Chapter 11 - The Prophetic Chapter Which Indicates The Direction Of Things
I'd experienced many novel things in Skyrim, ranging from the surprisingly cultured to the horrendously barbaric. I'd seen dragons rain destruction from the very sky, and slain a dragon of my very own, I'd seen a clan of ancient vampires holding court on their own private island, I'd even seen a crowd of appreciative citizens line up just to catch a glimpse of me. But somehow, the experience of shivering inside recently-bought furs, taking refuge within the Frozen Hearth from a blizzard, all because I'd missed a carriage, was depressingly familiar to me.
Sighing, ruing the fact my breath wasn't just visible, but that my spit could probably hurt someone, I glanced over at my two companions. The saying 'misery loves company' was true. However, Lydia and Serana didn't seem in the least bit affected. At least Serana had the excuse of being dead, and thus not being affected by extreme temperatures. By Kynareth, Lydia looked like she was enjoying the cold! I glared at my happy Housecarl, and fought the urge to sneeze. At least she had noted my slow descent into death by hypothermia, and had taken my coin pouch out of my frozen hands to buy me some warm stew. Truly, I couldn't decide if I didn't deserve such a caring Housecarl, or to continue cursing her for being happy, though my mood swung over to grateful as the hot bowl entered my outstretched hands, and I could feel my frozen fingers again.
As I regained my sensation of touch, as well as my temper, the hooded Altmer, Nelacar, finished his discussion with the innkeeper about some odour the elf's "experiments" had apparently released, and turned to walk away, his gaze sweeping past me in the process. His gaze then returned to me, as if studying me, and I saw Lydia tense up slightly, apparently suspicious at the attention I was receiving, whilst Serana looked up from her sulking, her mind finally off the fact we wouldn't be heading to the College this day.
"You there," the elf called out, cautiously, and I signalled at Lydia to relax, curious as to what he singled me out for. "You're from out of town, aren't you?"
"Indeed I am," I replied, not in the least bit surprised at how obvious it was; Winterhold was a crumbling town, with but a mere dozen or two inhabitants living in the town proper. A new face would be easily recognizable in such a case. "What of it?"
"Would you happen to be interested in a job?" Nelacar propositioned, and I raised my eyebrow.
"Depends on where I'd be going and what I'd be doing," I answered simply.
"Oh, I wouldn't mind it so much, Dragonborn," Nelacar began, and the three of us immediately drew our weapons, to the panic of the innkeeper and his patrons.
"How did you know?" I hissed, while Lydia raised her weapon threateningly, while Serana gathered lightning at her finger tips. Surprisingly, though, Nelacar laughed.
"Did you think your identity was a secret, Marius Dragonborn?" Nelacar asked, sounding honestly surprised, before chuckling at the obvious bemusement on my face. "It's been almost a month since the dragon attacked Whiterun; the tale of the Unknown Hero, the Imperial with the soul of a Dragon and the spirit of a Nord, with ebony for hair and emeralds for eyes who walked into Whiterun one day and single-handedly slew a dragon has probably spread past Cyrodiil, though few have actually seen you in person, hence why I wasn't so sure about your identity..."
I lowered my weapons, stunned at the revelation, while Lydia and Serana chuckled and sheathed theirs, knowing I didn't exactly appreciate the attention. Meanwhile, now that attention was fully on me, the inn's occupants seemed to take note of my appearance, and murmurs of "Did he say "Dragonborn"?" and "He has the hair and eyes!" began to rise, and the innkeeper tried to return Lydia the coins she'd given him, saying that it was on the house, although she knew me well enough to try and spare me the attention.
"Please, call me Dagur. And I insist; I couldn't possibly charge the Dragonborn for a cheap meal! It's my honor as a Nord to provide food and lodging to all guests!" the innkeeper, Dagur, pressed, and Lydia relented, knowing that she could not change his mind. Meanwhile, it seemed that everyone wanted to personally give me a pat on the back and a word of encouragement. Trying to get out of the crowd, I raised my voice slightly, and addressed the damned Nelacar: "So, what would I not mind so much?"
Seeing through my ploy, he dragged me down to the basement, while Serana followed, and Lydia tried to pacify the riled-up crowd. Down in his lab in the basement room, he began his explanation.
"I don't mean to trouble you, Dragonborn, but if you happen to be passing by Lake Ilinalta, namely the north-western bank, and come across a sunken fort, Ilinalta's Deep? Would it be too much trouble to ask you to help me retrieve a certain Daedric artifact from it?"
"You want me to go to that old haunted fort, and take something from the Daedra?!" I asked, incredulous, and he nodded. "Not that I'm accepting this suicidal venture, but which artifact is it?"
