Tyranny Through the Tear

by Eronald

As the final battle begins, Harkon rips open a tear through space and time, which eventually leads to the beginning of the end for the Dawnguard and the sun. Mikhael must journey across realities to find out how to reverse the effects of the prophecy and rescue his beloved Serana from wherever she is. Recommend (but you don't have to) you to read my other fic, Keeper, before this.

1. The Beginning of the End

A/N: I LIVE! Hello, dear readers. I know it's been almost half a year since I promised to release this but things got out of hand. College is a crazy thing. Not to mention I had a philosophy class which tackled time travel and alternate realities so I had to rewrite the main plot of this thing repeatedly. It made me a little crazy for a while because I HAD to make this thing philosophically consistent, haha. It is for the most part, I suppose. Unless any of you are philosophy majors, I don't think you'll see any big plot holes.

So anyway this'll be about as long as Keeper, chapter-wise. The format of the chapters with the "flashbacks" so to say will only continue until the second half reaches the point where the first half last left off. Does that make sense?

I recommend y'all to read Keeper before this. If you don't, you'd be able to follow along for the most part, but might occasionally have a hard time understanding the stuff happening. I'll try to put updates out every fortnight as much as possible but no promises. If I'm lucky, it'll be monthly. I shan't keep you waiting any longer. Enjoy! Please review!

The loud whistling sound was what put me and the rest of the men on alert. The arrow itself was what put me flat on my ass.

It was all happening so fast. The repeated sickening sound of steel piercing flesh was all I could hear for several long moments, paired with the cries of pained men. I stared forward as the Imperials kept rushing forward, weapons and shields raised to protect themselves from arrows coming straight at them. It left them vulnerable to arrows shot at an angle.

Their backs were getting farther and farther away, with man after man falling victim to the barrage of arrows. I could barely see the enemy as I squinted into the distance. The Imperials still had quite the distance to charge. They were bound to face a deficit of soldiers once they began their melee. The battlefield war turning red with Imperial blood fast. Too fast. At this rate, there would be no meat shield to hide me from the enemy.

My vision was suddenly blocked, to my alarm, by a fallen legionary. I didn't notice him bleeding out on his knees beside me until he collapsed- practically on my lap. The young boy's dead stare sent a chill down my spine, causing me to grip the grass and dirt behind me and pathetically pull myself away. The sudden movement caused my previously numb shoulder to scream in pain. I had to grit my teeth to stay silent. I wanted to look away but it was too damned difficult with how his dead eyes were eerily locked onto my own.

I was used to death. I was used to battle. I was no stranger to slitting throats and chopping heads off their bodies. Oblivion, I even had to look death in the eye when I slew an undead dragon as I rode it high up in the sky and plummeted back to the ground. But it was seeing carnage and destruction this up close and personal that could really shake you. This young man... breathing not moments ago. Now he was dead, bleeding profusely from an arrow wedged into his neck, forced to drown in his own blood.

Footsteps behind me. Tons of them. I struggled to crane my head back, only to find a fresh unit of legionaries rushing off into battle to replace that which no doubt perished while I was too busy dragging myself away from the dead legionary. My eyes widened when I realized they had no intention of slowing down at the sight of a wounded comrade. Raising my right hand, I swung it across my body, a pathetic attempt at using the momentum to turn myself over. The half assed roll got me clear of the main charge as they passed, kicking dust up in my face as they went, oblivious to just who exactly I was.

They had no idea. To them I was just a last minute draft into the legion. Unexpected draft at that. The captain certainly wasn't expecting anyone to sign up in enemy territory that they just recently claimed and were now defending. But who was he to refuse? He needed every pair of hands he could get. He ignored the tint of my eyes and the sharp point of my nails. Maybe he didn't notice? I made sure never to speak in the shade and always wear gloves. Blood-red sky or not, the fiery eyes were a dead giveaway only in darkness. It took a keener eye under light to detect the vampire within.

My head turned yet again as another unit slowly marched forth to where the previous unit was before they charged. I never liked the tactic. Sallying out to meet the enemy on the field instead of digging up a spot to hold out in was never a decision I approved of, especially with the possibility of reinforcements. But again, I'm not a Field Legate to them. I'm a greenhorn like most of the men out there being slaughtered at this very moment. It probably wouldn't even matter if I told them it was I, Mikhael Ice-Sider, Dragonborn of legend, war hero and Field Legate, standing before them. I was dead in this world. They'd deem me mad. I'd argue my resemblance. They'd argue that the Riften face sculptor made facial features irrelevant.

