9 Hearthfire, 3E426
A deep bell was chiming.
"Omnipresent... omniscient... sovereign... immutable..."
The pain was unimaginable, as if my very blood and the air I struggled to breathe were poisoned. I saw naught but blackness...
"How sweet it is to be a God."
Then I awoke, alone in my room, and suddenly I could not stand the darkness. The tavern-goers that were still at their tables must have thought me mad as I fled out the door into the street, thankful for the moons and stars and street-lamps. It's not a question of going back to sleep. I know I can't. Even though I'm back in my room with no less than three lit lanterns now I'll get no more rest tonight.
I suppose it is time I break my promise I made to myself not to write about my past, if only to address the questions in my head. This is not the first of the strange nightmares I've had, though it is the first I've had since my freedom. I had hoped they were just a side effect of being imprisoned, hoped that they were gone for good now that I was out. In fact, I am not ready to rule out that this dream is merely a reflection of my fear of being locked up again by either the Imperials or my own people. My anxiety about that was laid bare in previous pages.
I had heard the bell before, but not the Voice. In past dreams sometimes I would hear lightning and thunder, and words being spoken in tongues I did not understand, but the voices were lighter, friendlier, not the horrible one I had just heard. Just as tonight, I would wake in the same sheen of cold sweat, shivering no matter what the temperature was, my forehead feverish and my beddings in chaos.
I cannot stop looking over my shoulder, checking down the corridor, glancing to see if my sword still rests on the bed, and writing about my troubles is not giving me the solace I desired. I shall go to the Temple instead, and see if prayer gives me any peace.
When it became light outside I ventured off and to the tomb with little incident. Nothing in there but the odd ghost, thankfully I have the foresight to keep a sword made of silver around. Little else of physical form can hurt them. I feel disgusted with myself for grave-robbing, and somehow doubt it will be made worth the loss of dignity.
I got back to Balmora as the stars were coming out with the skull placed in a sack to keep it out of sight and gave it to the Orc. She proceeded to ramble on about a few things I already knew from the Temple. Saint Nerevar was a great hero and general of ancient times who helped unite his people, and died from battle-wounds after defeating Dagoth Ur.
It is now clear why this Nerevarine Cult is outlawed by both the Temple and Empire. It speaks of a prophecy in which Nerevar is reborn, unites the Dunmer people, casts down the Tribunal as false gods and drives out all the outlanders. That is all that is really known, however; much of the prophecy only carries on in Ashlander oral tradition because of the outlawing of the cult and subsequent confiscation and destruction of their written materials. With the Orc's notes, I left the Mages' Guild preparing to go see Caius and report.
As I was closing the door behind me and stepping out into the street, there was a man standing in my way. I had seen him before, felt rather sure he was a local resident, just not one I'd spoken to before. And he was staring at me with the strangest smile on his face, and wouldn't move. I tried to go around him and he merely moved to obstruct me again.
"Pardon me, sera," I tried. No reply. I made to move the other way and again he followed, still grinning at me like a s'wit. Unamused I made to push him aside, and that was when he finally spoke.
"Dagoth Ur calls you, Adarise. All shall greet him as flesh or dust."
At that I shoved him away, the feeling I had when I awoke from my last nightmare creeping through me. I didn't look back, just walking as briskly as I could without looking as frenzied as I felt. Instead of reporting I just rented a room and locked myself in to write, to think, and to wonder if I am going to be able to sleep tonight.