Middas, 10:11 AM, 41st of Second Seed, 4E 202

J'zargo's Field Laboratory

This was just a little embarrassing. Zaryth prided herself on her thorough precautionary measures—any mage required them in order to survive their own work for long, especially one who specialized in illusion. Never was it wise to take one's safety entirely for granted. So it was rather embarrassing indeed, when she came up to J'zargo's laboratory, and found a Dwemer metal life-sensor plate fixed on the wall beside the doors. This made J'zargo's laboratory actually more secure than Zaryth's own.

How had she never thought to put something more than a mere mechanical lock on her door? Had she assumed that no hostile entity would ever attempt to gain entry to her workspace? She wasn't sure the possibility had even occurred to her before now.

Fortunately, she'd registered her life-signs with Blackreach Hold's devices quite some time ago, so when she laid her palm on the sensor plate by the door, the corresponding lock disengaged without any trouble. For J'zargo's sake, she knocked on the door anyway. Magic was easily interrupted at inopportune times.

The Khajiit's voice immediately called out from inside, "Enter!"

This was actually the first time she'd entered this building. But the interior was much the same as her own laboratory. There was a bed on the left end, and a typical assortment of magical equipment on the right. The walls were lined with a variety of shelves, chests and other furniture. Directly ahead, on the back wall, was a fireplace, and sitting by it on a couple chairs were the lab's two occupants. Zaryth stopped in place at the sight of them.

One of them was clearly J'zargo, but she nearly failed to recognize him. In place of his humble worker's clothing, he was wearing a sleek black suit of leather armor, with Blackreach's sigil on its chest, and an outfit of matching black cloth underneath. The other was an Altmer whom Zaryth had never seen before. He was young, likely about J'zargo's age, and fairly handsome for his race. Unlike his peer, however, he seemed content with the standard clothing for Blackreach Hold.

"Good morning," J'zargo said pleasantly.

Zaryth squinted at him. "What are you wearing?"

The Altmer, whoever he was, laughed loudly. "All right! I'm not the only person who reacted that way!"

"Khajiit's outfit has been much better-received among Blackreach's warriors," J'zargo said sourly, before composing himself and gesturing to the Altmer beside him. "Zaryth, this is Aicantar. He assisted with the propylon indices. Aicantar, this is Zaryth. You assisted with the propylon indices for her."

The Altmer, Aicantar, immediately stood up and extended his hand to Zaryth. "It's an honor to finally meet you," he said brightly. "I've heard a lot about you."

Zaryth met the hand warily with her own. "What have you heard, exactly?"

"Well, first of all, I was reading your literature long before I came here. I'm Calcelmo's nephew. The… court wizard in Markarth?" He didn't seem particularly thrilled to be mentioning the fact, which was understandable. As archaeologists of the Dwemer went, Calcelmo was known for being among the less actually adventurous. He was known for being more of a collector than a scholar.

Still, there was no need to rub it in. The Dunmer nodded politely. "I've heard of him. What else?"

"I was amazed to hear that you were here in Blackreach. The opportunity to meet a Telvanni mage in person… I'm—honestly, I'm… completely beyond honored right now. I knew you were down here, but I didn't even think I could meet you. Just… this is really something. Can I help you, by the way?"

The mention of her literature aside, this was turning out to be rather strange. No one in Blackreach had recognized Zaryth for her previous background before. Being reminded of those things now, she felt… she definitely felt strange. The best she could describe of it was that it felt like Aicantar was somehow speaking of her incorrectly. She replied, "You already did. I came here to check on J'zargo, and hopefully speak with him about a few magical matters. You can stay if you like."

"You can take this one's chair," J'zargo said, before standing up from his seat and walking over to the magical equipment. There were a couple more chairs over there, and he dragged it back to the middle of the room for himself, just by Aicantar's side. By that time, Zaryth had already closed the doors and sat down on the previous chair.

Aicantar said, "The indices were really exciting to work on. I've never been part of such a huge project before. Or… any project, really, besides my own experiments in Markarth. Mysticism, huh?"