What if I shouted? No. No. It's better I'm a greenhorn to them. If they recognized me as the supposedly dead Legate, they would probably put me at the head of command and request my aid in defending their last foothold in Skyrim. I couldn't have that. I had more pressing matters. What did I care about in this world anyway? This world wasn't my home. This world was... a glimpse into the chaos of Oblivion itself. I'm not sure if there was anything in this world that belonged in mine, but if there was it would be... her.

Serana.

I longed for her. Her striking eyes. Her soft hair. Her playful little fingers. Her delicious lips. Her everything.

I missed her so much. Just thinking about the ancient beauty made my unbeating heart ache unimaginably. I tried not to think about her as much as I could, especially when out in the field. It was too distracting. Once she'd get in my head, she'd stay there for a good while. Images, words, smells, feelings, tastes, everything in my mind would be of her.

Sitting here on the ground bleeding out reminded me of that one night. A world away, halfway across Skyrim, no, smack dab in the middle of the bloody province, under a rock formation in the middle of nowhere. The night I first tasted her sweet lips. The night she called "love" as I slipped away into a peaceful slumber; sleep had never been as peaceful as ever since she turned me into a creature of the night. Sweet bliss.

My eyes darted back to the battlefield. I spaced out. The battle was getting closer to the outpost and closer to me. The next unit to charge in wouldn't have to travel very far. They were taking the fight to us now. I couldn't stay like this. I couldn't be prey. Not when the enemy was as ruthless and as unforgiving as their Lord Harkon himself.

I forced myself farther back until I was against a large rock which was quickly turning red. The arrow made it clean through and protruded out from the other side of my shoulder. It was quite a deep wound. I had to take it out before I could work on healing the wound. I bit down onto the leather of my armor as my right hand reached over to my back and my left held the shaft still. I got a hold of the arrow's steel tip with my index and my thumb. With one quick motion, I snapped the tip off, hissing into the bitter tasting material as I did. I yanked the shaft out of my shoulder and discarded it. I had to turn my attention briefly over to the advancing enemy army when I heard the hisses and the battle cries. They were getting closer.

I struggled to recall the healing incantations in my head as I pictured the wound being mended. I ran my hands over the entry and exit wounds repeatedly at an even pace as the area was engulfed by a bright glow. The muscles and tissues began to reform and my shoulder was back in working order in no time. To make sure, I stuck a finger through the hole in my armor and tapped the fresh scar. When it didn't begin to bleed yet again, I withdrew my finger. Damned Imperial armor. None of this would have happened if I didn't leave my dragon scale armor at High Hrothgar. Yet... I would be commanding these greenhorns and sending them into their deaths if I had my armor as further proof of me being the long-dead Dragonborn and Imperial Legate.

It made one wonder. Arngeir told me of this world's existence, and that of many others. Was there perhaps a world where I took my armor with me? Was there a world where I shouted to prove my identity? Was there a world where I did not do any of this at all? Was there a world where I beat Harkon at Castle Volkihar and avoided this fuss? One could only guess.

Nearly spaced out again in thought. Divines. This was becoming a more regular occurrence with me. My mind did not stray so easily in my world. Perhaps it was crossing over that caused this. Regardless the origin of my being spacey, there were more pressing matters at hand, mainly that of the approaching threat. There were few remaining from the most recent unit sent into battle, and I could see them just fine from here. The ten or so Imperials ran headfirst into the enemy lines. None of them would make it out alive. I knew it the second the small group thought they could beat them all in a wild skirmish.

Blood erupted from the middle of the frenzy, and my eyes traced a small object sailing out of the mass of bodies and straight towards the newest unit not far from me. The object landed with a loud squish, splattering blood about as it rolled closer to the new unit which elicited several disgusted calls and surprised yelps. The severed head was their instrument of demoralization.

