep an eye on her. Please," Geldis said quietly. "I've seen people in her spot before, and it all ended the same way. They all took their lives, unable to live with the pain anymore. Make sure that does not happen to her."
He didn't know what the girl had suffered before she came to Solstheim. But she had to see that she still had at least two people looking out for her. Geldis could see a good person buried underneath the pain, but she had to dig through it.
He just hoped neither him nor Saoron were too late.
Alana fumbled with the key to her house, her vision hazy from being impaired. How long had she been in there drinking? Minutes? Hours?
All she was able to think of was how much the void in her heart ached and the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat. 'Serana…why?'
'Why you, too?' Her eyes watered and a few tears dripped out of her golden eyes. One year. One long, agonizing year since she left Astrid and Serana was killed by Mephala's spider daedra.
She was lost without Serana. The woman had stood by her despite of the sins she had committed and loved her regardless. And yet, fate's cruel hands tore her away from her, leaving Alana a shattered shell of a person.
She remembered it like it was yesterday. The day Serana died. She remembered how much she cried, unable to come to terms with the fact that the one she loved and trusted was gone.
Alana entered her home and locked the door behind her, descending into the armory to change. She stripped her white shirt off and fitted on a dark blue vest with a black sleeve attached to cover the bandage on her right arm.
The blonde picked up her new zweihander, Clockwork, and gave it a few test swings. The deadly sword was still sharp as the day she found it in the dwemer ruins of Kagrumez after receiving a tip from Saoron about a cult of daedra worshippers hiding in its cold metal depths. His information wasn't wrong; a cult dedicated to the daedric prince of destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, was residing within. However, not even Saoron knew of the greater power that hid within its depths.
At the very bottom on the ruins, hidden amongst oily machinery and hazardous traps, was the unique silver zweihander sword. The blade was seemingly coated in the rare metal of aetherium, making it a little lighter than Requiem despite being about the same size. Unlike any other weapon, it was made up of two separate swords, one being a smaller longsword and the other a slightly lighter broadsword. Combining the two created one of the strangest and most powerful weapons Alana ever wielded.
Human, daedra, dwemer automatons; it didn't matter. Simply nothing was impenetrable if she used it.
However, there was only one usage she would ever put the weapon through. Killing the daedra and their foul worshippers wherever they hid.
They ruined her life and stole away her friends, her love ones. She'd make them pay. She'd make them all pay for what they did.
Alana winced as a jolt of pain shot through her cursed arm, and she clutched it. 'Even a year later…I still haven't found a cure. Maybe there isn't.'
'Why should I bother trying to make the daedra feel my pain? It won't bring Serana back. Nor will it make amends for what I've done. I'm a monster. A killer. Someone like me doesn't deserve to be happy. Ever.'
The blonde fitted a dark brown holster over her body and let her sword rest in it before she picked up her crossbow. She loaded one of the deadly bolts into the weapon and took aim at one of the straw targets she set up. It was riddled with holes from her making sure her gear was still in working order, and she squeezed the trigger. With a loud snap, the bolt soared towards the target and sank into the small bull's eye in the center with a satisfying thunk.
Still in working order.
She lowered the projectile weapon and let it dangle from her belt. She was a hunter, and a hunter always had to make sure their equipment was in working order before setting out and finding it malfunction when they needed it.
She fitted on a pair of dark boots and tied her cloak around her body. The hood came up over her head to cover her face, and she walked over to a small unassuming trap door hidden behind a weapons rack. The blonde opened it and jumped down into the tunnels that lay beneath Raven Rock's ashy surface.
The tunnels had been abandoned decades ago, having been used by the previous owners to smuggle illegal contraband in and out of the town. Finding the tunnels had been completely by chance; she was moving Requiem to its resting place when she discovered the trap door.
After a few days of exploring every inch of its depths, she knew the secret passageway better than she did the rest of Raven Rock. Alana rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her hazy vision. Drinking as much as she did definitely took a toll on her physically, immortal vampire or not.
