Hello :)
Welcome to Book 2 of my little story. Rating is due to the same factors as in the first book. The game and lore belong to Bethesda/Zenimax, OCs are mine. I tried to correct as many mistakes as I could, please forgive me if you find any, English isn't my native language.
This time I decided to post a chapter per week. I have 12 chapters prepared for you in this book, and will try my best to not to forget to upload one each Friday. If I do forget, I'll put the next chapter up as soon as I remember...you're welcome to notify me if this happens, though :)
The concept with mind sanctuaries is based loosely on Sheogorath's quest from Skyrim where we take a trip to Pelagius' head.
For those, who are interested - Vermethys is based on the Templar class from ESO. I mean, Nightblade is a base class in Morrowind and Oblivion, so why wouldn't Templars make it from the Second Era? Maybe there's some remote temple where old masters teach the few young students...
Also...if some of you find Miraak overpowered during the course of the story...it is because I firmly believe he should be. He spent four eras in Apocrypha, for Divines' sake! I never liked that some nobody from a chopping block could dispatch Harkon, Alduin and Miraak so easily...these bosses are ancient beings who have been gathering power for millenia. They should splash the LDB like a rotten tomato across a wall with ease.
End of rant. Enjoy the story :)
XXX
Apocrypha
He smiled. He finally managed to move around without misjudging distances and bumping into piles of books or slipping off of the metallic bridges. He had to focus on where he was walking and look for small clues, like shadows, to orient better, though.
And he found a staff to lean on while walking. It was an ugly staff, with a lurker head at the end. The only thing it could do was spew slimy mass full of writhing tentacles, something he wasn't really interested in.
There was a constant gnawing in his stomach, as if he was hungry. But...he found no food. Only books. Tentacles. Soul gems and sheets of paper, fluttering about. His throat felt raspy of thirst as well. There was water here, but even if he could remove that blasted mask, he wouldn't dare to drink it. Maybe it wasn't even water. It looked suspiciously thick, like ink.
These sensations never ceased. But they also never intensified, on the other hand.
He climbed a set of stairs and peeked inside a strange, toothy pod. Books. Of course.
There was a glowing opened book on a pedestal.
After touching it, the world smeared. When it turned to normal, he was standing...somewhere else. Somewhere else filled with books.
He groaned. This wasn't part of the deal.
XXX
They were watching him. Those ragged creatures, called the seekers, were watching him. But never attacked.
His clothes looked similar to theirs, albeit his were a bit more orderly. Maybe...he carefully examined the mask with his hands. It was tentacled (was there anything in this realm, that wasn't, for Wolf-Mother's sake?) and reminded him of his previous mask. It also reminded him of the seekers. Could it be protecting him?
XXX
Lurkers didn't seem to mind the horrifying inky waters of Apocrypha. Miraak often found them floating just below the surface, their heads poking up above the water like frogs. They didn't even pay attention to him.
XXX
How long has he been here?
It seemed like an eternity.
There was no one to talk to. Only books to keep him company. The seekers whispered one to another, sometimes, but he didn't care to near them to hear what they were saying.
He pried a book from the wall right next to him.
XXX
Well...at least he learnt new spells. But to what end?
XXX
The hunger and thirst never ceased. His lips felt raspy, his throat dry. He longed for a sip of water, for a crumb of food. He desired them with his whole being.
XXX
And the silence! Nothing but whispers, fluttering of papers and sounds of books being moved!
He looked up towards the swirling green sky. He opened his mouth and let out a scream. A scream without words. He poured all of his anger and fear into it. He screamed and screamed and screamed.
After his voice got hoarse, he stopped.
"Curse you," he sobbed as he crumpled down along a wall.
XXX
How many books has he read by now? He lost count long ago...or did he deliberately stop counting? He thought so...after he managed to get good enough at another language, he stopped counting. Yes. That was it.
He could read about ten languages by now.
He read about many interesting events. Wars. Benevolent kings. Great nations. Dying empires of the elves (mostly). Rising realms of men.
He also read many spellbooks. So many he started forgetting the spells he had learnt before. But...it didn't really matter. The longer he was here, the more he understood how magic worked, and that there really weren't any schools or spells. It all depended on how one weaved the streams of magicka. The spells and divinations existed only to help casters focus on their goal.
When he had no mood for learning, he read stories.
He found himself trying to remember how touch of grass felt. He couldn't.
