Tons of thanks to Derpreaver, Sylar29, Shattered Faith, Armandhas, Blood Fluffles, Dninja36, Lazua and ThatBrutalReviewer for your favourites and follows, it is much appreciated! I will be gone for a week visiting with family 1050km away but will update again as soon as I return. We have just celebrated Easter here and I would wish blessings to all of you as well for all the support here. See you soon!
Upon entering the Twilight Sepulchre, Rasha was mildly surprised to notice that the machinations of time had turned the expected stone floor to mouldy earth. She was surprised out of her wits though when a spirit entity appeared next to her – her claws swiped harmlessly through it a few times before she realised that it hadn't attacked her.
"I don't recognize you, but I sense that you're one of us. Who are you?" it asked of her. She tried in vain to get her woolly tail under control. It somehow always seemed to act this way around ghosts and the undead.
"I'd ask the same question of you," she muttered, "straight after my first question, being," and her voice rose in exasperation, "what in Oblivion!"
"My apologies, fellow Nightingale," the ghost produced a hint of a smile, "I did not mean to startle you. I am the last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid. I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity."
"The last? There were more?" Rasha asked, peering around her suspiciously. One ghost was enough; her tail would never survive a bunch of them… creepy… "What happened to the rest?"
"We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here."
"How are you to blame?"
"I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship," he answered sadly. "Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, then Mercer Frey wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key."
"Wait a moment..." she exclaimed in amazement, some of the last pieces of this mystery dropping into place, "You're Gallus!"
"I haven't heard that name in a long time…" Gallus noted, a wistful expression crossing his gossamer features, closely followed by bafflement. "How do you know of me?"
"I have the Key," she informed him with a self-satisfied grin, watching elation winning out over the disbelief on his face.
"The Key! You have the Skeleton Key! I never thought I'd see it again. And Mercer Frey?"
"Dead. Damn horse-killer…"
"Then... it's over and my death wasn't in vain," he sighed with relief. "I owe you a great deal, Nightingale."
"I owe the Guild a lot for taking me in the way they did. Consider it an instalment."
"You've done the Guild a great deed. And although I can't know if they've shown it, I'm certain they'd appreciate your sacrifices. My only regret is that you had to undertake this task alone."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," she remarked slyly. "Karliah helped me."
"Karliah..." he uttered the Dunmer's name almost reverently. "She's still alive? I feared she'd befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer's betrayal."
"Nope, she's still going," Rasha confirmed and a whisper of moving air touched her whiskers when Gallus released a sigh. She groped in her pack and produced the Skeleton Key, the unknown metal of its shaft and bittings gleaming in the scant firelight from the braziers behind Gallus. The rounded knob of its handle felt warm to the touch and the swirling shell-symbol of Nocturnal glowed aquamarine as though it knew its resting place was close at hand. "Here, take the Key and right all the wrongs," she offered, but he shook his head despondently.
"Nothing would bring me more pride than to return the Key, but I'm afraid it's impossible. From the moment I arrived here, I've felt myself... well... dying."
"Huh?" she queried intelligently, cocking her head slightly and raising an eyebrow.
"The Sepulcher isn't merely a temple or a vault to house the Key. Within these walls is the Ebonmere... a conduit to Nocturnal's realm of Evergloam. When Mercer stole the Key, that conduit closed, severely limiting our ties to her. I'm weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without restoration of my power have taken their toll," Gallus explained. Rasha nodded her understanding and stowed the Key again.
"Then I'll have to carry on alone."
"I'm afraid so," Gallus confirmed apologetically. "Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key. I wish I could help you, but I've been a prisoner in this very chamber for the last quarter century. The only possible help I've come across are the remains of some poor fellow who was trying to follow in your footsteps. Perhaps his journal can help?"
The clues to the Sepulchre's 'tests' in the fallen adventurer Nystrom's journal proved invaluable as she made her way further into the bowels of the mountain.
'Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark. They wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers.' This turned out to be skeletal Nightingale Sentinels patrolling the first darkened chamber she snuck into and she skirted them unnoticed, hugging the shadows.
"As if skellys weren't enough," she mumbled, grabbing her tail on its next sweep and smoothing the fur down, "now they're throwing ghost-skellys at you? Aww…"
The second test, 'Above all they stand, vigilance everlasting. Beholden to the murk yet contentious of the glow' confounded her until she set foot off the shadowy pathway running through brightly lit areas in a vast chamber. Pain immediately flooded her and fatigue clawed at her as though her vitality was being drained away.
"Okay Rasha, stick to the shadows as you've always done," she encouraged herself, before stopping statue-still, "… and avoid several tripwire-triggered traps along the path. And watch where you sweep!" she cautioned her tail over her shoulder. She gingerly stepped over the wire and minding the placing of her feet, she made it unscathed through to the staircase leading from the chamber.
