Chapter 4: A Prize Unearthed

"This is the part where you fall down and bleed to death!" the Orc Vampire Matron shouted as she swung her mighty, two-handed Daedric axe. The blow, strong enough to sweep the head off any foe, missed its target and impacted against a stone column. A large portion of the chiseled stonework crumbled beneath the power of the attack leaving a deep gash.

"Ha ha!" Arissa goaded. "You move like a pregnant cow!"

The enraged undead Orc swung her axe again, this time in a downward chop. Nimble as a cat, Arissa somersaulted backwards, and easily avoided the deadly blow. Landing lightly on her toes, her two daggers were held at her sides as she crouched low with her legs coiled for another spring.

"Hold still you insect!" the matron shouted before hissing in anger. Again, she swung her two-handed axe, and again the agile assassin dodged.

Finally, Arissa began to breathe easier. After wading through a small army of vampires and militant Dunmer with relative ease, she had found herself face to face with the leader of the clan. With no means of stealth or surprise, Arissa had been relying on the matron's own thirst to make her clumsy and manageable. Unfortunately that hadn't been the case. While most of the matron's brethren had been near mad with bloodlust, their leader had proven to be more level-headed.

In the first few minutes of their encounter, she had known the Orc's skills with an axe were beyond her abilities. The matron's defense was perfect, and her attacks coordinated to flawless precision. Even Arissa was impressed at the woman's command of the normally unruly weapon. Impressed as she was, however, she was also more than a little annoyed. With such incredible skill there was no way she was going to get by the beast woman.

Only now, after nearly twenty minutes of near misses, aggressive taunting, and narrow escapes had the Breton assassin managed to whittle down the Orc's resolve. Even with the aid of several agility and restorative potions Arissa was beginning to feel fatigued from the encounter. If the matron didn't present her with an opening soon then she knew a hasty retreat would be in order.

One well-placed strike was all she would need. Knowing well the weaknesses of vampires, Arissa had been using her two fire-enchanted daggers. Although she had not chosen to carry them out of anticipation – as she never expected to encounter the creatures in Varsa Baalim – luckily they were part of her regular arsenal. Fortunately, with each dodge and evasion, the Orc was beginning to present Arissa with more opportunities as her attacks became more and more reckless.

Finally, she saw her chance.

The matron, now howling with rage, swept her axe horizontally. First she swung from her left to right, then, with amazing skill, she reversed back to her left. Her feet, however, were out of position, and the second swing placed her off-balance.

Seizing the opportunity, Arissa reversed her grip on the dagger in her right hand as she utilized all of her speed and stepped in underneath the Orc's arm. Finding the crease in the Daedric armor, she shoved her blade deep into the woman's armpit. As she released the enchantment flames sprung forth from the wound and into the undead body. Continuing her stride, Arissa soon found herself behind the Orc and she spun around and drove the dagger in her left hand deep into the creature's neck. Just as before, flames quickly enveloped the cut and spread throughout the woman's body. With what little strength she had left, Arissa threw all her weight against the matron's back and shoved her over the edge.

Now bathed in fire as the magic – fueled by her own undead tissue – engulfed her, the matron screamed in agony as she fell over the narrow path they had been dueling upon. By the time she hit the floor below, most of her body had been reduced to ash.

Still holding her daggers in a defensive position, Arissa looked down at the smoldering cinders of the matron's corpse. Only when she was sure there would be no further threat did she relax her stance. After looking around to make certain there were no more surprises hiding around the corner did she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

The encounter over, Arissa felt the adrenaline quickly leave her system. As exhaustion fell over her, she collapsed on her back and gasped for air. She was sweating profusely, and her leather armor was sticking to her body in several rather uncomfortable places.

Having explored most of the ruins herself, she hoped there was no more danger of being discovered or caught unawares for the moment. Utilizing the lapse in activity, she quickly unbuckled the straps of her armor and opened the front to let in the cooler air of the ancient ruins. With her water skin and other supplies outside the ruins, she had to make due with whatever relief she had. Granting herself further reprieve, she unwrapped the scarf from around her face and pulled off her hood as well.

