Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!

Posted February xx, 2012.

SUMMARY: Harry and his old circle attend games at the arena, and there, Numerius and his mother get some unsettling news; Spartacus gets another check-up from Healer Ferris... and Mazhe has a final showdown with Miraak... resulting in at least one rather unusual ally.


29: AT THE SUMMIT OF APOCRYPHA

4 Hearthfire, 4E201 - / Unknown Dates 73 BCE


Breakfast that following morning had Harry in better spirits than in quite some time. Both Justin and Tommy easily noticed the brighter demeanour, as they ate. Justin internally shivered at the consequences that would come of the union. Harry was already a powerful mage; having his spirit elevated by the love of another, would only amplify his power.

The musings were interrupted, as Brandon stuck his head in.

"Healer Ferris is here," he announced. That earned a scowl from Harry.

"We're just finishing up," said Justin, "We'll be up momentarily."

"You been keeping up with your morning training regimen?" Tommy asked.

"Not recently," Harry answered, "Lot of nonsense going on over the past month or so that's sent my regular schedule out the window. I would welcome a return to routine with familiar faces."

"Gods... only now I notice, even your way of speaking has changed some," said Mazhe.

"The result of exposure, Mazhe," said Justin, "Given time, a person will pick up anothers' speech patterns and such. Loads of studies that cover human speech patterns, right?"

"Their way of speaking... it's much more elegant... though a bit wordy. Took some time to get used to, on top of the translation charm," said Harry, as he vanished his plate to the sink. "Let's get outside and break words with Healer Ferris."

Climbing out of the chest, they found healer Ferris attending to Spartacus, who was then very much awake.

"Good morning," Justin greeted.

"Dr. Fraser, Harry, a good day to the pair of you," said the healer, pausing in her examination of her patient.

"How are you?" Harry asked, turning his attention to his new friend.

"I have felt far worse, Harry," Spartacus answered.

"Know that you are in capable hands, healer Ferris has attended us all for the past two years. She will have you back on your feet far faster than I ever could."

"Though not soon enough. I am unable to stand without—"

"Which is why you need to do exactly what healer Ferris asks. Not doing so could make things much worse," said Justin, "You have a concussion—a brain injury."

He glanced at healer Ferris, who nodded in agreement.

"Which is why I have said, limit your activity—no training for the next seven days, after which we will reevaluate your condition."

"Batiatus—"

"Don't worry about Batiatus. If he puts any value in your worth, he will heed the Commonwealth's advice," said Harry.

He thought for a moment.

"I have a strong suspicion that your fall last night may not have been by accident. I would see your memory up to your fall—"

"I think I'd better have a quick look at his mind first, to be sure there's no significant damage. You're more than adept at legilimency, Harry, but dealing with someone who's suffered a brain injury, you risk doing damage, or worse, becoming trapped in the person's head."

Harry arched an eyebrow. This was new information to him, and he mentally shivered at the thought.

"Perhaps, then, I would leave this to your hands."

"Very well." Healer Ferris drew her wand again.

"Is there anything I am required to do?" Spartacus asked.

"Just relax," said Harry, "Exactly like during our morning exercises, unless healer Ferris asks otherwise."

"If you are ready?"

Spartacus gave a nod, and healer Ferris pointed her wand at his temple. "Legilimens."

It was several minutes before she cancelled the spell.

"The mental damage from the fall was, luckily, very minor. I was able to reconstruct the memory of the minutes leading up to the incident. Do you have your pensieve, Harry?"

"I'll fetch it," Justin offered.

Healer Ferris, meanwhile, pulled out her mobile, and pressed several buttons. "Healer Ferris here... yes... yes, somewhat. Very likely. The reason for my call. I'll be tied up here for the next while... no... no, he's fine, I'm dealing with another patient... fall damage and a concussion... That's the plan. I'll update the case files tonight."

She disconnected, and put the mobile back in her satchel.

"Now that my calendar has been cleared for the next while, I'll be having a chat with all of you at one point or other."

She gave both Harry and Tommy a pointed look. Harry only rolled his eyes, and was saved by Justin reappearing from the chest, bringing the pensieve. Healer Ferris placed her wand to her temple, and drew the appropriate memory, and dropped it into the shimmering bowl. A bunch of fingers reached out to touch the liquid, including the victim.

Healer Ferris stopped the memory at the point of interest, a long black object extending just as Spartacus reached the top of the stairs. The man in question found it fascinating that he was by no means limited inside the memory, and was able to keep up with the others, as they climbed the stairs.

Harry was not surprised to find a guard had been behind the attack. He got a good look at the man, and exited the memory.

They found Crixus had entered the cell, though a crimson-robed Auror now also stood just inside the door, unsure of whether the gladiator's presence was appropriate.

"It's fine," said Harry, with a scowl, "The men are free to come and go, I would trust all of them."

The Auror only gave a nod, and stepped back outside.

"My brother," Crixus greeted.

"I am in good hands," said Spartacus, "And in better spirits, knowing the one responsible will soon face Batiatus' wrath."

"Your fall was not an accident?"

"Confirmed by memory." Spartacus indicated the shimmering bowl.

"By whose hand?"

"A guard. I will be joining your master when he breaks words with the person responsible, if only to remind him the man nearly cost him his top product. As it stands, it's cost him today's event."

"Such as the news has reached my ears. Opportunity presents, and I return to the games," said Crixus, "Though with heavy heart in that my brother does not join."

"I will yet join you on the sands, Crixus."

"Get well, brother."

Harry had to smile, seeing the two former rivals speaking kindly. There was blazing respect for one another, make no mistake. Perhaps, now, it would bloom into a strong friendship.

"Right," he said, refocusing on the issue ahead, "Spartacus. Your assignment in the meantime. Continue your mental exercises as we normally do."

"A wise idea," Healer Ferris agreed, "It will help the mind heal, and allow the potions to do their job."

"Meanwhile, the rest of us..." Harry glanced out the door to the cell, and noticed the rest of the men were making their way out into the square. "We'd better make an appearance, lest I be accused of being late."

Harry led his circle to the edge of the cliff, where they lined up, and waited for the rest of the gladiators to gather in front of them. Harry mentally frowned, seeing both Brandon and Eric join at the back. He would say nothing for now, deciding to treat them exactly as he treated Ilithyia.

"Right. Good morning, everyone. Since my instructor for the morning mental exercises is present, I will defer the lesson to his capable hands. Tommy..."

