Destiny Revealed

Prologue:

The Tamriel Bureau of Investigation is a semi-secret government agency specializing in the solving of violent crimes, counter-infiltration and information gathering, cataloguing and analysis. The operatives of the TBI are highly intelligent, well-trained professionals working mostly anonymously to ensure the safe and orderly way of life that people expect from this great nation.

The headquarters of the TBI are situated in Cyrodiil City, and from there the various department heads run field branches or dispatch field agents to wherever in the provinces their services are needed. The department heads report to a triumvirate consisting of the Minister of Security, the Commissioner of Police and a reclusive man known only by the code-name 'Lark'.

Rumour has it that this 'Lark' has his own secret headquarters somewhere in the Jeral Mountains, and that he oversees the TBI's information gathering and analysis departments. The fact that 'Lark' has been in charge of this facet of the TBI's operations since its inception, is easily explained by pointing out that a succession of people had been known by that code-name over the years.

It is not common knowledge that all of these people had been the same man, born over six hundred years ago. Once a minstrel and a Blade in the service of Emperor Uriel Septim, Lark is the only one who knows that the TBI is merely the modern front for the group known as the Blades.

Part 1: Mystery

i.

He dreamed of sunshine.

In his dream he walked on rolling green hills, beneath tall trees swaying in the wind. Bird song and the buzzing of insects filled his ears. He wanted to linger but his feet carried him onwards as the dream changed. Black clouds blotted out the sunlight; the breeze became a storm. Red lightning lit dark fissures and black crags with a lurid glow. Eternal fires burned within the ground. Carried ever onwards, he began to feel a fear born of despair - a fear that he would never escape this place.

Then he saw it: four stone pillars, and bound to them with chains and shackles, a dragon. The dragon lay spent between the pillars, the signs of its struggles carved into the solid rock beneath it. Its hide, once fiery red, was scuffed and dull, and the shackles had cut deep into its flesh.

He felt such sadness for the dragon's plight, but still the dream had hold of him and he could only reach out in compassion as he went by. The dragon lifted its head to regard him with hope, and as he left it behind he heard the dragon speak: "Find me, Lark. You must find me!"

ii.

Lark woke at the knock on his door. He sat up, disoriented, still halfway in his latest nightmare. The knock was repeated and he looked at his watch. 3am. Dragging a hand through his hair, he finally found his voice. "Yes?"

The door opened at a crack, and his young aide, Lume, peeked in. "I'm sorry to wake you, sir," she said. "But there is something you have to see."

Lark yawned. "Alright, I'll be there in a minute."

She withdrew, closing the door, and Lark flicked on the light, squinting his sensitive eyes against the brightness. He had learned years ago that fluorescent lighting burned him just as thoroughly as sunlight did, but good old-fashioned light bulbs worked a treat. That just meant that old Cloud Ruler would stay a little behind the times.

He dressed quickly, giving himself a critical look in the mirror on the way. The latest in experimental medicines kept his Vampirism symptoms pretty much suppressed, but if he missed a dose the red eyes, hollow cheeks and pale skin re-appeared. At the moment he looked normal, and only a few people knew of his condition.

Ablutions done, he left his room to find Lume waiting for him in the hallway. Lume was a fairly new recruit, straight from university where she had proven herself a wizard with computers and especially with extracting information from seemingly unrelated sets of data. Lark, always quick to size up people, had seen at her job interview that Lume would be most helpful as his personal aide. He wanted to eventually tell her some unbelievable things and she would be best prepared for them if she understood the workings of the organization as well as he did. So in stead of stuck in a little cubicle as she had expected to be, Lume travelled all over Nirn on Company business and reported back to Lark at regular intervals. She had rooms at Cloud Ruler to stay over when she was there, and whatever had happened must have been important for the staff to wake her.

"So what's up?" Lark asked.

"This way," she said and led the way to the main hall.

Lark was surprised to see most of his squad of security guards congregated near the door. "What's this?" he asked, walking closer, Lume a step behind.