"You saw the Shrine of Azura to the south, up the mountain?" Nelacar asked, and I shook my head. "Figures... anyway, bout maybe a few decades ago, a 'teacher' of mine, one Malyn Varen, stole Azura's Star from the Shrine.
"To give some context... I'm sure you know what soul gems are right? Or, at least, what they're used for?" I nodded this time, having done some enchanting in my more sordid days. "Good. The problem with using them for enchanting, however, is that the gem is always consumed. They're frail. Except for one. Azura's Star. The Daedric artifact that allows any number of souls to pass through it. Some of us wanted to find out how. I was working under Malyn Varen, then. If only we knew what he was really planning..."
"What did he do?" I asked, not liking where this was going.
"Malyn wanted to alter the Star. He was dying. Disease. He thought he could store his own soul inside. Become immortal." Already, I didn't like where this was going, as he continued: "It drove him mad. Students started dying. Eventually, the College exiled him. He took a few loyal disciples to Ilinalta's Deep and vanished.
"I know I'm asking a lot from you, having to brave Ilinalta's Deep, but, recently... I've been feeling guilty about my role in all this, and I want to set things right. I don't have regrets in aiding him with forcing Azura's Star to accept and store black souls, even if we never succeeded, but he cannot be allowed to attain immortality via the Star! Think about it; an immortal madman, with a group of loyal disciples? Who knows what havoc they could wreak?"
I sat down, processing the information I'd received. This conspiracy had been a lot to take in, though by the sounds of it it didn't have to be dealt with nearly as pressingly as the impending Vampire Crisis, or the overarching Dragon Crisis. However, I had a question.
"What if I just take it to Azura, return it to her?"
"Don't take it back to Azura!" Nelacar exclaimed, and I raised an eyebrow at his outburst. "The Daedra are evil. They're the reason Malyn went insane." Somehow I doubted that statement; he'd have needed to already be insane to think that stealing a Daedric artifact was a good idea, let alone trying to corrupt it against it's very nature. For the sake of fairness, however, I asked how he thought Azura had done so.
"Azura is no ordinary Daedra," Nelacar replied, and I nodded, knowing that she was a Daedric Prince. "She commands an entire realm inside of Oblivion. The more Malyn worked on the Star, the more She was able to damn him. Look, the reason why I'm specifically asking you, the Dragonborn, to do this, is because you're probably one of the few mortals who could get away with defying a Daedric Prince."
I nodded in understanding, though not agreement. Few people would be foolhardy enough to do so. For that matter, neither was I, though I merely told him I would consider his words and act as I deemed best, and he agreed, clearly thinking he had me convinced. Fortunately, before Serana or I could say anything to disavow him of that notion, Lydia popped her head down, telling us the blizzard had cleared and we could head to Dragon Bridge now. Making polite farewells to my newest hopeful, and the half-dozen occupants of the Frozen Hearth, I left Winterhold as fast as I could without actually running.
As we headed down south, aiming to take the carriage from Windhelm to Solitude, I looked up, wanting to see if the Shrine of Azura was, indeed, easily visible. Without the blizzard, it turned out, Azura's shrine stood out more so than even the College of Winterhold. Seeing my gaze, Serana finally spoke, having apparently finished the pondering she'd started since we'd gone into the basement.
"Marius... I know you're tough, but I hope you're not planning on listening to Nelacar," Serana began.
"I wasn't-" I tried to protest, but she continued talking over me, having apparently rehearsed the speech beforehand.
"Because crossing the Daedra, and especially the Daedric Princes, is always a dangerous proposition. Don't get me wrong, I'm not doubting you, and some definitely shouldn't be obeyed, like Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, and Mephala... but if you can, try to avoid it, especially for the more neutral Daedric Princes. Of course, it's best not to get involved if at all possible." Serana finished her advice, looking serious, and I didn't know whether to laugh, or be touched at how concerned she was. Lydia, meanwhile, looked shocked, not knowing that I had been tasked with potentially crossing a Daedric Prince.
"Relax, I intend to give it to Azura once I get around to looking for it; I've got no intention of pissing off one of the Dunmer's gods, my life's complicated enough as it is." I reassured Serana and Lydia, before adding: "Besides, it's not a pressing matter for the time being; securing the Moth Priest and stopping Harkon is our current priority, followed by dealing with the dragons next. But, still... thanks for the concern, Serana."