"Uh. Right."

Tommy looked somewhat surprised that Harry would do so, given Harry had been responsible for teaching the group, but he also understood. It meant normalcy, to be the student again, rather than the teacher.

"Okay. Let's see how well my, uh, student has done. Get seated and comfortable."

He did so himself, watching as the rest of the group did so, some a little quicker than others. It wasn't precision, but it was done relatively quickly, and without question or complaint.

"Now. Let's begin..."

Once the lesson was over, Tommy turned things over to Harry, who in turn handed things over to Doctore. With the men in capable hands, Harry and his circle made a quick track to the villa for a word with Batiatus. They found him in the office.

"Quintus, if I could have a word."

Batiatus gave a wave of ascent.

"We've discovered the person responsible for Spartacus' accident last night. I would show you a memory of the individual, since I do not recognize his face."

"Then present your evidence so I may see this matter concluded."

"Indeed," said Harry, reaching into his rucksack, and producing his pensieve. After removing the cover, revealing the shimmering liquid, he then placed his wand at his temple, and drew out his recollection of events, or, the relevant portion.

"You only need to stick a finger into the bowl, and find yourself in my shoes as the one responsible is revealed," Harry explained. Batiatus did as instructed, and froze in place.

He unfroze only a few seconds later.

"Summon Darcos," he addressed a guard, and turned back to Harry, fuming. "I would see the words spilled from his fucking mouth while under the same concoction used on Segovax."

"Veritaserum," said Harry. "It will be my pleasure."

"Harry..." said Justin, uncomfortably, while one of the guards left for another part of the house to track down the man being summoned.

"What?!" Harry snapped, "The man nearly caused Spartacus' death—someone I consider a close friend—never mind the fact that he is the top billing in the ludus. As it stands... a substitute is having to be made, something that could in itself prove costly. What, you think that I have done little in the year I have spent under this roof? I have had my eyes opened to many things, matters of finance being included."

He sucked in a breath and blew it out.

"I will compensate the cost of the guard."

"For what reason? The man's actions fall far from your responsibility."

"Had we not been up in the villa as we had been, the opportunity would not have presented itself."

"Harry, you're talking bullshit," said Tommy, "The man had a chance to pull some shit, and so he did. If not last night, then it could have happened elsewhere, right? Different circumstances, and maybe with a worse outcome."

"I guess."

Mazhe rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You know he's right."

"Right." He schooled his features. "I'd ask a favour though."

"Speak, and see it done," said Batiatus.

"If his punishment is particularly violent, I would ask it be done out of view of those from the Commonwealth. They have an idea of the sort of thing that happens here, but I'd rather they not be privy to actually witnessing it."

"Harry..." Justin frowned.

"Last thing I need is for the Commonwealth to drag me back through the portal."

"Not likely," said Justin, "This is your show, not ours."

"Right. So Guardian Elaine will just leave everything be, even if the punishment is a crucifixion."

Justin arched an eyebrow. "How many have you seen?"

"Just one."

"Gods..."

"It was appropriate given the condemned fool's actions. Though I think the Cruciatus curse is still far worse. Being parted from one's cock though..."

Justin felt his own testicles want to shrink back inside his body at the nasty visual.

"Just know that there are very few people I would ever wish that sort of punishment on—" Harry fell silent, seeing the guard in question being led in.

"Darcos, good of you to join us," said Batiatus, pleasantly. Harry simply thrust a hand at the man.

"Stupefy."

While Mazhe and Tommy laid the stunned guard out, Harry again produced the vial of Veritaserum, and pulled the cork. Mazhe pried the man's mouth open, and Harry allowed three drops of the potion to fall into his mouth. He then waited a minute or so, before reviving him.

"What is your name?"

"Titus Darcos."

"How long have you worked for house Batiatus?"

"Three... three years."

Harry glanced up at the lanista, and got a nod.

"Good, the potion's working."

He turned back to Darcos.

"Were you working up here in the villa last night?"

"Yes."

"Did you, last night, use your truncheon to trip Spartacus as he entered the stairwell to return to the ludus?"

"...yes."

"Whose words moved you to purpose?" Batiatus demanded.

"Ilithyia."

Harry's nostrils flared, as white-hot anger again licked his insides. The woman dared, precisely when ordered not to.

"When?"

"It was some time ago. I... I do not remember," Darcos answered.

Harry still fumed. It would be no good to repeat the question. Veritaserum absolutely forced the drinker to tell the truth... there was no grey area. If the man said he didn't know... he didn't know. Still... he would once again have to break words with the blonde snake, to determine when she put the plot in motion. Gods help her if it turned out to be a recent plot. He sucked in another breath, before producing the antidote.

"Quintus... I leave him to your hands. Though I would certainly be willing to carry out my own form of justice," Harry said, viciously, "Personally, I could grant him a fate worse than death: an afterlife that brings only a nightmare of an existence."

"Harry..."

"The god of forbidden knowledge was pleased by my last offering."

Justin looked about to be ill, while Mazhe carried a look of shock.

"You... you didn't."

"Spartacus, Crixus, and about a half dozen of the men bore witness."

"I turn him over to you, then. See it done," said Batiatus, simply, turning to the condemned man, "I paid for your sword, Darcos, not for you to fuck my slaves and shit in my house."

"See him clapped in irons and locked in the holding cell for now," said Harry, "I will see to the matter tonight, when the square is absent activity."

Batiatus gave a gesture of assent to the pair of guards that had come up from below, and they led the condemned man away.

"Now that that nasty business is concluded. We have some preparations before we depart for the games."

"Harry..." Justin said, scowling.

"Drop it. The matter is concluded."

"The Commonwealth—"

"Can piss off," Harry hissed. "Darcos violated the trust between employer and employee. He attacked his employer's product. Who knows what other targets he could have been assigned? A threat to my friends... I take that very seriously. Either that, or I end up dead. I only need to look at what Dumbledore did to me two years ago—I mean, last fall, going by your timeline."

"You have to see why we're concerned," said Mazhe, "Gods... Hermaeus Mora... you summoned him here?"

"Now that I know how to turn the black books into a weapon. I simply convinced the individual to open 'Waking Dreams'. He did, and... know that his death was unpleasant."

"Careful, lest you become trapped there as well."

"I keep that in mind. But remember, I also have my own agenda. He's offered a way for me to deal with my own destiny, a path I am quite willing to take, if it brings with it the safety of our world."