The guards stepped aside to let him see. Two of them were holding a very peculiar man. His skin was pitch black, with red whorls visible in curious patterns across his arms, neck and face. He had red eyes, glowering from under dark brows, and there was a sardonic smile playing over clever, crooked lips. Lark catalogued features as he noted them, trying to figure out what he was seeing. When he noticed the horns growing from under the black hair, he finally remembered. "Dremora!" he exclaimed. He had never even seen one since that fateful day when Martin had summoned the Daedric Prince ... almost six hundred years ago.

This creature looked nothing like the Prince that Lark remembered. It was hard to focus on him, he was so black. And he had none of the arrogant attitude that Lark associated with Daedra. He stood passively in the grasp of the two guards, and he was trembling.

"Where did you catch him?" Lark asked.

A guard cleared his throat nervously. "We didn't exactly catch him, sir," he said. "He came to the door and knocked."

"And?" Lark said, gesturing to indicate the current situation.

"He asked to see you, and pushed inside before we could stop him," the guard explained.

"I see," Lark said. "Well, let him go." At their startled exclamations he sighed. "If he meant any harm you would not still be standing, friends. Let him go."

The guards let go of the Dremora's arms and stepped away. He seemed to relax and the trembling stopped. Lark realized he had been trembling with the effort of keeping himself still.

"You wanted to see me?" Lark asked.

"The dragon," the Dremora said. "I came to help the dragon."

"The dragon?" Lark remembered his nightmare. "Who are you?"

"Shadow," the Dremora replied. "You must help me..." He took two steps forward and stumbled, going down hard onto his hands and knees. "I escaped... days ago..." he whispered."Help me, please."

Lark regarded Shadow for a long moment. Everything he knew about Daedra told him not to trust the creature, and yet... the dragon. The dream came to him regularly and every time in more detail, and always ended with him unable to help the dragon. The appearance of a Dremora claiming to know something about the dragon was a little too coincidental to be a coincidence. And Lark felt sorry for him, because he looked so vulnerable on the floor.

Apparently, so did Lume. Before Lark could stop her she had sunk down next to Shadow and put her arm around his shoulders, supporting him. "Don't worry," she said. "We'll help you." She looked up at Lark. "We will, right?"

"We'll see," Lark said, unwilling to commit to anything yet. "At least, we'll feed him," he relented. "Alright, all of you. Thanks, and let's get back to work."

The guards saluted and returned to their posts. Lark held out a hand to Shadow. "Come on," he said. "You look exhausted." With Lume's help, Lark pulled Shadow upright. "This way." They took him to Lark's rooms where he sank gratefully into a chair.

Lume disappeared and came back shortly with bread, cheese and fruit juice. "All I could find in the kitchen," she apologised.

Shadow seemed not to mind and ravenously ate everything she brought. When he was done he looked down as if ashamed. "I have no manners," he said. "I am sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Lark said. "You can rest here for a while." He pointed to the couch. "We'll talk later."

"Thank you," Shadow said softly, lying down with a sigh. "It has been so long..." He did not even complete the sentence before he was asleep.

"The poor man," Lume whispered as they stepped out and closed the door.

"He's not exactly a man," Lark said, not wanting her to be caught off guard. "Dremora are creatures from the planes of Oblivion."

"And dragons are mythological creatures," she said. "It's not for real, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is," Lark said. "And it fills me with dread, because the Daedra are not supposed to be able to enter our plane of existence any more. Not since Martin's sacrifice..."

"Who?"

Lark shook his head sadly. "So time blunts the memories of those who should be grateful for what he had done... I suggest you go fire up your computer and do a little research on Martin Septim, and on the history of the Oblivion crises. I think we may need to know all about that before this little mystery will be played out."

"Yes sir," she said.

"Come see me at 10am," Lark said. "I'm going to get some more sleep and you should too... I'm not paying you to work this early in the day."