-FOREBEARS' HOLDOUT, HALF A DAY LATER-
Parrying the sudden slash from the distinctive Akaviri blade of the recently-freed Moth Priest, I found myself cursing vampires, ungrateful Moth Priests, ritualistic bindings, ungrateful Moth Priests, attempts at enthrallment, the Dawnguard, and ungrateful Moth Priests.
Reaching Dragon Bridge after the blizzard, sadly, had not been the hardest part of finding the Moth Priest. Once we'd dropped by, I'd asked one of the guards if he had seen the Moth Priest, and was told he had headed south, past Dragon Bridge. Following the trail had led us to a burning cart with dead legionnaires and horses, as well as a dropped note, which had said that the Moth Priest had been captured by vampires and taken to Forebears' Holdout, to have his will broken and to become a thrall. Wasting no time, we'd headed further south, into the cave, and fought through more of the wretched death hounds, gargoyles, a few Volkihar vampires, and their thralls.
Between the new Dawnguard arms and armor, and Serana's superb magics, the battle had been rather one-sided, and none of us had taken any injuries from the cave's defenders. The Moth Priest, however, had remained trapped behind an impenetrable barrier of magical energy, and Serana had helpfully explained that this was the cause of a ritual; by returning the spell's focus to it's proper location, we could deactivate the barrier, or as Lydia had simplified it, find the key for the lock. Luckily, the head vampire, an Orc with a massive underbite matched only by his overgrown bottom canines, had carried the ritualistic focus, a Weystone Focus, as Serana had called it. As the two went up a staircase, to place the focus in the spell's focal point, I had remained with the Moth Priest, trying to see if he was yet conscious. When they'd deactivated the barrier, however, he'd suddenly jumped up and slashed at me, and I'd barely had time to raise my war axe in defense before he'd opened my guts.
"Serana, there's something wrong with the Moth Priest!" I yelled, as he renewed his assault. By Talos, though the force behind his blows felt lacking as compared to a bear's, this Moth Priest had clearly received martial training, and it showed in the speed of his swings. I wasn't sure if I could subdue him without injuring him; I wasn't even sure I could stop him without killing him. Serana and Lydia ran downstairs, and saw me desperately dodging and parrying his blows. Lydia raised her weapon, and was about to charge him, before being stopped by Serana, however, who shouted back.
"Are his eyes unfocused?" She asked, and I felt the urge to retort.
"I don't know, I was a bit too focused on his sword!" Now that I looked closer, however, it did seem like his mind was elsewhere. "Yeah, he looks like he's in a dream!"
"That means he's partially enthralled!" Serana yelled back, as a lucky blow of his knocked the axe from my hand. "There's still time to save him, then!"
"And how," I grunted, finding my empty hand reflexively shooting out to catch his own sword-arm, trying to stop him from swinging. For some reason, possibly due to his advanced age, he felt too weak, completely at odds with his previous swordplay. There wasn't time to ponder this, though, as he tried kicking me, succeeding only in bruising his foot against my greaves, though it didn't deter his assault in the slightest. "Do I save him?!"
"Hit him on the head and knock him out!" I didn't have time to wonder why it was so easy; there was no use in over-thinking this one. I simply headbutted him, his head whipping back as my helmeted face smashed into his forehead.
"I didn't quite mean that hard..." Serana quipped, seeing the blood flowing from his forehead, while I quickly casted a simple Healing Hands on his injury, fixing his injuries, and he soon stirred back to consciousness.
"Ow... my head... it feels like an Orc berserker took a hammer and used my skull as a drum..." the Moth Priest groaned, and I tried to look as innocent as I could under my helmet. He then turned to me, and his face seemed to shoot up and realization.
"You saved me from the vampires! I must thank you for your timely rescue!"
"Relax, old man, I didn't do it out of altruism," I replied gruffly, wanting to get straight to the point. "The Dawnguard sent me to protect you from vampires; both they and we have need of you."
"What could vampires or vampire hunters want with an old man like me? I'm just a Moth Priest!" the man exclaimed, bewildered, and I sighed, wishing I was as naive as him.
"That's exactly why; we have an Elder Scroll, and we need you to read it." I answered bluntly, and his eyes widened.
"An... an Elder Scroll?! You must be joking! ... you're not, are you?"
"Afraid not." Lydia interjected, as I noticed something in the corner.
"The situation is that bad, huh."
"We're trying to get an edge over them by getting you to read it for us, while stopping them from getting their hands on you." Serana added.
"Ordinarily, I'd be a lot more skeptical... but I was just abducted by vampires, so your words do have some credence," the Moth Priest conceded, before inquiring: "So, where are we headed to next?"