The middle of the morning saw a rather large entourage depart from the villa, destined for the arena. Harry had nearly not gone, wanting to instead remain behind, but more than a few people objected, and so he again found himself in the Pulvinus, acting as a sort of host between several parties. Numerius was there, as was Domitia, his mother. Notably absent up to this point, was her husband, an empty chair being reserved should he arrive.

The day passed, with numerous fights of little consequence—the men provided by a ludus in Pompeii proved to be little challenge for Batiatus' better-trained men. Batiatus was only too happy to mock the opposing city's offering, at the expense of the visiting Magistrate.

He finally remarked, "These early skirmishes count for nothing. It is the Primus that decides the victor. Absent your man Spartacus, Capua shall once again find itself in Pompeii's shadow."

"Perhaps Crixus shall bring light to the matter," said Lucretia, covering up a frown. She dabbed at her forehead, to wipe away the sweat on her brow.

"Crixus, yes. The crowd will be amazed... that the Gaul is still alive," said the visiting Magistrate, disdainfully, while Lucretia signalled Naevia for more wine.

"Uh, I'm sure you'll find he is more than alive, Magistrate," said Harry, not hiding the frown at the slight against his friend, "He has recovered very nicely from his battle against Theokoles."

"That he survived at all is impressive. No gladiator from Pompeii ever lived against Theokoles."

Batiatus chuckled. "Young Numerius cuts to the truth."

"A talent inherited from his father." The visiting Magistrate indicated the empty seat. "Does good Calavius intend to grace us with his presence? The day grows short."

Domitia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but forced a smile. "Critical matters of trade with Picentia. He must have been delayed on his return."

"If madam Calavius wishes, we could send a pair of our own guard to locate him," Guardian Elaine offered.

Domitia began to answer, but Batiatus cut in, "I am certain he will turn up presently."

By nightfall, the Magistrate had still not arrived, and with the crowd threatening a full-blown revolt, it was decided they could wait no longer. Domitia suggested that Batiatus present the Primus in her husband's stead. The lanista was only happy to oblige.

Harry really felt for Crixus, as he was introduced. The crowd had wanted Spartacus. They reacted by booing and jeering at the former champion as he took the sand. The opponent, meanwhile, turned out to be a tower of a man in dark armour. Rather than allow the crowd to get any more unruly than they already were, Batiatus began the match.

Harry realized right from the start, it was a poor match up. Pericles, the gladiator from Pompeii, was somewhat larger than Crixus. Though they had certainly covered that sort of thing during training, it was still an entirely different thing to face such a scenario for real.

Crixus immediately attacked, driving the larger man back, but Pericles countered almost immediately, using the size to his advantage.

"Gods. Healer Ferris will be busy tonight," said Mazhe.

"If he survives," said Justin, as they watched Pericles land another terrible blow, which knocked Crixus' helmet off. He lay on the ground, momentarily dazed, while the larger gladiator posed and postured for the crowd, strutting like a peacock.

"Another year, another 'favoured son' of Capua gone to grass," the visiting Magistrate laughed.

"Uh, you speak too soon, friend," said Mazhe, indicating the combatants.

"Formalities of blood," said the Magistrate, "Your man is finished."

"Crixus has the heart of a lion," said Lucretia, defiantly, rising from her chair, "He yet rises—"

She staggered, and nearly collapsed, if not for the quick action of her husband and an Auror.

"Lucretia!" Batiatus was alarmed. "Water." He indicated to Naevia, who was already at her mistress' side.

"Your wife does not fare well at the sight of your man about to be slaughtered," the visiting Magistrate mocked.

Batiatus threw the man a withering glare, then took the goblet of water from Naevia, and pressed it to his wife's lips. Lucretia took a sip, and slowly regained her sense.

"Apologies. The heat—"

Batiatus gestured to Naevia. "See her back to the villa."

"If you'll allow me, I can get her back to your villa much faster, and into the care of our healer."

"I do not require a medicus," Lucretia complained.

"You collapsed from the heat. Or it could be something else," said Justin, "Better safe than sorry, am I right?"

"Very well. Come, Naevia." Naevia followed Lucretia, as they were escorted from the Pulvinus.

"Gratitude," said Batiatus, turning back to the action on the arena floor. The momentum had shifted with Crixus regaining his feet, as though coming back from the dead. The crowd was chanting his name again, and he drew on the energy of it, unleashing a relentless, powerful attack on the larger man.

It came to an end less than a minute later, with Crixus landing a fatal slice to Pericles' midsection. He dropped to his knees, before finally collapsing to the sand. Crixus finished him off by crushing his skull under his boot. He glanced up to the Pulvinus with a broad smile that quickly faded. Something he saw displeased him.

Batiatus, meanwhile, rose. "Crixus! Returned to form as promised!"

"Your prayers have been answered," Numerius mocked, "The match was overly brief."

"Numerius," Harry somewhat scolded, rolling his eyes. Batiatus could only laugh, as the Magistrate rose from his seat, a scowl on his face.

"Good fortune to Capua, and all its deserving citizens."

"Come. Linger a moment! Let us have drink and relive the glorious—"

They were interrupted by a messenger, escorted by a black-clad guard.

"Dominus," he said, simply, passing over a scroll, before departing back the way he came, as Batiatus opened the scroll.

"What news is so urgent it interrupts the gloating of good Batiatus?" questioned the Magistrate.

Batiatus, meanwhile, tensed as he read the message.

"The Magistrate's caravan has been discovered at the edge of town. His guards murdered."

A look of panic crossed Domitia's face. "No."

"What of my father?" Numerius was equally panicked.

"He was not among them. Yet there were tracks, leading into the city."

"Back to Capua?" questioned Domitia, "Why would anyone commit such treachery?"

"Ransom... or simple mischief on such a day."

Batiatus cast an accusatory glance toward the visiting Magistrate. The man was pissed at such an accusation.

"You overstep, lanista."

He turned to Domitia.

"This burden saddens me. If I may be of any assistance..."

"This matter is of Capua," said Batiatus.

Domitia took a second before responding, deciding to side with Batiatus on this.

"Gratitude. We shall see it handled."

The visiting Magistrate gave a bow, and exited the Pulvinus with his entourage.

"Harry, we—"

"Can't be here. This is not a matter we can lend any assistance with," said Justin, "As much as we might want to. We should get going."

"We will see to Crixus and his brethren first."