"The lost school," Zaryth answered, by way of confirmation. "I suppose you'll be pleased to know that the indices have been distributed. But before we proceed, I do have a question for you both. Mainly you, J'zargo. Why does your door have a life-detection lock on it?"

"A little extra security cannot hurt," J'zargo shrugged.

"In Blackreach, though?"

"This may not be as meaningful to you in the Silent City, but J'zargo's laboratory is only a stone's throw from the exit to Alftand. Once, an Aldmeri invasion force came within moments of accessing that exit. Such an incident is unlikely to repeat itself, but it serves as a reminder that one must not take one's own safety for granted."

Zaryth nodded slowly. She thought she understood that. J'zargo's experiences here were very different from her own. "Hence the armor, I suppose?"

"It complements mage armor spells well enough. And, in this one's opinion, it looks rather splendid." The Khajiit glanced down at himself and grinned. There was no accounting for style, it seemed.

In any case, that was Zaryth's cue to move on. Her question had been answered. It was time to ask another. "So… Aicantar. What, uh… what are you planning on doing now?"

"Well, that's actually what I came down here to find out. I don't have any other projects waiting for me, so I've been talking to J'zargo here." The Altmer gave J'zargo a vague acknowledging gesture. "I suppose the big issue now is the Shadow Unending, isn't it? There are bits of Aetherium ore all over Alftand, it's a bit of a… constant daily reminder, I suppose. That, and the fact that today is the 41st of Second Seed."

"It does point to the severity of this event," J'zargo commented.

And that was true. In recent days, Zaryth had been made very acutely aware of just how catastrophic the Shadow Unending could be, if it continued for much longer. Not even Blackreach would be safe in the end. The last time she had dealt with a crisis of this degree, it had involved a storm of Oblivion gates all over Tamriel.

She said, "That is, as it happens, the main reason why I took the trip over here just now." Then she paused, thoughtfully. "… That, and I'm always happy to find a chance to ride the shuttle. Riding that thing is a bit of an intrinsic reward."

"Oh, so that's not just me?" Aicantar laughed. "I spent ages waiting for an excuse to ride the shuttle. It's incredible, isn't it?"

"Well, it actually is very interesting on a scholarly level, as well," Zaryth said. "For example, the aerodynamics of the shuttle's outer plating and the usage of elevated pillars contribute to a visual and kinetic phenomenon that suggests that the Dwemer were actually willing to have fun for once in their lives."

Both of the other mages laughed aloud.

Zaryth allowed herself a little smile as she continued. "In all seriousness, the shuttles are true marvels of Dwemer engineering. Short of teleportation, there may be no faster means of transportation in all of Tamriel. That we're able to use them for our own purposes now is a magnificent privilege."

"Surely, the Dwemer would have been flattered to learn that one day, other races would use their wondrous craft for personal amusement," J'zargo said wryly.

"The teleportation is faster, though," said Aicantar. "Which cities are linked up, now?"

Zaryth folded her arms and took a breath in. "So far, we have Markarth, Riften, Solitude, Whiterun and Windhelm. The other four hold capitals are lower priorities. Kamian has said that a link to Falkreath would be useful for future military excursions to Cyrodiil, but our priority now is the defense of Skyrim from the effects of the Shadow Unending."

It was very odd, she thought, for her to be speaking at length of such strategic matters. It was unlike a scholar to become involved in such concerns. But at the same time, she remembered how she had felt just now when Aicantar had taken note of her past accomplishments as a Telvanni mage. It felt like just that—something from the past. As recently as last month, even the Second War with the Dominion was a distant annoyance for her. Now, she was using her proficiency in magic to aid the strategic capabilities of Blackreach Hold, strengthening its war apparatus with every day of research and design. And the oddest thing of all was that she didn't particularly mind.

Blackreach needed her help, and she was equipped to offer it. And that goal, that aspiration to help this place's community in its goals, was a valid object of her attention and effort. It seemed that as of now, the pursuit of knowledge didn't need to be the only direction she had in her life.

