Chapter 28 - The Gamble at the Summit of Apocrypha


"Ah, welcome back, Dragonborn. I take it your quest was successful?" Storn greeted me jovially as he saw me enter the village, and my heart felt weighed down by guilt as I saw the Skaal shaman's unsuspecting face.

It had only been two hours since I'd returned from Apocrypha, two hours since I'd acquired both the book's knowledge on Shouts and negotiated with Hermaeus Mora for the other Words of Power, and already second and third thoughts were plaguing my mind. Two hours since I'd returned to Nchardak burdened by knowledge, and had to bend the truth ever so slightly when asked by Neloth about my experiences with that Daedric Prince, lest my facade slip and alert the more moral Lydia, who I didn't want to disappoint, and the definitively more moral Frea, whose face I didn't want to see when she knew that I'd been asked to betray her people.

Two hours since Hermaeus Mora had delivered his ultimatum: the third Word of the Bend Will Shout, the final piece of the puzzle I'd need to confront Miraak once and for all, in exchange for the "secrets of the Skaal", whatever that may have been. To both prove he was trustworthy (as much as the Gardener of Men could ever really be) and (I suspected) to further tempt and corrupt me, he gave me the second Word of the Bend Will Shout. The first Word unlocked the ability to bend the very earth to one's will. The third would, presumably, unlock the ability to bend the wills of all. At the very least, it definitely bent the wills of even dragons.

The second? The minds of mortals, from animals to people.

It was pretty clear that he intended for me to use it on the Skaal shaman if diplomacy failed, in order to coax him into giving up his secrets.

The newly-empowered Shout had whispered within me almost the second I'd learnt it, begging to be used, for me to become it, and to take the Tamriel that had wronged me and forced me into a role I'd never wanted and turn it into something more pleasing to me. Something that could no longer hurt me. It had dredged up memories of my childhood, of the suffering orphanage, of the depths I'd been forced to descend to in order to survive in the streets of the Imperial City. It called upon the haunting sights of Thalmor atrocities I'd witnessed, at the border between Cyrodiil and Valenwood. It forced me to re-experience the pain of being kicked into pillars, of being sent deep into a frozen lake and bitten badly, of the innumerable tears, bruises, cuts, and bite marks I'd sustained against the World-Eater, and of the feeling of helplessness as I'd almost been decapitated on charges unknown and unlawful.

I squashed those impulses as they'd formed, weary as I'd been from my journey through Apocrypha. After all, those were memories of old, and while they were an integral part of me, I'd already lived through them, experienced them, and learnt to live with them.

Storn handed me a hot drink as I moved towards him, clearly interested in the results of my journey, and I mentally debated continuing the lie, and luring him into secretive place before simply bending his will, before rejecting the idea. I may not have been a good person, but that was a step too far, as far as I was concerned. A small part of me argued that Storn would come to no harm, and that he would simply be sharing his secrets with Hermaeus Mora, but I didn't trust Hermaeus Mora in the slightest with regards to that. After all, I still didn't know what his real agenda was, or why he was truly setting me up to take down his other servant, Miraak. I'd asked, but received a cryptic answer which suggested that Miraak was being punished just for being restless, which I could honestly relate to somewhat; I'd barely been able to tolerate Apocrypha after seven minutes. Seven millennia would break me.

Quietly, I debated simply summoning Durnehviir and heading straight towards the Greybeards, in order to ask if they knew the third Word of the Bend Will Shout, and immediately crossed it out of my mind. While the cleansing of the Stones had bought us a reprieve from Miraak's growing influence, he'd still been able to send a dragon after me at Nchardak, and there was no way of knowing how much time we truly had left. Besides, knowing the pacifistic Greybeards and the nature of this corrupting Shout, if they had ever known it, chances were they'd have forced themselves to forget it eons ago, and even if they did know of it? I still remembered how hard it had been to learn Dragonrend, and that was only meant to weaken dragons, and especially the World-Eater. This Shout was the one Shout I'd agree with them should be forgotten to the annals of time forever.

As the nature of the Bend Will Shout continued to snake it's tendrils within me, I thought about the First Dragonborn, Miraak. I didn't know anything about his circumstances, but if he felt the temptation of this Shout as strongly as I did, then all I could do was pity the monster the man had become. And if I did abuse this Shout, and give in to it? As Neloth had said, Hermaeus Mora would then effectively have two power-hungry Dragonborns running around, until one of us killed the other. Even if I stopped Miraak, it would be meaningless if I simply became a new Miraak.

Finally, I thought back towards Lydia, who'd vowed to follow me no matter what. I thought back to Serana, who was as good as my sworn sister. I thought about my naive new Housecarl, Jordis, and the person who'd assigned her to me. Elisif was still waiting for that story, after all. I thought back to Mjoll, whose view of me seemed over-inflated at times, all because I'd stumbled across Grimsever by accident. Aela, who I'd been reintroduced to in the unlikeliest of places, and we'd worked up a good sweat together sparring, and how she'd told make the power my own. Lastly, I thought about my newest companion, Frea, and how she'd named me friend of the Skaal, and tried to give me psychotherapy.

I couldn't betray all these people, in the end. Ironic coming from the man who'd once betrayed Cyrodiil's Thieves Guild, but I wouldn't be Marius if I betrayed my companions. Taking a deep breath, I looked the Skaal shaman in the eye, and said with as much openness as I could: "I spoke to Hermaeus Mora. He asked for the "secrets of the Skaal"."

"Hermaeus Mora... old Herma-Mora himself." Storn spat out the name in disgust, somehow sounding more tired than I'd ever heard (which was saying something, seeing as how I'd first met the shaman while he was maintaining a barrier capable of warding off Miraak's influence). He returned my gaze somberly, and I desperately searched his face for any sign of anger or betrayal. Instead, he simultaneously made me feel both better and worse, as he explained in resigned acceptance: "So he is the source of Miraak's power. Of course. We have many tales of Herma-Mora trying to trick us into giving up our secrets to him. And now he comes again for what we have long kept from him."