Thankful for the moment of peace, Arissa took several deep breaths of the slightly stale cavern air and considered her situation. She had embarked on her little adventure several weeks ago. During her last contract in Bruma she had come across several rumors of a Daedric artifact which had recently been discovered. While normally dismissive of commoner banter the descriptions she had overheard had given the tale more credibility than most. While the person leading the excavation – a disgruntled Dunmer raising an army – was enough to deter most from attempting to steal the item, Arissa saw it only as a test of her skills. Of course, at the time, she had no way of knowing just how greatly her skills would be tested.

In the four days since she had entered the fort above she had not eaten much beyond a few small bites of flatbread and an apple. The meager portions had been "acquired" from the mess hall of the soldiers stationed in the fort above the ruins. They were all she dared risk lest a legion of mercenary recruits become aware of her presence. That and a few sips of stolen water had comprised her rations for the duration of her stay. As if her situation wasn't troublesome enough even if she survived acquiring the artifact, she would have to wade unseen through the army above to make her escape. It was only by the grace of Sithis that her presence had not been noticed above.

Of the three dozen or so mercenaries which had been dispatched to explore the ruins nearly a third of them had fallen to her blades or poisons. The rest had met their end at the hands of the vampiric cult which had made a home of the ruins. Unfortunately for her, vampire senses were far more attuned than mortal ones and she had not been able to sneak by any of their numbers. Of course whenever possible, she had led the undead creatures into the path of the mercenary scouting parties. Arissa was always happy to introduce people of varying cultures to each other… for the sake of diplomacy. Despite her numerous efforts, the two groups didn't seem to have much to say to each other except for a colorful exchange of shouted curses and demonstrations on the proper use of weapons. But she had tried, that was the important thing.

With one last deep breath, Arissa decided her moment of rest was over and fought the urge to groan as she sat up. Wrapping her face in the scarf once more, she slid into a familiar crouch and continued forward and down a small flight of stairs.

At the base of the steps she found a stone doorway leading further into the depths of the Valus Mountains. Stepping through she was surprised to find the passage littered with corpses. Most of the bodies had begun to progress through the stages of decay. The smell was almost overpowering, but Arissa was determined to continue on after coming so far.

Using well-trained and measured steps she made her way down yet another flight of winding stairs. Making no sound she focused on her own hearing to detect what lay ahead. When she reached the bottom of the second set of steps she was surprised to feel the smallest of breezes touch her cheeks. After days of nothing but stale air even the slightest hint of fresh air was a blessing. Adding only the smallest bit of haste to her steps, she moved more quickly but froze instantly when she heard a rambling voice ahead.

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought her presence had been detected but soon she relaxed as she realized the voice wasn't directed toward her. With her body pressed against the wall she crept silently into the room ahead. As the chamber came into view she almost gasped at what she saw.

In a room of crumbled stone and jagged black crystal was an upright coffin bearing the frozen body of a Nord warrior. His body was covered in impressive looking Daedric armor and by his stature alone, she could tell he was a formidable man in his time. The only apparent imperfection in his figure was the wide, gaping hole in his chest, where his armor and even ribs had been torn away to expose a still heart. Glancing around she saw the walls were covered in strange carvings and Daedric writing. Scattered throughout the chamber were small fissures venting volcanic ash into the room. The stink of sulfur was strong and combined with the stench of rotting corpses the odor nearly stung her eyes.

Standing in front of the frozen Nord was a figure garbed in red mages robes. After ranting at the warrior figure he would pace back and forth several times before stopping in the same spot only to rant again. Over and over he repeated the strange activity and Arissa planned her movements in time with his own. Utilizing the man's repetitions she was able to sneak into the chamber proper without notice.

Near a small fire she found a bedroll and journal lying out in the open. Positioning herself out of sight, she snatched the small book and read through its contents. Mostly it was a retelling of the discovery of the chamber and though it did help fill in some of the blanks as to the nature of the room otherwise it wasn't very useful.

