~Echoes~

15th of First Seed
2:34 am
The Raw Fade
Sortiara

The Fade. A realm of ethereal magic, and the realm of dreams for mortals. Every living being who sleeps enters the Fade to do so, the dreams but fantasies invented by demons to entertain mortal souls. For in doing so, the Demons grow in strength, and eventually attempt to leave the Fade by possessing a host body. Most of the lower-class demons, such as those of Hunger, Wrath, or Envy, end up in already dead forms and create Draugr and Skeletons.

However, more powerful demons, like those of Sloth and Greed, need a greater form to take over, one that is living. An animal would suffice for these Demons. However, those of Desire (second only to those of Pride) require a sentient mind to cross over. And that is where magi come in.

Those who are proficient in the magical arts stay conscious within the Fade. Like myself, we wander the land of magic, trying not to attract the attention of powerful demons who would enthrall our bodies and minds. Unfortunately for me, I found myself on a small island of the Fade, unable to feel my real body. An extremely powerful Demon had possessed me, and I had to fight it off.

However, I lacked much in the Fade. What I had were simple robes, shoes, and my wit. Food and water are nonexistent in the Fade, and one does not require them, but the pain of hunger still gnawed at me. The small island in the middle of the empty space had nothing on it, save for an enchanted chain the was attached to a collar of magic around my neck, which signified that a demon had taken my real body.

My mind went back to that spirit in the cave. What sort of Demon was that? It had to be one of Desire or Pride; they're the only ones strong enough to make a specter in real life. As of to answer, I sensed a presence behind me. Turning around, the Demon behind me was a hulking mass of dark, inky blackness, with pearly-white fangs and four glowing, red eyes. "Greetings, my lovely mage. Good to see you awake at last."

It was odd to hear a demon talk like that; he seemed gentle, kind even. But that's how they trick mortals. "I know you're only giving me courtesy to try to swoon me out of my body permanently. I won't fall for that." I replied.

"I knew you wouldn't." The demon said, "I am showing courtesy befitting my status as a Demon Lord." His form bowed. "My name is Destruction, and I must say, you are the only one of my thralls competent enough to even be possessed. That is worthy of respect."

"Good to know even the demons respect me." I said. I knew I had to fight this monster alone. Dyce and Owain couldn't save me this time; non-magical beings like themselves wouldn't be able to be awake in this realm. "Tell me, though. Why chain me to a rock? Why not enchant a fantasy for me to blissfully live in?"

"I knew you would break out of it. But, maybe you're right; I should be more hospitable to my body's former owner. I'll give you a fantasy, but the chain stays." He snapped his fingers, and the world melted away, only to be replaced with the library at the College of Winterhold. I cracked open several books, only to find out that they were all actually the stock from the place. Instantly, I knew he had made a fatal flaw.

He put me in a library.

~Several hours later~

I finally found the volume that I sought. It was a reference guide to the Planes of Oblivion. I also distinctly remember one certain Daedric Prince owing us for helping him. Cautiously, I reached out with my magic to the Shivering Isles, trying to latch on to its signature magical aura. Destruction may have been able to take over my body, but his flaw was a lack of planning and thought.

Most demons believe that once they capture a mage's body, the mage is forever trapped in the Fade. However, if I were to separate fully from my body, I could move my spirit almost anywhere- the only exception being the real world. In doing so, the demon gains full and complete control over the body, and it would be almost impossible to get it back. Then again, it already is, so I've not much to lose, don't I?

I initiated the spell, a slight *pop* sound emanating from nowhere. A flash of my purple aura engulfed me, and when it subsided, I found myself in a small antechamber. There was one door in the room, behind a desk. A metronome and a book rested on the desk, and behind it sat a balding man, who looked in his forties. "Greetings, young lady." The man said. "I must say, I am surprised you managed to get here. The doorway is closed."

"I teleported my soul here. I'm here to see Sheogorath." I replied.

"The master had recently arrived back home from his imprisonment, indeed." The man said. "He's in the Shivering Isles proper, behind the door. But I'm afraid you can't enter."

"Why not?"I replied. I sat down in the chair opposite him.

"The master has forbidden-" At that moment, Sheogorath himself stepped forward from the door.

"Now, who in their wrong mind- Oh! You're that young lass from the other month!" the mad god said. "What can I do for you? After you informed that Erika lass of her husband, the poor sod felt 'happy that she was' and passed on, letting me escape!"

I proceeded to tell Sheogorath about my current plight. After doing so, he snapped his fingers, conjuring up another chair and sitting in it. "Lass, I can't begin to tell you how deep in trouble you are. Please tell me you didn't say the Demon's name was 'Destruction'." He was oddly serious.

"It was… why, is he powerful?" I asked. It was unlike Sheogorath to be scared. His face visibly paled, and sweat formed on his brow.

"Lass… Destruction is the second most powerful demon who has ever lived. Or one of the four who could claim that. And, well, since the Demon King is dead, I would venture and say he is one of the four most powerful demons currently in existence. To say his power rivals mine would be an insult. To him."

"My lord…" The attendant said. "You don't mean to say…"

"Lass, I'm sorry, but I'm just not strong enough to fight him. Not on my own, anyway." Sheogorath stood up. "And unfortunately, I don't know how to do it other than by fighting him." He thought for a second. "But I think I know who does."

"Who? Who would have the power needed to fight him?" I asked.

"You may think we Daedra are evil, and while Dagon and Molag Probably are, we're not." A snap of his fingers created a small platter of cheeses to float next to him. After taking a bite, he continued. "And even those two don't truly want the world to end; they simply want to control it. Come with me, lass. Let's go talk to gods."

