Hey! So this is my first fanfic in quite a while, and I'm still pretty new, so bear with me here. That said, not all chapters will be this short - this one just serves as a prologue.
(Also, my apologies if some lore seems a little dodgy. I've done a lot of research but it's still pretty difficult to kind of fill in the gaps for how the rest of Tamriel would be in Skyrim's timeframe.)
By the fire, Ciraalie sat feeding a sheet of parchment to the flames and watching the edges blacken and curl. Slowly, she let it slip from the grasp of her slender fingers and drop down, fire eating at the words until they were destroyed, a mere memory. Memories were the easiest things to possess in these days, for they could not be so easily taken by the Thalmor – couldn't be so easily held against you. Intellectual property had to be gained through methods slightly more frowned upon, and even the Thalmor couldn't torture everybody in Alinor. No, Ciraalie was sure to keep the contents of this letter for herself.
She stared into the fire a moment longer, and then transferred her gaze to what lay beyond the window: the city of Firsthold, its spires still resplendent in their glory. Beauty in mortals was fleeting, for it was a trait that usually went hand in hand with youth; architecture, however, seemed to grow in grandeur with its age. Though she had visited it only once in her life, the Dwemer-built city of Markarth could testify to that.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside stirred her, and she called out, "Caranwen?"
"Yes?" Her young apprentice entered the room, firelight playing over her sharp-featured Altmer face. Amber eyed and with dark red hair, she was aflame with these hues.
Ciraalie glanced around as if spies could leap from the walls, and gestured for her apprentice to close the door. "I received a letter from a friend of mine in Skywatch… the Thalmor Inquisition appear to be growing restless with the control they have."
"Another purge?" Ciraalie could see the younger woman's fists clenching at her sides – her anger was a spark she needed to learn to keep subdued, lest it rage out of control. "Have they not slaughtered enough of our kind?"
"Hush, lower your voice. It's their own warped version of a census, I suppose… a way to flex their control over the nation. My point being, I fear our act is up, Caranwen. It is time for you to leave my tutelage and escape Auridon while you still have your life."
"And what about…?"
Ciraalie sighed. "I am afraid my place is here. I have been secretive before and I can remain so in the face of the Inquisition… besides, I have lived much longer than you and am well-respected in Firsthold. The Thalmor are not likely to discover my full identity."
Silence hung between them, the product of a tension so thick you could slice it with a blade. She could see clear as day that Caranwen didn't wish to leave her, but her apprentice was young still. There was much for her to learn – lessons only the world could teach her. Though she had gained much knowledge from books in her years under Ciraalie's teaching, the girl was inexperienced yet in the art of battle.
As Caranwen shuffled, reluctantly, to pack supplies in the corner, Ciraalie couldn't help but feel a little protective as she watched over her apprentice. This was the ultimate trust to place in anyone, and Ciraalie prayed that Caranwen's talent as a mage was enough to carry her through this escape alive.
"I am ready," her pupil declared, clearly fighting to keep her voice from wavering.
"Travel southeast to Skywatch, where you will be able to escape to mainland Tamriel from the docks. Where you go then will be up to you."
"I'm leaving the Dominion," Caranwen replied fiercely.
Ciraalie nodded. "Wise. You know, if you find yourself in Skyrim, give Savos Aren of the College of Winterhold my regards. That is, if he still resides there."
Indeed, Ciraalie regretted that she couldn't travel there herself… it had been too long since she'd last seen him. Though the elves lived long, prolonged life was no excuse for losing contact with friends. If only the Thalmor were not so ruthless in their way of going about things, leaving the country would be a simple affair.
As it happened, nothing was ever simple.
She paused for a few seconds, sighing – and embraced her student in a rare display of physical affection.
"Good luck, and may the Divines bless your path."