It was only a short time later before a rather large group of people reappeared in the square. More than a few of the men were nursing nasty injuries. The medicus would be rather busy for the next while, considering healer Ferris was likely still tied up with Lucretia.

Harry and his circle moved quickly, only sending the most seriously injured to the infirmary. The others were more easily seen to by either Justin, Mazhe, or Harry. It did once again consume potions from Harry's supply, but now with a proper connection back where he belonged, it wasn't a big issue. Replacements could easily be made or obtained.

It was sometime later before Batiatus returned, looking very pleased. His little scheme had clearly worked. Harry didn't bother to intrude; it was not his place. Of course, he still didn't understand what the murder of the Magistrate would actually get him—other than an execution if his plot were revealed. That sort of thing was most definitely frowned on, even then.

It was significantly later before Harry at last turned to the condemned man still clapped in irons in the holding cell. Mazhe had insisted on being present, since he too now had a connection to Hermaeus Mora—and to perhaps see for himself, how the book was used. He was very unsettled as the scene unfolded, with the daedric prince acknowledging both of his followers before taking the condemned man's soul. Neither of them slept well that night, even having each others' comfort.


The following morning, once the circle's regular routine had been completed, Mazhe said, "We have to get back to our business in Solstheim. Though it's been a year for you, it's been only a day or so for me. We promised Frea and her father we would help, right?"

"It was our agreement, yes."

"I'll stick around here," said Justin, "I have a few ideas I'd like to explore involving the portal—all of them could be beneficial to us even in Skyrim. If you need me though—"

"I think between the three of us we can manage. Storn wants us to release the other standing stones from some sort of enchantment Miraak has put on them."

"Like the stone not far from their village," Harry remembered.

"There are four others. Frea marked each of them on my map. I would suggest we fly there."

"Then let us see it done," said Harry, snatching a stone from the ground.

"Take us to Raven Rock, there's a stone just south of the settlement."

"I remember. "Portus."

Harry, Mazhe, and Tommy landed just south of the settlement, and the trio made for the standing stone just a short distance away. Neloth was once again observing the strange behaviour, as a number of people were compelled to work on the stone structure being built around it.

"Here in his shrine," intoned one.

"That they have forgotten," spoke another, who was hammering at a block of stone. The chant was identical to that being used at Miraak's temple.

"Ready?" Mazhe asked. Both Harry and Tommy gave a nod.

"Gol... HAH!"

The ground momentarily shook, as the shock wave raced across it to impact with the glowing standing stone. The partially-built arches began to glow an orange shade, with cracks beginning to form. And then...

BOOM. The construction was shattered into dust, with a torrent of wind going in all directions. Everyone was forced to duck and shield their eyes from the backlash.

If they thought it was over, though, it was a mistake, as a monster rose up out of the shallow pool that surrounded the stone. It looked like a giant amphibious humanoid, with enormous hands and scaly armour. To Harry, it looked like the love child of a gecko and a dragon: an abomination. It let out a terrible roar, and seemed to vomit some sort of acid-green fluid. Everyone knew to avoid the fluid, as it was likely deadly.

Unfortunately for the creature, there were more than a few individuals present with rather imposing magical abilities. Within seconds, the threat was rendered a pile of ash, and Harry could only smirk, seeing the satisfied faces on the number of dark elves present.

The remainder of the day was spent flying to the other three standing stones. Each of them had a similar monster guarding it, though the people being forced to work on it varied. The strangest was the encounter of goblin-like creatures at a stone southwest of the Skaal village. They were a blue shade and spoke a strange language, and though Harry knew his translation charm would eventually work, they didn't stick around long enough to see it so.

The worst surprise came from the final standing stone, on the western side of the island. It not only had a dragon cultist observing the work, but as soon as the stone had been cleared of the threats, a dragon decided to make an appearance. The final fight left the trio spent (though absorbing the dragon's soul left Mazhe with somewhat of a mental high), and with the sun beginning to set, they used a port key to return to the villa. They would notify Storn of their progress in the morning.

Spartacus was not in his cell, but a venture to the common area found him sitting with Pietros and Justin, as well as a few others from the Commonwealth. Varro and Crixus also sat nearby, engaged in friendly conversation.

"Gods, the pair of you look of death," Spartacus commented, noting Harry and Mazhe's appearance. Both of them were covered in dust from head to toe, with splatterings of blood being intermixed.

"We have battled terrible things today," Harry answered, "Things the lot of you are better left absent the knowledge of."

"Surely the terrors you face cannot eclipse what we face on the sands of the arena," Duro challenged.

"Meyrot, kendov(1). One thing that I'm sure each and every one of you have learned here... there is always something worse. Something more terrifying. Suffering, madness, violence, all of those things know no end," said Harry, a dark look crossing his face.

A look of confusion crossed Duro's face. "What kind of words are they?"

"What, you think lies spill from my—"

"Harry. I think you speaking the dragon language confused him," said Mazhe, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Oh. Uh..."

"You haven't been speaking it at all since you got here." It wasn't a question. "Why not?"

"I think he was being careful," Justin assumed.

Harry gave a nod. "They've been exposed to enough of our shit as it is, to add the language of a different species..." He let out a sigh. "So much for that."


The following morning came all too quickly, though Harry got much more rest than the previous night. He once again had Tommy run the morning mental exercises, and as soon as they were concluded, Harry and his circle again returned to Solstheim. They arrived back in the Skaal village a little early, and ended up having to wait an hour before the shaman at last appeared.

"You have returned, and bring company," said Storn, noting Mazhe's companions.

"My closest circle of friends, yes," Mazhe answered, "This is Harry, Justin, and Tommy."

He reached into his satchel, and pulled out the black book they had retrieved from Nchardak.

"We have cleansed the standing stones on the island. Are you now able to speak with Hermaeus Mora?"

"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 do."

"I wish you good luck, uh, sir," said Mazhe, holding out the heavy tome.

At this point he still had no idea what Hermeus Mora would actually do to the man. Storn accepted the object with some trepidation.

"Thank you. I am trusting you will make this sacrifice worthwhile."

"Father, you must not do this. That book is... wrong. Evil. Against everything that you have taught me my whole life." Frea had come up beside her father, a look of worry on her face.

Storn turned to face his daughter, a look of resolve on his face. "I must, Frea. 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 stand beside you, father, as always."

"I am ready for whatever the foul master of this book has in store for me," Storn declared, and he opened the heavy tome.

A number of dark tentacles exploded out of the book, lifting Storn off the ground. At the same time, a number of dark clouds materialized, with their thousands of blinking eyes.