The vampire army saw the Imperials as nothing. Especially since the Imperials were trained in conventional warfare, with barely any training on how to kill vampires. They might as well have been grass for the Volkihar armies to march across. They provided that much resistance. To be fair to the Imperials, Hammerfell stood no bigger a threat than they. According to the locals, the Redguard homeland fell to the Volkihar armies in under two years. The Dominion in Skyrim was overthrown in a matter of weeks. Valerica and Serana were wrong. So far, at least. A vampire army was worth ten conventional armies. When the rest of the world began to figure out how to combat vampires, that's when Harkon needed to worry. But how long would that take? And by that time, would he find ways to overcome vampiric weaknesses? The sun was already down and out. What more was there?

I needed to join the next unit in battle. With me, they had a fighting chance. The ten that ran blindly into the Volkihar lines on the other hand...

I could do nothing but watch as man after man fell in combat. It was brutal. Almost surreal.

One soldier swung his sword in an attempt to decapitate the vampire, a usually sure way to kill the undead. Another caught the soldier's arm easily. The young man tried to be brave, he probably thought if he fought hard enough he still might make it home to Cyrodiil one day. That would be naive to think.

Yet another vampire grabbed the balled fist he tried to throw at his assailant. One clawed hand grabbed him by the hair as a pair of fangs sunk into his neck before jerking backwards, taking flesh and blood with him. Horrible way to die.

There was one in particular that I noticed. The vampires were ganging up on him. When the legionary tried to swing, his arm was grabbed and his sword was wretched from his grip. Following this, he received a sharp kick to the thigh, causing him to buckle slightly. He raised his shield and effectively blocked an attempted decapitation. In his effort to block the fatal attack, he received another kick to the thigh. He spun around to face his attacker, only for one of the vampires to rip his shield from him. He turned around yet again, hands up to guard himself. Most normal legionaries had hand to hand training. These greenhorns though, I doubted it.

I frowned when the kicking went on and on, and he was defenseless against their attacks. He struggled to stand and all it took was one last kick to cause him to collapse onto the ground. It felt... strange. Something was wrong. A sharp pain shot through my head as well as my thigh, and I shut my eyes tight, hoping it would go away. This didn't make any sense. What was causing this? There was no reason for this damned sudden head pain. A hand went to massage my head, when I felt something wet drip onto my hand.

I opened my eyes to look at the substance on my hand. It was blood. My nose was bleeding again. Divines be damned. First in Whiterun, now it was happening here. Was it the man being kicked? Why would that trigger it? My head began to feel light, and I felt a surge of memories forcing themselves into my mind and flooding my vision. The worst part was that I was absolutely certain that not everything entering my mind actually happened. I was never ganged up on and kicked to the ground by the vampires... but my mind begged to differ.

---

I sat at the front of the small boat, staring at the castle ahead. The small waves hardly rocked the boat, much to our advantage. The gloomy fog cleared the moment we arrived at the beach. I could see the castle and the surrounding shoreline clear as day. It was absolutely empty. The watchtower was unmanned, and not a single peep of life could be seen by the castle's windows. No smoke came from the chimneys. It was as if Castle Volkihar had been abandoned for years.

That couldn't be the case, of course.

When we arrived at the beach and saw the clear Volkihar shore, Isran and I decided to keep moving before the vampires did show up. Our Imperial backup arrived not long after, in the form of a large frigate with a dozen archers. My ties with General Tullius were still strong. I expected the General to reject my letter requesting aid, given that I hadn't served in the Imperial army for over two years. I was glad he didn't. The Dawnguard needed all the help it could get against the little vampire army Harkon raised. The forty-strong or so company of hunters we had was bound to be badly outnumbered by the Volkihar.

Additionally, Durnehviir from the Soul Cairn was recruited to our cause. He'd prove a great help against gargoyles and vampires alike. Not to mention he'd probably be able to tear down the gates if it came to it. He was more than happy to aid the Qahnaarin in battle and was even happier so to be breathing fresh air again in Tamriel. Divines know how long he was trapped in there. Possible a thousand years at the most. I was still unsure of how long Serana and Valerica were in hiding so to say. Similarly, I was unaware of Serana's age. I supposed it was a rough four thousand years if she predated the Alyssian Empire, with her spending a rough one thousand years in entombment. Or was it a hundred? Following that, was she four hundred years old? I was still quite unsure. I wasn't the best at counting years across the eras.