Aicantar said, "That's still a good reason to link us up to Falkreath, though. Same for the other, uh… three, I suppose. Winterhold, Dawnstar, uh… what else…"

"Morthal," J'zargo offered.

"There's the one. So those four cities. Falkreath, Winterhold, Dawnstar, Morthal. Why haven't we gotten the columns set up in them?"

Zaryth couldn't keep the distaste off her face. "In a word? Politics. You'll have to talk to someone else about that. The columns are already built, but Jarl Noster said not to send them out yet, because… I don't know. Some people are under the delusion that not having those columns in their cities makes them somehow safer from the Black Machine."

"Safer?" Aicantar frowned. "What's to be safer from? The Black Machine saved Markarth. If we'd had one of those columns last year, when the Thalmor first took over, the—the entire Reach would still be in one piece. It would!"

"Well, you don't need to convince me," the Dunmer grumbled.

This did bother her quite a lot. On one level, it felt like a waste to have ordered the construction of those columns when they weren't being put to use. But more than that, there were people out there interfering with Blackreach's goals. And they weren't even maleficent goals, in any way whatsoever. Why didn't people understand that?

After a couple seconds' silence, she composed herself and tried to resume her original line of thought. "But it is the Shadow Unending that brought me here today. Neither of you were there for my presentation in the Silent City, were you?"

Both of the other mages shook their heads.

"Well, the presentation lasted quite a while. I can repeat it from memory if you like, but we may be here for some time. Would… do you want me to go through it all now?"

Both of the mages nodded. Zaryth had been rather hoping they wouldn't. Her voice could only take so much use in a day before it began to wear out.

But it was what they had asked for, so she obliged them. She began with the premise of the Oblivion Purge, then went on to Alduin's return and subsequent transfixing of the stars. She even reused the plate-over-candle analogy. Then it was on to the shooting stars, the cave-ins, and all the other magical incidents that had been observed in recent weeks. The last, and longest, part of the retelling consisted of her theories regarding Aetherius, the material of Aetherium, and the probable future of Mundus if this persisted. It was far from an appealing picture.

She finished it all with, "So I suppose where this is going is that while you both did excellent work with the Propylon Indices, I'd prefer if you didn't stop there. Much work needs to be done if we're going to keep the Shadow Unending from laying waste to our world."

"So," J'zargo said, "you wish for us to assist you in saving the world."

"Well, yes. That is our business in Blackreach, isn't it?"

Aicantar laughed. He had a rather endearing sort of laugh to him. "I wouldn't—ah, I wouldn't know! I haven't even done anything down here, besides make those indices, and… uh… What do you normally do in Blackreach, anyway?"

J'zargo answered, "Principally, in Khajiit's experience, the mission of Blackreach has been to assist and manage the operations of the Black Machine. It is the Black Machine's stronghold, after all."

The Altmer paused for a moment, and squinted at him. "I thought it was the Dragonborn's stronghold. That's… that's what people call it in Alftand."

"Perhaps that was true, once. But no longer, strictly speaking, may it be called the Dragonborn's." J'zargo settled forwards in his seat, preparing to do some speaking of his own. "The Dragonborn conceived of using Blackreach as a stronghold, it is true. Originally, it was solely to protect against the Thalmor. And J'zargo was among the very first people to be brought into this place. But now, Noster oversees all of Blackreach Hold, Lenve handles its logistical needs, Kamian leads the Black Machine, and J'zargo himself supplies the more valuable potions. The Dragonborn has moved on to greater endeavors. Blackreach is now ours to care for."

This was fascinating to listen to. Zaryth had never realized that J'zargo had been here for so long. If he'd been here from the very beginning, then he must have witnessed more of the Dragonborn at work than nearly anyone else in the entire hold. Zaryth had to wonder what that must have been like. While she had met the man briefly, that was only the beginning of what she'd learned. By all accounts, the man had earned his legacy magnificently.

