Author's Note: Writer's block must be the main problem with this chapter's lateness, but some of it was partially blamed on my own laziness and a few of my friends who were stubbornly set on catching up with me. A bit scary, now that I think about it. I haven't seen my friends from school in days. But I'm rambling.

-~O~-

Chapter 10: Going Back Home

-~O~-

The spell wore off just a few more steps away from the black round stone that floated inside the beam of light. It seemed like the source of the light's power, actually, now that Niera examined it closer. The humming of magic increased the nearer she got to it. However, she could not stay and gawk too long before she heard a snarl and knew that something had spotted her. And she had no idea how to outrun this enemy.

Niera was not an able mage of mysticism, and it was difficult—impossible, even—to grab the orb telekinetically. She thought that even if she were a mystic, the orb would have some sort of enchantment to be unaffected by magic. She heard the growling sound again and tried to form a plan. She did not have enough power to muster a chameleon spell. Going back to the fountain was suicide.

She was running out of choices.

Gasping for air, Niera braced herself for the worst and ran towards the orb. When she crashed against it, she fell down to the floor with the stone underneath her and she looked back at the beam of light that disappeared, and for a second Niera feared she did nothing to help her cause and only made the source of the growling angrier, but then a bright light engulfed her vision.

I suppose I should never have went inside. A muffled voice inside her head shouted her name and

When the light was gone, the Oblivion gate behind her crumbled in the darkness. The orb held tightly in her hand drained the rest of her energy away.

The scamp looked puzzled when it looked back at the gate, and it was opportunity enough for Linne to appear from behind the boulder she was leaning against. With all her strength, she struck the creature's head with a heavy jagged stone and it fell down with a thud. Taking no chances, she struck it over and over until she was sure it was dead.

After the umpteenth time of doing so, Linn was assured that the scamp will not, in fact, come back to life. Her head then looked up towards the ruins of what was once the Oblivion gate and she stood in awe in front of it before remembering that her sister was inside the gate. Or once was.

"Niera!" she cried out, refusing to believe her sister was gone. She frantically ran around the rubble, moving piles of rocks in hope that her sister was only hidden underneath it all. "Gods, Nine, Sithis, Night Mother, please, please let her live..."

A body lied limp on the ground, clutching a perfectly round stone in one arm as another covered its face. Linne sprinted to where she spotted her sister and immediately took her hand to check for a pulse. A faint one, but it is one nonetheless. She hadn't much time, and there was almost nobody else on the road. For a second, Linn nearly gave up all hope before Niera finally mumbled something. Her pulse was getting stronger, even if still weak.

"The... the stone..." was what Linne could interpret her sister talking, but she didn't understand what needed to be done with the stone. She tried releasing Niera's grip on it, and did so effortlessly, but dropped it as soon as its heat licked her fingers. She hissed in pain, wondering what in Oblivion that stone was supposed to be.

Niera seemed to breathe heavier now, as if tired. Her hands lifted a few inches from the ground and her dried, cracked lips moved even slower than before. "Water," she simply requested. But there were no bodies of water nearby where they were. And after all Linne could not possibly carry her sister on her back, and decency did not allow her to drag her sister by the arm across the distance towards the Lake Rumare, if they were anywhere on the Red Ring Road.

"Niera, we don't have water—what happened to the water bottle you brought?" Linne hurriedly asked, pushing away a few strands of dirt covered hair from her sister's face. She noticed the bruise on her forehead, and then the scars that lined her arm where her armour ripped off when Niera held up a hand to silence her sister.

All she simply asked was, "Water."

Seeing no other choice but to comply, Linne sighed. "Can you walk? Hobble?" Niera nodded in response, and tried to put half of her weight on a hand in an attempt to sit up, but failed. Linne grabbed her then, helping her to at least properly sit against a larger boulder that used to be the Oblivion gate. Niera let out a huge breath, even though she was still panting. "What should I grab the water with?"

Niera winced when she spoke, "One with... the horses."

