Eclipse: Chapter 2

By

Spottedleaf9 and Dracanoth Dereal

(Valisilwen)

The next day, I left my housecarl with my daughter. I didn't like to adventure with other people in tow. It just added to the chances of them wandering into my arrow fire and I'd learned the hard way an arrow shot could not be taken back. "Lydiah, I've given you some money to take care of her. She wants to get a new doll. The khajiit caravans should have a few to choose from." Giving my home one last look, I sighed. I had learned to sense when I wasn't going to be home for a long time. As I watched them walk away through the crowd of townspeople, I focused instead on the low murmuring of so many people gathered in one place.

I knew that this was one of those days. I was not going to see my daughter for a long time. I was on the road to Dawnstar. Besides having other business in the village, I wished to see if the mysterious stranger would show up in the wilderness. After all, it was one of the places in that particular hold that was usually snow-capped. If he wasn't in Dawnstar, this man I was supposed to meet, then the next place I was going to check was Markarth; the city of the dwarven bronze buildings; larger than anyone really needed.

The ride was slow. I liked to give people a chance to come up to me as I rode along on my horse in case they needed help. I found that while I was not stopped by any troubled citizens, my horse was having a hard time ascending a small incline. To my right, I could see a set of old ruins. "Those look new. Perhaps…there is an adventure to be had."

A rare smile crossed my lips. Here was a chance to have an adventure all of my own for once. Dismounting from the tired palomino mare, I drew myself into a crouch and proceeded into the dark mouth of the cave, hands reaching out to skim the pillars of mossy stone by the entrance. I never grew tired of traversing strange new areas of land.

What I did grow tired of was doing nothing day after day like an ordinary villager, even if some aspects of that life were tempting. My golden skin almost glowed in the initial darkness, my almond shaped pupils dilating to let in as much light as they could glean. Ahead, a muted orange glow came into my awareness and I frowned. It was unlike anything I had come across before.

My steps slowed as sweat started rolling down my face. The further I walked into the cave, the warmer my skin got. Feeling like I was going to bake alive in the metal armor that marked me as Dragonborn, I pressed onward; never one to simply give up. My bow bounced against my back and I vaguely remembered that I only had about forty arrows left in my quiver. The heat was growing to be so overwhelming that my vision swam and I felt like I was going to pass out. I could hear my heart pounding in my throat; so hard I felt the need to clutch at it in alarm.

It wasn't that much of a surprise to find myself on my back, quivering. I'd slipped in the dark on the rocks underfoot. "Shor's foot!" I swore. "Even the rocks…seem to be sweating." Flipping over onto my belly, I crawled onward for a length of time. When I finally turned a corner, I stopped in bewilderment. In the stone, there was a jagged, roughly circular hole. I numbly dragged myself to my feet, aware that what I was seeing was something no other Skyrim soul had seen before.

In this hole, a red-orange semi-liquid bubbled; covered in black splotches that made me think it was the source of all the heat. Even more alarming than this…weird…hell water was the group of figures circled around it; chanting in a language I could not recognize. It was not of a Tamrielic dialect. I gasped, trying to make sense of what I was observing. A black-hooded head whipped in my direction and I knew instantly that I was in trouble. I could feel the power pulsing off of these alarming people. I had stumbled upon something truly unfortunate.

A single figure detached from the group and strode toward me with a slow purposeful stride. I found that my feet were rooted to the cave floor and not just out of terror; they had been bespelled. I struggled vainly to get away, images of my sweet, Breton daughter coursing through my head. I couldn't allow myself to be taken out or she'd go back to the very same orphanage where she had spent the first several years of her life and I couldn't have that on my record.

"Get…away from me!" I gathered up the ancient power within me, regretting that it was necessary to finally use it again. When the figure in front of me showed no signs of relenting, I sighed and opened my mouth, my intentions causing the power I desired to call upon to rise within me; my blood singing with the magic of it. "FUS ROH DAH!" I watched in disbelief as my unrelenting force tore through the figure and passed on; as if he were a ghost that could not be touched by me. His arm was extended, a single finger coming out to touch my forehead. He didn't even have to touch me.

