Kyrike wandered to the stone arch closest to him, wary of his surroundings. When he was halfway across the path, Sheogorath's voice rang in his mind.
"Ah, now this is a sad path. Pelagius hated and feared many things. Assassins, wild dogs, the undead, pumpernickel…" His lilting, accented voice told him. "But the deepest, keenest hatred was for himself." As Kyrike neared the end of the path, he could see a man in Imperial armor throwing punches at a microscopic man who was about knee's height. "The attacks he makes on himself can be seen here fully. They are always carried out on the weakest part of his fragile self. The self-loathing enhances Pelagius' anger! Ah, but his confidence will shrink with every hit. You must bring the two into balance."
Kyrike watched the taller man beat up the tiny fellow. "What in Oblivion is that supposed to mean?" He mumbled, watching the short man take each hit without complaining. "Perhaps…" Kyrike began. "Perhaps the bigger of the two…is Pelagius' anger, and the tiny fellow is his confidence?" Kyrike tightened his grasp on the Wabbajack. He felt an intense energy surge through the staff, lightening the eyes of the faces that had been flawlessly carved into the wood. The Wabbajack shuddered and shook until Kyrike lost control, an orb of red magic shooting out of the staff. The orb flew directly into the shorter man.
He disappeared in an explosion of reddish smoke, only to reappear slightly taller. "Never should have come here!" Confidence yelled, running up to fight back against Anger. Kyrike charged up the Wabbajack once more, releasing another red orb into Confidence. He grew until he was as tall as Anger.
Two ghostlike beings appeared, slicing into Confidence with their weapons. "Self-doubt…" Kyrike mumbled, charging up the Wabbajack. He released two orbs—one into Confidence, and one into Anger. Confidence grew taller once more, and Anger shrunk a size.
After a few minutes, Kyrike had finished firing orbs of magic, and Confidence returned to his normal size, while the two Self-Doubt figures and Anger disappeared. "Wonderfully done," Sheogorath's voice praised. "Pelagius is finally ready to love himself…and continue hating everyone else."
Kyrike returned to the glade and ran to the stone arch adjacent to the path he'd just left. "Oh, good choice. Well, good for me." Kyrike raised an eyebrow as he listened to Sheogorath in his head. "I find everyone being out to get you so terribly entertaining. You might find it…less so." He laughed as Kyrike ran up the steps to an ampitheatre. "You see, Pelagius' mother was…well…let us say 'unique.' Although, I suppose in the grand scheme of things, she was fairly average for a Septim. That woman wielded fear like a cleaver. Or did she wield a cleaver and make people afraid? I never get that part right…" Sheogorath confusedly mumbled.
"Oh, but she taught her son well. Pelagius learned at a very early age that danger could come from anywhere. At any time. Delivered…by anyone." His voice lowered eerily as Kyrike reached the top of the stairs.
In the pit of the amphitheatre was a pair of storm atronachs fighting each other with intense rage unlike any Kyrike had seen before. Across from him, there was a ledge with three thrones with three abnormally dressed people sitting in them, watching the fight. Kyrike looked down at the storm atronachs and back at the people. He charged up the Wabbajack and shot a stream of magic into the person closest to him.
Two of the people turned into wolves. They hopped up from their thrones and pounced on the man in between them, ripping him apart. Kyrike watched as the wolves pounced on the man, causing him to fall to his death into the pit. "Oho! I thought you'd never figure it out. With the threat gone, Pelagius is under the delusion that he is safe, which means you've helped him…sort of. And we're that much closer to home." Kyrike ran down the stony steps and dashed back to the glade, an odd, frosty feeling consuming him. He went through the final stone arch.
"You've headed down the path of dreams. Unfortunately for you, Pelagius suffered night terrors from a young age." "Oh, well of course he did. Just makes my life harder." Kyrike growled. As if sensing Kyrike's impatience, Sheogorath's booming voice spoke again. "All you need to do is find something to wake our poor Pelagius up. You'll find his terrors easy to repel…but persistent." A bed with a sleeping man came into view in the otherwise desolate clearing.
Kyrike walked up to the bed and aimed the Wabbajack at Pelagius, another red orb flying into his body. A cloud of red appeared a few feet away, and out of it came a wolf. The wolf lunged at Kyrike, who had already released another red orb from the Wabbajack. The wolf disappeared in another red cloud, and in its place was a harmless goat.
Kyrike repeated his previous steps. A bandit chief that had spawned from the mist became a young boy. A hagraven turned into a beautiful woman. A flame atronach changed into a crackling fire pit, and the dragon priest that had come from the shadows was quickly turned into a chest. Pelagius shot up out of bed, seeming to have awoken from his nightmares. "Well now, that's something to crow about. With Pelagius up and about, you're moving right along. We'll both be home in no time!"
Kyrike took a look around the clearing until his emerald eyes came to rest on the beautiful woman. He looked her up and down. Her tiny hips were complimented by a nice, round waist, her eyes were an azure blue, and her unscarred cheeks were a rosy pink. Her hair was short and perfectly combed over, and she walked with a sway of her hips that he couldn't ignore. Kyrike, entranced by the beautiful vixen, walked over to her. "Good…evening, my lady. How are you this fine evening?" He asked, the corners of his lips curling upwards in a slight smile.
The woman frowned, her eyes sinking. "My wife died. Things aren't going to be the same." Her masculine voice brought a gasp from deep within Kyrike's throat. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, seeing as what I've been through since I got here." Kyrike sighed, walking out of the clearing.
He approached Sheogorath, who gave him an evil grin. "You appear to have gotten through to my dear old pal, Pelly. However…" He looked over at Valelia, who seemed to have gotten tired of rolling around on the ground. "You've still got her mind to deal with." "Oh, no."