After replacing the journal where she had found it Arissa scanned the room once more. Finally, she found what she had been looking for. Suspended in mid-air behind a metal grating was a dagger of unique design. The blade resembled the red, obsidian-like formations in the room but, unlike the other material it seemed to glow with an inner fire that pulsated periodically. Gazing at the glowing blade, she became transfixed by it and felt a strange pull within her. Little by little she began to hear strange whispering in her head followed by a low, rumbling laughter. Shaking her head suddenly, she tried to block out the unnerving words lest they distract her from the task at hand.

She turned back to the man in the room then, and planned her next move.

Killing the Dunmer flat out was out of the question, she figured. Arissa knew very well the pacing mer was a former Telvanni wizard, and exile or not, she knew enough of their abilities to be wary in her attack. Even from where she stood she could feel the magic emanating from him. His very steps sent waves through the tides of mystical energy that swirled throughout the chamber.

As usual, surprise would be her best weapon.

For better or worse, the wizard suddenly solved her problem for her. With one final shout of rage, he ran toward the metal grating separating the dagger from his grasp and shook the divider with all his might. She could feel the magicka seeping into him as he used magic to fuel his efforts. So focused was he on his brute force attempt, however, he never noticed as the Nord warrior began to move.

Initially she believed it to be a trick of her imagination, but it soon became apparent her eyes were not deceiving her when the man leaned forward and stepped from the coffin. He reached behind him and brandished a Daedric axe before turning toward the wizard. It wasn't until he had crossed half of the distance to the mer that the other noticed his presence.

The laughter in her mind began to rumble again as the Nord closed in on the unsuspecting wizard. The metal grate rang loud as the Daedric steel scraped against it.

Somehow, the Dunmer realized he was no longer alone and managed to duck just in time to avoid having his head lopped off by the Nord's wicked looking axe.

"So this is your test, Dagon?" he asked aloud. "You send a failed champion against me? How insulting!"

Again the Nord warrior swung his axe and again the wizard avoided the attack. Spinning away, the wizard placed several yards of distance between them and began to chant softly.

As his opponent readied his spell the Nord turned to face him and, with greater speed than Arissa would have thought possible, launched his axe straight at the Telvanni's chest. In less time than it took to blink, the vaulted weapon hit its mark and most of the blade disappeared into the mer wizard.

Confusion spread across his face as the exile fell to his knees. He looked at the protruding shaft and back to the Nord, bewilderment still playing through his features.

"Damn you, Faythung," he whispered in a garbled and watery voice before collapsing backwards. Slowly, his head slid sideways and blood poured out of his mouth. As it pooled next to him Arissa watched in fascination as it stained his red robes a deeper crimson.

Expressionless and with cold, dead eyes, the Nord walked over to the corpse and unceremoniously withdrew his axe. A chilling shiver ran down her spine when he rose up and turned to face her directly and she thought her head would split in two as the chuckling in her mind became insane, howling laughter. It was only sheer instinct that made her dodge to her left when she saw the Nord draw his axe over his shoulder once more.

Rather than ricochet off the crystal and stone, the axe was thrown with so much force it actually embedded itself several inches into the wall. Small shards flecked off and cut her cheek as the blade missed her head by less than an inch. The adrenaline now shooting through her veins helped to shut out the voice in her head once and for all.

Thinking, foolishly perhaps, that the Nord was now vulnerable without his weapon Arissa launched forward from her hiding place and drew two daggers. The Nord stood in place with his hands at his sides and made no move to defend himself as her blades closed in on his throat. She actually smiled in that moment.

Her grim glee quickly turned to shock when she felt the warrior's gauntleted fists close on her wrists. With a grip like a vice, he squeezed and twisted both her wrists. The pain was unbearable and she couldn't help but scream out as her hands involuntarily released their grips on her weapons. In a single blurred movement, the Nord swept her arms out wide and swung his head forward. By some miracle of Sithis Arissa managed to maintain consciousness as his forehead collided with the bridge of her nose.