"He said it's the only way he'll teach me the final Word of Miraak's Shout." I said, as much for the benefit of me and my companions as his, an attempt to justify to all of us present the request I'd just made. Storn let out a defeated sigh, and replied: "So it falls to me to be the one to give up the secrets to our ancient enemy. I do not know if I have the strength to face him. The Tree Stone is still corrupted... the land is still out of balance. But with the other five restored... it may be enough. It will have to be."

"You mean you're going to give up our secrets to Herma-Mora?! Father!" Frea cried out, indignant, and I couldn't fault her for the outrage I detected. Bless her belief and trust in me, though; Frea still didn't hold me responsible. I maintained an attempt at a dignified silence, trusting in Storn and respecting his decision. Meanwhile, as the shaman of the Skaal, Storn gently but firmly explained: "Yes. The Skaal also tell of the day when we must finally give up our secrets. When Herma-Mora finally wins. As shaman, it is my duty to guard these secrets, but also to decide when it is necessary to give them up. I believe that time is now. If I am wrong, may my ancestors forgive me. Give me the book. I will read it and speak to old Herma-Mora himself. I will make sure he lives up to his part of the bargain."

"May your All-Maker guide you and be with you." I said, refusing to second-guess his decision and potentially dishonor his sacrifice. With a small, sad smile Storn held out his hand for the Black Book, and as I passed it over he said: "That is my hope as well. I am trusting you will make this sacrifice worthwhile, Dragonborn."

"Father, you must not do this!" Frea cried out in protest, a final attempt to talk her father out of this act of sacrifice. "That book is... wrong. Evil. Against everything that you have taught me my whole life!"

"I must, Frea." Storn said, kneeling in front of his daughter and holding her hands within his, the Black Book set aside for the time being. The two of us pretended not to notice the silent tears rolling down Frea's cheeks as he continued, imploring to her sense of duty: "It is the only way to free Solstheim forever from Miraak's shadow. There comes a time when everything must change. Nothing that lives remains the same forever. Do not fear for me my daughter. This is the destiny that the All-Maker has laid out for me."

"I... I understand, Father..." Frea eventually choked out, and as she helped him up she said, with a firm resolve: "I stand beside you, Father. As always."

"And with that, I am ready for whatever their foul master of this book has in store for me." Storn said, that same, sad smile gracing his features once more. And before his resolve could waver, or any of us could stop him, he opened the Black Book.

This time, a giant tentacle didn't shoot out of the pages to wrap itself around the shaman's neck. Instead, half a dozen tentacles shot out of the book and impaled Storn through the torso and head, and as he staggered backwards, paralysed by the tentacles, the Black Book glowed a sickly green, and floated in the air. At the same time, the space above the Black Book was pushed forward, and as the uncomfortably-familiar voids formed, and the alien eyeballs and tentacles poured out, a smug, oozy, slimy voice boomed out in triumph: "At last, the Skaal yield up their secrets to me!"

"You... liar... gah!" Storn choked out, even as he futilely struggled against the tentacles. Gasping in pain, he squeezed out: "... I won't... not... for you..."

"Father! No, stop!" Frea shouted at the dispassionate Daedric Prince, but, of course, he didn't relent. Turning to me, she shouted: "Do something! ... please..."

"That's enough, Hermaeus Mora." I intervened, to the surprise of even myself, and as the eyeballs turned to face me I stood firm, and tried to keep my face straight. We needed the information, and I wasn't going to disrespect Storn's sacrifice, but I couldn't condone this seemingly-unnecessary torture, either. Storn moaned in pain one last time, as a Word of Power was burned unto his body, and Hermaeus Mora declared in disgusting magnanimity: "Dragonborn, you have delivered me the gift I requested. In return, I keep my promise, as befits a Prince of Oblivion: I give you the Word of Power that you need to challenge Miraak. You will be either a worthy opponent or his successor, as the tides of fate decree."

As the abyss of tentacles and eyeballs dematerialised with those parting words, Storn crumpled to the ground lifelessly. Frea ran up to her father's body, and knelt in front of it, holding his hand within hers. As she studied his scarred form, she wailed: "Father! What have you done!"

"I... I'm very sorry about all of this." I said awkwardly, approaching Frea while taking care to keep my distance from the Word for now. Frea accepted my hand on her shoulder for a while, but then her gaze fell back upon the Word of Power Storn had been branded with, and had given his life for. I wouldn't have blamed her if she'd spat at me, or cursed me, or even blamed me; she'd only known me for two days, after all, and I'd been struggling with the corrupting power of the Bend Will Shout for most of that.

"Go." Frea spat out initially, and I winced, but, in the end, she was still the all-loving Skaal shaman Frea, and I could see the moment the struggle on her face ended, the internal conflict within resolved, as she looked down in resigned acceptance. With each next word her voice lost more of her venom, and gained more resolve. "My father sacrificed himself so that you could destroy Miraak and lift his master's shadow from the land. Go, then. Kill Miraak. Do not fail."

Nodding quietly at her words, I approached just enough to retrieve the Black Book that had killed Storn and learn the Word of Power, before backing off as I absorbed it. As I moved away from the two shamans, the rest of the villagers, who I'd been too distracted to notice up til now, moved to mourn their fallen. Lydia and Aela moved to approach me, at the same time, but stopped when they saw the look on my face, my quiet shake of the head.

The fully-powered Bend Will Shout... with the final Word I finally understood it. What it meant to become it. The Shout wasn't just meant to bend the wills of others; it's very nature as unrestrained power meant that it would try to bend and twist it's own user's will into becoming dependent on it. I didn't know if it had been designed that way specifically, or if it was just the nature of such power. If I hadn't had prior experience in resisting temptation, I might have just given in.