The tunnel eventually opened up into a massive cavern filled with glowing mushrooms and a herd of netch. The jellyfish-like creatures were gentle giants unless provoked, their long tentacles capable of doing channeling the paralytic jelly hidden in their soft meat.
She paid them no mind. She had no desire to strike her sword against them. They were kind creatures and didn't bring harm to anyone, unlike her.
She was a killer, a harbinger of darkness. A monster that stalked in the night.
Alana let a tear snake from her eye and down her pale cheek. She had been such a damn fool, thinking that she could ever atone for the things she had done. 'Serana…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You really would've been better off without me being in your life, wouldn't you?'
'I should just fade away from the world. All I do is bring harm to those I care about. And it's not like anyone would miss me.'
Some hero of Skyrim she was. Heroes were supposed to protect the people and the land they dwelled on, not exploit them for their own purposes and kill for the sake of it. She had the sheer audacity, the gall, to think she could atone for that?
The blonde let her head sink, her boots gently scuffing the ashy ground. She deserved every bit of her pain. She allowed herself to fall for the lies woven by the silky tongues of the daedra. Everything that happened to her was punishment from the gods, sending their fury through Aetherius and striking her with the force stronger than the mightiest waves of the Sea of Ghosts.
Mephala got exactly what she wanted. She broke Alana, turning the once-formidable warrior into a broken woman who wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. She felt it would be for the best if she did; it would only be a matter of time before the Webspinner went after Saoron. 'Why? Why am I continuing to fight? I don't have anything left fighting for.'
She headed further within until she started to feel wind blowing from the exit further ahead. Alana stumbled and leaned against the rough rocky walls, still feeling the effects of her drinking. She paused and tried to steady herself, her cursed arm shaking ever so slightly. 'Look at me. I was supposed to be the hero of my homeland, and what did I do with my gifts? I used them to kill and bring harm.'
'I should just die. I'd be doing the world a favor.'
When she exited the tunnels, Saoron was waiting for her as usual; the tall brunet was clad in his steel armor with a glass sword dangling from his belt, and he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Are you feeling okay?"
Alana flinched away from his touch, jerking herself away. She could spot a bit of hurt flash in his amber eyes, but said nothing. She didn't deserve his sympathy in the slightest.
Saoron sighed and lowered his hand, swallowing a lump in his throat painfully. "Crescius Caerellius is in the mine again. Says he's got some evidence of a conspiracy by the East Empire Company. I managed to persuade him to give me some key he's got that leads to the lower sections of Raven Rock mine. Do you want to look into it?"
Alana looked at him and gave him a quiet nod of response. Saoron handed her the key, and his hand lingered on hers for a few seconds. His fingers brushed against the thick cloth bandage that covered her arm from the elbow down, and their eyes met. One pair was somber and amber, the other golden and filled with tears.
"Saoron…I'm sorry." Alana didn't bother holding them in anymore, and she allowed herself to cry into his broad chest. Saoron stiffened slightly, but he held her close. He didn't dare pull away.
"Don't be. You didn't ask for this," Saoron murmured, running a hand through her soft hair. "Just…just don't throw your life away. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?" Alana asked, choking back a sob. "I'd be doing you a favor. I'm not worth anything to you."
"That's not true, and you know it." Saoron held onto her tighter, taking a deep breath. "Alana…you mean more to me than you think. Please, don't do this to yourself. Now come on; we have a job for the Black Swordswoman."
Alana followed him, and despite his words, she couldn't help but feel otherwise. She wasn't worth anything to him. She could easily be replaced.
She was just a damn burden on him.
A/N: And we're done. This chapter marks the beginning of the Black Swordswoman arc, which will cover the first part of the story. The Dragonborn questline won't be for awhile. Hopefully I can be consistent with these updates, but you never know.
C. Strife #5371