'Offer what She desires most, but reject the material. For her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt or carried.'
"What does Nocturnal want?" she asked herself, gazing upon the brightly lit statue of the daedric prince in the next room. Waaaait, brightly lit … of course! She wants shadow, darkness. She inspected the torches on either side of the statue and finding pull-chains, she readied herself for any traps and pulled them, plunging the room into night.
"And theeeere it is!" she exclaimed happily when a hidden door behind Nocturnal opened, revealing a passage which would undoubtedly take her to the fourth test in Nystrom's journal.
'Direct and yet indirect. The path to salvation a route of cunning with fortune betraying the foolish.' She squinted at the corridor ahead, her keen eyes picking out several traps and pressure plates. Not entirely a worthy choice, especially with slots in the walls that appeared suspiciously pendulum-sized… The door to her left appeared sturdy, the lock intricate and well-maintained.
"Ha! No problem for someone with a skelly-key!" she snickered and set to work. The Key was almost too easy to use – it did not break as the usual brittle picks did and it was moments before the door was open. "Skelly-key, I love you," she crooned, gave it a smacking kiss and snuck it into her bag again. She stealthily dispatched the two Nightingale Sentinels guarding the small chamber on the other side of the door and seeing nothing else, paged through the journal quickly.
'The journey is complete, the Empress's embrace awaits the fallen. Hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion.' Well, that looks as if the end is in sight! She advanced unchallenged down the subsequent hallway and through a second set of doors which opened into a room with no other exits but for a well in the centre. Come on, this can't be it? She re-read everything in the journal but that was it, there was nothing else. Casting a magelight down the well, she peered in and could barely discern the desiccated remains of some ill-fated fellow – presumably this 'Anders' that Nystrom had referred to in his journal. Alright, there was nothing else for it; she had to go in. Seeing as the smooth sides of the well provided no purchase, she hung from the edge and priming herself, she let go, landing nimbly next to Anders' remains. Before she could even look around, the floor of the well started descending. For a moment everything around her was devoid of any light, so much so that even her augmented vision could not penetrate the darkness. Light gradually returned and she found herself on a circular design in the floor, with three closed doors leading from the room. The floor had an azure centrepiece with place for a key. She inserted the Skeleton Key and mechanisms clicked and ground before the centrepiece morphed into a swirling well with three curved stones rising around it. She jumped when magick erupted from it, along with the by now familiar figure of Nocturnal, two crows perched on her outstretched arms.
"My, my. What do we have here? It's been a number of years since I've set foot on your world. Or perhaps it's been moments. One tends to lose track. So... once again the Key has been stolen and a "champion" returns it to the Sepulcher. Now that Ebonmere has been restored, you stand before me awaiting your accolades; a pat on your head... a kiss on your cheek."
"No, not really…" she tried to protest, but the daedric prince continued as if she hadn't spoken.
"What you fail to realize is your actions were expected and represent nothing more than the fulfilment of your agreement." Well, there's some gratitude for ya…
"Don't mistake my tone for displeasure, after all, you've obediently performed your duties to the letter," Nocturnal continued as though she'd read her thoughts, "but we both know this has little to do with honour and oaths and loyalty. It's about the reward; the prize. Fear not. You'll have your trinkets, your desire for power, and your hunger for wealth. I bid you to drink deeply from the Ebonmere, mortal. For this is where the Agent of Nocturnal is born. The Oath has been struck, the die has been cast and your fate awaits you in the Evergloam. Farewell, Nightingale. See to it the Key stays this time, won't you?" The crows on her arms cocked their heads in a curious mirroring of each other before she descended into the swirling surface of the Ebonmere again. With a start, Rasha noticed that another figure had appeared on the other side of it – she recognised the petite figure of her fellow Dunmer Nightingale and approached her.
"I'm glad you were able to bring the Key back safely. Nocturnal seemed quite pleased with your efforts."
"Pleased? She sounded indifferent." Rasha scoffed.
"I wouldn't take that to heart. It's her way. Think of her as a scolding mother continually pushing you harder to be successful; outwardly sounding angry but silently content. I assure you, had she been displeased with you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"What's this about becoming an Agent of Nocturnal?"
"Standing on the circles at the base of the Ebonmere imbues you with powers befitting a Nightingale Agent. The crescent moon represents the Agent of Shadow, the half-moon for the Agent of Subterfuge and the full moon for the Agent of Strife."
"Agent of Shadow?" Rasha asked, sounding interested
"The master of remaining unseen," Karliah explained. "They are able to manipulate the darkness and use it to their advantage. On moonlit nights or in darkened rooms, this agent literally becomes invisible."
"Ooh, nice? But … why can't I choose all three?"