A hand smacked against the back of my dragon scale helmet, snapping me out of my thoughts and causing me to grunt. I craned my neck around to find a pair of shiny fangs smiling playfully, accompanied by two gorgeous glowing eyes. Serana jerked her thumb in Isran's direction. The head of the hunters removed a hand from his oar and pointed at the one that sat limply on my lap. He began to make motions of rowing. He didn't speak because it had been established that we wanted to maintain a quiet approach as much as possible. I hardly thought that would do much. If the Volkihar were planning an ambush on the beach, being quiet during our approach by sea would do little.

I grabbed the discarded oar and began paddling.

Despite being clad head to toe in dragon scale, the sun's rays still penetrated the armor, making the suit of armor feel hot and stuffy, and causing a slight case of nausea. But all this inconvenience was worth it. My vampirism gave me great speed and strength. I haven't deformed myself into the vampire lord yet. Not sure if I even wanted to. I didn't quite use my vampire powers either. The need hasn't come about. Most importantly though, I was immortal now.

Immortal for her.

I cast a quick glance behind me, hoping to just steal a glance at her. She just so happened to be smiling fondly at me. It was contagious like it always was, and I found myself grinning like an idiot. She must have found it amusing because she stifled a chuckle at the sight of me. It's a shame she didn't let it out. Her laughter was beautiful. Oblivion, everything about her was just so damned beautiful. Not her fault she had to hold it back though. Isran would probably smack her with his oar if she made a peep.

My attention was directed back to the castle that loomed ever closer. Isran wanted us to stop before we reached the actual beach and wade through the water. He said that the vampires would be more likely to hear us hitting damp sand than if we slowly went across the water. It was that and the fact that if we needed to make a quick retreat, it would be easier if the boats were already in the water and not beached.

Before we knew it, Isran raised his hand high above his head, and the barely audible splashes from the oars ceased. I carefully placed the oar on the boat's wooden flooring and turned around to face Serana, Isran, and Agmaer, who had been deathly quiet the whole ride. Isran pointed at the small anchor that rested between Serana and I. He then gestured to lower it down.

Exchanging nods, Serana and I grabbed the anchor and held it over the edge of the boat. Taking hold of the rope, we allowed it to slowly slide into the water until it hit the ground not far down. I tied the rope around the small wooden post attached to the boat. Once it felt secure enough, I gave Isran a thumb up. Without further ado, he eased himself over the edge of the boat as quietly as possible until he was chest deep and walking. The soft sound of bodies entering the water was heard all around, only detectable if one were looking for the sound.

Serana and Agmaer followed suit, leaving me on the boat. My eyes found the embroidered bow and the single sun hallowed arrow that went with it. Auriel's Bow. I didn't need a quiver for a single arrow. I would have asked for more Elven arrows to be enchanted but I only had one. I slid the arrow into a slit in the back of my armor. It was there for the sole purpose of fitting one to three arrows in case of emergency. I took the bow and strapped it to my back, the bowstring clinging diagonally across my chest. It was unlikely that I'd fire the arrow at the sun. No need to cause Serana and I avoidable and excruciating along with all the other vampires. I did believe that a shot from this bow, with this arrow, would help put Harkon down for the count.

Patting my flanks to make sure the Blade of Woe and my dragon bone sword were sheathed on my person, I slid down into the water. Hunters were approaching the beach all around me. I joined the short trek, moving as silently as possible.

There was a fog surrounding the castle and the beach. I had to bet that it was an enchantment. Every single time I've been here, there was the thick fog that surrounded the area but dissipated the moment you got to a certain distance. It was probably to lessen the impact of the sun. It made the place seem even gloomier.

In no time, my boots hit dry earth, and I found my place next to Isran and Serana. Glancing to my right and looking up, I found that the watchtower looked to be unmanned. Isran read my mind, because he turned to one of the hunters and pointed at the doorway leading to the tower's stairs. With an affirmative nod, the hunter quietly picked up the pace and reached the doorway. He prepared a crossbow and an axe before making his way into the tall structure.

The Imperial frigate had to be close by now. It took a detour to be able to easily position itself next to the bridge when the right time came. The strategic position allowed the archers, crossbowmen, and Gunmar and his trolls to flank the vampires. Only... It hardly seemed like there was anything to flank with how things stood at the moment.