"Oh, we're located in Fort Dawnguard," I called back absent-mindedly, taking my time with the chest's lock. By whatever Divine or Daedric Prince governed thieves, this lock would challenge even a master lockpicker! Luckily, however, I had 10 years of experience, and after a bit more fiddling the lock finally gave way, revealing a large white crystal. "Why was this beauty locked up by the vampires?" I wondered out loud. Serana, however, gasped.
"Marius, I don't think you should touch that-" she warned, just as my fingers brushed against it. Immediately, a loud feminine voice, imposing and commanding, boomed, seemingly originating from both the crystal and no where simultaneously.
"A new hand touches the beacon. Listen. Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy." I did not like the sounds of what I was hearing; it seemed that yet another cosmic force wanted to make me it's pawn. Before I could do something stupid, like retort, however, the voice continued it's command. "Return my beacon to Mount Kilkreath. And I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light."
Serana was the first to break the stunned silence.
"That crystal reeks of daedric magic," Serana finished her belated warning lamely, looking sheepish, while I mentally cursed. No matter what I did, it seemed that it was my lot in life to be tangled up with the powers beyond.
"Which Daedra?" I asked, preparing for the worst. While I really didn't want to deal with any of them, some were worse than others; few would prefer Molag Bal to Azura, for example.
"By the sounds of "foul darkness" and "cleansing light", it sounds like Meridia." Serana deduced, and Lydia nodded.
"It would make sense; Mount Kilkreath did have a Shrine to Meridia." Lydia agreed.
"Meridia's one of the nicer Daedric Princes, right?" I asked, and Serana shrugged.
"She's seen as one of the more benevolent ones, I suppose. Really big on loving light and life energy, though not so much on necromancy and undead."
"Ah... I can see why that would be a problem for some of us..." I acknowledged, already seeing the problems Serana may have had with Meridia, before an idea started forming in my head. "Mount Kilkreath's just north of Dragon Bridge, right?"
Lydia and Serana nodded, not liking where I was going with this.
"Serana, you escort our new friend over here," I clapped the still-stunned Moth Priest on the back as I said that, before continuing: "To Fort Dawnguard. Meanwhile, Lydia and I will return the... "beacon" to Mount Kilkreath."
"Remember what I said about getting involved with the Daedra, Marius..." Serana began, and I nodded.
"Best not to get involved if at all possible, right? Don't worry, I understand that you speak from experience," I reassured her, acknowledging her past deal with Molag Bal. However, thanks to my usual luck, I was already grabbing the metaphorical tiger by the tail. "Unfortunately, since I touched it, and she acknowledged me... it seems I'm already involved. Best to just finish her task as soon as possible, no? Besides, if she's really that such an enemy of the undead, her aid may prove valuable against your father."
"Fine, I get your point," Serana relented, before adding: "But I'm coming with you."
I had to raise my eyebrow at that.
"Do you really think that your undead self should be entering a Shrine of Meridia?" I asked, and her face fell. "Besides, our friend over there needs help; I think he may have passed out standing up."
Serana sighed, knowing I had a point, but feeling very reluctant to concede.
"Just... just promise me you'll take care of yourself, Marius. As my best friend."
"Don't I always?" I chuckled, and she groaned.
"That's exactly what I'm worried about."
"Don't worry, Serana. I'll make sure he doesn't get up to much trouble." Lydia added, and I found myself wondering just what kind of person those 2 saw me as. Silently, I vowed to prove them wrong; this would be a simple delivery, nothing more.
-KILKREATH CATACOMBS, A FEW HOURS LATER-
Lining up my crossbow's sights to the necromancer's head, I slowly released the breath I had been holding, and lightly squeezed the trigger. As Lydia and I watched, the sharpened dwarven bolt flew straight and true, whizzing past the shadowy corrupted shades floating around him to bury itself in the back of Malkoran's skull, and I shot Lydia a cocky grin, satisfied that I had been vindicated.
True, delivering Meridia's Beacon to her shrine hadn't been a simple delivery; I'd been disavowed of any notion I'd clung to of that when I'd returned the beacon to it's pedestal, and found myself, and it, floating steadily up in the air, much to the surprise of my Housecarl and I. Meridia had wanted to give me instructions privately, it had seemed, and had wanted to force upon me an offer I had literally no way of refusing, something which I found myself having a bit too much insight into for my liking, as I had floated a few hundred metres above Mount Kilkreath through no discernible means, and in no time at all I found myself agreeing with her demands to have me clear her temple of undead.