But suddenly, the thought struck her that the Dragonborn's legacy didn't mean terribly much for who he was. Thorald had a legacy, as the Black Machine's greatest soldier. Zaryth herself had a legacy as well, in some circles, as an accomplished Telvanni mage who had authored more than a few factual texts on the Dwemer. But none of these things meant anything for what sorts of people any of them truly were. Certainly, no one had spoken highly of Thorald for all the patience and compassionate insightfulness that Zaryth had seen so much of from him.

And so the question came to her, very naturally: "What was he like?"

It seemed to take J'zargo by surprise. He raised his eyebrows at the Dunmer curiously, and leaned back in his chair, as though bracing for a new challenge. "Who? The Dragonborn?"

"Yes, him. I've seen him, after a fashion, but if I'm to be honest, I don't… is this all right to ask? I'm not sure if it is."

"It is," J'zargo nodded quickly. "It is. But it is another long story. Khajiit came here in the company of three others. Noster Eagle-Eye, then no more than a veteran scout turned beggar, recently rescued from the streets of Solitude; Brynjolf, a prominent member of the Thieves Guild; and the Dragonborn himself. We descended by the Great Lift just outside, and… and it was magnificent. He had desired simply to show us his intended sanctuary from the Thalmor, where his devices of war would be developed. But… of the four of us, the Dragonborn is the only one to no longer be in Blackreach Hold. Even Brynjolf, who lost his life during Morokei's schism, has reappeared in Alftand as a projected spirit. It is only the Dragonborn whose time here is past."

A trace of emotion, a subtle unsteadiness had entered J'zargo's voice. He swallowed and shook his head for a moment before continuing. But as he did, Zaryth couldn't help but wonder what inspired that reaction in him. It wasn't as though the Dragonborn had died out there. Apparently, going by this Brynjolf individual, death wasn't even all that final anyway. What was J'zargo thinking right then?

"J'zargo dislikes referring to the Dragonborn by his title. His name is Iseus. And put simply, he changed J'zargo's life. It may not be apparent to you now, but once…" The Khajiit chuckled ruefully. "This one was not so compassionate. This one was born in Elsweyr, and rejected for his interest in the arcane, and so traveled all the way to the College of Winterhold to learn in the best school for pure study. The best place for a mage to become great."

"That's true, it is," Zaryth nodded.

"Indeed. And so it went, for a time, but one day, Iseus came to the College, requesting an interested mage to follow him on some great venture. And J'zargo wished for great things. Not long afterward, we were working side by side in this very laboratory. We worked together, we lived together… we talked a great deal. And as for Iseus, he was... incredibly kind." At this point, he paused again, to take a deep breath in. "How could it be, that such a powerful man would reject the prospect of domination? How could he refuse to enjoy the benefits of his own power? … He did question this one's assumptions about many things. But never did he judge for it. He merely invited J'zargo to join him in feeling empathy for all beings, whatever their kind. For it was in empathy that was the key to a better world."

"But then came the Aldmeri invasion, whereupon he was poisoned, and put near death. And not long after came the crisis of Morokei. J'zargo last saw Iseus on the 16th of Rain's Hand, the very day of the Oblivion Purge. Iseus… claimed that he was going to embark on a mission, and that he would… be away, for a long time. He would not describe his plans. But it was clear that he intended to give his farewell."

J'zargo leaned forwards and lay his head in his gloved hands. He remained like that for a moment, breathing deeply, before raising his face once again. His expression was so very deliberately controlled. Zaryth knew a person fighting to retain their composure when she saw them. It was never pretty.

He continued, "Since that day, J'zargo has lived here alone. Worked alongside many others, it is true, but… nothing can ever replace what this one felt, during that short, precious span of time. But so much has happened. The title of court wizard, free reign to work in Blackreach, more experience, more privilege than this one ever dreamed of. It would seem that in some sense, J'zargo has finally become great. … J'zargo thought it would feel better."

Aicantar leaned over and put his arms around J'zargo's shoulders. J'zargo took a long, shuddering breath in, and laid one of his hands on the Altmer's nearer wrist.

Zaryth didn't even know what to say. She'd expected something with feeling in it, but… not like this. She wanted to offer J'zargo some words of comfort, something to offset everything he'd described, and yet nothing was coming to mind.