"I'll be back soon, then," she scurried away, though still doubting that Niera had packed such a thing on the horses. For if she remembered correctly, Linne had been the one to watch the horses snort and eat grass and snort again for half a day, but she was the one that judged too quickly. A small pouch was tied to Niera's horse—it may as well be invisible—and inside was a few vials and a mortar and pestle.

Thinking twice about grabbing the largest vial, Linne made a run towards the small group of trees that lead towards at least a small portion of Lake Rumare. She was careful on not tripping over a few stones and tree roots, but at the same time valuing time and was running as fast as she could.

It was getting darker by the minute, and when Linne finally found the lake, she was nearly stunned at the view of the Imperial City, mostly the White Gold tower that was reflected on the murky waters of Lake Rumare. The moon was blocked by the glorious tower, but its light shone brightly in the early evening. It was difficult to tell the time when the sky was red nearby Oblivion, but she realised that the sky around her was ebony with white twinkling stars.

Linne figured she lingered long enough and went to kneel in front of the lake, bringing the vial's mouth into the water. It was not the safest drink Niera would have, especially in her state, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Linne took the vial out and examined it, thinking it was clean enough to be drunk. When she sipped the liquid, however, she spat it out in the instant. It was terrible.

But indeed, beggars can't be choosers. Niera needed water, and if it meant water that tasted of wet dog and its shit, she'll be getting just that.

Biting her lip, she went back to the horses with ease despite the gathering darkness and over to the ruins. Niera had her eyes closed, her hands resting limply on her lap. One would think she was dead if not for her ragged breathing, which Linne was grateful for.

She shook her sister's shoulder as gently as she could. "Niera, I've got the water you asked."

Niera opened an eye slowly, and her gaze turned to the murk water held inside the vial that Linne was holding in front of her sister's face. If the view itself was enough to disgust Niera, then its taste would. Fortunately, the fact had some sort of force on Niera so that she sat straighter and took the vial without a single wince of pain.

In goes the water, out the next second. Niera's face was contorted in irritation, and she held the vial away as if it would help remove the taste from her mouth. Linne only smiled nervously. "This is disgusting."

"This is water," Linne said, taking the vial from Niera's hand. Her sister rested her head on the boulder some more, before trying to push herself to a kneeling position. It was improvement enough that she was able to do so. "Do you think you're strong enough to ride?"

"I hope so," Niera said, closing her eyes once more. Her eyes twitched, but she did not say anything else for a moment until she finally turned to look at Linne's general direction, "Get the horses."

Linne's eyebrows rose. "We're leaving already?"

"Not truly going back to Cheydinhal," Niera said, a bit of sadness in her tone, "but we're going back to our original plan. I hope you know how to distinguish milk thistle and bergamot."

She nodded quickly, though unsure she could follow out her sister's second order, and looked back to see Niera holding the round stone in front of her. Her fingers did not seem to burn like Linne's did when she touched it.

When he broke the branch that covered his way, the view that greeted Josephus was the marvelous gate of Carac Agaialor. The white stone of the palace reflected the early morning sun's light, making Josephus squint to see the two persons standing atop the staircase of Carac Agaialor.

"Well, well, brother. Look who has returned," remarked Ruma upon seeing Josephus walking through the gate. "It seemed that the idea of dying is terrifying to him and so he flees from it, leaving his friend behind." Now that Josephus was near them, Ruma was clearly holding Eldamil's shoulder quite tightly, the latter kneeling down with his hands bound behind his back. He did not look up to see Josephus.

"Oh, yes, the cowardly hero came back to embrace his destiny," Raven chirped, his drawling tone driving Josephus on edge, but he knew that he must keep his sword hand at bay, for he did not need another delay in facing Mankar Camoran. "If you are done doing heroics, perhaps now you will see father?"

Josephus nodded once. "Release Eldamil first, if you so please."

"If we so please?" Ruma chuckled, "Such manners one acquires after escaping death."

"I'm serious," Josephus said, firmly. "Release him."

"You cannot order us, Imperial," Raven stated, and lifted Eldamil roughly by the shoulders. "We do as we please. Walk, prisoner." His sister pushed Eldamil hard on his back, making him stagger before regaining his stance and continued on his way to Carac Agaialor. Raven stayed to make sure that Josephus followed them.