However, while the undead had been... unusual... floating corrupted shades of the belligerents of the Skyrim Civil War, insubstantial figures of skeleton and shadow, these new creatures had retained enough substance that the swing of a blessed Dawnguard War Axe had still proven detrimental to their continued existence, and between mine and Lydia's skill and arms, and Meridia's beam of light leading the way, this ruined temple had proven no harder to clear than any before, and we had soon found ourselves at the heart of the foul corruption in no time.
I could have almost sworn I'd felt as much as heard Meridia hissing in anger in my head, as we'd silently opened the door to the deepest catacombs of the ruins of Kilkreath Temple. There, the necromancer, Malkoran, sat meditating before a defiled sword, whilst 8 other shades floated guard around him. The worst thing about the defiled sword, seemingly used as the focal point of some unholy ritual, was that it somehow seemed familiar. Even if Meridia hadn't placed it's image in my head, I had still heard legends about her legendary blade, enough to recognize it as the light from her beam struck it, illuminating it. Dawnbreaker. If it had been in this blasphemous state, it was little wonder the undead ran amok the way they did.
Now, I wasn't a religious man; by Oblivion, I'd spent the first 20 years of my life feeling that the Divines wouldn't have time to spare even a thought for the lowly Marius, before coming to Skyrim and finding that they were beginning to take an unhealthy interest in me. Perhaps it was Meridia in my head, subtly influencing me. Or maybe it was the piles of dead soldiers, all desecrated, their souls knowing not eternal rest, and had nothing to do with the blasphemy of Dawnbreaker. But, at that moment, I felt cold disgust recoil within me. Malkoran had to be stopped; and I had just the tool for the job.
As his body toppled over, and his shade boydguards charged us, before being summarily dispatched, Lydia rolled her eyes as I shot hee a triumphant look, and said: "See? Now that wasn't so much trouble, was it?" Naturally, as soon as those words left my mouth, Lydia was vindicated by Malkoran's twitching body, which suddenly birthed a shade of it's own, which immediately roared and blasted us with freezing air.
Malkoran had been a powerful necromancer in life even before corrupting Dawnbreaker, and his shade demonstrated his power first-hand; I was surprised I wasn't immediately frozen solid by his localized blizzard. Lydia, meanwhile, being far more resistant to cold as a Nord, was the first of us to react, swinging her axe at him. However, this gave us our second surprise; our physical attacks could not affect him, his insubstantial form simply reforming out of shadow whatever we attempted to cut, and Lydia was sent flying into the wall by a casual backhand, where she lay unconscious.
I, on the other hand, my stamina drained from the cold, fought to keep my focus about me enough to cast a fire spell. As the fire left my hands, and I was treated to the lovely warmth, Malkoran's shade chose to double down, and my flames began duelling with his frost in a battle that did not favor me or my limited magicka pool. I needed to change this situation, somehow. Luckily, Meridia provided an answer.
"Use my cleansing light!" Meridia's voice boomed in my head, and I spied the beam of light hitting Dawnbreaker. It was honestly a better idea than anything I'd had, though I had to act quickly; his spell would soon overpower mine, and I didn't want to take my chances against a sustained assault. And yet, I didn't know how to get him in the light; how would I physically manhandle his shade into the beam? Unless...
Ducking and rolling out of the way of his freezing blasts bought me a valuable few seconds, even if the streams still nicked my feet, hampering my mobility. Turning to face Dawnbreaker, and his still-bleeding corpse simply lying in front of it, and the beam of Meridia's light striking it, I prayed to Meridia that my insane gambit would work, and to Kynareth that my aim would be true, for I had but a split-second to adjust it.
"FUS RO!" I shouted, and an Unrelenting Force generated itself from my lips at Malkoran's corpse. At the same time, a strong wind blew in from the temple doors. While it wasn't strong enough to move any of us, let alone a stable corpse lying on the ground, it could gently nudge other things.
Like slightly correcting the course of a certain necromancer's body, having been sent flying in the air from a Shout being used on it.
Malkoran's shade screeched in agony and horror as his old body remained transfixed in the light, still floating, and the shadow substance of his form suddenly seeming more distinct and substantial. Wasting no time, I grabbed his shade, and fought the urge to shudder. Just being in contact with him felt like plunging my hand into a frozen lake, and the chill of death numbed my fingers. But still, I held on. And still, I advanced with him towards Dawnbreaker. Not for Meridia, I truly cared not for the Daedra in the end. Not for vengeance, I felt nothing but pity for the desecrated corpses, and even less for Meridia's temple. Not even for the Dawnguard; they already had the Scroll, the Moth Priest, and a well-defended fort to continue the fight. No, I continued on for far simpler reasons: For my fallen Housecarl, so that her body wouldn't be desecrated, her soul corrupted and bound to the malevolent necromancer; she deserved a longer life and a better death than that. For Serana, to whom I had promised to return safely to; I couldn't leave her friendless and alone, and I especially couldn't prove her right! For my companions, and myself, I drudged on, and shoved his shade into the beam.