XXX
Herma-Mora dropped by, sometimes. He wanted Miraak to shuffle a paper here, move a book there, whisper through a wall. Sometimes he even wanted him to reach out to Nirn and whisper to the winds.
XXX
Finally! A real person!
He halted himself before he stepped out of the shadows. He looked like a strange seeker, did he not? He had to find a way to communicate with the person.
He, it must have been a he, since he had a flat chest, like Miraak himself had, didn't look like a person, though. Or maybe he did and Miraak only forgot what a person looked like. This one had pointy, moving ears on top of his head. And a prolonged face, with a muzzle. Miraak didn't have a muzzle, did he? He reached for his face. No. He didn't. He had a mask.
Maybe he could try writing a greeting on a piece of paper. Maybe several. In different languages. And then show it to the person.
Yes. That was a good plan.
XXX
It worked!
They even talked. After the person taught Miraak how to pronounce the words he had written. So now he could speak another language as well.
His new friend was glad for Miraak's protection. He told him all about forests, and rain, and how blue the sky is. He told him about his people, cat people called the Khajiit. Miraak listened intently and kept him away from seekers and lurkers. Showed him the most interesting books.
His friend was thrilled.
Sometimes he had to vanish from Apocrypha, but he promised to come back.
And he always did.
XXX
Miraak hurried across the bridge, limping as fast as he could (which was not very fast). He recognised the feeling of someone entering Apocrypha, someone from the outside world.
One more pillar of books.
Miraak froze mid stride. That...that was not his friend.
But...maybe it was. It had the same tail. And yet it didn't look like the Khajiit. It looked more like a...a…
Seeker.
Miraak slid back into shadows, trembling.
XXX
Ever since that moment, when he found someone, he urged them to leave. Leave and never to return!
Some listened to him.
Most did not.
XXX
This place would suffice. A good, stable hideout. A place he could make his own. He started to move the books and categorize them.
XXX
He found a satchel. On a dead body. After he tossed away all the books it had been holding, he hung the satchel on his shoulder. With a proud smile he decided this was going to be his very own bag to hold the most precious memories. He has been filling blank books with his memories, little things he could remember and didn't want to forget.
The touch of Geda's hands and her smile. The day when he finished building shrines around the Sun stone. Angma's approving nod. His nana and how she taught him to make chocolate. The day when he saw the ocean for the first time. He still remembered the feeling of awe, the incredible vastness and faint whispering, even if he didn't remember what the ocean looked like.
And drawings. He would try to draw images that didn't vanish from his head. Faces Flowers. Animals. Homes. Places.
Each book added to the new bag had better and better pictures, albeit based more on impression than reality.
XXX
His sanctuary. It was safe. Lonely.
He was sitting on the ground, hidden among objects built from books. He hugged his knees. Why wouldn't the pain in his stomach stop? What was it? Why was it tormenting him? Or was it normal? To feel like this? He couldn't remember.
Why was it always so quiet?
He desired so desperately to hear a voice.
Maybe he could fill the quiet with his own voice? How?
He slowly straightened his legs. He remembered songs. He never sang before, what if he did it wrong?
He shook his head. No matter. He might do it wrong at the beginning, but he was sure he'd get better with practice. He always did.
So...what to sing...he chose the first song that came to his mind. "The sky is dark, the sun has died, upon an empty path my feet do thread...in my heart the spark of life has cried, in the cold my spirit fills with dread. O, Wolven star, Wolven star, the only light in my sky, lead my way, lead me home…"
XXX
This was strange. Apocrypha...felt different. Sturdier.
He tried to reach out of it, to catch a whisper of wind, like Mora used to ask him to do.
He found only Apocrypha.
What? No. No! No, no, no, no, no! That was his only connection to home! He looked around, his eyes darting from one pillar of books to another. There must be something! Anything!
He snapped up. There was something! Something in his journals…
He opened a pathway through Apocrypha and went in.
XXX
Where was it?!
He frantically flipped through another notebook. Not here, dammit! He put the notebook back carefully, then pulled out another one.
Page. Another page. Not this. Not that...if he only knew what he was looking for! A connection...connection...connection to...what? Ah. To home.
His eyes stopped on one page. Shrines. Around the Sun stone. There were more stones like that, weren't there?
He wasn't entirely sure. Better focus on the Sun stone. That was written in his journal, therefore it must have been true.
XXX
Mora wasn't watching for the moment.
Time to do his thing.