That was when my world exploded into a dark, swirling supernova of pain. I screamed in agony, my elvish voice causing the tenor to rise past a normal pitch. I was blinded and couldn't even feel my body hitting the ground. I was however, vaguely aware that I was being dragged out of the cave; away from that foreign, sweltering heat to which I was such a newcomer. It didn't matter. I was unable to focus on this because of the vision swimming before my eyes. No stranger to the magic of prophecies, I knew that I was witnessing one now and must pay close attention to the details.

Screams. That was the first thing I heard, and when my vision returned to me, I could clearly see and the sounds had faded. I was shown a picture of a man; not overly muscular but built in such a way I could see the muscles rippling under his lean figure when he moved with a quiet authority. The way he held himself led me to think that he was some sort of high nobility. I was also given the sense that I was not to be afraid of him. He was going to help me somehow. Dark hair framed his face, clinging tightly to his head while at the same time coming to a stop just past his jaw. He had strong, unwavering eyes; a glassy black like two chunks of obsidian. This face was devoid of all emotion and yet, I could sense good things were hidden deep in the man possessing it. This man was full of changes waiting to happen. I was aware that this man was tall; taller than myself. His image passed quickly and was soon gone. Next I was shown a large shadow; with two spikes on either side of his head. I was given a feeling of great fear and helplessness. This was something to be avoided, whatever type of creature this silhouette warned me of. Then I saw my beautiful Skyrim; viewed as if from the Throat of the World. It lay in ruins; long, ugly columns of smoke rising up from each city. I was watching my homelands burn and be razed and nothing had escaped the destruction. Not a single life; this much I was shown. My throat constricted and I felt as though I may puke. My heart swelled and crashed; broken by this horrific sight.

Just as the horrible dream was dissolving from my mind and returning my grasp of myself to me, I heard a voice I had not yet encountered in my travels. "A split vision you have been given. Beware the horned reaper; he is none other than the devil. Should he reach your land, all will be dust on the wind. The only things left will the ghosts of the negative emotions left behind by the brutally murdered people of Tamriel. But, do not fear child for there is hope here. You must make your stand and remain a hero. Do not give in to the forces of hell. Fight brave warrior. Fight. Go not quietly into the night." Then I was awoken by a gentle nuzzle on my shoulder and over me stood my slightly concerned horse. I sat up slowly, wincing; aware that my whole being burned with a residual pain. There was no cave in sight and I was so shaken up that there was nothing to do but set up camp where I was .

I was in no shape to travel. A fever had consumed me and I could not hold down so much as a sip of water. The creature's touch must have been meant to kill, but I was slowly surviving it; even if I did have to fight like I'd never had to fight an illness before. The memories of what I had seen before being made to bear a prophecy slowly struck at me until they had managed to slip from my mind and into the oblivion of forgotten things. At the end of that long day, as the sun set and temperatures dropped ever further, I was left simply with a mission to save the world.

It should've been nothing big to me, but I felt an old sense of dread. I may have already done it once or twice as the Dragonborn, but something felt distinctly final about all of this and I didn't like it one bit. In the morning, I was still sick but I gathered myself up and pushed onward to Dawnstar. I had a purpose now and people to protect. Tamriel needed my services once again. I was going to find the man with the obsidian eyes and make him tell me what was going on.

I rode the mare slowly, acutely aware in some part of my mind that I could not afford yet another delay. It was better to get to my destination later than not at all. My fever didn't worsen or better itself, but the pounding in my head slowly began to fade and I was able to focus a little more on staying upright in the saddle. I'd already tried healing spells and a potion of cure disease, but nothing had helped so I reasoned that I just needed to get somewhere proper and take a rest.

By the time Dawnstar came into view, I was a bit damp from the sleeting snow and clumps of it clung wetly to my head. A guard roaming the streets just happened to pass by as I rode my horse into town and he turned to goggle at me. "Letting go a captured dragon…I'll never understand that one." I didn't grace his half-question with an answer. I knew where the inn was and that's all I wanted.