After several tense minutes of staring at the gates across the bridge and waiting for any sign of life, Isran couldn't seem to take it anymore. He turned to me and jerked a thumb back to the direction of the gates. The rest of the hunters seemed to catch on, as they prepared their weapons and formed behind Isran, Serana, and I. I drew my blades and we slowly advanced onto the bridge, each step feeling heavier and heavier. Isran probably knew we were likely walking into an ambush. He probably felt that it was either this or wait an eternity at the beachhead until we died of old age while the vampires outlived us. Well, outlived everyone but Serana and I anyway.

The gargoyles to our sides remained still, but the hunters closest to them refused to stop training their weapons at the stony beasts. We were halfway across the bridge when I saw it. The shimmers in the air. The faintest breaks in the thick air's consistency. Cloaked vampires. The wavy air towards the front of the gate indicated that there was a large number of them gathered in that direction. There could have been more but I couldn't pinpoint them at the moment. One stood out in particular, only standing several meters ahead.

I knew it wasn't just I that noticed, as I could hear Isran's heavy breathing, and I could see Serana's fingers curling tighter around her dagger in anticipation. When I stopped, so did everyone else. Divines, it was as if time stood still as I glared at the soft shimmer not far off. We were just waiting for something to break the tension now.

And something did.

With a flash of a hazy purple, there stood Harkon in the flesh, his hands clasped behind his back as he displayed an arrogant, toothy grin.

I sheathed my blades and my hand went straight for the bow on my back, and in a second, I was gripping the bow with my left, and pointing the arrow at him with my right. All the other hunters to my rear that had crossbows readied their weapons as well, evidenced by the sharp cracks indicating the bowstrings being set into place.

Harkon however, did not acknowledge the weapons directed at him. His fiery eyes were narrowed at Serana. You could practically see the evil intentions in his eyes.

"My dear daughter returns." Harkon turned his head to me, his smile eerie. "And you've brought your pet. How delightful."

"This ends now." Was Serana's growl in reply before she turned to me. "Shoot."

"Oh, I agree. I do, really. This battle of night and day has gone on far too long. But Mikhael..." Harkon's hands emerged from behind his back to rub each other idly. "Before you release that arrow, do you not want to find out what the plan is?"

"Don't listen to him." Isran hissed at me. Maybe I should have complied with Isran. It's just that there was something in Harkon's voice that compelled me to hold back for a moment longer. He had something up his sleeve. If he was going to tell me about it before actually pulling it out, then I stood a better chance against whatever it was.

"I think you both know our friend here," Harkon snapped his fingers, and Dexion Evicus stepped out from the shadows of the gate, holding a Scroll. It was like he was in a trance. He simply walked with even steps, his eyes locked on Harkon, but at the same time seemed to be staring blankly. Enthralled. I could tell this was going to get bad fast.

"What's the priest doing here?" I growled in question.

"It isn't hard having a few of my own infiltrate your undermanned fort. Oh, worry not. My men did not waste their time on your pathetic guards. They simply took the old man and left." Harkon explained, his voice amused somewhat.

"Leave the priest out of this, Harkon. He doesn't need to be dragged into this any more than he already is." My warning fell on deaf ears, and Harkon continued speaking as if I had not said a thing.

Harkon's hand shot out and he pulled the man close, using him as a human shield. With his free hand, he drew his sword and pressed it against the moth priest's neck.

"Let him go." I commanded firmly, causing Harkon to roll his eyes. As if on cue, multiple flashes behind Harkon revealed the position of several dozen vampires lying in wake, the front most row pointing bows in our direction. Several vampiric archers manned the walls as well. Harkon had us right where he wanted us.

"Behind you." Was Harkon's next haughty utterance.

A glance behind me revealed that there were at least ten more vampires positioned to the rear of our formation, at the end of the bridge. At the top of the watchtower was another vampire, except this one had a hunter by the neck, and was threatening to throw him off. The odds were against us, but with the eventual arrival of the Imperial frigate, I believed we could still make it out more or less alive and intact.

The group of hunters behind me was raising their shields in anticipation of the inevitable arrow barrage. It was good that we had just enough shields to cover the front and the back to create an effective shield wall that protected everyone save for Serana, Isran, and I.