"Sleep well, sir," she said. As she made her way back to her room she couldn't help but think of the intriguing creature sleeping on the Boss' couch.

iii.

Lark went back into his room and looked closely at the sleeping Dremora. He was wearing some kind of skin-tight black leather clothing and boots. He looked like a swath of darkness spread out over the couch, with only the peculiar red lines making a break in the even tone of his skin. Closer examination of the red marks had Lark reeling back in shock. It was obvious that the lines were freshly carved into Shadow's flesh. Some of them still oozed blood. It must have been remarkably painful but the Dremora was so exhausted that the pain could not keep him awake.

Lark collected bandages and antiseptic cream, ready for when Shadow awoke. He did not want to disturb the sleeping Dremora. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a growing sense of compassion for the Dremora, who had obviously suffered much before coming here. He was also very curious to find out what Shadow's mission was. What he knew of Daedra did not fit with the image in front of him now. He had never heard of any of the Daedric creatures trying to 'help' anyone. They were more known (in legend, these days) as cruel, fierce warriors with no sense of mercy or compassion. Shadow was a riddle, or a trap, and Lark meant to find out which as soon as possible.

iv.

Shadow dreamed of fire. The planes of Oblivion always burned in one way or another, but the fire now followed him everywhere he went, burning his flesh with every movement. He whimpered in pain and heard the dragon moan in an echo of his anguish.

"I'll set you free!" Shadow gasped as he dragged himself over burning rocks. Just one more pull. And another. And another...

v.

When Lark got up again at 6:30am, Shadow was tossing feverishly on the couch. Lark shook his head, disgusted with himself. He wet a cloth and wiped Shadow's face, carefully avoiding the oozing wounds. Shadow suddenly snarled, grabbing Lark's hand and pushing it away with surprising strength.

"You're safe," Lark told him. "Remember? I'm Lark."

The confusion cleared from Shadow's eyes. "I'm sorry," he groaned. "Did I hurt you?"

"You did not," Lark assured him. "May I tend your wounds?"

Shadow nodded tiredly. "If you'll help me..." He tugged at his black shirt, trying to get it over his head.

Lark helped to peel it off; shocked to see that Shadow's entire body was criss-crossed with lines. "What happened to you?" he asked helplessly. His antiseptic cream would not be enough. Shadow needed proper medical care and yet he could not just take him to a hospital.

"It's a long story," Shadow said. "I can't seem to heal them."

Heal them? Lark gaped at him in astonishment. He had become so used to modern life and technology that he had all but forgotten about the old magic spells. And yet, long ago, he had known such things and used them as a matter of course. He wondered suddenly if magic still worked at all.

"I can try," he told Shadow. "Let me just think for a bit." The last time he had used the spell was to heal Martin in the cave, just after he had become a vampire. After that he had never needed it - one of the many perks of his condition was immortality, after all. But yes, he could recall how it went. He started the invocation.

vi.

Lume woke at 6:20am, remembered the strange visitor and got up quickly. She dressed and then decided to go see if he needed anything. At Lark's door she quietly sneaked in without knocking, just in time to see her boss make a strange gesture that resulted in a bright light enveloping the Dremora's form.

"Wow," she breathed. It looked like magic.

Lark swung round, startled. Then he turned back to Shadow to see if his spell had worked. It seemed that it had for the Dremora's wounds closed, leaving only scars.

Shadow let out a deep breath. "Thank you," he said simply.

"You're welcome," Lark grinned. He turned back to Lume. "Just another mythological happening, my dear."

"What did you just do?" she asked.

"He healed me," Shadow replied when Lark just shrugged.

"With... magic?" she said faintly.

Lark nodded.

"Who are you?"

Lark smiled. "You tell me, after you've done your research."

She sighed in exasperation. "Alright, I will."

"Good girl," Lark said. "Go to it!"

Thus dismissed she had no choice but to go. So she did.

vii.

Lark grinned at her retreating form before turning back to Shadow. "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better," Shadow said. "But I am hungry again."