Leaving my horse in the care of the town stable master, I pushed myself up the stairs to the inn. I was bone weary and felt as if that day would never end. I paid the woman at the front of the establishment and told her I knew where the bed I'd just given my gold for was. It wasn't my first time staying overnight in Dawnstar, after all. The moment I hit the bed, I fell asleep. I didn't even have time for pulling the pelt-coverings over me or removing my cumbersome armor. I simply collapsed and let the Oblivion of sleep over take me; praying that Vaermina wasn't up to any tricks this night. Thankfully, the dreams I fell into were creations of my own mind.

x

(Dracanoth)

I stood from the well woven chair, the intricate designs curling every which way, showing the beautiful undeniable talent at the hands of that filthy grimy little troll. It really is quite the piece of work, and I truly am the rightful owner of it. Who else to own such a fine piece of furniture other than the dungeon keeper himself? I can't possibly imagine what a filthy troll or pathetic little goblin would ever have to do with it.

I strolled to a stone shelf acting as a table in lack of any kind of substance to create a table in this world in the far end of the room. I tapped my foot on the hard stone as I stood the sound echoed off of the walls, reverberating down the watery corridors of the dark dungeon, enveloping every creature of the land. The tap of Dracanoth echoed and everyone could hear it for miles in this long intricate system of hallways and rooms made of nothing but stone. Something seemed symbolic about the fact that when the lord of the land so much as tapped his foot everyone under his domain would know of it.

After reviewing the letter it became clear to me that it was time for the gears to start moving. Many of the strands strewn across every tunnel of my dungeon were pulled; every creature was given a job. As imps scattered trying desperately to get to theirs, I realized for the first time that I actually don't have enough. I looked back at my chair in blank recognition that I would not see it again. It's a shame really; I'll have to continue my monotonous existence feeling nothing, without my insignificant dose of Earl Grey to bring some hint of color into the black abyss. The thought only lasted a second before I forced it from my mind. I didn't have time to waste on something as petty as that. Many of the monsters of this land took to such dark things as this "joy" that had crossed my mind earlier. They waste away seeming to lose their fighting ability, becoming incapable, yet more often they just run away from battle. They begin living with another creature of the same race and have children to live out the rest of their days in solitude, in shame. I can't begin to imagine what amounts of sorrow besought these creatures that've become so insignificant. The only thing in this world is war, without war we are nothing, and we have no purpose. Any creatures that decide they are incapable of fighting while they're under my domain of power are put to death, and left to rot on the spot.

A strong deep voice entered my conscious just as I was leaving my thoughts. Of my thoughts of war and of those creatures that wasted away. And my thoughts of how increasingly indifferent I am to any amount of physical pain that the creatures I killed for such horrid treachery went through before their vital signs and organs slowly died off in my longest torture method. "Michael, reporting Sir." I looked down and to my right to my smartest, strongest, and fastest general. The dark angel kneeled before me, his left knee and left fist pressed firmly against the ground, and right fist to his heart, he bowed his head in silence waiting for me to give the command to stand attention, torchlight flickered across his face as he kneeled in waiting.

"At ease." I replied formally. Michael stood at full height. Dark angels are very bold, intelligent and prideful beings, their size reflected that. Yet Michael, being a full sized dark angel, still was able to look me even in the eyes, without the need to look down at me. His muscles rippled under his blue skin, seemingly dunked in a lake of sapphire. A hard leathery cap covered his scalp, a natural growth on dark angels; it was a deep blue and very thick. The cap came down in a half circle, going partway down his forehead and arching back up. This cap went down the back of his head and down his back in a long strip of hard armor. The strip ran down his back, and waned away into a small point at the end of his tailbone. Directly under his neck protruded long, black, feathery wings. This was the mark of a dark angel, the very same one that, with his superior skills, taught me the way of the blade. All the way down his back following the dark blue trail were rippling muscles showing the strength of my best warrior. Muscles of similar appearance covered the rest of his body, the man was more built than I in the long days I spent doing nothing away from the hardships of battle, and this man had been training staying fit should battle come again while I wasted away in comfort. I wasn't going to be entering anymore battles anyway I saw no purpose, why this man did I can't imagine.

"Ready to follow commands, Dracanoth, Sir." His alert, unwavering gaze marked him a warrior and he watched my expression; seeming to analyze me. I wondered what he might think he was going to accomplish in his analysis. I tried to act as if I cared.