When Ruma opened the stone doors of Carac Agaialor, Josephus was not quite ready to face its beauty. However dim the lighting was, there was an unnatural yet eerie blue glow emanating from the walls, shining a light upon the throne that Mankar Camoran was sitting on. As he continued walking, Raven closed the doors behind him and his father looked up to meet Josephus' eyes, and a manic grin spread through his face.

More crazy from the Camoran family. "I have waited a long time for you, Champion of Old Tamriel," he said, standing up and opening his arms as if for an embrace. As if. "You are the last gasp of a dying age. You breathe the stale air of lost hope."

Josephus shook his hand. "No. There will be no new Tamriel, for the old one will stay. Your so-called god would not succeed."

"How little you understand!" Camoran all but exclaimed, grabbing the staff that was leaning over his throne and for a moment Josephus thought he would strike the Imperial with it, but he only continued, "You cannot stop Lord Dagon! The walls between our worlds are crumbling; the Mythic Dawn near with every rift in the firmament," he shook his head as if in awe, "Soon, very soon, Lord Dagon shall walk Tamriel again! The world shall be remade! The new age shall rise from the ashes of the old."

Mankar went down a few steps from the platform that supported his throne, staring into Josephus' eyes that it was certain the world was lost upon them. "My vision will be realised; weakness shall be purged from the world and mortal and immortal alike shall be purified in the finest fire," he smiled wider with each word, his knuckles growing white as his grip on the staff tightened. "My long duel with the Septims is over, and I have the mastery."

"No, it is not. The last Septim is still alive."

"But the Amulet of Kings is mine," Camoran whispered, walking towards the center of the palace hall, and Josephus turned to watch as he stood proudly a few yards from his reach. Eldamil was standing between Ruma and Raven, far on the side of the stone steps leading to the upper balcony. It was between Camoran and himself. "And the last defender of the ragged Septim stands before me, in the heart of my power."

"Then let us see who at last has proved the stronger, Camoran," Josephus said, his voice echoing in the now quiet palace.

He took a deep breath as the truth of his words sunk in, and Camoran nodded before suddenly casting a blast of flame at his direction. Josephus leapt to his right, to where the two siblings were, and they were shocked to see him there, in the process of standing up. Before they could have readied themselves, Josephus ran his sword into Ruma's gut and did not wait a second longer before cutting a slash through Raven's chest. All that was left was Eldamil, and he was watching with eyes as wide as saucers before turning around and letting Josephus cut the cloth that bound his hands.

When the turned fully towards him, Josephus could see the hatred in Eldamil's eyes, but he did not say anything. Josephus would have been desperate if he apologised then and there, asking forgiveness for the abandonment he did to the elf. However, it was only Camoran who spoke, breaking the two from their staring match.

"You intend to have my most trusted agent used against me?" Camoran shouted, forming another ball of fire in his hand, "Treachery is a bittersweet thing, Eldamil. Have you forgotten how this hero of yours left you to die, in the hands of my daughter?" He chuckled darkly, but never looked away from the Altmer. "Do you truly regret this gift I had given you? Eternal life, never dying, in this Paradise no less."

Eldamil scowled, "What use is living forever if I live with sorrow?" Josephus contemplated now was any time to strike Camoran, but he still stood there, listening. "How many more promises will you give until we truly face the truth, that there will be no Tamriel Reborn?"

"Oh, but that is the thought of a dying man, Eldamil. Think of the rewards Lord Dagon would grant you if you kill the Septim's errand boy, the only thing separating us from the goal we have been striving to achieve."

The two Altmer looked at each other for a long moment, and Josephus feared that Camoran's words, and add his own fault at abandoning Eldamil to die—for lack of a better word—he was truly considering Camoran's offer. But he cannot, he reasoned, he has lived long enough in this world to know of the torment that he will go through should he accept.

Eldamil cast a small bolt of lightning at the black-haired Altmer, so quick that Josephus himself was surprised. "No promises would ever win me, Camoran," he said, casting another bolt, but this time Camoran blocked the impact with his staff, which absorbed the magic, "Eternal life? Lord of some hold with power to be envied? No, Camoran, everything must end. But your life will end first."