With the taste and smell of blood assaulting her senses, the Nord dropped her to the cold stone floor in a heap. Though still aware, Arissa found it difficult to focus or move her lethargic limbs. When she did manage to manipulate one of her arms she felt another wave of pain sweep through her and she realized that her right arm had been dislocated at the shoulder.

Now with her strong arm out of commission, Arissa began to wonder if she would survive this encounter. She knew, however, that if she dawdled any longer there would be no question.

Steeling herself for the pain she drew her right arm in close to her body and scrambled to her feet. The sound of metal being wrenched from stone told her where the Nord had disappeared to for the moment. Still nursing her right arm, she pulled another dagger from her belt with her left hand.

Her head was swimming and she staggered slightly as the Nord turned to face her again, his Daedric axe in hand once more. In a feeble attempt at intimidation, she held her one dagger in a defensive position. Hunched over and bleeding as she was, however, she doubted a lame rabbit would have had much fear at the sight of her, let alone an undead Nord warrior.

Arissa wondered if magic would be effective against her opponent. In her present state, though, it was doubtful she could summon up even the weakest illumination spell. Also, considering she had not touched magic since the incident with Vicente several years back Arissa dismissed the idea almost immediately.

So she would use her wits and wiles against him. She almost laughed aloud at the thought. Battered, weakened, and nursing what had to be a broken arm Arissa closed her eyes and thought on all that her father had taught her. Inhaling deeply, Arissa ignored the stink of sulfur and stagnant air and focused on the traces of fresh air. Her tongue slipped out and caressed her lips while she reveled in the salty, metallic taste it found. As the flavor of her own blood ran through her she felt herself become physically aroused and she let out a soft moan.

The moment seemed to last forever, but she took hold of herself and focused again.

"You are not a cudgel, my daughter," she heard Lucien's words in her thoughts.

"I am a scalpel," she whispered.

"You do not fear…"

"I overcome."

"If your enemy is stronger…"

"I am faster."

"Remember, a dagger in the heart kills a king as easily as a pauper…"

Her eyes popped open as she repeated the words, "… a dagger in the heart."

Immediately her attention went to the now beating heart centered in the Nord's chest cavity. It had been still before! She had only a moment to formulate a plan as the warrior – now only a step away from her – swung his axe level with her shoulders.

Twisting her torso and head sideways, Arissa managed to duck just an inch below the blade as it passed over her. He recovered quickly, however, and attacked again. Once more, however, Arissa's years of training put her a fraction of a step ahead of the Nord and he missed by an inch. Again and again he swept his blade towards, over, and at her, but each time he met only air as her body twisted and slid away.

Eventually her moment came, and she managed to deflect the Nord's axe wide with her left hand. Bracing herself for the shot of pain she knew would come, Arissa drew a dagger with her right hand and stabbed the blade deep into the undead warrior's heart. For a moment she locked eyes with the Nord and she felt a surge of excitement course through her as his face showed emotion for the first time since his awakening. Surprise… and pain.

But Arissa wasn't done. With a whisper of a word, she unleashed the full fury of the blade into the heart of the Nord and she watched in fascination as the flames washed over the warrior's body. Enraged, he threw his arm forward and pushed her away.

His anger had lent him strength and Arissa felt the full force of it as she slammed hard into the wall several feet behind her. As her head collided with the hard stone she almost lost consciousness again, but through sheer force of will she managed to keep her wits about her. With a wicked smile on her lips, she saw the flames flicker and blink out around the Nord's body as the enchantment died. The damage had been done, though, and almost half of the man's face had been burnt to expose the tissue underneath the skin.

Even as the pain shot through her, Arissa's macabre grin continued as she raised her right arm and displayed her prize to the undead Nord. Impaled on her dagger the warrior's heart pulsed one last time before falling still.

"Did I steal your heart, Faythung?" she asked with a sinister sparkle in her eye.