Honestly, all she could think of right then was how this compared to herself. She'd been invited to Blackreach, too. And in her time here, she had indeed been given access to all manner of resources and assistance. And… it'd all been possible because of a very heroic person who'd taken her in and shown her what it meant to truly care for those around her. But she did care for that very heroic person most of all.

And looking at J'zargo now, she had to wonder how it would felt if Thorald did as Iseus had done—if one day, he left Blackreach and never returned. If, after all of this, he left Zaryth behind. How would that feel? Because she was watching someone go through those feelings right now.

Before she knew it, there were tears running down her own face. She wiped at them with the heels of her hands. It wasn't helping.

Some time went by in silence. Aicantar was still holding onto J'zargo. Nobody was saying anything. Eventually, Zaryth managed to calm herself down enough to at least start thinking again. If nothing else, that got the tears to stop. Those were so terribly difficult to deal with.

Almost immediately once she began thinking again, something occurred to her. It should have been obvious already, but in the midst of all that emotion… well, that didn't matter, at this point. But there was certainly no sense in remaining quiet about it now.

"Iseus did speak to me, you know," she said. "Not for long, and not by physically visiting Blackreach. I think he may be busy with this Shadow Unending business taking place. But he reached out to me, when he needed my help to make things work. I think you'll see him again in the future."

J'zargo looked up at her slowly. "That… well, Khajiit hopes so," he said, his voice much lower than before. "What once was, however, is likely gone. There can only be moving onward, to whatever the future may bring."

"Thank you for sharing all of that with us," Aicantar murmured. His cheek was on J'zargo's armored pauldron.

The Khajiit shrugged a little with the shoulder not being rested upon. "Those words had to be said, sometime. Let us proceed in our discussion."

At this point, Aicantar finally let go of the embrace, and turned to face Zaryth. "What did you say Iseus came to see you for, again?"

The Dunmer had to stop and think about what her answer was supposed to be. She took a deep breath in. "I was… hoping to lead up to that, as it happens. Iseus didn't come to me simply to talk. He gave me something. It was a whole lot of this."

And with that, she drew a stoppered glass vial from within her robes. It was filled entirely with a viscous, silvery liquid, oozing slowly around a tiny bubble of air running up its side. She might not have been storing it entirely right-side up just now. The potions on her belt were secure in place, but this had been essentially just in a pocket.

"Do either of you recognize this substance?"

The two mages exchanged a brief glance. J'zargo replied hesitantly, "It… looks like some sort of… some variant of quicksilver, no?"

Zaryth shook her head. "The Dragonborn gave me quite a bit of this. He described it as being a form of Aetherial essence."

Aicantar asked, "Isn't that known as Aetherium?"

"Well, considering how generally inconsistent and incomprehensible the reaches of the Aurbis can be, it's not beyond plausibility that this," Zaryth gave the vial a wiggle, "shares the same origin as Aetherium. And functionally, they do share some attributes. My experiments on it so far have demonstrated an immensely powerful magical aura, but I have yet to find a way to use it."

"Iseus could not possibly have left us this material if its purpose were entirely redundant to Aetherium," J'zargo said. "Did he explain its intended use, by chance?"

Zaryth frowned and shook her head again. "No, and I'm not sure he had an intended use in mind. He described it only as a gift that might help us."

J'zargo inclined his head curiously. "If Iseus did not visit you physically, how did he leave you this gift?"

"Well, uh…" That was quite the question. She couldn't help but chuckle a little bit. "I… I suppose you could say he was here and yet not. I can't claim to entirely understand what happened. But I did end up with a bowl full of magic."

"It might be an alchemy reagent," Aicantar offered.

"I don't think so. It's too inert. It's certainly not toxic, but it's not… anything, really. I do find myself wishing Iseus had left some better instructions. This is going to take some time to analyze."

J'zargo said, "If you wish to leave that sample here, this one would gladly begin testing it."