"At last, the Skaal yield up their secrets to me!" Hermaeus Mora hissed, his voice not the sticky, syrupy one they'd heard up to this point, but a dark, menacing, growl. Now, Harry knew the true face of the Daedric prince, as the shaman fought to resist the painful probe that tore through his mind.

The eyes, meanwhile, focused again on Mazhe.

"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."

Mazhe felt a surge of magical energy penetrate him, much like when he'd come into contact with a word wall, and along with it, came a single word: Dov.

"Dov", Mazhe whispered.

"Dragon," Harry translated.

They eyes flicked momentarily to Harry, then back to Mazhe.

"You will be either a worthy opponent or his successor, as the tides of fate decree."

Storn let out one final cry, and collapsed, as the tentacles vanished, along with the cloud of eyes. The man was dead.

"Father! What have you done!" Frea dropped to her knees, her eyes wide with shock.

Mazhe was equally shocked and horrified.

"I... I... I'm sorry! I didn't... we couldn't know—Gods, what have I done?!"

"Mazhe... don't blame yourself, you couldn't have known," said Harry, softly.

"Focus," said Tommy, "You have a job to do, right?"

"I..."

"Mazhe... he's right. We shall mourn for him later," said Harry, reaching down to collect the book. He snapped it closed and shoved it roughly into his rucksack.

Frea looked up, her eyes glassy. "Go. 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."

Mazhe seemed to stand still a moment, concentrating on something. A red aura flared around him a moment, then vanished.

"Right. Harry, if you would produce your chest. Tommy and Justin, I would have the pair of you wait inside while we travel to Apocrypha. And... Frea, if you wish, we would have you also join us."

"Your offer is appreciated, but for now, my place is with my father," Frea answered, as Harry produced his chest and made it accessible. Justin and Tommy quickly climbed in, and just as swiftly, Harry again collected it.

"Ready?"

"Let us see it done," Harry answered, as Mazhe produced the second black book he possessed, "Waking Dreams". They linked arms, while Mazhe opened it. A single dark tentacle snaked out of the book to wrap itself around the pair of them.

As soon as they touched ground, Harry again produced his chest, to let his two friends out. Given past experience with the plane of Oblivion, it was an advantage to have extra eyes on things. Still, it was no cake walk as they traversed the chambers, corridors, and catwalks of the acid-painted world.

The seekers were particularly painful, though Harry was quick to summon one of his own to level the playing field. On another level, it might have been amusing, to see the pair of abominations going at one another. Instead, with the conjured seeker providing a distraction, the others pumped spells and bullets into the enemy. It worked beautifully.

They approached the lurkers in a similar manner, though the conjured seeker didn't last all that long against the stronger enemy. Still, concentrated firepower put them the monster to grass without anyone getting seriously hurt.

They finally arrived at the upper part of a large, circular chamber, something they'd traversed several times already. There, they found four empty pedestals, each one having a glowing picture on them. One featured a mass of tentacles, the second featured pincers, something like a lobster, the third featured an eye, while the last featured fangs. There was a column at the centre of the room, accessed by four catwalks.

"Shit. Dead end," Justin muttered.

"Uh, no, I don't think so. We're missing something," said Tommy, "What if..."

"Books," Harry finished, "The pedestals need books. Something that reflects the picture on each pedestal."

"Some of the books we've picked up... they unlocked gates, right?" Justin thought, aloud. "What if they also unlock the door here?"

"Good thinking."

Harry pulled out the two books he had collected, while Mazhe pulled out his.

"Right. I have 'Boneless Limbs', and 'Gnashing Blades'."

"And I have 'Delving Pincers', and 'Prying Orbs'," said Harry.

"So we have tentacles," said Justin, "Put 'Boneless Limbs' there."

"Tommy..." Mazhe handed over the book in question.

"The lobster claws, that might be 'Delving Pincers'," said Mazhe.

"Here, then." Harry passed over the other book, then located the pedestal with the lobster claws as the picture. As soon as he placed the book on the pedestal, it shimmered a green colour before falling silent.

"Great. So, 'Prying Orbs'... where was the eye?"

"Over there," said Tommy, as he returned to the group.

"You mind?"

At Tommy's nod, Justin passed up the book, while Mazhe took the other book to the pedestal with the fangs on it. Then, as soon as the books were all in place, the column at the centre shimmered a moment, before an alcove popped open, revealing another book, which would teleport them to the next area. The four of them touched it in rapid succession.

The last section at last opened up to the acid sky, and Mazhe was immediately drawn to what looked like a word wall—though the design was slightly different. After dealing with the pair of seekers guarding it, Mazhe approached the wall, much more at ease with the process. As the swirling current of energy burrowed itself into him, he could see the word forming in his mind's eye, along with one he'd earned a while back in Miraak's temple. 'Qah', learned here, matched up with the previously learned word, 'Mul'.

"Harry. Qah in the dragon language."

"Uh... let me think a sec. Armour. It means armour."

"So, mul and qah... Strength-armour—"

"Guys!" Tommy pointed madly toward a shadow that was approaching fast.

"Marvelous. A dragon in Apocrypha," Mazhe snorted, as everyone readied themselves.

"Hold on a tic," said Tommy, "We're out in the open, right? What was the word the demon taught you?"

"'Dov'—"

"Dragon," Harry finished, "Remember the conversation we had with Hermaeus Mora when you read Waking Dreams?"

"...bend mortals to your will—Harry, that's mental. I'll eat my boots if this works on a dragon."

The dragon was upon them, and it was then the group noticed the different appearance. This one had serpentine features, rather than the scaly reptilian features seen up to this point. It flew overhead, laying down a stream of frost, which narrowly missed Justin.

"Mazhe, at least try it!" Harry shouted, readying a shock spell, while drawing his wand.

The dragon circled around to make another run at them. Tommy had drawn his forty-millimetre grenade launcher, while Justin had drawn his wand. It was most certainly an odd group.

The spells and weapons were not needed, however.

"Gol... HAH DOV!" The shock wave from Mazhe's shout rippled outward to impact with the dragon, and it immediately changed posture, opening its wings to land.

"Hail, thuri," it spoke, "Your thu'um has the mastery. Climb aboard and I will carry you to Miraak."

"Drem yol lok," said Mazhe, somewhat dazed, "Can... can you take all of us?"

"I can carry only two of you."

"What... what name do you go by, mighty dovah?" Harry inquired.