"Give me Auriel's Bow." It was Harkon's turn to issue a command to me.

Reluctantly, I slid the arrow into the back of my armor. I gripped the bow tightly in my hand but remained still.

"The bow for the priest." Isran's response surprised everyone present. When he caught my look, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He had a plan. Harkon may have caught on. If he did, he paid it no mind. He lowered the blade and pushed the priest forward. Dexion didn't move immediately, the Scroll still stuck in his hands. It was likely he was still waiting for Harkon's mental command.

"The old man told me not long ago... the Elder Scrolls are unpredictable. He said they had defied the very laws of nature time and time again, sometimes to devastating effects..." Harkon stared into the moth priest's back for a moment before continuing. "I admit he sparked my curiosity."

Without warning, Harkon's blade was impaled into Dexion's back and exited through his chest. His grey robes steadily reddened as he dropped to his knees. He sputtered and coughed, blinking several times before his eyes widened. Recognition crossed his face, enthrallment broken. Dexion's eyes locked onto the blade protruding from his chest as his blood dripped onto the Elder Scroll he loosely held in his hands. The stunned man's gaze snapped to me for a moment, and I could hear his unspoken apology.

"Such blood with relation to the Scrolls must have an effect on these artifacts." Harkon muttered, his boot moving to push Dexion down. The Scroll must have been soaked at this point.

A hand grabbed my wrist and began pulling me back. I turned, expecting it to be Serana. It was Isran, who grabbed Serana with his other hand. He was pulling us into the tightly knit shield wall. He didn't want to risk whatever was going to happen next. I wasn't going to have any of that. I needed to kill this bastard now.

I yanked myself free from his grip as he and Serana were swallowed by the shield wall. I could hear Serana sharply calling my name, commanding me to retreat behind the shields. I ignored her. Drawing my blades yet again, I charged Harkon, a powerful roar leaving my lips, his head on a pike being my sole objective.

As the distance between us rapidly decreased, Dexion's corpse abruptly rolled to the side, causing me to skid to a halt. The bloodstained Scroll levitated a few good feet into the air and I could feel everyone staring at it in apprehension.

Before I knew it, the Scroll vanished with a blinding flash and a powerful wave of energy directed straight at me. I felt the wind leave me as I soared back and collided with the Dawnguard's shield wall at full speed. Numerous grunts left the formation as I cracked several shields on impact before hitting the ground with a thud, effectively dazed. Several hands went to pull me up until Serana took it upon herself to sling my arm over her shoulder and support me. I barely noticed any of this. My eyes were locked onto the... rip. Tear. Break. Whatever it was that floated where the Scroll used to be.

Instead of seeing Harkon, the vampires, and the castle, there was a long grey, wavy tear that slowly widened. There were voices behind it. Voices that were all too familiar.

"Serana, we have to move." The ancient vampire to my side looked at me with wide eyes.

"What? Why?" Serana's voice resounded from behind the tear as it widened further. I could make out two figures by now, obviously Serana and Valerica. Serana muttered obscenities under her breath as the situation got more and more out of this world.

"Your father is on to us. He's been working in secret all this time, right under our noses. He- By the blood of my ancestors. Run!" The silhouette behind the tear darted forward, and with another flash, here was Valerica.

Her head darted back and forth as her hands went to her person, feeling herself as if it would confirm if what she saw was real. Her shocked and puzzled face went to look at Serana, who supported my weight with ease.

"Serana? How did I get here? What is-" She turned around, to find Harkon stalking her menacingly. This was paralleled perfectly behind the tear. It had become wider yet, and more detailed. I could see Harkon slowly approaching Serana, who was looking around and shouting for her mother to come out from wherever she was.

Harkon ran Valerica through without second thought. With his free hand, Harkon grabbed the front of her armor and pulled her even closer, eliciting a sickening squish from the blade in her chest. "This is for a good cause."

The Serana to my side produced a sharp gasp as Valerica went limp in her father's hands. Except this couldn't be Valerica. Valerica was in that damned Soul Cairn. How was any of this possible?

Conversely, the Serana beyond the grey haze cried out in pain as Harkon seized her and mercilessly put an end to her.

"This can't be..." I turned my wide eyes to Serana, who had a hand on her nose, which was dripping with blood.