Faythung said not a word, but instead fell to his knees and dropped his axe as he covered his gaping chest with both hands. From the wound, blood began to flood through his clasped fingers and onto the floor below.

Arissa leaned against the wall and watched the spectacle with awe as the undead Nord's lifeforce spilled out of him.

It took less than a minute for him to fall forward in a loud clatter of Daedric steel. Still fascinated with the sight, she stared as his body slowly began to turn to ash and crumble into dust. After another minute all that remained was the rotting heart on her blade.

Unable to bear the pain any longer, Arissa let her right arm drop and heard the heart softly plop onto the stones as gravity pulled it loose. Slowly, she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor.

With her left hand she began searching through her pockets for a healing potion. Her search proved fruitless as she felt only broken shards of the vials in her pouches. Apparently the last of her potions had been broken in the fight with Faythung.

Groggily, she looked over at Frathen Drothan's body before dragging herself towards the dead wizard. When she reached his corpse she noted – with some amusement – that he still had the look of surprise etched on his face. With a bemused smirk she searched through the mage's robes until she found what she was looking for. A small bundle containing several small vials was concealed within Drothan's right sleeve.

Careful to study the color, odor, and clarity of the mixtures, Arissa selected one that looked particularly promising. After uncorking the top, she threw her head back and swallowed the contents in one gulp. Even so, she could not help but cough at the foul aftertaste the potion left.

Terrible as it may have tasted, she was impressed with the potency of the elixir as its healing power swept through her. The nicks and cuts she had received were the first to vanish and she felt some of her strength return after a few moments. When she flexed her right arm, Arissa discovered that though it was still tender and slightly stiff, most of the pain from the break had subsided. She was just glad it was useable again.

Wiping the sweat from her brow she rose to her feet but swayed a bit as a wave of nausea washed over. Although the potion had done much to heal her, she knew even its power couldn't undo all the damage Faythung had caused. Only time could do that, or the skills of a true healer. It was enough, though. For now…

After taking a few breaths to steady herself, Arissa turned towards the far end of the room and headed toward her prize. Still suspended in mid-air Mehrunes Razor spun in place lazily. With each rotation the glint of the strange metal reflected back in a dizzying dance of colors. As she neared, the deep, rumbling voice in her head started up again. This time it wasn't laughing, but chanting in a Daedric tongue.

Arissa felt her breathing quicken slightly as her heart began to race and with each step the voice became louder and more hastened. When she reached out to touch the metal grate the rumbling in her head became so invigorated it made her head spin. Suddenly feeling as if she were suffering from too much ale, she still managed to keep her feet under her.

Upon making contact with the metal partition it immediately dropped down into the stone floor, clearing the way to the floating dagger. Feeling the sweat beads running down her back, Arissa reached out and took hold of the handle.

The voice bellowed anew in her mind and threatened to shatter her very skull. Even though she was screaming in pain, Arissa refused to let go of the blade she had fought so hard to obtain.

"The dagger is mine, Dagon!" she shouted to gritted teeth.

In response the voice in her head roared with laughter.

Refusing to back down, she shouted again, "I earned it!"

Still unwilling to give up the dagger so easily, the voice growled a challenge then began to chant once more.

Arissa could feel her skin blistering as Mehrunes Razor gave off bursts of heat along her fingers. At the same time, she could feel the blade tugging on her as if it were trying to pull her very soul into its depths.

But she would not be outdone, not after coming so far.

"I waded through dozens of soldiers-" she shouted.

The voice hissed.

"- a den of vampires-"

The voice laughed.

"- and I bested your champion!"

The voice cried out with glee.

"You won't deny me the Razor!"

With every ounce of will she could muster, Arissa reached out to the mystical energy. Tidal forces of magicka swept through the room as she challenged the will of the Razor with her own. As the room began to rumble, the stone beneath her feet cracked, and large chunks of the ceiling collapsed in. The crystal pillars fell over and shattered on the hard floor.

The Razor began to vibrate and the heat became stronger, but Arissa was relentless and refused to let go.