"That's easily solved," Lark said. "Let's go see what we can find."

In the kitchen Lark found his cook, who raised her eyebrows at the unusual guest but set to making him a proper breakfast without comment. Lark ate sparingly as usual, and swallowed a couple of pills - iron supplements - to suppress his craving for blood. When Shadow was finished, Lark decided it was high time to find out what the Dremora wanted.

"Right," Lark said. "You're rested, healed and fed... you've been remarkably docile for a Dremora... and you've gotten me very curious indeed. Will you tell me about the dragon? And what I can do to help?"

A frown crossed Shadow's expressive face. "I'm not sure what to tell you," he said finally. "A lot of what I know is a blur, very confusing."

"Just take your time," Lark encouraged. "What can you remember?"

"I remember pain, and fire," Shadow whispered. "Screaming."

"Whose screaming?"

"Mine, I think," Shadow said. "I can't remember where I came from. I was just... there, suddenly. In an awful place. There were pits of fire, and horrid creatures tormenting a great beast chained to pillars."

"The dragon," Lark breathed.

"Yes," Shadow said. "I didn't know what was going on, but I could feel the dragon's pain as if they were torturing me in stead." He grimaced. "These wounds on my skin... they just appeared while the creatures were torturing the dragon." He swallowed. "I don't know how long it lasted, but after some time they let the dragon be, and went away. I crawled to the dragon and collapsed next to it and for a while I knew nothing more." He shuddered with remembered pain.

Lark reached out a soothing hand and Shadow jerked away.

"I won't hurt you," Lark said, surprised.

"I know," Shadow said. "I can't help it, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Lark said. "What happened then?"

"I woke when the dragon pushed at me. It looked even worse than I felt, with wounds all over its body. Somehow I knew that I had to help it, to set it free. The dragon spoke to me, I think. Or... I don't know. But I knew I had to get away before the creatures returned. And I knew I had to find you."

"Me?" Lark knew he was involved somehow, because Shadow's story matched his dreams so closely. The question was why?

"I don't know why," Shadow said, reading his mind. "I just knew I had to find you, urgently. I left the dragon and started to make my way somewhere... else. I have no idea where. Then the creatures returned and resumed their horrible pastime. One moment I was climbing a ridge and the next I was on the ground rolling in agony. This mark here appeared then." The mark in question was slashed across his torso from collar bone to hip. "I realized that I would just have to keep moving regardless, or I would never get away." He closed his eyes for a moment. "It was very hard. And I still don't know how or when I escaped that place. But at some point I saw that it was dark all around me, no fires or red sky in sight."

"Where were you?" Lark wondered.

"It was a cave." Shadow said. "When I finally got outside it was night, and there were buildings with bright lights everywhere. I don't know what I had expected but it wasn't this. There were fast-moving things with more bright lights going down roads..."

"Cars," Lark said.

"I wouldn't know," Shadow shrugged. "I walked and kept to the shadows as much as possible. I finally saw a sign that said something about Chorrol County, so I assume I must have been close to Chorrol."

"Chorrol is a suburb of Cyrodiil City," Lark explained. "Long ago it was a separate town."

"A suburb?" Shadow asked. "I'm not sure I know what that means. But anyway, I knew I had to come to Cloud Ruler Temple near Bruma to find you. I had to travel at night and find shelter in the daytime because then the torture would start..."

"Still?" Lark interrupted.

"Soon," Shadow said. "In a while. It was really hard to find shelter; you have a very peculiar country here. It's not at all what I expected."

"It has changed a lot over the last few centuries," Lark conceded. "They call it progress."

"Whatever," Shadow said. "So here I am; I've found you, but I'm not at all sure why you in particular, or how you could help the dragon."

"We will figure it out," Lark promised. "I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"I'm not important..." Shadow gasped suddenly. "It's starting!"

In front of Lark's astonished eyes a large gash appeared on Shadow's face, and he groaned in pain. "To help me, you have to free the dragon," he managed to say before another wound appeared.

