"You were foolish to remain here."
The creature snarled at him, taking a defensive posture in the corner. Whatever consciousness it had once possessed had deteriorated into no more than the mere delusions of its dead master.
The Nerevarine, in his haste, had not rid Red Mountain of all of Dagoth Ur's Ash Vampires. One still lived, and it also was in possession of a very powerful item.
It was convenient.
A blue light formed from the center of a daedric glove. Sharp, black fingers spread out, causing large, other worldly shadows to flicker on the walls of the cave. He raised his arm, palm facing the pathetic creature hovered in the corner.
A shard of ice shot across the room, embedding itself into Dagoth Araynys. The skull split open, causing a red gelatin to splatter on the cave wall.
The last remnant of Dagoth Ur was finally dead.
Miraak slowly walked towards the crumpled body on the floor. He placed a foot on the chest, lifting its left arm, and yanking the ring off in the process. The daedric boot punctured some flesh, and a small river of dark blood flowed down the sides of the corpse.
The Soul Ring caught a small glimmer of light, casting a deep red shadow over blackness.
He had what he came for. The previous armor granted to him by Hermaeus Mora was stripped of all power and enchantments. He had spent the past few months painstakingly searching for the lost and forbidden artifacts that Tamriel possessed. Morrowind had proven to be a lucrative location; most adventurers still avoided the inner island of Vvardenfell, as the aftermath of the volcanic explosion was still present.
The daedric armor he wore had been modified. Instead of the bulk to protect against blows, he had stripped it to accommodate those more in tune with magic, enchanting the various pieces with powerful spells. Deep red cloth intermixed with sharp, black hellish metal, crisscrossing at various points. Menacing, black pauldrons sat upon his shoulders, glistening in the dim light. He had created his own custom mask, which covered the skin on his left face, albeit leaving the eye free.
A dark, black hood was pulled over, shadowing his face. He was an imposing sight.
He radiated power.
The ring locked over his gloved finger, and he immediately felt the energy spread through his body. Closing his eyes, he lifted his head up, and breathed out slowly.
It was always a strong rush.
Paarthurnax had understood. The desire to dominant is strong, and difficult to control. Experiencing weakness is worse than death, but it put forth new understandings.
Tolerance. Patience. Acceptance.
The Old One had recommended to focus on building new, more powerful armor. The sense of self would return, as the soul would find contentment, no longer feeling weak.
Dominance would always be a battle he would live with, eternally.
There was also…her.
Paarthurnax had, once, been visited by the Aedra. It was Kyne's intervention that set forth the events to follow, which led to Alduin's eventual demise.
Miraak had told him of the marking the fate-less bore. His assumptions were confirmed; the Aedra had once again, intervened.
"Ah. A female Dovahkiin. Such a rarity, yet where there was none, there is one."
A sharp wind roared in the distance.
"A Dovahkiin? How can you be so sure? She did not absorb Sahrotaar's soul." He thought back to the event. Neither he or the Dunmer had absorbed the soul, either. It had simply…disappeared. He had attributed it to the machinations of Hermaeus Mora.
Paarthurnax lifted his head, and moved slowly towards the First Dragonborn. The sound of snow crunching echoed in the mountain recess.
"The Dovah…claim no gender. The Dovahkiin, however, do."
The old dragon moved closer.
"The male brings forth change."
A hot breath crossed Miraak's entire body.
"You take."
The soul within him growled.
"The female is creation. She gives."
The wind ferociously howled.
"She gave Sarhotaar peace."