"Michael?" I said inquisitively. "Sir." He replied, the look in his eyes not hesitating if even for a moment.

"Your gaze says it all."

He looked down and away for a moment, before returning his gaze and recomposing himself, finally having broke his glare. "Well it's just that… Well, Sir, the men were wondering if you were prepared to go into the other world. You've been ruler of this land for so long, having finally conquered the last keeper and robbing him of his gem. And we've been wandering…. Well…. Are you ready to go into the other world?"

"Whatever do you mean?" I seriously wandered what Michael was after this time. He shifted shortly adjusting himself before looking me in the eyes yet again, his steady deep throated voice coming forth once more.

"Well sir, the men have just enjoyed their service under you, and they aren't sure what they'll do after you've gone."

I scoffed for a moment cynically. That was perhaps the most foolish thing I've ever heard. "Well they'll find a new commander of course. Once I've left this world the gems will be scattered across the lands once more, humans will come into possession of them and try to protect them and keep them. More keepers will get a hold of them, try to collect them to get to the over world, and war will begin. The cycle will repeat."

"Sir it's not so much that they're worried about work it's just that-"

"I honestly don't understand General. You're acting strange, why aren't you your normal self?" Michael looked at me for a moment. I couldn't quite place what that look was he was giving me. I've never seen Michael act so out of line. Even in his years of being around me, constantly bugging me with these sudden outbursts, he never took it this far in his definite insistence. He looked at me, down to the left, his facial expression seemed to take something on but it lasted only a second. He looked back at me, his regular stern gaze waiting for a command returned and the previous look that had glazed over his eyes before that look that I could never understand was seemingly forever lost. I tapped my foot in anticipation of his answer so that we could finally move on from such pointless matters; I thought he would never move on from this one considering how stuck he was on it. The click of boot against the stone floor echoed through the halls, every creature heard, but the first to hear them was Micheal.

The very same even voice that I had expected from my strongest warrior finally replaced his uncertain speak about such foolish things as another creature wants. There is no want for something in this world, there is only needs. Needs to conquer every opposing force in this world and to come out on top, to escape and finally look upon the sky. I tapped my foot one last final time before Michael spoke. It seemed as though he had finally taken notice of my tapping. "It's nothing, sir. I apologize for wasting valuable time."

Occasionally Michael had these strange outbursts, asking me strange questions such as 'how do I feel now that I've gotten all the portal gems', or if I'm feeling the glory of this last victory. Honestly I don't know what gets into him sometimes. I cleared my mind of such matters; I doubt I could ever understand dark angels. They weren't of this world after all. Their intellectual eyes said they were far different from these blunt creatures. I'm just as smart as any but sometimes it seems those eyes see something I don't. Just like that look he gave me moments ago, when he looked at me there was something in his eyes that I could never understand, as to whether they're something dark angels have created in their strange world or if it's actually something physical from his world; I doubt I'll ever know. Michael had a strange look of recognition and acceptance of one of those very things that I could not see, which told me the matter would not be brought up again. He brought these invisible things from another world; they had no business here for no one in this plain of existance could ever understand them.

"Sir, the time is approaching. The boss gathered the materials that our most ancient and long past warlocks called for. All he needs is for you to begin the ritual. Will I be accompanying you, Sir?" Of course, the ritual would be commencing soon.

I considered it a moment, as all the possibilities ran through my head. He's almost as good a swordsman as I am, after he taught me whilst I grew up as a child training to become a full fledged keeper, I used the skills in battle and caught on quickly to what he had taught me. I used these skills in life or death situations every day, and refined them to a new level. He would be a force to be reckoned with, along with his magical abilities, and natural prowess. At the same time, unless he can find a way to disguise himself he would stand out like a beacon in the night sky. If everyone there looks like I do, then someone with blue skin might not "blend in." All this ran through my head, and much more, as I contemplated his use. "Yes, I believe you would be a key part to this operation. Unless you disagree or object, then you will be accompanying me."