Miraak crept into his sanctuary at the summit of Apocrypha and sat down. He breathed in and out. He could do it. He was powerful. They wanted to harness him, they wanted to kill him, they never succeeded. His will was never broken. He cleared his mind and focused on the Stone.
And there it was. After a while he felt...something. Warmth. Light. He reached for it.
It was like wading through muck. He had to push through forcefully, forge a path, a connection, through the writhing essence of Apocrypha. He bared his teeth. He screamed, shouted, fought his way forward.
And then he was there.
In scorching heat. It poured over him mercilessly, burning his soul. Memories of dragonfire turning him to a crisp flooded his mind. He winced and recoiled. Apocrypha beckoned, pulled, wanted him back…
No!
He grabbed onto the flaming essence. He pulled himself closer, closer, and slowly stopped fighting the heat, allowing the golden flare to swallow him whole.
As it did, it changed. No longer threatening, it caressed him with gentle warmth. He still could feel the slimy pull of Apocrypha, but now the warmth was protecting him. He felt a connection form between him and the light, ensuring his safe return to this glowing sanctuary should he leave.
He also felt other energies, connecting to the warmth filling him. Earthy smell with a timeless certainty of stone. Freshness of northerly winds. Distant calls that must have been animals. Whispering of leaves, the smell of bark. Flowing and dampness of water.
His eyes welled with tears. Remnants of forgotten sensations crept back into his memory. He travelled to each source, staying in every one of them for a while, breathing in the essences.
After stopping in the Earth stone, he realised he could feel minds around him. People. Living, breathing people. He reached out, brushing at the edges. No protection. He could enter any of the minds if he wished.
He stopped.
He could do that, couldn't he? And use the stones?
Yes. Yes, he could. He could get home. He could be free.
XXX
4E 201, Solstheim
So, Raven Rock, right? Bernadette looked around, but ended up disappointed. No black birds around here.
She asked the second councilor Arano about Miraak, the name from the note. Strangely enough, he couldn't give her a straight answer. But he did point her to some stone, not far from the little town.
"You coming with me?" she looked at her companions.
"No," both Marcurio and Godric groaned, their complexions still a bit greenish.
"Sure. It seems like there's nothing else to do in this ashen heap, murmuring and whispering in the winds," Zura pulled her scarf out of her backpack. "Howling wind and chafing ash. A marvelous combination," she grumbled.
Bernadette smiled and patted Zura's back. "You'll be fine. I'm sure that a plot concerning assassins is a good go for any book. Boys, take some money and head for the inn. We'll join you later."
As they walked through the town, Bernadette pulled her scarf up as well. The winds, sharply blowing, carried specks of ash with them.
"Do you think that's it?" Zura pondered and pointed forward.
There was a rather strange structure in the distance. A standing stone, no, an obelisk, emanating an eerie sickly green light stood there, and outlines of otherworldly arches could be seen around it.
"It would seem so...are those people moving around it?" Bernadette shielded her eyes from the wind.
"I'm starting to have a baaaaad feeling about this. Better to note everything down," Zura reached for her notebook.
"Come on, let's have a closer look," Bernadette chuckled and ushered the Khajiit to move.
As they neared, they confirmed that indeed there were people around the stone. Moving around, working on the structures. Building.
"Are they...are they murmuring? In flat voices?" Zura trembled.
"Sounds like some mantra…"
Zura moved closer to a young dunmeri woman, building a wall out of stones. "Excuse me, what's happening?"
"Here in his shrine," the woman said, her eyes staring blankly at the wall.
"What was that?" Zura blinked. No answer. She tried to wave her hand in front of the woman's eyes, but got no response whatsoever.
"That they have forgotten," a different voice resounded. Zura slowly backtracked to Bernadette and grabbed her hand.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "This is...wrong."
"Here do we toil."
"Yes," Bernadette squeezed Zura's hand, "it is most definitely wrong. But...what is it?"
"That we might remember."
"Look!" Zura pointed. "There, see those two? They are not working on...on...whatever this is."
"Yea, I see them. Let's ask them what's going on."
"By night we reclaim."
The two individuals were both Dunmer, a woman and a man. The woman was rather curvy for a Dunmer, though other races probably wouldn't describe her as such. There were threads of silver in her otherwise black hair, and gentle wrinkles around her eyes. She was still in her prime, dressed in a rather odd set of armour, probably leather and chitin. She also wore a lot of scarves, fluttering around her in the wind, some of them wrapped around her waist, some around her shoulders and neck. Her arms, scarred and muscled, were bare, with the exception of a bright orange ribbon wound around her right arm all the way down to her hand. She was holding a spear and a sword was hanging by her hip.