"I am Sahrotaar," the dragon answered, as Harry reached into his rucksack and again drew out his chest.

"Harry, rather than us being stuck in the chest, I can fetch my broom. Tommy and I will follow behind you guys," Justin suggested.

"That's brilliant."

"Harry, why don't you grab yours as well?"

"No. I'll stay with you. You attack on the ground, and if... Sahrotaar is in agreement, I will remain with him and attack from the air."

"If that is what my master so desires," Sahrotaar answered.

"It sounds as good a plan as any. What sort of magic does Miraak know?"

"He wields powerful shock magic, and has mastered numerous rotmulaag(2). Beware. Miraak is strong. He knew you would come here."

"Against the four of us. While Mazhe works from the ground, we'll keep him busy in the air."

"One other thing you should know," Sahrotaar warned, "I am one of three dovah in the service of Miraak."

"And the others will be there as well," Justin guessed.

"Great. Right, come on, guys. Let us put minds and hands to purpose," said Harry, resolve in his voice.

Once Justin had retrieved his broom, Harry again closed up the chest, and stowed it away. Mazhe had by then climbed aboard the dragon, and he quickly helped his friend up to sit behind him. Justin, meanwhile, straddled his broom, with Tommy climbing on behind. Sahrotaar seemed curious as to how that was going to work, but was momentarily shocked, as the pair of them lifted off to hover on the right.

"Most curious magic," the dragon noted.

"When one is not born with wings, one has to improvise," said Justin, with a smirk.

"This is true."

"All right. Lead the way, we'll follow close by."

Having been on Harry's broom on a number of occasions, Mazhe was more than ready for the strange feeling as Sahrotaar lifted off and took flight. From there, it was a fast-paced flight, heading in the direction of a large cylindrical plateau in the distance. It looked insanely high, even from where they were.

The ride was actually relatively short, given the speed. They at last circled overhead, quickly picking out two other dragons, perched above enormous arches that towered above the circle. And at the centre of the plateau, stood a lone figure.

"Sahrotaar," the figure mocked, "Are you so easily swayed?"

The other dragons moved to take off, but Miraak forestalled them. "No. Not yet. We must greet our guest first."

Sahrotaar landed gently a little ways away from where Miraak stood, and Mazhe hopped off.

"Back in the air," he said, and Sahrotaar quickly obliged, though he didn't go far, choosing to remain close to the circle, allowing Harry to hear every word of the conversation between the two Dragonborn.

"And so the first Dragonborn meets the last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha," Miraak spoke, as the two met. "No doubt, just as Hermaeus Mora intended. He is a fickle master, you know. But now I will be free of him. My time in Apocrypha is over. 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 once again."

"You think Hermaeus Mora will just let you leave... even if you do manage to take my life?" Mazhe asked.

"I am certain I will gain the power to once again be master of my own fate," said Miraak, confidently, "Kruziikrel! Relonikiv! Now!"

"WULD!"

Mazhe streaked across the plateau in time to miss the blast of fire Miraak had sent toward him. Miraak was then forced to do the same time, this time to duck a red blast of magic that came from Justin. It impacted with the ground, leaving a gouge mark.

Justin then had to do a mad dive to get out of the line of fire as Kruziikrel sent a plume of fire in his direction, and Tommy's aim was sent wildly off, as he let fly a forty-millimetre grenade. In a situation such as this, it was either go big, or go home. The shell landed in a pile of ruined books, creating an explosion of shredded parchment.

"Sahrotaar, get on Relonikiv's tail," Harry ordered. The dragon turned to give pursuit, while Harry readied his wand. The dragons were keeping Harry and Justin occupied, negating the advantage.

"Stupefy!"

The spell went wide, but drew the attention of the dragon, who let fly a spray of frost, which Sahrotaar easily avoided.

"Stupefy!"

Again, the spell went wide, as Relonikiv was just as good at avoiding the dangerous spell work.

"Bombarda maxima!"

This time, the spell made contact, and although it only grazed the tail, it sent the dragon spinning wildly, hurtling toward the acid-green sea below. It made an awful splash, and let out ungodly shrieks, being burned by the deadly liquid.

"It will not kill him," said Sahrotaar.

"It's painful and it'll keep him occupied. Let us return to the plateau."

Harry then looked around for Justin and Tommy. They were pursuing the other dragon, who looked to be bleeding in dozens of places—right, Tommy had likely opened up on it using a machine gun—MP5, if he remembered correctly the dragon encounter near Riften.

Mazhe, meanwhile, was in the fight of his life. Of all the things he had fought, the dangers he had faced in his young life, Miraak overshadowed them all. He cast absolutely lethal magic, and perhaps far worse, he was master of a half-dozen shouts.

"Fus RO DAH!"

Mazhe narrowly escaped being blown off the plateau, as the shock wave rolled out and into the atmosphere. He instantly countered, sending a blast of fire at his opponent.

"Wuld NAH KEST!"

Miraak rocketed across the plateau unscathed, and instantly produced a shield ward.

"Mul QAH DIIV!"

Now Mazhe remembered what the shout looked like. A strange ghost-like shadow seemed to overlay Miraak, resembling a dragon. What did it do, though?

"Mul QAH!"

The outline was similar on Mazhe, though not as bright.

"So, you use my own shout against me. You learn quickly," said Miraak, holding the ward shield.

"I have to," said Mazhe, "I like this world. I'd rather it not end. I will learn to use every weapon I can to ensure the end of Alduin, as will my friends."

"Ah. They wanted to use me to deal with Alduin - Hakon and the rest."

"You abandoned your duty, Miraak."

"No. I simply chose a different path."

BOOM. The blast came out of nowhere, sending Miraak hurtling over the side of the plateau.

"Good shot, Tommy," said Mazhe, ending the ward shield. "Where's the dragon?"

"Uh, up there," said Justin, smirking, and pointing. Harry, on the back of Sahrotaar, followed his finger, and had to smirk himself, seeing Kruziikrel somehow hanging by an invisible hook.

"What'd you do to him?"

"Immobilus charm," Justin grinned, "Gods... uh, what did you to to the—"

There came a flash from the centre of the plateau, and Miraak's disembodied voice cried out, "Kruziikrel, ziil los dii du!"

There came a swirling storm of energy the group had all seen by this point, coming from the immobilized dragon, to connect with the ethereal form of Miraak. It instantly died, its soul being ripped from its body.