But I was Marius Dragonborn, in the end. My power was such that I would not risk letting it be abused. And I'd struggled with power before, and willingly passed on it. Becoming a pure-blooded vampire, for example. To say nothing of the past few hours of struggling with the Shout, or the few days before that. Sitting on the floor, I drew out the Black Book I'd found in Miraak's Temple, and opened it.

-WAKING DREAMS, APOCRYPHA, OBLIVION, ONE HOUR LATER-

Finally hearing the roar of a dragon, I looked up from the Word Wall I'd been resting and meditating at, and prepared myself to unleash the full power of the Bend Will Shout, all while a small part of me reflected on the journey I'd taken to get to this point.

My entry back into the Black Book of Waking Dreams had led me back to the platform where I'd encountered Miraak previously, but luckily, this time, it was unguarded. Unfortunately the greatsword I'd previously lost, the one that had been able to fire beams of force, was no where to be seen, having been knocked into the waters by Miraak previously. I wasn't about to go in looking for it, not after having seen the tentacles rise out of them previously.

This journey through Apocrypha hadn't been as harrowing or unnerving as the previous one, and I couldn't tell if it was because I was getting used to tuning out the alien sights, sounds, and smells of Apocrypha, or if it was because there was simply far less enemies. By the looks of things, Hermaeus Mora had purposefully told his followers to leave me be, lending further credence to his words that he wanted me and Miraak to fight. There was the occasional fish monster and floating tentacle monster, presumably the ones who were either loyal to Miraak or simply hadn't been told, but they fell easily enough, and soon I'd reached the end of the path: a relatively open platform where a Word Wall had stood, this one holding the final Word of the Dragon Aspect Shout.

Presumably, both this Shout and the Bend Will Shout were what Miraak had referred to when he'd raved about the "true power a Dragonborn can wield", as well as the things that had tempted him into Hermaeus Mora's service. After all, I doubted the dragons had created these Shouts; they hadn't used Bend Will to stop the Dragon War, or used it against Miraak's rebellion, and there was little need for dragons, already being dragons, would have no need to take on the power and aspect of dragons, and I doubted other mortals, lacking the souls of dragons, would be able have the aspect and power of dragons to physically manifest. It wouldn't have been the first Shout the dragons hadn't made, too; Dragonrend was a Shout they couldn't even stand to comprehend.

As I'd waited for one of Miraak's dragons to pass by on patrol, wondering how to bait the trap, I idly wondered why I had to use one of them, and why I couldn't simply call upon Durnehviir to fly me there. I quickly shot down the idea, though; I couldn't risk Durnehviir falling prey to Miraak's Bend Will Shout, even if I could overrule it with my own. The nigh-immortal dragon had assisted me too much for me to willingly do it to him. Also, I doubted Durnehviit knew where in Apocrypha Miraak inhabited, and I didn't want to get lost in Oblivion. As a test run, though, I'd Shouted Durnehviir's name, and learnt that, for whatever reason, I couldn't actually summon him anyway to wherever in Oblivion I was. The Shout did, however, apparently attract a dragon's attention.

The approaching dragon roared at me, and I rolled out of the way as a wave of fire crashed down upon I'd once been. Truth be told, I probably didn't have to time the Shout just right, but I didn't want to show my hand just yet, and tip off Miraak and his dragons that I knew the Shout. As I feigned rolling out of control, the dragon dove down at me, intending to fully capitalise on my moment of weakness, and a small part of me smiled. I'd like to think the expression on the dragon's face was one of surprise, as I rolled unto my back just as he was upon me, and Shouted: "GOL HAH DOV!"

The effect on the dragon was near-instantaneous; I saw a subtle shift in his eyes as he turned his swooping down into a graceful landing. Meanwhile, an unfamiliar thrill shot through me, as I saw the hostile dragon submit to me. A feeling of complete and utter control snaked through my veins, an addictive emotion that begged to be further indulged in, now that I'd finally had a taste, like the purest of skooma.

It sickened me, and I focused my mind purely on Miraak, trying to take my mind off that feeling. Both on stopping him, and on feeling pity for him; if this had been what he had felt when he'd first used it, it was honestly no wonder that he'd fallen so far. Forcing myself to ignore the thrill, I walked towards the dragon, and he looked up at me, and said: "Hail, thuri. Your Thu'um has the mastery. Climb aboard and I will carry you to Miraak."

"You turned rather... easily..." I noted out loud as I mounted the dragon, more to distract myself from the impulses within me than to bridge an awkward silence, and to my surprise the dragon chuckled amicably, before replying as he took off: "Your Thu'um is stronger than Miraak's. Vobalaan in. I serve you now."

Once again, as we soared towards through the dark green skies of Apocrypha, and across an ocean of sickly-green water and tentacles, I had to admire the speed of a healthy dragon. Durnehviir was fast enough, sure, but speed wasn't where he shined, his tattered wings not being able to beat as strongly as other dragons. Idly, I noted we seemed to be heading towards the tallest structure in sight, and the dragon made a grunting noise when I pointed it out, as we drew closer. Looking up at me, he then warned: "Beware. Miraak is strong. They knew you would come here."

"That's helpful enough, I suppose." I said drily, not being surprised in the least, and as we began ascending further up, towards the summit of this tower, the dragon answered: "Miraak has forced me to serve them for too long. Nahkriin saraan lingrah. Let us destroy them together."

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to ponder his words, about how it seemed that he'd been conscious and unwilling the whole time, for right as he finished his declaration he flew over the summit, and dove back down gracefully, before landing right in front of a familiar masked- and robed-figure, who took one look at him, and the Dragonborn riding him, and asked, in a tone of mock disappointment: "Sahrotaar, are you so easily swayed?"