The room vanished as the heat of flame and stink of sulfur overcame her. She found herself standing in a realm of fire as the air and even clouds above seemed to burn. Torrents of wind seemed to appear from the blade, threatening to force her away and into the fires. Both her and the Razor were floating in a sea of infernos and still clutching to the Razor Arissa knew if she were to let go now she would be lost to the flames forever. But she didn't know how long she could hold on as the fire began to close in around her, hoping to consume her entirely.

Reaching deep within herself, she summoned forth all her strength and called upon the protection of Sithis. She could feel his dark hands enclosing as her calls were answered and her wicked grin returned as robes of black ash fell over her whole body. Although the fires continued to rage, they could not touch her, and not even the heat was a hindrance any longer.

"The Razor is mine, Dagon!" she shouted again.

She almost did let go as the figure of the Daedric Prince of Destruction appeared before her. Three of his four arms were held out wide as his hands balled into fists. The fourth hand was clutching tightly to the blade of the Razor.

Bathed in fire and breathing out gusts of sulfur, Mehrunes opened his massive jaws and roared. His glowing red eyes flared forth as he looked at her. He swung one of his mighty fists toward her, and for a moment Arissa thought she would be shattered by the blow. Before the attack even came close to her, however, a tentacle of ash swept out of her robes and caught the Prince's wrist. With a grip far beyond the power of any mortal, the tentacle held tight to the Prince of Destruction. Mehrunes pulled and pushed with all his might, but neither his arm nor the tentacle moved.

When the Prince realized he could not break the Lord of the Void's hold he looked to Arissa again and roared with rage.

"You dare to challenge a Daedric Prince?" he growled in a voice that boomed through her ears and mind.

Shaking off the effects of Mehrunes' voice, Arissa only smiled wickedly before answering, "I dare and delight."

In response the Prince of Destruction howled again and spat out flames straight toward her small form. Rather than shrink from the attack, she trusted in the power of the Dark Father and watched – with some amusement – as the fire evaporated several feet in front of her. Still, she felt her connection to the Void strain when the blast impacted with the shield around her and she knew then that a prolonged encounter would invariably end in her death.

"The Razor will be mine, Dagon!" she shouted again.

"The Razor is mine to give!" the Daedric Prince contended.

"And I earned it! It will claim countless souls in my hands! Far more than any other who held it before me!"

"All in the name of Sithis!"

Arissa's eyes widened as she realized why Mehrunes Dagon was unwilling to give her the Razor. Yes, she would take life after life with the blade, but the souls would not go to the Prince of Destruction if she were claiming them in the name of Sithis! Changing tactics, she spoke again.

"Yes!" she admitted. "The souls I take will belong to my Dark Father and Lord of the Void, but all will know the blade that took those souls! None will mistake Mehrunes Razor for any simple weapon! They will all know it and its father!. And as the blood drips from its edge the mortal world will tremble that much more at the name of Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of Destruction! For they will come to see that even in the shadows lurks the might of the Lord of Oblivion!"

Arissa could see Mehrunes' expression begin to change as her words took effect. Slowly the look of rage and hate was replaced with one of glee. The Prince's hate of the land of Mundus was well known to all and she had guessed right in assuming he would delight in furthering the people's fears of his name in any way he could.

"Then take my Razor, daughter of Sithis!" he bellowed with insane laughter. "And make sure the world knows with what blade you claim their souls!"

With those words, he released his grip on the Razor and Arissa felt her body being thrown back into the mortal world. Her head spinning she fell to the stone floor of the cavern and retched violently. Spewing out what little sustenance was left in her stomach, the disorientation only seemed to worsen and she had to take several deep breaths before being able to stand again.

Hardly believing what she had just done, Arissa stared down at her hand and turned Mehrunes Razor around. The handle still felt warm to the touch but she no longer felt the sense of anger and hate she had before. In fact, the blade seemed rather eager to be held and she thought she could even feel a sense of thirst coming though the grip. The Razor had accepted her as its master and was fervent in its desire to serve.