~End of Segment~

Three hours earlier
Dragonsreach
Koray

"My prince," a messenger said, grabbing my attention. "A letter from your father." He handed me a small slip of paper, then went on to the rest of his duties.

Dear Koray,

I also rejoice in the victory over Whiterun. The newly appointed Jarl has also exceeded my expectations. I want you to take a small division of the Avon Stormwings and travel to Cloudridge. Convince the Jarl of Cloudridge, Alistar, to join our cause by peaceful means. Only fight if you must.

Your father,
Ulfric

Nodding to myself, I traveled to the Stormwing encampment outside the city. In the largest tent stood Galmor and two of his generals, discussing strategy. "Greetings, Galmor."

"My prince, I must apologize, but strategy must come first." He said.

"I've come on my father's direct orders. I need twenty Avon soldiers to follow me on a diplomatic mission." Galmor looked at me strangely, thinking I must have broken something. Instead, I showed him my father's letter. Scanning over it, he seemed confused.

"Cloudridge? I've never heard of that town." Galmor said.

"Of course you haven't." I replied. "It's an Avon city." More confusion from him. "Avons have more secrets than they let on, Galmor. And even the most weak-minded of them keep those under steel locks in their minds. I require twenty Avon soldiers."

"I don't know for sure about this… but this is Ulfric's seal, so I guess it's legitimate. Take the fourth squadron; they should be in their tents right now." Galmor gestured towards a group of tents that had a unique symbol on them in addition to the normal Stormwing one. The intricate design of feathers and a beak told me that this was the Fourth Squadron, the best fliers in the entire army.

"Greetings, men." I said as I approached. Their uniforms were more streamlined than the usual tunics, and none of them carried heavy weapons; small swords, crossbows, and wingblades were their weapons of choice. "You have been assigned to my command, and we leave before the hour is up."

The commander of the Fourth Squadron walked up to me. Standing several heads over me, he's easily the tallest Avon I've ever seen. His carefully preened feathers were a bright crimson, and his eyes were ice-blue. "Where are we going, my prince?" He asked.

When I told them the answer, several of them cheered. "Cloudridge."

~End of Segment~

Daybreak, same day
The Ruins of Dawnstar
Owain

I was roused from my sleep by Dyce, who had a skeptical look on his face. Shrugging, too tired to crack a joke, I went to wake up Edgar, but Dyce simply shook his head and motioned for me to follow. Slipping on a pair of pants, I did just that. He led me into the room of the half-destroyed inn that we had Scarecrow resting. "She's waking up. Now's a good time to get answers from her." Dyce said.

"Alright, let's talk to her. I was hoping to woo her on my own, but having a wingman, figuratively speaking, is just as good." We walked into the room, to see Scarecrow awake in her bed. Her bow was propped against the wall next to her, but she was obviously too injured to fight. "Hello, welcome back to the land of the living."

"How long was I out?" She asked, her voice sounding less like the low gruff she pretended to have.

"About a day." Dyce said. His own sword was belted to his hip, and he looked ready to draw it. "I just have a few questions for you, that's all."

"Ask away." Scarecrow said. "I'm not in any position to refuse anything, right?" Oh, you can be in quite a few positions, Scarecrow… if you're willing.

"What happened to Sortiara?" Dyce asked. "She's been asleep longer than you have now. She also started attacking me in those tunnels…"

"She was taken over by a demon. I've seen it happen before." Scarecrow said. "Her real soul isn't in that body."

"How do we get her soul back, then?" I asked immediately. "Holy water? An exorcist? Sacrifice something in the name of Celina?"

"You need to get her body to the College of Winterhold. The Archmage would know what to do here." Scarecrow said.

"Alright," Dyce said. "Next question: why did you hide your identity? What's your real name?"

Scarecrow laughed. "Funny story, that. I don't remember my real name, and I wear that cloak because it's what I woke up in- while nailed to a stake in the ground in the middle of a field, the farmers thinking my 'corpse' would make a good Scarecrow. So that's what I named myself."

Dyce and I simply looked at one another. "Last one," I said, aiming to find out something. "Why do you look so much like Sortiara?"

She simply shrugged. "Oblivion if I know. All I do know is that something inside me's telling me to join up with her, help her. And so, that's what I'll do. You two can trust me; you have my bow for your future endeavors, Dragonend."

Dyce indicated that he'd like to check up on Sortiara, so I hadn't bothered him. Slipping the rest of my armor on and grabbing my mace, I went out of the inn to find more supplies, to see if anything in the wreckage could be useful. Hey, if I found several heads of fresh cabbage in Bleak Falls Barrow, I'm pretty sure there's something edible here.

As I sifted through the wreckage, I heard a cry from outside the village. Curious, I poked my head around a corner, only to see a nord man, heavily wounded, running for his life from some extremely grotesque creature. The creature was humanoid, with rusty bronze armor strapped to its pale hide. The monster had no hair, and its mouth was in an unnatural jagged grin.

"HELP!" The man screamed, having no weapons of his own. I instantly jumped to action, swinging my mace at the monster's head. It ducked, and kept running after the man. I watched in horror as the monster cast aside its weapon, sinking its teeth into the man's flesh.

The nord screamed out in pain, and he foamed at the mouth before falling lifelessly to the ground. The monster simply retrieved its weapon, a sharp, jagged length of metal that could barely pass for a sword, and turned its gaze to me. I knew I didn't want that thing getting close to me, and so I pelted it with wingblades.

The first two were blocked by the creature, but my third landed home in its neck. Black blood pooled out of the wound and its mouth, and the creature seemed to laugh as it died. When it finally stopped bleeding, it fell down next to the man it killed. I felt something behind me, a sense of danger. Turning, I saw a horde of the same kind of creature, accompanied by Avon-like ones. I ran towards the inn.

"DYCE! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"

~End of Chapter~