As I leapt off this Sahrotaar, weapon at the ready, I heard a pair of roars echo from around me, and two more dragons swooped down towards me. Miraak, however, held his hand up, and as the dragons changed course and silently perched themselves upon the nearby arches, he declared: "No. Not yet. We should greet our guest first."

"How very gracious of you." I said drily, and Miraak gave me a chuckle and a slow clap. I could almost envision the smirk on his smug face as he slowly walked around the pool in the middle towards me, and I slowly circled around the pool away from him, determined not to let him get too close if I could. Both he and I could easily close the distance between us with a Whirlwind Sprint, but that would still, at least, give me a split second to react. And I still had my crossbows. Finishing his sarcastic applause, the former Dragon Priest loudly began, as if speaking to a wider audience: "And so the First Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha. No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended."

"Not a big fan of him either, are you?" I asked, wanting to see if Hermaeus Mora's story about Miraak growing restless and treacherous was true, and Miraak shook his head, before answering: "He is a fickle master, you know. But now I will be free of him. My time in Apocrypha will finally be over!"

"Couldn't you have just read the Black Book at the end of this Black Book to get out?" I interjected, genuinely curious by what was stopping him, and Miraak glared at me, unhappy with the interruption. Refusing to be fazed, I glared back, and eventually Miraak sighed, before explaining, in a condescending tone like that of a teacher talking to a very slow child: "As my temple was being attacked by dozens of angry dragons, I was... betrayed, stabbed in the back by my fellow Dragon Priest, Vahlok, at the height of the battle. While this didn't kill me, or break my control over those I'd already subverted to my will, it still grievously weakened me, and as the dragons overwhelmed me, and Vahlok was about to land the final blow, Hermaeus Mora spirited me away, body and all, via the Black Book of Waking Dreams.

"Unlike you, who still possesses your physical form in Mundus that provides an anchor, both my consciousness and my body are in this... place, and hence I cannot leave so easily on my own. I needed power, more than any one dragon or Dragonborn could ever possess by themselves, in order to create a new physical link to Mundus, and hence finally be free!" Miraak finally ended his rant on a high note, chest heaving, his voice showing more emotion than I'd ever seen, and I found myself wondering when he'd gone from explaining something I didn't understand to justifying his plan to me. Looking at him, I slowly processed what he'd just told me and finally connecting the dots, understanding what had been going on in the island.

"Corrupting the Stones... having the people work on them... that was you trying to create your "anchor", wasn't it?" I asked, just to be sure, and Miraak nodded, apparently pleased by my understanding. I'd already foiled that plan, though, and I pointed it out, confused: "But... I've already cleansed the Stones of your influence. That plan's over. Your plan is over."

"Did you really think it so easy? Don't be so disingenuous, Dragonborn. My influence still grows from the Stone you could never cleanse. And besides... there's another power around on Solstheim, one more than equal to the whole of Solstheim." Miraak asked, sounding almost insulted by my response, and as I put together the last piece of the puzzle, my face hardened with the realization that I'd played right into the First Dragonborn's hand. Miraak, seemingly pleased by my revelation, triumphantly exclaimed: "Yes. You are here, in your full power, and thus subject to my full power! You will die. And with the power of your soul, I will return to Solstheim and be master of my own fate again! Kruziikrel! Relonikiv! Now!"

At those words, the dragons perched on the arches flew towards me, only to be intercepted by Sahrotaar, and Miraak send a lightning bolt at me. This wasn't going to be a repeat of our first meeting, where I'd been disoriented by my unexpected entrance to Apocrypha, and caught by surprise and paralysed at the very start. If Miraak had done something different, like a Whirlwind Sprint straight up to me, perhaps I'd have been caught more unaware, but he'd decided to use the same move he'd started with previously, and it was nullified by my ward.

Of course, though, Miraak had seen me do it before, and he tried to take advantage of me throwing up a ward to close the distance with a Whirlwind Sprint, a green blade, suddenly in hand, swinging down at me. I quickly drew my own ebony sword and blocked the blow, stopping the sword just inches from my face. As I got an uncomfortably detailed look at the sword, an eyeball at the base of the blade opened, and as I stared at the surreal sight the tentacles that made up the guard of the sword writhed around the blade, and suddenly grabbed my ebony sword. Not waiting to see if it would do anything else, I ducked slightly, releasing some of the strength I'd poured into my blade, and as Miraak overswung slightly in response, having been pouring strength into his blade in an effort to overpower my block, and the blade went over where my head had been, I used an Unrelenting Force to send his blade (which took mine with it) flying out of his hand and off the summit.

As it flew over the edge (and, presumably, into the waters of Apocrypha to join my greatsword), Miraak delivered a quick downwards chop with his now-freed hand, and I staggered backwards slightly as the blow impacted my helmet. Disoriented, my ears ringing thanks to the clanging noise created by my dented helmet, I gasped out in pain as Miraak delivered a follow-up punch into my gut, and doubled over slightly. Miraak stood over me and picked me up by the neck, and lifted me up with a single smooth motion as he said: "Give up, and I will make your death quick and painless."

"I'd... tell you... to go to Oblivion... but you're already there..." I coughed out, feigning weakness, fighting the pain in my neck, waiting for Miraak to let his guard down. Miraak increased the pressure he was applying to my neck, and as I choked some more, he continued: "Fate decreed that you had to die so that I could win my freedom. And even if you had somehow won? Hermaeus Mora would betray you as he has me. He is laughing at us, you know."

As I let my body go limp, and gasped out in pain as he slammed me into the pillar, I watched almost lifelessly, head lolling back slightly, as he drew back his free hand, as if to punch into my chest and rip my heart out. There was almost a note of desperate self-justification as his face closed towards mine, and he whispered: "This is the only way, Dragonborn. The only way I can be free."