The man was elderly, bald, had a pointy beard and looked rather intrigued.
"What by day was stolen."
"What do you think this is, old cot?" the woman inquired.
"I have no idea. But it is utterly fascinating."
"Far from ourselves."
Zura slowed her pace. Then she suddenly tugged Bernadette towards the stone.
"Zura? What are you doing?"
No response. The two unaffected turned to their direction.
Zura's eyes went blank. She walked over to the stone, as if in a dream. She slowly put her hand on the stone.
"He grows ever near to us," she said flatly. Then she turned around and went to fetch building materials for a guard who ran out.
"Fascinating," a dunmeri voice said from behind Bernadette. "By touching the stone, she appears to have fallen under whatever influence is affecting the others."
Bernadette turned around. The dunmeri wizard was stroking his beard. "I wonder how long this effect will last. Perhaps it is permanent as with the others."
"Our eyes once were blinded."
The woman hit his calves with the shaft of her spear. "What are you doing?!" he hissed. She motioned her head towards Bernadette. The wizard raised an eyebrow at the Breton.
"You there…you don't seem to be in quite the same state as the others here. Very interesting. May I ask what it is you're doing here?"
"Now through him do we see."
Bernadette looked at the woman, then, after a quick glance at Zura, turned her eyes back to the wizard. Neloth. "I'm looking for someone named Miraak."
He rubbed his chin. "Miraak...Miraak...it sounds familiar, and yet I can't quite place…" He perked up all of a sudden. "Oh, wait. I recall. But that makes very little sense." He put his hands on his hips. "Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."
"Our hands once were idle."
"What does that mean?" Bernadette looked at him over her nose.
"I'm not sure. But it is fascinating, isn't it?" he smirked. "Perhaps it has some relation to what's is going on here. Quite unexpected." He stroked his beard again. "I'm afraid I can't give you any answers. But there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's toward the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there."
"Now through them does he speak."
"What are these people doing?" Bernadette wondered.
"Building something, clearly," Neloth retorted. "And yet they don't seem to have much to say about it. I'm very interested to find out what happens when they finish."
"And when the world shall listen."
"Have you tried to stop it?"
"Certainly not!" Neloth scowled at her fiercely. "Doing so would interfere with whatever is going on, and I would be unable to see how this all turns out. Hmpf," he turned and walked away, not responding to her calls.
"And when the world shall see."
"Don't mind Neloth, young one," the dunmer woman moved closer to Bernadette, "he is an eccentric old puss."
"Who are you? How come that neither you or him are affected?" Bernadette turned to her. Now she noticed that the woman was strikingly beautiful, her features were sharp and her crimson eyes large, hemmed by long lashes. Though there were patches of sickly pale skin on the left side of her face, stretching from the hairline over the eye to her chin. Bernadette narrowed her eyes. The woman's hair was white where the discoloured skin was, and the edge of her eye, also impacted by whatever sickness she had suffered, was dully grey as well. Though the rest of it was still as red as blood.
"My name's Vermethys" she smiled. "I'm a curious dame who sticks her nose into all sorts of affairs and dabbles into many arts. Neloth is a powerful master wizard of house Telvanni. He can protect himself from mind control. As for me, I never was one to let anyone order me about."
"And when the world remembers."
Vermethys leaned onto her spear. It was a simple, yet deadly looking weapon, with elegant curves on either side of the blade. "You seem to be protected as well, warmaiden."
"Bernadette," the Breton muttered. She reached for her necklace, running her thumb over the bear totem. She remembered what her mother told her. The Old one protects us.
"What a peculiar amulet," Vermethys noted, smile on her full lips. "It reminds me of a similar one I have seen a long, long time ago…"
"That world shall cease to be," Zura's emotionless voice cut in. Both Bernadette and Vermethys turned to look at the small Ohmes.
"Rather disturbing mantra, is it not?" the Dunmer commented.
"Yes. But...what does it mean?" Bernadette went a bit closer to the shore, to replace the eerie chanting with the sound of the waves crashing at the ashen beach. Vermethys went with her.
"I am not not certain. But, since you and your friend over there came here in search of the ancient legend, perhaps Neloth was right and there is a relation between the two."