Aghast, Lark half-carried the Dremora to a room, where he cast healing spells to no avail. Each wound healed but a new one would appear to replace it. "What can I do?" he asked the moaning Dremora.

"Just... let me be," Shadow said through clenched teeth. "There is nothing you can do."

Lark watched for a while, until he could not stand it any longer, and then he left. He had never in his long life felt quite so helpless and so horrified. He went to his office, thinking about what the Dremora had said and what was happening to him. He could almost put his finger on what this mystery meant, but it seemed he was still missing a final link before it could fall into place.

viii.

Exactly at 10am, Lume knocked on Lark's office door.

"Come," Lark called and she entered. "So, what have you learned?" he asked, interested to hear what she could dredge up from old records in a few hours' time.

She sat down, knowing Lark never stood on ceremony. "Not very much," she said. "Most of the records were lost in the political upheavals at the end of the Third Age." She flipped open her notebook computer. "Apparently, Martin Septim was the illegitimate son of Emperor Uriel Septim. After the assassinations of Uriel and his heirs, Martin would have become Emperor." She sighed. "Unfortunately the only source for this information must have been a very fanciful and romantic minstrel, for he goes on about Daedra from Oblivion and how Martin defeated them by becoming a dragon." She shook her head. "These are obviously literary devices to symbolize the end of the Third Age." She looked up to see Lark grinning at her. "What?"

"Who was this romantic minstrel?" Lark asked innocently.

Lume tapped a few keys. When the answer appeared she looked up quizzically at Lark. "It says his name was Lark."

Lark nodded. "Amazing, these computers."

She still didn't understand. "What is the significance of the codename 'Lark'? Does it have something to do with this minstrel?"

"It isn't a code-name," Lark explained gently. "It's my own name... or at least, that's what people called me."

"You... you're the minstrel? That's impossible!"

"Not impossible," Lark said. "Have you heard of a condition called Porphyric Haemophilia?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes growing wide. "Vampires are just stories..."

"These days, yes," Lark agreed. "There are very few of us left."

She instinctively started to get up and he could see the growing fear in her eyes. Once again he cursed the 'stories' that made all vampires evil - things to scare children with at night.

"Lume," he said earnestly. "Have I ever harmed you? Have you ever heard that I harmed anyone at all? No? Then be assured that I am not about to change into a monster just because you now know about it."

Her common sense saw the logic in this and she settled back into the chair. "So why tell me now?"

"So that you have all the facts in the mystery of Shadow," Lark said with a smile. "I need another head thinking about this. Take some notes, will you? I spoke with Shadow and there is something that I'm missing."

"Alright," she said, tapping more keys.

"Okay," Lark said. "Of ancient history: The Oblivion invasion was real. Daedra did attack through Oblivion gates. Martin used the Amulet of Kings, became the avatar of Akatosh, defeated Mehrunes Dagon and died of his wounds, according to witnesses."

"This is so weird," she said. "You want me to believe myths and legends... I'm not even sure I believe you are really a vampire! You don't look like a vampire..."

"I take medication," Lark grinned. "But have a good look at my teeth." He obligingly smiled wide so that she could see his elongated canines. "Satisfied?"

"I guess so," she said. "I'll believe myths and legends on probation. What's next?"

"Shadow's story," Lark said. "He doesn't have any memory of who he is or where he came from; he just remembers suddenly being aware of pain in a place that sounds to me like the planes of Oblivion. He reports seeing a dragon being tortured, and he shares the dragon's wounds..."

Lume stopped typing. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly that," Lark said. "Whatever is done to the dragon happens to him as well."

She shuddered. "That's awful... go on."

"He claims he doesn't know how he got here, but that he had to find me specifically to help the dragon. And finally, I've been having dreams for weeks, about a dragon asking me for help." He frowned. "I think that about sums it up. The question now is what is my connection to all this? And what am I supposed to do?"

ix.

"It won't be pretty," Lark warned, his hand on the door knob. "Are you sure you want to see this?"