Seizing the chance, I slammed my head forward into his as hard as I could, cracking his mask with my headbutt (and further denting my helmet), before kicking his knee and Shouting an Unrelenting Force at him at point-blank range, the newly-upgraded Shout sending him flying across the summit. As his fall was broken with a satisfyingly painful sound by an opposing arch, I massaged my throat with a hand casting a healing spell and coughed, clearing my respiratory tract, before saying: "I never trusted Hermaeus Mora anyway, and I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing this because to stop you."

"Do you know what it's been like, living in this realm?" Miraak shouted angrily, as he picked himself up from the rubble of the arch, and I could hear the desperation in his voice, as he implored: "To live under the sickly-green skies, ever-watchful eyes, and treacherous tentacles of Hermaeus Mora? Your only companions near-mindless daedra and countless books? To carry out his awful will in exchange for knowledge, just enough to tempt you but never enough to sate you? I am done being Hermaeus Mora's pawn! I will return to Mundus, breathe fresh air once more, enjoy the feeling of the Sun on my skin once more... and finally be free, once more."

"I understand, but I still must stop you." I said sadly, hefting the old steel battleaxe Balgruuf had given me so long ago, and as I got into a guard position I continued: "Look at everything you've done, trying to return. All the death, all those people bent to your will! Your Shout has corrupted you; how much worse would it be if you escaped?"

"And what about you?" Miraak taunted, summoning a staff with a fish's head into his hand. "What kind of depths have you stooped to, just to stop me, Dragonborn? You've also had to learn my Shout just to get here, after all, and Hermaeus Mora would never have taught it to you so easily. And if you know that Shout, then surely you, too, understand and experience it's temptation. Who are you, who dares to stop me?"

"I'm the one who also experiences it's temptation, yes." I admitted, watching his form, and as he crouched slightly I braced myself, and as he Whirlwind Sprinted once more, and his staff met my axe, I looked straight into his mask, and taunted: "And the one who resisted it."

Miraak roared in anger, at the thought that I might think myself superior to him, and the fish head on the staff opened up. I threw myself to the side just in time, as it suddenly spat out a stream of black ooze, out of which green tentacles writhed out of, trying to reach at me. Miraak turned the staff towards me, and I threw up another ward to protect myself. Of course, Miraak tried to take advantage of that with another Whirlwind Sprint, but this time I was ready, and as he sprinted towards me I dropped the ward, and sliced forward with my battleaxe.

This time, Miraak gasped in pain, as I drove the battleaxe deeper into his side, his robes providing little protection against the sharp steel, and Sahrotaar roared in triumph from his position in the skies above us, where he still fended off Miraak's other two dragons. This should have been a mortal blow, but I'd underestimated Miraak in one regard. Looking at me, he suddenly Shouted a familiar Word, one I'd used to escape death before, and my axe suddenly passed harmlessly through his now-ethereal form.

The incorporeal Miraak then Whirlwind Sprinted away from me, and towards the central pool, where he then looked up towards the three dragons still duelling each other in the sky. As I watched, unable to stop him, the incorporeal Miraak then Shouted, to my utter disbelief: "Kruziikrel, Relonikiv, Sahrotaar! Ziil los dii du!"

The three dragons suddenly stilled and fell out of the sky, bodies already beginning to burn, and I covered my eyes as their corpses threw up a cloud of rubble, pages, and dust as they impacted on the ground. The ever-familiar light flowed out of their bodies and towards Miraak, and as he became physical once more I saw that all of his wounds had closed up and healed over, and he breathed in relief, before rhetorically asking: "Do you ever wonder if it hurts? To have one's soul ripped out like that?"

"How could you just do that to them?" I whispered, horrified. Miraak was a mass mind-bending Dragonborn who'd influenced most of Solstheim, sure, and they were just dragons, but I'd never seen him order his own followers, ones that he'd known for millennia, to just die so that he could heal himself, especially considering he'd once been a Dragon Priest for the Dragon Cult. I couldn't see the look on Miraak's face thanks to his mask, but he sounded like he was conflicted, talking as much to himself as me, as he answered: "If their deaths are what it take for me to be free of Hermaeus Mora and this accursed realm, so be it."

He raised his staff just in time to intercept my Whirlwind Sprint, but there was less strength than he'd previous held, and this time I stood over him, my blade relentlessly inching towards his head, and I shouted: "They must have been your only company this whole time! Your only friends! How?!"

With my words I could almost see the steel return to his gaze, and he rolled backwards before recovering, and angrily countered: "They were but dragons, and we are Dragonborn. They were not my friends; they were not my equals! You have never seen the depths of cruelty they and their Cult descended to, back when Solstheim was still part of Skyrim, and I was but a mere Dragon Priest, naive Dragonborn. The dragons deserve neither your mercy or your sympathy"

I continued my assault against him, and a crack formed on the wood of his staff, widening with each block of my axe, but Miraak had finally had enough. Even as my axe finally cleaved his staff in two, he looked at me, and Shouted: "MUL QAH DIIV!" As the ethereal dragonplate armor coated his form, and my axe struck his arm like a stone wall, he gripped the blade without harm, and with his enhanced strength he ripped the axe out of my hand and tossed it away, saying: "You are strong. Stronger than I believed possible. But now we can finish this. Your death will not be that painless, I promise."

Now that he'd finally used his Dragon Aspect Shout, and played the last card I knew he had, it was finally my turn, and as he lunged at me, I smiled under my helmet, and in turn Shouted: "MUL QAH DIIV!"

Miraak's claws easily pierced through my ebony plate, but even as it was ripped off he still fell short of cutting me, not having expected that I even knew Dragon Aspect, let alone the full Shout, too, and I used the chance to punch him in the face, sending him skidding backwards. I had known the full Shout would give me enhanced strength and speed, but not to that degree, and as he stared on in shock, having been sent back whilst in this form for the first time, I answered: "I agree; it is time to finish this."