Bernadette put her hands on her hips. "How do I find out?"
Vermethys chuckled. "A curious one. Well, you could go to the temple. I'm not really sure if that will actually bring any closure, but it is an option. There is also a rather peculiar Bosmer residing on Solstheim for the moment, whom you could seek out. He knows a lot about weird things and, as he likes to call it, 'daedric bullshit.' The structures certainly do look daedric," the Dunmer motioned towards the arches being built around the stone.
"Is there something I could do for Zura? To free her from the...the mental control?"
Vermethys saddened. "I don't know. It usually happens during the night, but being so close to the stone has far stronger effect. The people snap out of it on their own, alas, never sooner than after at least few hours of work. I actually tried to do something to protect the people of Raven Rock, but my power is...nothing, compared to what comes out of the stone. I also think that Neloth himself is powerless to do anything with it, and that means something immensely powerful is manipulating the power inside the stone. Not that he would try to do anything about it, though."
"You're protector of the town? You don't look like anyone from around here."
"I have great fondness for Raven Rock," Vermethys smiled enigmatically with a spark in her eyes. "Why shouldn't I live here? I have nothing against the Redoran. And they seem to like me. Especially when I offer help with...whatever." She flashed a wide grin. "I know some tricks I learnt while travelling. And I know how to keep dangers out of the town. One side is protected by the Bulwark, the other by my humble home and shrine."
Bernadette remembered seeing a rather strange dwelling on the edge of the town closest to the stone. It was mixture of a Redoran manor and a mushroom tower. She thought it was some dunmeri weirdness. But the woman in front of her clearly wasn't a wizard of, what was the house, Telvanni? Bernadette heard about their magical prowess and mushroom towers, but she didn't hear about anyone else growing those structures.
"Where could I find the Bosmer?"
"Oh, I think he lives in Thirsk, now. Come, come, I will show you a map."
Bernadette shot one last look to Zura. She was furiously hammering at the arches. The Breton shook her head and hurried after the Dunmer, walking away with certainty and determination. As they walked toward Vermethys' home, Bernadette's heart sank. Marcurio was walking towards the stone, his eyes blank.
XXX
Vermethys invited Bernadette to her home. It was a rather welcoming place, albeit a bit dark for lack of proper windows. Fire was burning in a fireplace on the opposite side of the entrance and colourful dunmeri paper lanterns were hanging from the ceiling in elaborate patterns. The floor was mostly covered in rugs of varying styles, and there were planters everywhere. Planters teeming with plants, having both cooking and alchemical uses.
Wooden toys lay scattered about the floor. And a guar plushie.
"Go right there," Vermethys motioned towards a round door on the right side of the room, "and then stand in the torrent of energy. I had Sadryn put an enchantment there, so guests could visit upstairs. The best seats are placed in our library, see. I'll bring tea." She went to one of the plants and began cutting leaves with great care.
Bernadette nodded and went through the door. The structure of the mushroom tower was rather odd. There were no stairs. She decided not to think about it and stepped into a glyph, glowing on the floor.
Magical energies swirled around her and lifted her up. Then they placed her gently into a round room filled with books. There was a little coffee table with two cushioned seats next to one of the shelves. Bernadette picked one and sat down.
Vermethys floated up on her own, three purple discs beneath her feet. She was carrying a tray with rather nice looking redware tea set. After she set the tray on the table and poured a cup for each of them, she walked over to a chest of drawers, opened it and began to sift through many, many papers inside.
She furrowed her brows after a while.
"By the...where is it? Damnations. Not here. Here? No! That's not the right one...fuck." She straightened. "Sadryn! Where the Oblivion is my map of Solstheim? The new one!" she roared.
"I don't know, you loud shrew! You probably stuffed it somewhere after you finished your incorrect scribbling!" a voice of a male Dunmer called out from somewhere above them.
"Nonsense! I don't just stuff things somewhere, without order!" she shouted back.
"Ha! Have you ever looked into your backpack? Or wardrobe?"
"Shut up! Or else I'll start to regret letting you live!"
"Har, har, we've heard that so many times. You're all bark and no bite." Footsteps were heard and after some time a handsome Dunmer wizard, dressed in green telvanni robes, floated down to the library. He was about Vermethys' age and was holding a small khajiiti child in one arm, a folded piece of paper in the other.