Taking another series of labored breaths she finally managed to center herself and slid the dagger into her belt. She figured she would have to have a sheath made for it when she returned to Cheydinhal but that shouldn't prove difficult. In the meantime, however, she would have to make her way out of the ruins, through the fort, and past a score of Drothmeri soldiers before she could even consider reaching the safety of the Sanctuary.

A sound from behind startled her suddenly and she turned to see the rear portion of the Razor's small chamber fall into the ground and reveal a hidden passage. Drawing the dagger, she slowly crept through the narrow tunnel and made her way towards the sound of dripping water. After only a few minutes of walking she found a cavern with a small pond. From beneath the surface of the water she could see several tendrils of light pouring through.

Replacing the Razor in her belt, she made her way towards the pond and lowered herself into the water. Once she had reached the far wall, she took a deep breath and swam through the narrow underwater passage towards the light. As she progressed the rays of sun became brighter and brighter until she had to squint her eyes against them. Her breath had nearly run out when she broke the surface and breathed in the sweet open air.

With the whole ordeal behind her, her body quickly began to ache and her arms protested with each stroke she took towards the shore. When she finally pulled herself up onto the stony beach nearly all the strength had left her. Exhausted as she was, her skin was screaming for release and she spent several moments peeling off her sweat-hardened leather armor. Only then did she allow herself a reprieve and collapse back onto the thoroughly uncomfortable rocky shore.

Arissa languished there for some time breathing heavily but enjoying the feeling of the soft breeze, clean air, and cool water against her skin. The sun broke through the thick canopy of trees behind her, but most of the area around her remained in the shade. She closed her eyes while she listened to the sounds of nature as birds cheerily chirped their songs and the leaves rustled in the light breeze.

Playing through the events of the past few days in her mind, Arissa began to laugh as she realized how many times she had been close to death. Just why it was amusing was something not even she understood, but she chuckled through her memories nonetheless.

When her fit of mirth was done she reached out towards her bundled leather coverings and pulled forth the Razor. Twisting the blade to and fro she caught the few rays of sun that filtered through the canopy above. With each turn the dagger glared momentarily as the rays hit and Arissa smiled as she continued to handle it. As she watched the glint of light run along the blade's edge her breathing took on a more sensual tone.

Unable to help herself she reached out with one finger and stroked the edge lightly. She knew fully well that even the smallest cut could wrench her soul from her body and shatter it to oblivion before being tossed into the Void for all eternity. It was that very thought, however, that aroused her so. Being this close to death after surviving so much was almost enough to bring her to climax and she spent several more moments admiring the Razor's beauty before clutching it close to her body.

Curling into a ball, Arissa held her prize tight and fell into a peaceful sleep as she dreamed of the scores of souls she would claim for her Dark Father with Mehrunes Razor.


Author's Note: Aw, she's just like an angel when she's sleeping, isn't she? A demented, borderline insane angel with a dagger fetish... but an angel nonetheless. On another note...

Oi this took FOREVER to write! You would not believe how many days I spent staring at the screen with only a cramped butt, sore fingers, a worn out DELETE key, and a single paragraph to show for it. As I've told several of the folks who have been kind enough to review "Sister of Shadows," Arissa is one of the most difficult characters I've ever written for. She is so far beyond my normal "comfort zone" both in style and thought that I always feel like a beguiled tourist in a foreign county when I start up a new chapter. Just to get into the mindset of her disturbed mind I have to listen to my younger brother's Marylin Manson CDs (and I hate his music) before and while I write. Even then I sometimes end up injecting quirky characters or cheesy lines that proliferate my usual style. I'm wondering how much longer the DELETE and BACKSPACE keys will last.

Don't worry, though, I'm not giving up on this story. It's a necessary challenge that I intend to continue to face. Strange as it may seem to me, quite a few people seem to enjoy Arissa's adventures as - even after a month of not updating - people continue to mark this story for notification. So I'll just say again, thanks for reading y'all and I hope you continue to enjoy as the story and Arissa develop.