He stepped back for a moment, his eyes went wide. It was as if he was hit with the butt end of a mace in battle and stunned. I couldn't imagine what would cause such a reaction. Part of me wondered if he was in pain. The rest of me didn't really care. "Disagree? How would I not agree sir, if I simply don't want to leave this world?" His question befuddled me.

"What? No of course not. I meant if you believe your coming would hinder me in any way then you would stay here of course. As far as my knowledge stretches, you'd be nothing but a great help. Unless you believe me wrong you will be accompanying me." I looked at him for a moment, my glare analyzing his every movement and reaction.

His gaze hardened one final time as he seemed to finally let go of something, he slumped over for a moment in resignation as if giving up and seeing that an enemy is clearly stronger. Of course I knew that nothing of the sort was happening, as to what was going through his head I did not know but I could tell he had let go of this conversation; it would be the end of his strange banter. "Of course, sir, your plan is flawless. I'll go and pack my equipment; I'll be with you and the boss shortly."

"You are dismissed." With that he saluted to me again, dropping to the ground in a similar manner as before. Then, he stood and left to pack his things the muscles of his jaw strained for a moment before he left. Now then, it would be time for me to pack my belongings. I looked at my sword and saw that the old weathered thing wouldn't do any longer. Large nicks covered the entirety of it too deep to work out, and the hilt wiggled freely on the beginning of the sword showing that the bindings had come loose. All across it rust covered the blade from being locked away in a moist area, exposed at all times to the elements of water and air. The blade was as much use at this moment as a twig, the first swing would have its week blade shattered into so many pieces, putting it back together would be worse than a jigsaw puzzle. I'd have to acquire a new one once I've arrived at the new world. In fact, all of my equipment was old and weathered. At least I'll be able to carry light.

As I walked down the musty halls, a strange illness seemed to take over my chest. My heart seemed to beat a little harder. I must be sick; the skin of my chest seemed tight. Clearly I'm coming down with some form of cold, and my body was falling under the weather. It will pass shortly though. Finally arriving at my destination, I took a left in the dark hallway, and stepped into the room cast with a red light. A warlock's body lay in the middle of the floor, his chest torn in twain, his heart bare. Oddly enough, through all the carnage I've seen, this is my very first time seeing a warlock heart. The hairy, black and shriveled little thing was odd. Clearly it carried some form of the magical essence that was the life form of this warlock. Around him lay some other dark incantations of magic, to his left and right were two magical boxes that my old friend and I had acquired while raiding a goodly hero, magical boxes containing nothing more than immense amounts of concentrated mana, to be cast in any form we need it to be. Around both boxes, were dark messages and symbols spelled from the warlock's magical blood. Without traces of magic in the blood, the symbols would not be read in the spell, for the magical boxes would have nowhere to send their magical essence. The warlock acted as the embodiment of the spell, the boxes the source and his blood a pathway for magic to register.

My large horned friend stood beside me, looking down at me, my angelic General walked in behind me having dealt with the finality of everything before leaving with us and stood on the other side of me, as we said the final incantations to complete the spell. On either side of our little dead friend, the magical boxes we collected crumpled and shrunk until disappearing from existence. After I spoke that one last word, black corrupted the blood on the floor, coursing through it, reaching my best warlock's corpse, where oddly enough, black tentacles erupt from a black hole appearing directly over it, seeming to drag the light of the room into it. These tentacles claimed the body, disintegrated it, and vanished into the hole from which they came, leaving only ash. The event startled me, but our ritual seemed to continue uninterrupted, so the event was obviously a minor mistake and one that could be ignored. Likely it was some force from the other world we were latching on to claiming its price from this world for allowing us passage, or perhaps it was in seek of something else. Two feet in front of what was his head, something strange opened; a sliver of red had appeared. The air crackled with power, tendrils of magic whipped and tore. My skin stung under the immense power, as the large red crack shattered and grew, seeming to tear its way into our world. The air before us, cracked like a sheet of glass, as something of another world arrived. Two strange black talons erupted through the earth, winding around each other as they arched to meet in mid air. Between both of these talons, an ovular red gate appeared. A gate once written and recorded long ago by our ancestors and a gate that somehow slipped into our world centuries ago, the gate of Oblivion.