He handed the paper to Vermethys. "Here, you put it in a planter instead of those seeds, which I found in your unmentionables." He noticed Bernadette, sitting in the armchair, sipping tea and watching silently. "Oh, and we apparently have a guest. You never tell me anything, you inconsiderate kagouti." He bowed to Bernadette, his lips twitching slightly in a hint of a smile. "Pleased to meet you, madam. I am Sadryn of house Telvanni, a master wizard. If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my studies." He gently caressed the child's spotted golden fur. It purred contentedly.
"Wait a moment, you little handsome n'wah," Vermethys grabbed him. She kissed him ardently on the mouth. He moaned and returned her kiss. Bernadette reddened and looked away.
After a moment Vermethys broke the kiss. She caressed Sadryn's cheek, then kissed the child on the top of the head. "You're free to leave," she smiled. Sadryn gave her a crooked grin and went back upstairs.
"Now, Bernadette, let us have a look at the map," Vermethys unfolded the map and put it on the table. "This is Raven Rock," she pointed the town out. "These little markings are the sacred stones."
"There are more of them?"
"Yes. And they carry great significance. But about that later, should you be interested. Here is Thirsk, where Firan resides. Should you visit him, tell him I sent you. Oh, and could you give this to him?" she reached into her pocket and pulled a small bundle out.
Bernadette took it and hid it into one of her enchanted satchels.
"How very nice of you. Be warned again, he is an odd fellow. Coming from someone living with a telvanni wizard, that should tell you something about how odd he really is. And here is the temple. Now listen closely, I will tell you how to best get there and what to look out for during the trip…"
XXX
After purchasing a map of her own from the local merchant and noting down a number of points of interest Vermethys had shown her, Bernadette made her way to the inn. There she found Godric, looking very confused, talking to the innkeeper.
She went over to them. "Hi, pup. Good afternoon, sera," she nodded towards the innkeeper.
"Good afternoon to you, too. You're a companion of this one and his friend?"
"Yes, I am."
"Bernadette!" Godric almost yelped out. "Marcurio is gone! We wanted to take a nap before you girls came back and when I woke up, he was gone!"
"I know where he is," Bernadette sighed. "Enthralled by the stone, just like Zura. I'm wondering, how come you aren't?"
Both the innkeeper and Godric blinked at her. Then they looked at each other and shrugged.
"No mater. We'll wait till the morning, then set out for the temple. Let's have a look around, perhaps there's something we can do around here."
XXX
"Why must you stick your nose into every dark, ancient, droopy hole filled with nasty creatures you find?"
"Oh, snap out of it," Bernadette grinned as she put her sword through a giant spider, "aren't you curious what's down here?"
"No!"
XXX
"Hey, look!" Bernadette stopped abruptly. "That looks exactly like the metal from which the tip of our mysterious staff is made!"
"And?" Godric looked at a draugr sitting on one of the stone seats. It looked finitely dead, but one could never be sure.
"Well, maybe the metal is native to Solstheim," Bernadette was touching it and examining it thoroughly. "I've never seen any around Skyrim, with the exception of the one, precisely one tomb where we found the staff. And the other stuff. Maybe we can find clues to who our priest was somewhere around here!"
"Would that involve delving into more scary and dark places?"
"Certainly!"
Godric groaned.
XXX
"Oooh, this ancient nordic pickaxe works! Let's see what's inside…"
XXX
"A dead body. How unexpected."
"Yea, but this one is in far worse shape than those in Eldergleam Sanctuary. Also the metal is much less see-through. I wonder why that is…"
"Can we go, please?"
"Sure. Just let me pick these lumps...I want to find out what it is."
XXX
"Talos shield us from harm!" Godric cried out as the priest rose from the murky, freezing waters.
Bernadette grinned and raised her crossbow. "Zenithar smite you, shambler. Come, I have some exploding bolts for you!"
XXX
"What...what is that?" Godric shivered and stepped to the side to hide behind Bernadette's back. He was clutching his arm, severely singed by the priest. Bernadette wasn't looking much better, her armour being damaged by the lightning, as well as her not very protected legs, dressed in striped pants, now singed.
"I don't know," she admitted and scratched her head. Her hair, as well as Godric's, was all messed up, even sticking up in some places.
There was a...book...placed on the pedestal in front of them. An eerie black book with something reminiscent of an octopus on its cover.
"It looks daedric, I would say." She walked to it and reached her hand out.
"Don't!" Godric yelped.