"This is Nocturnal's way of maintaining balance. If you ever feel the need to change your abilities, you can return to the Sepulcher and step onto a different circle. Be warned that once you've chosen, you can't reselect for at least a day." Okay, that wasn't too bad. Rasha stepped onto the crescent moon and light suffused her form.
"So what now?"
"Now, your life as a Nightingale begins. Should the need arise, you'll be summoned to the Sepulcher in order to defend it."
"And you?"
"The Guild has welcomed me back with open arms. I feel like a void in my life has finally been filled. I only hope that this isn't an ending to things, but actually the beginning."
"The beginning of what?"
"Why, perhaps the greatest crime spree Skyrim's ever known," Karliah grinned mischievously. "There are pockets brimming with coin and coffers overflowing with riches ripe for the picking. We may be Nightingales, but in our hearts we're still thieves and we're damn good at what we do…" She stilled and her eyes widened suddenly. Rasha swung around, her claws bared, but it was the wispy shape of Gallus that had materialised behind her. Damn it, why do all ghosts do that?
"Karliah?" he inquired and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
"Gallus!" She approached him and they held their hands out to each other, his passing unhindered through hers. "I feared I would never see you again. I was afraid you'd become like the others."
"If it were not for the actions of this Nightingale," he tilted his head in Rasha's direction, "your fears would have come true. She honours us all."
"What will you do now, my love?"
"Nocturnal calls me to the Evergloam. My contract has been fulfilled."
"Will I ever see you again?" she asked, unable to mask her longing.
"When your debt to Nocturnal has been paid, we'll embrace once again," he assured her, smiling gently.
"Farewell, Gallus," she sighed. "Eyes open... walk with the shadows."
"Goodbye, my Karliah." His form wavered before fading completely. She hugged herself forlornly and Rasha placed a comforting hand on her thin shoulder.
"Where … did he go?" she asked gently. Karliah sniffed once and rubbed at her eyes before turning to face her.
"Gallus's Oath has been paid. His actions have satisfied the terms. Now his spirit becomes one with the Evergloam... the realm of perpetual twilight and the cradle of shadow."
"So, he's gone?"
"No, not gone... he's become one with the shadows. This is the greatest honour a Nightingale can possibly achieve. In death, he's become a part of that which we use to live."
"They're a part of the darkness around us?" Rasha asked, her eyes flitting to the shadows surrounding them.
"Absolutely."
"And … that's not a bit creepy how?"
Karliah smiled indulgently, appearing not offended. "When we say "walk with the shadows," we are asking those Nightingales who have passed on to protect us. It's believed that they are literally what guides our uncanny luck... by placing their hands in ours. That's why the Ebonmere needed to be reopened. Without it, there's no way Nocturnal was able to allow them through."
"A bit more luck's never hurt anyone," Rasha stated and her companion agreed with a nod.
"These doors," Karliah indicated, "are portals that will return you to the entrance of the Sepulcher. What will you do now? I'm sure Brynjolf can coordinate Guild affairs with Delvin and Vex for a while still."
"Curl up on someone's rug and sleep for two days?" the Kahjiit retorted playfully and her friend laughed softly. "No, I … I need to see a friend of mine. I have been gone too long, she'd worry – she's like that," she tried to explain and Karliah nodded her understanding.
"There will always be a place for you in Nightingale Hall as well. Safe travels, and … thank you."
Judiiz and Serana had set off right away, not waiting around to watch Esbern and Delphine bicker over which supplies to pack. They took the south-western road from Riverwood and walked in companionable silence, Judiiz lost in thought and Serana enjoying a respite from the afternoon sun when a few clouds moved to obscure it. She noticed the old Bleak Falls Barrow still standing and wondered idly if the Draugr were still as gullible as in her youth. She frowned when Judiiz halted at the Guardian Stones, tracing her slender fingers over the runes carved into one of them. She appeared contemplative, melancholy almost and the vampire touched her shoulder lightly.
"Hey, are you alright?" Judiiz looked at her and graced her with one of those sad little smiles she'd come to associate with her quiet friend.
"This … was the first stop after we escaped Helgen. I hadn't even realised that I was free then."
"We …?" Serana inquired gently and she watched the redhead's touch of grief slowly change to mild affection.
"Hadvar, an Imperial soldier who couldn't find me on the execution list."
"You are … fond of him," Serana stated, glad for her friend, but inexplicably … dismayed for some reason. It was wonderful that the young Nord had someone besides Balgruuf who was special to her. Why would she feel this way then?
"There is … something," Judiiz admitted. "He is a … brother perhaps?" she tried to explain, not noticing the fleeting look of relief passing over her friend's features. "Yes, he's as I would imagine an older brother to be. He …" her brow furrowed and her gaze turned distant, as if there was some mental exertion involved in retrieving reluctant memories, "he carried me from here to Riverwood. I don't remember much of it."