Of course, Miraak too was enhanced by his Dragon Aspect, had been trained in the Thu'um by dragons back when he'd been a Dragon Priest, and more importantly had millennia of experience under his belt. He refused to let my remark slide, and leapt at me, trying to use an Unrelenting Force Shout to knock me to the ground, where I'd be easier prey, but I countered his Unrelenting Force with my own, before intercepting his hands as he landed in front of me. Miraak kicked at me as I held on to his arms, and a few lucky shots nailed me in my injured side, but I refused to flinch, both the blows and the pain lessened by my Dragon Aspect, and I headbutted him once more, further cracking his mask.

Miraak held many advantages over me, yes, but he didn't know me, and was not prepared to fight another Dragonborn, let alone in close quarters. I still held the unarmed training from both my earlier years as a thief, and from my years of service to the Legion, but most importantly? My lack of formal training by the dragons or the Greybeards meant I'd needed to learn how to improvise, and the fact that most of my fights had been against foes who far out-matched me physically, from bears to dragons to vampire lords, meant that I'd had to learn how to fight very dirty, and use every advantage and trick I could find. Even as Miraak headbutted me in return, knocking off my ebony helmet, I Whirlwind Sprinted the two of us into a nearby tower, letting him take the brunt of the impact, before using an Unrelenting Force Shout to topple the tower on top of him.

In response, a wave of frost shot out of the rubble towards me, which I countered with my own Fire Breath, and two lightning bolts shot out from a newly-risen Miraak, discharging harmlessly against my own ethereal dragonplate armor. I jumped back at Miraak, and endured an enhanced Fire Breath of theirs as Miraak tried to stop me. Alduin's Fire Breath was longer and far hotter, and now I had my Dragon Aspect protecting me. I still felt the heat, though, and my armor suffered especially, not being nearly as able to handle the heat as I was, and most of my remaining breastplate melted at it's edges from the heat even as I swiped at Miraak, and gashes appeared on Miraak's forearm where he blocked my blow, from which blood spurted out.

Miraak howled in pain, and angrily grabbed me by the hand I slashed at him, before delivering yet another Fire Breath against my exposed torso, this time at point-blank range, leaving a raw red burn mark (which was still far less than it should have). I kicked at Miraak, not wanting to have to endure another one of those, but he grabbed my leg, and channeled a Shock spell into my body from where he held me. This time, it was my turn to feel the pain, but I wasn't out of the fight just yet. With both of Miraak's hands full, he wasn't able to intercept my other leg as I kicked at his knee, and as his leg was kicked inwards, and he was made to forcefully kneel, I swept out his legs from under him, before kicking him away.

Of course, we were both Dragonborn, and neither of us were anywhere near done yet. Miraak Whirldwind Sprinted back at me in anger, his adrenaline increasing his speed and strength ever-so-slightly, and even as I blocked one of his hands his other raked across my now-bare chest, and while blood flew out of the claw marks on my torso he winced in pain as I punched him in the gut. He kicked me hard in the side, making me cough up blood, and I kneed him hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

This was becoming an unrefined brawl, whereby we were both equally-matched and I needed to change things up into a situation where I could find some advantage. Thinking quickly, I forewent the chance to block a blow of his, and as his fist dislocated my left shoulder, I slugged him hard across the face, spraining my wrist against his hard mask but still staggering him, briefly. I fought back the urge to scream in pain, knowing that I'd need my Voice, and I hobbled up to him before unleashing a Fire Breath of my own into his face.

It wasn't very effective, just as his hadn't been on me, and his mask withstood the heat far better than my ebony armor had, but it did what I'd intended, and obscured his vision with the flames and smoke. He flailed blindly, coughing from the smoke, and a lucky hit nailed me in my side, crushing a rib. I gritted my teeth and ignored it, having gambled a lot of injuries just for this one chance. I couldn't risk giving it up; I had to use everything I had.

I wasn't able to grab him with my other hand to make sure the shot was true, thanks to it being dislocated, but at this range it was pretty hard to miss. And with one fluid motion I drew my enhanced crossbow from it's holster, the one capable of puncturing even the hide of the World-Eater, raised it to where Miraak's heart roughly was (I didn't have time to make sure the shot was perfect), and pulled the trigger. The bolt flew the fractions of an inch between us, penetrating the ethereal dragonplate armor of Miraak's, and even with his enhanced speed and strength, Miraak wouldn't have been able to dodge it at this range even if he'd been able to see it.

Miraak, still half-blinded, howled in pain once more as the bolt buried itself within his chest, and wildly swiped at me, like an enraged, cornered bear, and I twisted my body so that my already-useless side would take the brunt of the force. I still fought the urge to wince as his fingers raked across my face, leaving scratches stretched from my brow down to my cheek (luckily missing my eye), before they buried themselves in my dislocated shoulder. I had to finish this now, before I passed out. There would be no time to heal for either of us. Channeling all the magicka I had left into my right hand, I grabbed the bolt, punched it deeper into Miraak's chest, and discharged the lightning bolt into it.

Miraak jerked and shuddered from the shock spell flowing into him through his chest, bypassing his thick ethereal dragonplate hide, and I finally released my grip on the bolt, magicka all spent, before kicking Miraak back weakly, and finally dropping to all fours, as the pain overwhelmed me. Miraak staggered backwards, looking at me, and as I stared at his mask, which was more cracks than actual mask at this point, I could only find the energy to murmur: "I'm sorry, but I had to."

Miraak tried to pull out the bolt from his chest, but couldn't, and as I watched him he Became Ethereal, and the bolt fell to the ground through his incorporeal form. It didn't matter, though; it had been a mortal blow, and we both knew it. Still, as befitting of the First Dragonborn, Miraak refused to lay down and die, and he tried to Whirlwind Sprint away from me.