But it was too late. Bernadette has already picked it up and opened it. She smiled. "Don't worry, nothi-"
Her voice was cut short by sickly green tentacles, pulling her spirit inside the book. Her body remained standing still, holding the book.
XXX
"So, another seeker of knowledge enters my realm," a disembodied voice vibrated through the still air. It was lazy and it's words rolled out almost purringly. Bernadette, utterly confused, blinked as darkness slowly left her eyes.
She was in a completely alien surroundings.
"I am Hermaeus Mora," the voice suddenly bellowed with the strength of a hurricane, "Prince of Fate, and lord of secrets," it lowered its volume to a barely recognisable whisper. "This is Apocrypha," the voice continued, gaining intensity again, then slumping back into laziness, "where all knowledge is hoarded. Perhaps you will prove clever enough to uncover secrets hidden here. If so, welcome." The voice then trembled with a certain perversion in a hint of laughter. "Hm-hm-m-m-ha. Perhaps you are a fool, or a coward," it challenged. "If so, you are in peril. Read your book again and escape before Apocrypha claims you forever."
Then, silence.
The world brightened a little, but not too much. Bernadette looked around.
What she saw brought her no confidence.
But she was no coward, or a fool. She set her jaw. Perhaps it was a kind of poetic justice, that her first daedric encounter happened with the Prince of knowledge.
She took a resolute step forward, resting her hand on Bearclaw's hilt.
XXX
"Bernadette!"
She blinked. What happened? A moment ago, she was touching one of the green orbs hovering above the book, and now she was...where?
Godric hurried to her and touched her shoulder. "You're real again! By Talos, I was so afraid…" he hugged her all of a sudden, pressing the book she was still holding to her chest.
Yes, the laboratory…
"There were things, they-they-they sucked you inside, right, and then, then I could see right through you, as if you were there, but you weren't there, and I, I didn't know what to do-"
He kept mumbling. Bernadette, having shaken off her confusion, patted him on the back.
XXX
"Would you rather sleep among the dead?" she raised her eyebrow at Godric. He shook his head.
"No…"
"Then we'll rest here. Don't worry, all the reavers are dead, I checked twice. And no one will come till morning, in the least. I doubt that anyone will come at all. Outlaws and bloodthirsty idiots usually don't have very friendly relations among themselves. Also, we're in the stable looking tower, so it won't fall on our heads."
"I hope so."
XXX
Oh no. She has had this sensation once before. While she slept beneath the Eldergleam. Another vision? But there was no divinity here…
She looked around. Darkness. She saw nothing but darkness.
There was something pulling her in a certain direction, a covert feeling she had to go there...when she took a step in that direction, though, her totemic necklace began to heat up. It burned bright on her chest, yet it didn't hurt her.
She took a step back. The heat slowly died out.
She shook her head. What was the meaning of this? Was it reproach for entering Apocrypha? For braving the library and then accepting a boon from Hermaeus Mora? Were the gods angry with her?
Shivers suddenly ran down her spine. She shuddered and hugged herself in a fit of cold. What if she sold her soul to the Daedra?
Before she had time to explore that thought, she heard something. A distant echo of a voice?
She perked up. Then she took several steps closer to the voice echoing through the darkness.
"And when the world remembers," the voice grew ever stronger as she neared it. It was a rather powerful voice, masculine, with an exotic accent she couldn't place anywhere. The sound of it struck her to her very core, wrapping around her heart, grasping it tightly, making it beat faster, faster. She took a shaky breath, not really sure what exactly she was feeling, fear or excitement, and took several steps closer to the voice.
As she neared, she could discern a certain string of light from the rest of the darkness. Or maybe a swirl? There was a tall, lean shape standing in the middle of it.
"That world shall cease to be."
Shivers ran through her whole body as her mouth gaped open. Those words! Those were the words Zura had spoken! Struck by fear, yet pulled forward by relentless curiosity, she made her way to the chanting shape, trembling more and more with each step.
As she neared it, the voice stopped. The shape whipped around, looking loosely in her direction. She could see it better now, as it popped into the foreground, having the swirl of lights behind its back and illuminating it. It was certainly a male figure, though an odd one. She could see the shape of his shoulders and head, strange and spiky. The rest of his lean figure, flowy and uncertain, was disappearing in the darkness of their surroundings.
"What?" he moved his head as he looked around carefully. "Who dares to enter my realm? Show yourself!"
Feeling enthralled by that heavenly voice, albeit sharp with alertness, Bernadette slowly shuffled forward.