The light had detrimental effects on me, it's merest contact against the skin on my arms causing a crackling, burning sensation as if lightning was washing through my very arm, and I was treated to the surreal sight of seeing the flesh of my arm burn away and regrow anew in an endless cycle, fuelled by the energies of Meridia and, it seemed, my magicka. But as badly as I had it, the undead had it far worse, and I was glad I hadn't brought Serana as I watched the shrieking Shade of Malkoran essentially disintegrate in the face of Meridia's cleansing light; not even dust remained. Malkoran was finished.
Panting from the exertion, I quickly made my way to Lydia's prone form; it seemed that being exposed to Meridia's light had physically invigorated me, though I still felt the signs of magicka exhaustion. However, I still had more than enough magicka left over for a simple Healing Hands spell, and I mended Lydia's wounds. As she awoke, and made the usual jab about me being a priest, Meridia's voice returned, still booming and commanding, though somehow softer in tone.
"It is done. The defiler is defeated. Take Dawnbreaker from its pedestal."
Looking over at Lydia, and confirming she was fine, I walked towards the enshrined sword, and drew it from it's pedestal. Immediately, a bright light engulfed me, robbing me of my vision temporarily, and I soon found myself relieving the uncomfortably familiar feeling of floating a few hundred metres above Skyrim. As I slowly regained my vision, I confirmed that I was, indeed, back above Mount Kilkreath, and face-to-face with a familiar glowing ball of light.
"Malkoran is vanquished. Skyrim's dead shall remain at rest. This is as it should be. This is because of you." Meridia intoned through the orb, before continuing to declare: "A new day is dawning. And you shall be its herald. Take the mighty Dawnbreaker and with it purge corruption from the dark corners of the world. Wield it in my name, that my influence may grow."
Biting back my instinctive initial response of "I'll keep the sword. But find someone else to spread your religion." because pissing off the Daedric prince that has you floating a few hundred metres above a mountain is not a good idea, I instead adopted my most diplomatic tone, and answered: "I'll wield this mighty blade in your name."
"May the light of certitude guide your efforts." Meridia greeted, in as cordial a farewell as I could expect, before the light faded, revealing the crystal that had started it all, and the two of us floated back down to Skyrim, with the beacon landing right in it's original resting spot at her statue, while I landed somewhat less gracefully in a heap in front of the statue and my Housecarl, who had rushed out of the temple as soon as I had vanished, and made it out just in time to see my descent. As she helped me out, I studied the golden sword, which had remained in my hand throughout the entire journey. The gorgeous golden sword was unlike any I had seen, neither Dwarven nor Elven in make, but what drew in my eyes was neither the unique design nor embers that seemed to run throughout and smoulder under the surface of it's entirety; the most stunning feature of the weapon was the shining crystal embedded within it's guard, reminding me of a scaled-down version of Meridia's beacon. I suppressed an unconscious shudder, silently praying that she wouldn't be able to view and manipulate Nirn, and me, through this crystal like she had with her beacon, but somehow I didn't want to test that theory. Sharing a silent nod, we turned around and ran for the nearest carriage, as the beginnings of a sudden thunderstorm broke around the mountain.
-THE COLORED ROOMS, OBLIVION, AT ROUGHLY THE SAME TIME-
Meridia, Daedric Prince of Life, the Lady of Infinite Energies, and former patron of the sworn enemy of the Knights of the Nine, Ayleid sorcerer-king Umaril the Unfeathered, was a very happy Daedric Prince; her humming in fact startled even her normally-unflappable Aurorans, the golden-armored horned bipeds wondering if they'd somehow missed her day of summoning (they hadn't).
And why shouldn't she have been happy? It had been a hard 200-odd years for Meridia, as it had been for all the Daedra, and between the Knights of the Nine seeking vengeance on her followers for the actions of her former champion, and the then-newly-formed Vigilants of Stendarr seeking to prevent another Oblivion Crisis by stamping all worship of any Daedra, her power and influence in Mundus had waned significantly. To add further insult to injury, in recent times, the powerful necromancer Malkoran had discovered one of her few remaining temples, Kilkreath Temple, where her artifact, Dawnbreaker, had been enshrined, and had then proceeded to defile it; channeling the power of Dawnbreaker to perform his unholy rituals, desecrating her temple, and removing her beacon from it's rightful place, before giving it to his allies in the Volkihar Clan to secure.