I straightened up slightly, struggling to do so as my back was still in immense pain. "What's wrong?"

It was a foolish question. But taking into consideration the fact that there was no logical reason for her nose to suddenly bleed, it was rational. Before she could respond, her grip on me faltered, and I fell straight through her and hit the ground roughly. Turning to look at her, she was slowly becoming... translucent. She tried patting herself down as panic consumed her. Her eyes, wide with fear, locked onto mine. "Mikhael."

"Serana." My voice cracked slightly at the sound of her voice. She sounded so scared.

She tried to reach out for my hand, a gesture I returned. It was useless, our hands slipped past each other and we grabbed nothing but air.

It was her feet that were losing color the fastest, and it slowly spread upward. There was a trail of her essence, leading to the now narrowing tear. Beside the tear was Harkon, who was staring at his wife's corpse with a mixture of sadness and pity. I guessed sadness for her death and pity for the fact that she thought it would be wise to oppose him. But was it even really his wife?

Serana was gone up to the waist now, and her breathing became shallow and rapid. "Do something!" She ordered.

"I can't!" My arms swung across her figure in a failed attempt to grab her.

"The Bow." The dark voice coming from behind me was ignored, and I felt myself desperately trying to caress her face, my fingers shaking at the lack of solid contact.

"Look out!" It was the last thing Serana said before she faded away into the tear; it was also the moment the tear vanished completely, along with the Scroll. It was as if time had resumed, as the battle abruptly began. The first arrow struck my armor hard, and had Serana's face contort further in terror the second she disappeared along with the tear.

Another lodged itself into my chest.

And another.

And another, dropping me to the ground.

I blocked out the pinging sounds of arrow meeting shield as the archers began raining death on the hunters. I was numb. It wasn't just the armor numbing everything. It was her.

My fingers clawed at the ground she stood on not seconds ago. Gone.

I felt myself unable to speak. Unable to utter her name. Serana.

Several hands began dragging me into the shield wall when a figure entered my vision. It was charging straight for us. My eyes struggled to focus on the attacker. I realized it was Harkon. Of course it was. He wanted the Bow.

I pawed my sheathes as the hunters stood me up and supported me. They were empty. Looking ahead, they were a few good feet behind Harkon, discarded when the Scroll blasted me back.

He was focused solely on me. Harkon paid the hunters no mind. As he reached full speed of his charge, he rammed against his shoulder against the shields with all his might, knocking the whole formation back a few steps and disorienting the hunters. It was all he needed to grab me by the neck and pull me out of the formation. The hunters could do little to help. If they lowered their shields for a moment, they'd be shot dead by an arrow. Harkon tossed me to the ground and raised his blade high.

There was a very short moment that occurred as Harkon's sword reached its maximum height. In that moment, I found myself questioning if I should bother trying to parry the blade. Serana's frightened face was burned into my mind, and my heart was heavy. What was the point of fighting back?

But it was also in that moment that I knew she would never want me to give up. She would never forgive me for doing so. And she doubly never would forgive me for allowing myself to be killed so easily. She was gone but I could still hear her voice in the back of my head urging me on. Never quit. Never surrender. It was then that I decided I'd do it for her. If there was the tiniest chance in the world that she still lived, beyond the tear or not, I'd stay alive long enough to find out her condition.

I struck my foot out as the blade came down, deflecting the attack with my armored calf and knocking the blade out of his hand. What I didn't expect was Harkon to immediately follow it up and use his downward momentum to strike me in the face.

The blow connected and my head snapped back against the hard ground, dazing me. He was mounting me and began dealing strikes to my face, which I struggled to parry. For every five strikes he dealt, I probably only deflected one properly. How could I? I could barely see straight. Each blow was just making it worse. When my head stopped rocking as it hit the ground, I raised my hands up to guard my face. He was about to strike me with the heel of his palm, which could either knock me out or kill me outright, depending on the point of contact. I was unable to utilize the brief reprieve to use my core to throw him off. My back was too bruised and battered from the Scroll. I did the next best thing.

"FU-" The shout was interrupted by his hand covering my mouth.

The last thing I saw before everything turned black was Harkon cocking his open palm back to strike me, his sickly grin that exposed his hungry fangs, and his evil eyes gleaming in delight of my impending demise.