As he passed over one of the pools of green liquid, though, tentacles suddenly surged up from within them and ensnared him, before they dragged him down below into the pool. I forced myself to sit up, adrenaline helping to counter the weakness flooding my body, and as I watched the skies above me became filled with the uncomfortably-familiar alien voids. Tentacles writhed out into the air around me, and eyeballs all peered down upon the summit of Apocrypha, as Miraak levitated up and out of the green pool in the middle, struggling helplessly against some unseen force. Countless unseen creatures of ooze and slime gurgled and slithered, and a mocking voice boomed from all around: "Did you think to escape me, Miraak? You can hide nothing from me here. No matter. I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me."

A pedestal containing an open Black Book slowly rose out of the pool, underneath Miraak, and the First Dragonborn gasped in pain as a tentacle shot out of the Black Book and impaled him right where I'd shot him. All the eyes in the voids above turned to me, and Hermaeus Mora addressed me in turn, sounding almost magnanimous as he advised: "Miraak harbored fantasies of rebellion against me. Learn from his example. Serve me faithfully, and you will continue to be richly rewarded."

I barely heard his thinly-veiled threats, focused as I was on watching Miraak flail futilely on the tentacle. Miraak's gaze fell upon mine, as Hermaeus Mora turned his tentacle to face Miraak to me, demonstrating how helpless a Dragonborn was against his power. For some reason, as I stared into his gaze, I found myself feeling sorry for Miraak, even though we'd just tried to kill each other, with everything we'd had.

For some reason, I remembered Storn, Shaman of the Skaal, and how Hermaeus Mora had similarly impaled him through a Black Book. I remembered how he'd struggled against Hermaeus Mora even despite having a tentacle through his head, and how he'd eventually gone limp, to the cries of his daughter Frea, all so Hermaeus Mora could teach me the last Word of the Bend Will Shout. How he'd been killed by Hermaeus Mora, and it had been my fault.

For some reason, I remembered Vyrthur, Arch-Curate of Auri-El to the ancient Snow Elves, another being of Akatosh, and how he'd been similarly afflicted by the influence of a Daedric Prince, and how he'd fallen so far. I remembered the single-minded focus he'd adopted, the lengths he'd gone to, all just to achieve his goal. And I remembered how I had killed him, how he'd turned to ash in front of me, as he hadn't been able to let go of his anger.

I didn't know what in the name of Akatosh I was thinking, why I was even considering the course of action I was, but I slowly forced myself to my feet, and approached Miraak, locking eyes with him the whole time. Nodding slightly, I then turned to face the innumerable alien eyes studying me, thought about all this monster had done, from Storn to Septimus, and about all the temptations and corruptions he'd delivered unto me. Steeling my resolve, I made sure I wasn't too near any of the voids or the pools, and declared: "Herma-Mora! Release Miraak! Now!"

The gurgling around us died for a brief second, before it intensified, and Herma-Mora stared at me briefly, before stating in disbelief: "Your bravery is most impressive, my champion, but perhaps your sanity is lacking..."

"Oh no, this is probably the sanest thing I've done today." I said, before repeating: "Release Miraak now."

"Who do you think you are, to dare demand anything of me?" Herma-Mora boomed angrily, and as the tentacles around me drew closer, he continued: "This is my realm; as Miraak has demonstrated, you are powerless against me."

"Oh, I think I've got something I could hold over you." I said, as I tossed a certain pack to the floor, and his eyes widened as I nudged it open with my toe to reveal the Oghma Infinium and all the Black Books I'd found. "Do it, or we'll see just how flammable these books are."

"You wouldn't dare..." Herma-Mora threatened, his eyeballs narrowing, and I let loose a small "Yol" next to the pack, singing the ground nearby. As all the tentacles writhed about in panic and fury, I simply said: "Drop him, or try me."

We glared at each other (or, at least, he glared at me, and I tried to glare back at the thousands of eyes in the sky), and the Daedric Prince looked away first. Miraak fell to the ground as the tentacle withdrew back into the book, and he sighed: "You disappoint me, my champion..."

I didn't let him finish his sentence; instead, intent as I was on burning bridges (and books), I gripped Miraak's hand with my good one, unleashed a full Fire Breath unto the pack of forbidden knowledge, and enjoyed the sounds of a million furious slugs writhing in pain. Before any of the tentacles could grab at me, I lunged for the open Black Book, and as our hands came into contact with the pages we were drawn out of Apocrypha.

-SKAAL VILLAGE, TWO AND A HALF HOURS AFTER MARIUS STARTED READING THE BLACK BOOK-

I gasped as my consciousness flooded my body once more, and threw the Black Book I'd found myself holding as far as I could, just as a tentacle tried reaching out for me. Sighing in relief at the close escape I'd just made, I then fell to all fours, as the injuries and exertions I'd endured fighting against Miraak overtook me, and a mysterious weight dragged my right hand down.

I ignored the murmuring, the commotion, the crowds watching me, drained as I was by the battle, and looked down to find a beaten-up Miraak, still clutching my hand with a death grip. Feeling relieved that I'd succeeded, I leaned over towards him, and strained my ears in time to hear him croak out: "... why?"

"I don't know." I admitted in a whisper, too spent to raise my voice any louder, too tired to really ponder the subject myself, and Miraak made an amused noise which turned into a cough. Unfortunately, I still had no magicka to even attempt to heal either of us, and I instead shifted my position so that I was sitting next to Miraak, and rambled ineloquently: "But I do know... that Herma-Mora was corrupted and tempted you... just as he tried on me... and he's done too much for me to let him just get away with this."

Miraak sighed, apparently finding more meaning in my words than I did, and I sighed as well, wincing as the biting winds blew against my bare, burnt body, feeling grateful that the midday sun had raised the temperature from freezing to merely biting. Miraak looked up at me, and at the claw marks covering the left side of my face, and as I felt him squeeze my hand, he finally said: "Thank you... and I'm sorry... for all of this."