However, that had changed but scant hours ago, as Meridia, who had been lounging in a somewhat depressed state in her throne, wondering if she should look for her ring again, had suddenly detected a strong, powerful presence come into contact with one of her influences on Nirn. Peering down, trying not to remain hopeful, she soon discovered that her stolen beacon had just been re-discovered, this time by an adventurer with a blindingly-bright soul.
So entranced was she by his light, she hadn't even cared about the vampire following him; she had barely had time to jump up, try to fix her appearance, and deliver the impressive speech she had prepared a few years ago for if someone had stumbled across her beacon. Meanwhile, the Aurorans in her throne room had struggled not to snicker at her actions, all the while wondering what had happened to fluster her so. As she had watched, the adventurer had promptly (by her standards) taken the beacon to the mountain, and she felt as if a part of her power was reunited with her greater whole, and she took the chance to channel a portion of herself through the restored beacon, so as to speak to him in person.
As she gave instructions to the mortal whilst the pair were suspended above Mount Kilkreath, she took the time to study him to a far greater degree, now that she could, and while she was surprised to find she couldn't quite place what he was, though a part of him seemed familiar, it was outweighed by the pleasure she took in learning he had yet to be claimed by another Daedric Prince, not even that wretched manipulator, Hermaeus Mora, who seemed to take a twisted pleasure in trying to get his tentacles on every individual of even reasonable power and interesting fate, and she silently told herself that, if he did as she asked, she would make him her champion, a promise that only grew more likely as he had efficiently cleared her temple of the unwilling Shades, and even quickly assassinated Malkoran himself.
Unfortunately for her chosen, he hadn't predicted that, as a necromancer, Malkoran would have contingencies in place regarding his death, and his own defiling presence had re-risen, a far more powerful Shade than those he had previously fought. She had watched in apprehension as the adventurer had been blasted by Malkoran's Frostbite spells, and his servant had been sent flying into the wall, though that feeling had been turned upside down as he had not only weathered the localized blizzard, but focused through what must sure have been an arduous experience to cast his own Flames spell, countering the effects of the vile shade's spells, and had even begun to match his spells to Malkoran's. While she had guessed he had been powerful by the fact he had retrieved her beacon, she still found herself impressed by both his mental fortitude, his quick-wittedness, and his magical power, though she knew he wouldn't have been able to match Malkoran in an extended match of magic, and she had decided to nudge him in the right direction.
What Meridia had expected her chosen to do with the information had been something simple, like perhaps a Telekinesis spell, or maybe knocking Malkoran's corporeal form into her light with a well-thrown projectile. What she hadn't expected was for him to roll out of the way, and utilise Kynareth's rare gift to Men, the Thu'um, to send his body flying up, nor had she anticipated that Kynareth would indirectly aid him with a well-timed breeze, but still, it did the job. Before she could warn him, however, of the detrimental effects of her light on normal mortals, she saw him manhandle the shade, and shove him into her light, coming into contact with it himself. Once again, however, her new chosen subverted her expectations.
Instead of being simply burnt away in the face of her light, she had gasped in surprise as the physical manifestation of her power and presence penetrated into his flesh, and her warmth flowed into him without breaking him. Stripping away the layers, as her essence mixed with his, she finally realised what he was, underneath his mortal shell; her champion had an aedric essence, similar to the half-breed Umaril, but far purer. As his form endured her forced entry, her power actually began healing him, new life springing forth from the point of contact in a constant cycle of rebirth, and baser thoughts that she had long since thought dormant upon her transformation from Magne-Ge to Daedric Prince. Before she could explore these thoughts further, he withdrew his hands from her light, the shade vanquished, and moved on to healing his servant. It was there she spied the secondary effect of their intimate contact; his healing spell had somehow incorporated her light into it, and controlled it's release. The resulting spell was far more effective than it would have otherwise been, though she doubted any would notice. That, however, could wait; she had a promise to fulfill, and a reward to give, and had been elated when he had accepted his position as her champion, her chosen, although she had sensed he held some hesitation. She could always entice him further later on, though; for now, she had to ponder upon what she had observed.
