Chapter 7: Weakness

Aelfwynn was awoken by a sensation of being rocked. Her eyes opened to see the worried faces of her companions looking down at her. "You're awake!" Jon cried, shaking her by the shoulders. Then, as if realising he was roughly handling a delicate antique, he drew his hands back and apologised. "What happened to you?" Uthgerd asked. "Didn't seem to me you were the kind of woman who would faint at the sight of a nasty wound."

"It wasn't that." Aelfwynn replied. "I just… Jon's wound, it required a lot of magical energy to heal. I'd already been draining myself raising wards, and I just pushed too far. That's how magicka works I think, once you deplete the link between you and the source it…" She spread her hands.

"It takes yours" Jon finished.

"Exactly."

"Where are we?" Aelfwyn asked.

"We carried you to the road after you collapsed. After a few minutes we saw a cart heading down the road, somehow Uthgerd managed to convince him to divert to Whiterun. I Don't know what you told him Uthgerd, he's been pushing the horses like his life depended on it."

"That's exactly what I told him." Uthgerd replied curtly.

Jon took one of Aelfwynn's injured hands and inspected it. "You got enough of that magic to heal this up?"

Aelfwynn bit her lip, another lie coming on. Since she was cursed with vampirism, the healing magic was repelled by her undead form, refusing to sustain her unnatural existence. "Not yet Jon, I'll go and see Danica when…" She looked at Uthgerd sharply. "Did you find the knife?"

"This old thing? Yeah. Hope it was worth it. Fight certainly was." Uthgerd tossed Nettlebane down beside her. She seemed completely unmoved by the injuries of her companions Aelfwynn thought, as if such things were run of the mill. By the position of the moon, it seemed to be still a couple hours before dawn, as the cart steadily made its way down the hill towards the city they had left several hours before.

The three decided to part ways once they entered the city gates. With the fighting done Uthgerd's interest in the matter was over, and Jon made his excuses shortly afterwards. "I left the city without any warning. One or two things I've got to set right. I'll see you around the place I'm sure." He smiled. "Maybe next time we can go adventuring in warm sunshine for a change eh?" Aelfwynn forced a smile to mirror his own as he walked away, briefly turning to face her once more before disappearing into the labyrinth of rising streets. Making sure Nettlebane was in her possession, Aelfwynn strolled purposefully towards the temple. Knowing Danica, she would have stayed inside all night worrying and praying.

As the wooden doors of the temple of Kynareth creaked shut behind her, Aelfwynn immediately knew something was wrong. In the past the temple had always had a shining beauty, the light would enter through the windows and reflect off the beautiful mural in the centre of the temple as if channelling the divine itself. The whole place would radiate life. Not tonight. The candles were all extinguished, yet the smoke produced from their burning still hung sinisterly in the gathered gloom below the rafters. Besides the occasional sound of the building settling, the temple resonated with a deafening silence. The wounded, lying on the tables provided, had seemingly been left entirely unattended. Feeling compelled to check their condition, she approached one of the men. She recoiled in horror as she gently turned him toward her. His neck had been snapped, and going from the bruising of the skin and the angle of his head, by something with superhuman strength.

Swept up in a fit of panic, Aelfwynn swirled towards the entrance, only to trip over the hem of her robe, collapsing onto the temple floor. A pair of black boots sat in front of her, as well as a palpable sense of dread.

"Oh, don't worry, I've made sure we won't be disturbed." The figure said, his voice unnaturally calm, civilised even. "I thought it was time for a little family chat." With that, he hurled Aelfwynn across the chamber, knocking the Kynareth shrine clear off the altar to collapse in a heap behind it.

Morcar, Aelfwynn thought. The landing seemed oddly soft. Aelfwynn pushed herself up from the floor in confusion, only to see the body of one of the priests, eyes wide, his face locked in an expression of pure terror. His neck had been savaged, blood dried across his torn robe, the tell-tale shadow of a vampire's kiss clear at the centre.

"How could you…" Aelfwynn tried to say, the lack of air failing her before she could finish.

"A lesson. An important lesson you seem to have forgotten." In a moment he stood above her once more, grabbing and pulling her to her feet. His raven-black hair hung elegantly off his flawless visage, contrasting against the red tunic of his vampire armour. Despite his beauty, his face spoke of an unspeakable cruelty. "I freed you, freed you from all this" He gestured around the ravaged temple with one arm. "And this is how you repay me? How you suddenly choose to use the life I gave you?" He tore the amulet of Mara from her throat, smouldering in his smoking hand for a moment before he threw it into a corner with disgust. "Well, don't worry daughter dearest, your darling pa-pa is here to remind you just what you are!"

"You never freed me, you damned me. You made me defile everything I ever stood for, everything I believed in!" He burst into a spat of raucous laughter.

"Stupid Childe. I merely released the real you, let you express yourself without the chains these pathetic creatures put on you. But I know, this isn't truly you talking. My beautiful disaster, my little Wynnie is still in there somewhere, and I'm going to let her out." He reached out his free hand to brush her arctic hair almost tenderly. Aelfwynn tore herself free of her sire's grip, leaving a torn piece of brown cloth in his iron grip, and started to run towards the temple door.
"Stop." It was barely a whisper, but Aelfwynn gasped as her entire body froze.

"Come here." Mindlessly, Aelfwynn obeyed, a horrified observer trapped inside herself.

Morcar bit into his own wrist, quickly holding it to face upwards as if not wanting to spill a single unnecessary drop. "Drink." Unable to stop herself, Aelfwynn clapsed the wrist to her mouth as if nothing else in existence mattered. The blood did not satisfy her, no, it seemed to set her hunger ablaze. Why had anything else ever mattered? One thought, one need. The need to hunt, to drink, to kill.

"Now then." Morcar said, a satisfied groan escaping his lips as he pulled his drained wrist away. He stepped into the side chamber, only to emerge a moment later, holding a terrified, beaten Danica by the scruff of her hood.

"Now, you feed." He released the priestess onto the altar, toppling clumsily before she attempted to rise.

"Aelfwynn?" she said, her eyes beginning to pool shocked tears.

Wynn lifted her head, a terrible grin beginning to split her incongruously innocent face, her eyes crimson wells. She leapt onto her prey, biting her neck viciously. The screams of her old friend filled her ears with a monstrous symphony.

With a delighted chuckle, a green light began to envelop Morcar. His features shifted, his clothes too, changing into a rather haughty looking redguard noble. He ran to the door, and shouted at the top of his lungs "GUARDS, GUARDS! HELP, THE TEMPLE!", before disappearing into the cover of night.

Moments later, five of Whiterun's guards burst in through the door, only to see Wynn's bloodied face rising from one of the many corpses which decorated the defiled place of worship.

Author's note: Thank you for all those who have been following the story thus far. I've been amazed by just how many people have looked at 'Atoning for Blood' over the few days its been published. This ends what I consider the prelude, the introductory season as it were. The next chapter initiates the next stage of the story as it expands and develops. Any reviews would be much appreciated, as it allows me to gage whether I'm successfully engaging your interest and (hopefully) improve my writing.