"Oh! Well I … I'm sure that some lucky man out there is just waiting…"
"No man will touch me ever again," the young Nord stated softly, but with annealed resolve and as she turned to start walking again, she muttered, almost as though for her own ears only, "Dii stahr los saark."
"What was that?" Serana asked, falling into step alongside her.
"Nothing," Judiiz sighed before obviously changing the subject. "You spoke the dragontongue at Delphine's."
"So did you," the vampire countered and a corner of the redhead's mouth twitched at her retort.
"I have no idea how I do it at times. It seems to come when I'm excited or … angry."
"It is part of who and what you are."
"Who am I? What am I?" They walked in silence for long moments, their crunching footsteps muted by nature's song of birds around them.
"I had a wise friend once," Serana broke the quiet at last. "He told me that being Dragonborn is unique, something that nobody else could ever understand. He likened it to a sky full of lightning contained in a wine bottle with just a stopper holding it back."
"Wow, I … that's … how it feels."
"He explained that the lightning was made up of many things – the Shouts of course, the power and magicka of it, the physical strength, the speed – all the things that make a Dragonborn an unstoppable force. But at the heart of all that is the actual soul of a dragon." They came upon a small faded footpath leading south at a point where Lake Ilinalta lay glittering brilliantly to the north for miles and Serana turned up the path, a rapt but baffled Judiiz following.
"Having the soul of a dragon presents you with no small things to overcome. Dragons have fearsome tempers. They are proud creatures, with good reason. They are immeasurably territorial and protective of what is theirs, and they will never back down from any challenge, especially those from their own kind. They are as wise as time itself and can be as kind as a mother nurturing her children." She stopped when they reached a shrine to Talos, spoilt offerings and wilted flowers lying forgotten at his statue's feet.
"Think of containing all that within that bottle – the human form, and your Thu'um as the stopper. If your stopper is strong, the lightning is let loose on the world in measured quantities. But if your stopper is weak, catastrophic damage can ensue." Judiiz looked up at the weathered statue, her mind trying to picture it without the wears of time, wind and rain.
"A wine bottle," she mused and was surprised when Serana snorted a laugh next to her.
"Well yes, he was explaining that to me over a few of those, most of them already empty."
"He was wise, nonetheless," Judiiz smirked at the picture in her mind of Serana and a friend drunkenly rambling insights at each other over a few drinks. "Who was he?"
"I got to know him as Hjalti Early-Beard. You might know him by a different name."
"You mean …" Judiiz gasped, her eyes flicking back to the statue.
"Yes," Serana laughed softly. "He was to me as I would imagine Hadvar is to you. I got to meet his mercenary dragon, Nafaalilargus, as well. Nafaal taught me the finer points of the dragontongue, as I only knew what I'd learnt from draugr and a single dragon priest. He'd hoped that I'd be a Tongue, but I never had the gift of the Thu'um."
"You …" the redhead shook her tresses, her wonder turning into frustration, "you already know so much more than me. I am so damn … lost with all of this at times. How will I ever …"
"You will learn," Serana assured her patiently, but Judiiz seemed not to hear.
"I must have sounded like a spoilt child in that basement. 'Gettin' too big for her britches', I can already hear Delphine saying. And Alduin is looming over the world, but I'm off running all over the place, doing all sorts of silly side… things …" She flopped down at the man-god's feet, her legs dangling off the dais and Serana seated herself gracefully next to her.
"Did you not hear what Talos had said?" she asked the younger Nord gently.
"Yes, I know, but …"
"But nothing. Your quick and formidable temper, your protectiveness, your strength in battle, your wisdom – yes, you do possess more wisdom than you think," she added with an indulgent smile when Judiiz wanted to protest, "your Thu'um, even though I have not yet witnessed it because you hid it so well," she smiled reassuringly when the other girl looked at her with a measure of guilt, "your wild emotions – it wouldn't do to shut those off, but you can learn to control how much of it passes into the world. Remember, you have the indomitable will of a dragon as well. And doing things for others in the face of danger? That tells me who you are and how much you care for those you are willing to call yours. It also strengthens and develops you and your 'stopper'," she bumped Judiiz's shoulder playfully with her own when the girl snickered, "and on the whole, fortifies the vessel to contain it all. How else could you hope to defeat Alduin? You cannot simply walk up to him and tell him to go away simply because you are Dragonborn." Judiiz looked at her for a moment before dropping her gaze and kicking her legs idly, smiling shyly.
"Will you help me?" For a moment Serana was completely taken by her unpretentious sincerity, her vibrant and guileless beauty and she wondered how such innocence could hope to contain the mighty soul of an entity feared by all races throughout history. It was irreconcilable, but it was sitting right in front of her.
"I will," she couldn't help but answer, her insides doing outlandish things when Judiiz' twin sapphires glittered above her grateful smile.