As she lounged upon her throne, humming happily to herself at the restoration of her power and the acquisition of her new champion, she looked back upon what he had done, and the potential the union between the two held. During her more callous days, in eons long past, when she had just become Daedra, she had held the desire to create life, stemming from her overflowing love for it. However, as Daedra, she was no longer able to create in Mundus, only able to change. So consumed had she been in her youth by her desires she had abducted mortals from Iliac Bay to experiment, and even given Umaril her favor when he had promised to use his lineage as the son of an Et'Ada to fulfill her wish. As time went by, however, her love for mortals and unfulfilled desire to create life had eventually been warped into a hatred of those who would pervert life into twisted mockeries of it, the undead and their creators. However, now that she had found this mortal with an aedric essence, perhaps one of the purest she had seen in centuries, and had seen first-hand how her concentrated power had interacted with his... perhaps it was time to revisit those desires. Perhaps, if she injected her essence into him, and he used it as the foundations upon which new life would spring...
Chuckling to herself, lost in her revived desires and her plotting on how to turn her chosen champion into her consort, she failed to notice her Aurorans panicking and desperately trying to figure out what on earth had her so worked up, especially once an observer told them that Kynareth was suddenly, at the moment, displeased with Meridia.
-FORT DAWNGUARD, HALF A DAY LATER-
Entering Fort Dawnguard, Lydia and I were greeted with shushing noises upon our return by both Isran, the Moth Priest, and most of the gathered Dawnguard, while Serana, standing in a corner separately from the rest, whispered to us: "Dexion's about to read my Scroll."
"Now, if everyone will please be quiet," the Moth Priest, whose name was apparently Dexion, said, glaring at us, before continuing: "I must concentrate."
It was honestly kind of disappointing, watching him merely open the scroll; I wasn't sure what to expect with having an Elder Scroll be read, but I expected a more dramatic occurrence than a literal reading. With that said, however, I suppose I should have been grateful he didn't spontaneously combust or disappear, and instead managed to clearly tell us what he saw, just as I was grateful he had held the attention of the ex-Vigilants such that none questioned the Daedric artifact in my possession.
"I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow! Now a voice whispers, saying "Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise". In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one. The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort. But wait, there is more here. The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls. Yes, I see them now... One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood. My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls."
As we watched Dexion retire to a private room wearily, and the gathered on-lookers began discussing what they'd just heard, I gave Serana a glance, and decided to confirm a portion of what I'd just heard.
"He said... other two scrolls, right?"
"Yes, Marius, he did."
"And, as far as you know... your mother only had one other scroll, right?"
"Indeed," Serana replied again, still not seeing where I was going with this. Lydia, however, groaned silently behind her, clearly beginning to guess my thoughts.
"So... where would you suggest we go to look for information on the last Scroll?"
"The College of Winterhold, naturally..." Serana's voice trailed off, as realization struck her, and I saw her eyes sparkle.
"Does this mean we finally get to visit the College?" Serana squealed happily, and I sighed, not relishing the prospect of another long journey up north, as well as the risk of being stuck in another blizzard, and I began desperately searching for any reason I could to put it off, to Oblivion with the whole "darkness will mingle with light and night and day will be as one". Eventually, my mind stumbled upon an excuse, flimsy and risky though it was.
"I suppose," I wearily responded, before adding: "But let's make a detour by Ilinalta's Deep first; I may as well get Azura's Star before we head back to Winterhold."
Author's Note: More astute readers, especially those who have played Skyrim, may notice I've handled Malkoran very differently from how he was in the base game. Or, at least, I hope you guys did. Malkoran's Shade rising after killing him the first time was an interesting twist, but I honestly felt it just wasn't enough; this was a necromancer with an army of dead Stormcloaks and Legionnaires resurrected as Corrupted Shades, strong or smart enough to have removed Meridia's Beacon from her Shrine, hide it in some random location across Skyrim, seal her temple to all but her own power, and corrupt the temple itself. I honestly felt Malkoran's Shade should have been a far more challenging boss than being a reskinned Corrupted Shade, one that should have taken a bit more effort to kill. After all, that beam of light of Meridia's is it's own unique spell, with it's own unique effect, and it followed you all the way to the boss room; how hard would it have been to make the battle about trying to get the Boss Shade into Meridia's Cleansing Light?
And bringing up Meridia... good lord, was it hard to write Meridia. That Daedric prince is shrouded in complete obscurity; all I know is she hates undead and loves life. And something about Umaril and Aurorans. But then, I began to see the similarities between her and the typical "KILL-ALL-UNDEAD" from a D&D cleric. Between that, the references to cleansing light despite not being the god of light and the sun proper, and her domain being life, infinite energies, and her hatred of undead, I decided to base her powers, at least, off of positive energy from Dungeons & Dragons, and especially it's effects on the undead, and it wrote half of itself. The other half, though? I had to explore both the differences between Aedra and Daedra, look at Meridia's past, try to recall some of the effects of excessive positive energy... I'd probably rather take on my version of Malkoran bare-handedly than try something like this for a while.