Camoran cast the fire bolt at the two's direction, and even with dodging it, Josephus felt the heat through his armour and going up to his back. "Very well, you ungrateful bastard. I should never have spared your life if you planned on betraying me!"

Eldamil pulled out a knife and aimed towards Camoran's chest, while Josephus was climbing the stairs to avoid any of their spells. Eldamil was only keeping him at bay, he was sure, and while dealing no real damage, it was all that Josephus needed as Camoran began to chase him. It was all very quick; Josephus turned back, found the Altmer with his wooden staff pointed to him, and so he swung his sword, nearly snapping the wood in two. Again and again, but to no avail; the staff was enchanted. Of course, he thought grimly. He turned and continued to run as he felt magic enveloping his body in a warm shield.

"The hero runs from his enemy? Such heroism," Mankar taunted, and Josephus nearly missed the lightning that could have hit his head, if he did not duck when he heard the crackle. "Face your death with some courage!"

Enough was enough. He turned with all his strength in his swing, and it left a horrible mark on Camoran's arm. Blood seeped through his blue robes as he hit the Imperial with such a brute force with his staff. It knocked Josephus backward, and for one mad moment, he had the thought that saved his hide from getting roasted. He jumped down and joined with Eldamil, and though his feet could have broken a few bones, it was better than burning alive.

Eldamil was casting a few more destructive spells, oft times missing Camoran. Josephus did not have a tactic in plan, but he could sense that Camoran's magicka was running low as he refrained from casting anymore spells. "Tired already, Camoran?" he called out, a grin in his face as he ran towards the stairs. Camoran snarled and tried to cast a spell on himself—gestures and all—but there was no effect.

He was out of magicka the time Josephus was in front of him. He side-stepped Camoran's thrust, and kicked him at his bleeding arm. The Altmer lost balance. In that split second, Josephus took hold of the amulet's string, catching Camoran before he could fall. He spotted Eldamil, somehow so distant, though he was only down there, where Camoran would be if Josephs let go of the amulet. "I guess," he said, grabbing the sword he laid down beside him, "that your duel with the Septims is truly over."

When the string was cut, Camoran fell down to a miserable heap on the floor. Josephus jumped down, feeling the pain in his legs again when he did. The Altmer was trying to push himself up, so Josephus lowered his face to Camoran's view. He said only a few words, "You may have stopped me... but not Lord Dagon."

He gasped out a loud breath, and death took him swiftly. A few moments were quiet, before Josephus felt the shake underneath him. The walls were crumbling. Above him, a piece of the ceiling fell. He ran towards where Eldamil was, but only found him on the floor, also dead.

There was truly no way to save him. In the short moment he knew Eldamil, Josephus knew that the elf could never do any wrong if he was not a Mythic Dawn. He could have had a better life. When he realised that he was grieving for a man he barely knew of—he did not even know his mother's maiden name—Josephus was standing on top of where the portal to Paradise once was, and the view that greeted him was a circle of Blades and in the midst of them, standing in front of the fireplace, was Martin Septim, wearing grand robes fit for the Emperor himself.

There was no word between them as they were all surprised at Josephus' return, so it was upon him to break it. "I've done it," he brought the amulet up in his hands, "I defeated Mankar Camoran's arse once and for all."

-~O~-

Either I got Camoran's character slightly, very wrong, or I did not understand him completely. He is, however, such an awesome villain that I never got bored of killing him in-game. Ah, memories...

(cries because she can't play Oblivion again)

But honestly, I keep doing it again! Not updating for a long time, I mean. I don't even know why this time. Gah.

CheySkywalker: Thank you for the review! The reason I keep claiming that the story was not exceeding my expectation at times would probably be because of some self-esteem issues. I suppose the 'my-story-sucks-so-bad' attitude isn't showing that much... But, anyways, I sort of agree about Lucien's character—it was difficult at first to write him, and I made second thoughts about actually including him as a point of view. Again, thank you for the thought; it helps!