"Did you think to escape me?" Miraak mocked, again producing a ward shield. Mazhe instantly followed suit, while Sahrotaar unleashed another blast of frost.

"Jupiter's cock," Harry muttered, "The guy's immortal. Justin! Tommy! End the other one!"

"On it, Harry!" Justin swung his broom around and entered a dive, while Harry kept attention on his friend. Unfortunately he was somewhat limited, since he could very well hit Mazhe instead of Miraak. Perhaps, then, a new tactic.

"Sahrotaar, I wish to fight from the ground."

"As you wish." The dragon set down heavily, and Harry dismounted, to instantly fling a shock spell toward Miraak. It went wide.

"Back in the air, try and distract him."

KAWHACK! The ice spike came suddenly, and Harry had to duck to avoid it, not having time to erect a shield. Sahrotaar let out a terrible roar and collapsed, the projectile having impacted with his right leg.

"So easily swayed, Sahrotaar," Miraak again mocked, "Ven GAAR NOS!(3)"

It was an instant twister, a fast-moving, violent column of air that swept toward the pair. Harry suddenly felt himself flung aside by something akin to a giant hand, and Sahrotaar let out another angry roar, as he was swept from the plateau by the powerful wind.

"You are in my power here," Miraak again mocked, sending a blast of fire toward Harry, who was just scrambling to his feet.

CRACK. Harry vanished, to reappear on the opposite side of the plateau, a look of fury plastered across his face.

"Stupefy!"

The spell crashed harmlessly into the shield.

"Fus RO DAH!" Came Mazhe's shout, and there was a crash of glass as Miraak's shield was shattered.

"Stupefy!"

That was coupled with a strong shock spell. Miraak avoided the stunner, but the shock spell hit home, leaving him shaken. He cursed, the words not loud enough to hear, but drew both a blade and a most unusual staff. All too quickly, they found out what it could do. When cast, it spewed a terrible stream of black fluid that, when it made contact, sprouted dozens of nasty tentacles. There was no illusion as to what they would do should they make contact.

"Harry, keep him busy!" Mazhe called, digging through his rucksack, and pulling out a blue bottle—magicka-replenishing potion, Harry realized, as he unleashed another volley of attacks.

There came a beating of wings, and Harry mentally groaned. Justin and Tommy were—he stopped mid-thought, realizing that Sahrotaar had returned, though looking a little battered, and sporting a number of burns. He too, had fell into the deadly acid below.

"Fo KRAH DIIN!" A bloom of frost exploded from the dragon's mouth, showering the first dragonborn.

"Wuh!" he cried, being slowed by the cold. It also sapped his magicka, which was already low.

"Wuld NAH KEST!" He blasted across the plateau, to the edge, and vanished, to moments later appear in the centre pool again, in ghost form.

"Relonikiv, ziil los dii du!"

This time, there came a swirling mass of energy from below to burrow inside of Miraak, and he again erected his ward. Now, though, Harry realized what was happening, and equally knew how to put a stop to it. Sahrotaar would be Miraak's undoing.

"Harry?!"

"Justin!"

"Relonikiv... he just died, we didn't—"

"We know!" Mazhe shouted back, "He's using them to regenerate himself!"

"Fus RO DAH!" Came Sahrotaar's shout. Miraak managed to get clear of most of it, but was still sent flying across the plateau and into one of the acid pools.

"Aaaaaaah!" he snarled, the mask being dislodge from his face. Both Mazhe and Harry ware momentarily surprised to find a younger-looking Nord with ice-blue eyes staring back at them. He hauled himself out of the pool, easily dodging more spell work from Justin and Harry.

"Your friends were... unexpected," said Miraak, heaving. The battle was starting to wear him down.

"I would do anything for my mate," said Harry, from behind his shield, "Just as he would do anything for me."

"It is my regret that things must end this way."

"But why? True power is not in the domination of others, but the loyalty, adoration, and respect you gain from them instead. To make someone fear you, that is simply the road taken by a tyrant."

"The time for talk has long passed, Harry," said Miraak, "Fo KRAH DIIN!"

CRACK. Harry was gone long before the shout had left his mouth. He appeared at the centre of the plateau, drawing his dagger.

"I grow tired, time to finish this!" he shouted, and as Miraak turned, there came another noisy crack, and Harry appeared directly behind him. Miraak let out a gasp, feeling the daedric dagger penetrate his back, and pass clean through, out the other side.

"You... cannot... Wuld..." the shout was weak, but still worked, as Miraak rocketed across the plateau yet again, and vanished. However, this time, Harry was ready for him when he reappeared at the centre of the plateau.

"Silencio!"

Miraak tried to form the words of the shout, and though his mouth moved, the thu'um would not form, since it needed not just the dragonborn's magical pool, but the sound.

"It's over, Miraak. May you find atonement in the afterlife."

Harry turned to find Justin had landed, and now held his broom with his left hand, the wand trained on the dying man. Tommy stood beside him, brandishing the MP5. Mazhe had joined Harry, a fireball primed in both hands, while Sahrotaar still circled overhead.

"You... were worthy opponents." Miraak made eye contact with Mazhe. "You are strong. Stronger than I thought possible."

"It didn't have to be this way."

It was not the end of the surprises, however. A cloud of eyes formed nearby, and a single tentacle rose from the pool and snaked around Miraak's waist, raising it up high above the ground.

"Did you think you could escape me, Miraak? You can hide nothing from me here!" came Hermaeus Mora's enraged voice. Another tentacle rose from the pool, poised to make a hole through the man's skull.

"No matter. I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me."

"May he be rewarded for his service as I am!" said Miraak, remaining defiant, although the life was leaving him.

"Wait," said Mazhe, holding up a hand, forestalling the daedric lord's impending death blow. "I think I could benefit from your former servant's misfortune."

"Do tell," said Hermaeus Mora, the cloud of eyes all coming to focus on his new champion.

"He coveted power. Perhaps, he should taste the opposite end of the equation. The terms being this. Miraak will fall under my control. Failure to comply, whether by death or defiance, he will immediately fall back to your pleasure, to do with him as you see fit. Seeing as he is facing a painful afterlife here in your realm, I offer this as a reprieve."

Hermaeus Mora let out a chuckle.

"Heh, Miraak harboured fantasies of rebellion against me. Perhaps this alternative you offer may remind him of his failings. I will be merciful... for now."

Mazhe gave an incline of the head, as the tentacle lowered the now unconscious Miraak to the ground. Mazhe smirked.