Lume nodded resolutely. "It's not that I don't believe you, but... I don't believe you, you know?"

"I understand," Lark said. "This is a huge adjustment you have to make in your thinking." He took a deep breath. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." He opened the door.

After several hours of torture the Dremora was in a terrible state. He lay on the floor, and it was obvious that he had thrashed around a lot earlier, but now he was nearly unconscious and unaware of his surroundings.

Lume gasped at the sight, as Lark's description had not prepared her for the reality. "Oh, this is horrible," she whispered. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

Lark knelt next to Shadow. "I tried healing him but I couldn't keep up. Tonight when it stops, I'll try again." He felt Shadow's pulse. "He's strong enough." Preparing to get up he heard something - almost just a vibration - coming from deep inside Shadow's chest. He leaned closer and listened intently for a moment, then sat back with a stunned expression.

"What is it?" Lume asked.

"He's singing," Lark said. "Listen closely."

It was little more than a drone in the Dremora's rough voice, but after a while she could make out words. "... have been growing... before your ancestors were born..." He became quiet for a few moments, and then started up again. "Sunlight is peeking..."

Lark was shaking his head in denial. "No, no, no... This is impossible!" Abruptly, he got up and stormed out, leaving Lume staring after him in confusion.

x.

She found him on the balustrade overlooking the City. He was alternating between pacing frantically or standing rigidly, hands clenching the railing.

"Lark," she said hesitantly when he paid her no attention.

He stopped his pacing and faced her. "Do you know what that was?"

"What, the song?"

He nodded.

"No, I don't know it."

"No-one does," he said. "No-one today." He swung back to the railing. "And few enough, before..."

"I don't understand," she said.

"I wrote that song," he said expressionlessly. "It wasn't very popular. In fact, the only one who liked it was Martin."

Suddenly she understood what had upset him so much. "And Martin became a dragon..."

He looked at her, anguished. "Could it be? Has he been trapped and tortured there for almost six hundred years?" He beat his hands against the railing. "If only I had known!"

"What could you have done?" she asked softly.

"I don't know! Something, anything!" He sagged against the railing. "I have failed him so badly!" His body shook with suppressed sobs.

"Hush now," she said, instinctively stepping closer and holding him. "You couldn't have known. But now that Shadow is here, you have a chance to help him."

"Shadow..." He looked up at her. "But what is Shadow?"

She let him go and turned to look over the City. "I think I'm beginning to understand," she said slowly. "I'm making some assumptions, but..." She shrugged. "I'm assuming that Martin was pretty good at magic."

Lark nodded.

"I'm assuming that when he defeated Dagon he somehow became trapped in the form of the dragon, and was captured on the planes of Oblivion. Perhaps over years of torture he became able to... project himself from his body." She caught Lark's incredulous look. "I don't know, I'm guessing, alright?"

"Yes, alright," Lark said.

"I think Shadow was one of the Dremora torturing him... and he took over Shadow's body."

"Then why doesn't he know who he is?" Lark asked.

"Perhaps he didn't really take Shadow over," she mused. "He may just be able to influence or motivate him, or something." She sighed. "There is clearly a link between them."

"True," Lark conceded. "Go on."

"Well, that's it, actually." She smiled weakly. "I guess he made Shadow come look for you, and that's where we are right now."

Lark thought for a moment. "So, Shadow could break free of his control and revert to being a vicious Dremora at any time..."

She shuddered. "I suppose so, but..."

"What?"

"I don't want Shadow to be evil," she said softly. "I like him."

"You like Martin," Lark cautioned. "If you're right, and I think you are."

She sighed deeply. "I guess."

It was Lark's turn to lay a sympathetic hand on her arm. "Don't worry about it, Lume. We certainly don't know enough yet to tell what will happen." He smiled. "Come on, there's a lot of things I need to find out. Do you know of anyone who collects old artefacts?"

"Sure," she said. "I'll go look in my database..."