Disclaimer! Bethesda owns all of the lore, characters, places, spells etc. I own none except for those I created myself.

Chapter 1

Brellin Goldentounge sat in Luther Broad's Boarding House, sipping at a tankard of ale. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he poured over a book titled Schools of magic. Despite only having several chapters, it was thick and dusty. A sure sign of wisdom, thought Brellin sarcastically as he blew dust off of a yellowed page.

His ears were shorter than most Bosmers' yet they were as sharp as an Altmer's. These oddities were passed down from his parents – a Bosmer and an Alter respectively. He was clothed in a rich, blue robe yet under the robe he wore chain mail. His eyes were a green colour with blue flecks – mages always had flecks in their eyes. His hair was a mess of long, brown locks. A longsword was strapped to his waist as well as a bow and quiver of arrows. All were of Elven make.

Around him, people bustled through the tavern talking, laughing and otherwise enjoying themselves. Luther Broad's was experiencing a heavy workload and even Luther Broad himself was sweating. As was his habit, Brellin's ears perked up to listen to the talk. Most was of the upcoming Dragon's Festival; a day on which Martin Septim's sacrifice was honoured. When the Oblivion Gates had been forever closed for all of Tamriel.

Just as Brellin returned to his book, his sharp ears picked up something he did not expect; shouts of alarm from outside. Probably some thief stealing from a noble, Brellin thought, pushing the matter to the corner of his mind. He managed to read a page or two before he noticed the shouts had not died down. What in the planes of Oblivion is going on out there? He thought irritably. As if cued by his thought, the door flew open to admit an Imperial Guard.

"I think you're all going to want to see this," he growled in a low voice.

Everyone poured outside, including Brellin. They stood in confusion as to what all the shouting was about until one by one, they noticed people in the street looking up. A pitch black cloud was advancing on the Imperial City. It was no common rain cloud; it looked like smoke the colour of tar. It was moving fast, against the wind. Soon it would envelope the entire city.

That night, in Luther Broad's, everyone spoke in hushed whispers, unnerved by the black cloud that remained over the Imperial City. The top of the White-Gold tower had been hidden by its dark wisps. Many had left the city itself, all claiming the cloud boded ill. Brellin was finding it hard to argue with them. The cloud had blocked out all moonlight and starlight. The thieves guild was having a field day while the guards patrolled with torches, eyes straining to see the illusive thieves.

Brellin sat by himself, once again reading his book. Every now and again, when he thought no one was looking, he would cast a spell he had just read about. But he could only read so much of his book before it started to bore him. He stood, mumbled something to Luther about going for a walk, and stepped outside. It was pitch black. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Muttering profanities under his breath, Brellin cast a lighting spell that illuminated the ground around him in a two metre radius. He walked aimlessly, seeing no one except for far off guards. As his thoughts turned back to Luther Broad's, he spied a guard looking into the shadows, sword drawn and torch held low.

Suddenly, the torchlight was extinguished. Brellin heard the guard shriek and then silence. Grimly, Brellin extended the range of his spell until it lit the entire street. An inky cloud of darkness, much like the cloud above the city, swirled where the guard had just been. Brellin cast a spell of life detection yet no sign of life was coming from the cloud. He faintly heard a soft whooshing sound just before a missile of Black Cloud exploded onto the pavement only metres away. Brellin backed off just as more missiles hit the ground. He began sprinting off in the direction of Luther Broad's when a missile smashed through the glass of a nearby house. Screams came from inside, waking the entire street.

Soon everyone was running and screaming. Realising his light was somehow being targeted, Brellin ended the spell and slipped a ring on. Instantly, his view turned blue and he could see in the darkness. The street was total chaos. People ran screaming, crashing into one another. Brellin saw an Orc swinging his claymore wildly around him, decapitating innocent people. Realising the Orc had gone berserk, Brellin drew his sword and slipped up behind him. Without emotion, Brellin ran the Orc through and cast the body to the side. He regretted killing the Orc but he had saved many lives in doing so. When Orcs went berserk, you couldn't reason with them and most calming or sleeping spells were useless. The black missiles seemed like arms streaking down from the sky, leaving a trail of inky darkness behind them. They twisted and turned, specifically aiming for groups of people. This is no random magic, thought Brellin.

Brellin slipped into an alleyway as a group of Imperial Battlemages ran past, slipping night-eye trinkets of their own. They would only add to the confusion and chaos of the streets. Glancing down the alley, he saw a group of three thieves. They seemed to be performing a fence.

Creeping closer, Brellin could make out the words, "… best thing that ever happened. Dunno what the whole worry's about."

Clearly they haven't been in the street, thought Brellin.

"Surely that's worth at least 200 septims," one said sharply, "Do you know…"

Suddenly one of the missiles exploded in the middle of the three.

Cursing, Brellin ran back onto the street and to the gate the guards were just opening and slipped out of the city. The cloud stretched for quite a few leagues but in the distance, Brellin could see moonlight. A few yards away, the stables lay in darkness, horses abandoned in the terror though three were saddled. The owners must've been planning to leave, said Brellin sighing when he saw the inky darkness coming from the house. Slipping through the gate, Brellin cast a calming spell on an alarmed horse and mounted it.

Just as he was about to ride off, he heard someone call out, "Wait friend!"

Turning around, Brellin saw two figures running towards him. One was a Dunmer, her long braided hair spilling out behind her. Her slim figure was armoured with leather and several daggers were strapped to her belt. The other was a tall, thick Nord in heavy, steel armour. His left arm was encumbered by a shield while the other brandished a sword. The sword's tip was coated in blood.

Still mounted, Brellin grabbed his bow and aimed a freshly nocked arrow at the duo.

"What do you want?" he called sharply. The Dunmer must have had a night-eye enchantment of her own for she stopped and grabbed the Nord's arm.

"We wish to leave with you," she called in a light, silvery voice, "It would be safer for us both."

"That depends on who you two are," called Brellin, drawing the arrow back further.

"We'll explain on the way," growled the Nord, shaking the Dunmer's hand off his arm. He strode forward and leapt over the gate, displaying astounding agility for a man clad in steel. Mounting quickly, he grabbed the reins of another and led it over to the Dunmer. When both were mounted they cantered over to Brellin.

"Shall we go?" asked the Dunmer, raising an eyebrow.