"Gol... HAH DOV!"

Miraak didn't move, but an aura shimmered about him a moment before vanishing. The daedric lord gave another chuckle.

"Serve me faithfully, and you will continue to be richly rewarded."

The cloud of eyes vanished, while a lattice-like framework rose up out of the shallow pool at the centre of the plateau. One side opened up, revealing a book, much like had happened when he'd read the black book in Nchardak.

"You call me mental? Jupiter's cock, Mazhe!"

"I took the opportunity to gain another ally."

"Slave, more like it!"

"For now. Perhaps he will become more than that."

"Fine. So be it. But you don't mention this to anyone, particularly not Spartacus or the rest of the gladiators. I have a reputation I'd rather not have destroyed," said Harry.

Justin, meanwhile, was already casting a strong healing charm on Miraak. The knife wound needed to be taken care of at once.

"We'll need to see healer Ferris as soon as possible," he said.

"Once we speak to Frea," said Mazhe, "She needs to know what happened. We may not have killed Miraak, but he's neutralized."

Harry scowled. "She wanted him dead."

"For a while, he'll wish he was dead. Now let's wrap things up. Sahrotaar. Are you able to land?"

"Yes, dovahkiin, though with discomfort."

"I've got Miraak stabilized enough that we can move him. Sahrotaar, land so we can cast some healing charms."

The dragon did as ask, though he let out a growl as he momentarily put weight on his injured leg. Mazhe, Harry, and Justin all converged and began casting the strongest healing spells they knew. Though the wound wasn't completely healed, it was more than sufficient that the dragon was able to stand on it without too much discomfort.

"Now, one last problem," Tommy said, "How will we get Sahrotaar through the portal?"

"Uh..."

"Shit."

"Never thought of that," Harry realized.

"No, hold on. How did we get in here in the first place?"

"Through touch," Harry remembered.

"Then it's easy." Harry again produced his chest. "We'll have to levitate Miraak inside for now. Gods, really wish you'd consulted with us first though, Mazhe. What if he goes off on us or something?"

"That cannot happen," said Sahrotaar, "Bend Will(4) is permanent."

"You are forever bound to me?" Mazhe again looked very uncomfortable at the idea.

"It is so."

"I... did not wish to make you my slave."

"I have served Miraak long years. I was honoured to serve him, as I am now honoured to serve you, dovahkiin."

"It's Mazhe."

Justin and Harry were then lowering Miraak into the chest.

"Never before have I seen such a chest," the dragon remarked.

"It belongs to Harry. The lot of us had it made for him a couple of years ago. He's gotten plenty of use out of it."

"Yet, the magic he wields, it is not like any of the magic joor have here."

"You're right. It's not," said Mazhe, "Harry doesn't come from Nirn. His home world is a place called Earth. I've been there. They don't have elven kind... at least not in the same sense."

"And the dovah?"

"They know your language, but that's about all they have in common."

"Just about ready?" Tommy had reappeared standing at the top of the ladder. "Harry's gonna remain in the chest with us."

"Right. Close the lid, then."

The lid slammed shut, and Mazhe quickly collected it, and slipped it into his pocket.

"Ready to return to Nirn?"

"I am ready."

Sahrotaar clumsily crawled over to the lattice-like structure where Mazhe stood. Mazhe opened the heavy tome, touched the dragon on the nose, and touched the book. Both found themselves being pulled through the void of space, and suddenly, back into the light of day.

It was some time later before the chest was opened, and Mazhe peered inside.

"We're back, guys."

"Tommy... you mind remaining with me while we see to Miraak?"

"Sure."

"Excellent. Let us conclude our business here, so we may get back to the villa," said Harry, already climbing up the ladder.

Outside, he found Frea and a few others had gathered, and all were casting nervous eyes toward Sahrotaar, who was crouched close by.

"Mazhe has told us of the victory against Miraak, but I must equally thank you," said Frea.

"It was the right thing to do," answered Harry, "And I am sorry for your loss. Though I did not know your father, my sense tells me he was a good man."

"Your words are kind. But I must give you the same warning I have given Mazhe. You may have used the tools and knowledge of Hermaeus Mora to defeat Miraak, but you would be wise to avoid seeking him out or having further contact. His path can only lead to a dark future."

"I know that, Frea. Unfortunately I have no choice. For, as Mazhe has his own purpose here, I, equally, have a similar fate from where I come. A destiny that Hermaeus Mora has offered me a solution to—something I can't just pass up. Perhaps it will mean my soul belonging to him in the end, but it if will protect the world I come from, prevent eventual ruin, then it is a path I must take. The gods place us on this world—or mine—for a purpose."

"This is true," Frea agreed, "I pray you do not stray to the darkness. May the All-Maker keep the path for you clear."

She gathered a smile. "And don't wait to make your union official."

"Uh..." Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but couldn't muster a response.

Mazhe, meanwhile, had to grin madly. He and Harry were standing dangerously close to one another.

"Well then. Uh... Sahrotaar. I would ask you remain close to the village for now, help to protect the people here."

"It would be my honour, dovahkiin."

"We'd best be off."

"Yes, back to the villa," Harry decided, "Though I'll want a bit of rest before we face the others."


UP NEXT: Harry and his circle have a conversation with their new 'ally'; Justin ropes in Harry and a few friends to help him test something he's been working on, with fantastic results; and more unwanted visitors at the villa force the Commonwealth to do something drastic...

CHAPTER NOTES: The scene in which Storn is murdered by Hermaeus Mora—the first time I played the expansion, I had no clue that's what would happen, and I did feel really bad for him, knowing that my actions had killed him. Make no mistake, Hermaeus Mora is not a nice god. This really showed the face of him, what he's really all about.

An interesting note about Miraak... he does know the Unrelenting Force shout, but I've never actually seen him use it. Considering powerful high-level Draugr use it, it confuses me as to why Miraak doesn't. (Then again, perhaps one should be thankful he doesn't, it would result in a far more painful meeting)

(1) Meyrot, kendov – Foolish words, warrior. Mey (foolish), and rot (words, in the spoken or written sense.

(2) Rotmulaag – Word of power.

(3) Ven Gaar Nos – Cyclone shout. "Your thu'um creates a whirling cyclone that sows chaos among your enemies."

(4) In the vanilla game, 'Bend Will' only lasts for a while. Eventually, the target will be released from the magic, and more often than not, become hostile—most definitely if it was a dragon put under the spell.