"Miraak..." I said, but I didn't know how to respond. Unable to think of some suitable snark, I instead took the time to change the subject: "Now, you're finally out of Apocrypha, like you wanted... was it worth it?"

Miraak breathed in deeply with some difficulty, before saying: "I... have missed... the fresh air... of Solstheim. I am... truly sorry... for what I did."

"At least you're free now, Miraak." I said, trying (and probably failing) to comfort him in his last moments, and he shook his head, saying: "Miraak was the name... the Dragon Cult gave me. Please... call me by my true name... Mira... the Guide..."

"Mira the Guide... Mira..." I echoed quietly, and I could almost see Mira's eyes smiling under their mask, as they nodded in approval. Breathing deeply once more, they then asked: "Dragonborn... please, remove my mask... so that I may feel the Sun on my face, one last time..."

Obligingly, I gently moved my hand out of Mira's grasp, and gingerly lifted the cracked mask off of the First Dragonborn's face. Black eyes gazed at me from below as I did so, and long ebony hair similar to my own spilled out, freed from the confines of the mask. Even with the clear daedric influence in her eyes, the unnatural paleness, and the fact that she had some slight burns, bruises, and cuts from our previous battle, I still found myself admiring the face of the woman below me, the face of the First Dragonborn, the enemy who'd been more than an equal match for me. A gentle smile graced the features of the Nordic face, and Mira closed her eyes, basking in the midday sun against her feminine, sun-deprived features.

"Akatosh take you, Mira." I said as Mira's breathing became shallower, and put the mask on the ground beside her, where it crumbled to dust. Mira turned towards me, eyes still closed, before saying, in a peaceful voice, so different from the hoarse, low tone she'd been making through her mask: "May you be rewarded for your service as I was... Dragonborn..."

Silently, with a smile still gracing her features, Mira the Guide stopped fighting to draw breath. Her eyes remained closed the whole time.


Author's Notes: And this marks the end of the Dragonborn arc, and the end of Act 4, after a mere 4 chapters. Good lord that finished fast; I can't believe I finished it in under a month. To be fair, Marius has grown more as Dragonborn since the Dawnguard arc, and the main story of Dragonborn was also honestly pretty short.

Trying to write Storn and Frea was pretty easy. The themes of loss, self-sacrifice, and the man responsible for it all fighting down his guilt, justifying it for being for the greater good really write themselves, especially with Marius struggling desperately with being given power and trying not to be corrupted. Trying to make Miraak sympathetic while still maintaining his insanity and arrogance, while still making them a powerful villain and foil to Marius was hard, especially while trying to maintain the twist ending that everybody saw coming. I tried to play up the millennia of solitude taking a clear toll on their mind, especially in Oblivion, as well as the inherent loneliness of being the only Dragonborn, as far as Miraak had known, their only company the mind-controlled dragons and the ever-manipulative Hermaeus Mora (I don't count the Lurkers and Seekers; I'm not sure what they are besides daedra).

Trying to make the battle between Miraak and Marius actually semi-interesting was definitively a big challenge, and for pacing reasons I had to change some parts of the story. Instead of eating the three dragons' souls one at a time and being a four-stage boss, Miraak eats them all at once, for one massive power-up, and thus provides one final climactic moment. The dragons are left to duel each other in the skies above, rather than interfere with the fight, and thus the conflict remains centred around the two Dragonborns. More Shouts are involved than a typical fight I write, as this is a battle between two Dragonborns. Both of them are capable of losing their weapons, and indeed do, turning what would possibly have been a skilled fight into an unrefined brawl between the two skilled warriors.

Anothr big change is that Miraak is more chatty in this battle than he usually would be, I guess, because here they know they're being manipulated by Hermaeus Mora, and hates that, but thanks to the power corrupting them has had no choice but to be manipulated in the past (as far as they're concerned, at least). But now, with Marius in Apocrypha providing a possible route for escape, they finally have hope, and are willing to do whatever it takes to escape. Or, basically, Miraak knows they've done some messed-up shit, desperately justifies it to themselves to make themselves feel better, and after seven millennia in Apocrypha is desperate. I don't think that makes Miraak irredeemably evil, just like how I didn't think Vyrthur was truly evil when I wrote him.

Of course, Vyrthur didn't gett equal treatment to Miraak, which some may view as unfair, and sure, Marius can justify it in numerous ways. Vyrthur tried to kill Marius and Serana when given the chance to surrender, while Miraak wasn't in the same situation. Or perhaps Marius has become a slightly better person, and saw a chance to save Miraak, and with that redeem himself for failing to save Vyrthur. Alternatively, Miraak's almost-death reminded him of Storn's earlier death at the tentacles of Hermaeus More, and he felt guilty. Or maybe Marius sees more of himself in Miraak than Vyrthur, and is willing to go to further lengths for the former. There's even the chance that Marius just didn't want to let Hermaeus Mora have anything more to hold over his head. I myself am honestly not sure the exact reason why, and I think I'm fine with that. Maybe Marius is still just a person, and thus doesn't have to treat every situation exactly the same, having his own biases and leaning. In the end, though, I could only see Marius saving Miraak from Hermaeus Mora, and like I wrote, I doubt Marius knows why, either.

And with this, I'm probably going to take another one of the breaks I usually take at the end of every arc, to stop myself from burning out, go through what I've written and how it's been received, and try to plot out the next arc from there. At this point, I've also given up trying to track the milestones this story hits; my expectations have been surpassed so long ago words would fail to express the extent of my gratitude. Also please, leave behind any and all critique and criticism, and don't worry; this story isn't just done yet. Feel free to gasp in horror at that revelation.

Translations:

Vobalaan in - Unworthy master

Nahkriin saraan lingrah - Vengeance has waited long

Ziil los dii du - Your soul is mine to devour