"Yes, that was the idea." Zaryth reached up and placed the vial atop the fireplace's mantelpiece. She didn't want to have to get up and hand it to someone right then. "So, Aicantar. Do you think you have an idea yet of what you'll be doing in Blackreach?"

Aicantar shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Trying to make J'zargo feel better?"

J'zargo turned and gave him an indignant glare.

Aicantar looked back at J'zargo blankly. "… What? She asked."

Zaryth cleared her throat. "If you're in need of suggestions, I might advise that you assist J'zargo in his research work. It doesn't have to be with this one material sample. The Shadow Unending is about to affect all of Skyrim, and you have the resources of Blackreach at your disposal. This is a good time to use them."

"We will proceed to work," J'zargo said. "Thank you, Zaryth, for coming here."

Zaryth was being thanked for being here. That meant she was expected to stop being here now. Which was fine, since by now, her original goal in coming here was most definitely accomplished. She said some polite parting words and headed back out the door.

The warm, foggy air of Blackreach greeted her. As did the sound of the multitude of nirnroots behind the laboratory. She began walking towards the terminal immediately. That nirnroot noise was terribly irksome after a while.

There was a great deal to think about from this encounter. It was striking, she thought, to have discovered so much similarity between J'zargo and herself. And to think that she had distrusted his initial offer of friendship. No wonder J'zargo had been so eager to approach her. It made so much sense now. He had simply been lonely.

She was going to have to come back here again in the future. Preferably not long from now. Even if she had no further scholarly findings to share, she couldn't simply leave that Khajiit behind. And that was quite a thought. She was realizing that in Iseus' absence, everyone had begun to look to her for their needed scholarly guidance instead.

Really, Iseus had left quite the footsteps in which to follow. It was rare that Zaryth felt particularly humbled by anyone, and all the rarer when it was someone she had seen barely anything of. But whether it was by direct intervention or indirect influence, everything in and around Blackreach seemed to trace back to the things Iseus had done. And now it was Zaryth's turn to do her part here. She wasn't sure what to make of that.

The shuttle was waiting for her at the terminal platform, just where she'd left it. She tried not to climb the stairs to the platform too quickly.

As she reached the top, Zaryth turned back for one last look at the laboratory. There was a huge, red shape in her vision.

A moment passed, just a split second, where she simply didn't understand what she was looking at. But then she realized—it was a nirnroot. The shape was of a crimson nirnroot, so huge that it towered even over the giant glowing mushrooms. It was directly behind the laboratory.

Everything felt like it had stopped. Zaryth didn't understand. Well, she understood, but she didn't understand. This wasn't right at all. This couldn't be happening inside Blackreach. It was supposed to be safe here. The magical incidents were supposed to stay out.

Then something happened. The nirnroot was beginning to flicker. Tiny wisps of bright white energy were flashing over the leaves, through the air, like so many flames. And they were growing, quickly.

Zaryth ran back down the stairs two at a time. She didn't know what this was, but it didn't matter. She was moving.

Ahead of her, the wisps of light were coalescing into a central mass, where the nirnroot's gigantic leaves met above the ground. There was a horrible, deafeningly powerful noise coming from them, audible above the constant ringing, above Zaryth's frantic footsteps. It was like the roar of a massive fire, a hundred times over, coming in bursts of sound with every writhing flash of the wisps of energy.

It was supposed to be safe in here. How had this happened?

Somehow, J'zargo was already out on the street in front of the lab. His body was shimmering white with mage armor, and his hand was carrying a slender ebony sword. He was staring up at the giant nirnroot, his mouth agape.

Zaryth took a breath in. She had to warn him to move, or else—

For a fleeting half-second, the wisps of energy all collapsed into the center of the nirnroot, and the noise stopped. Silence hung in the air. Even the constant ringing of the garden was gone.

Then the nirnroot exploded.

The noise was like a clap of thunder from right inside Zaryth's own head. Her thoughts abandoned her. She couldn't hear, she couldn't see, she couldn't think. An instant later, something hit her hard all across the front, and she fell flat on her back. Instinctively, she cast a healing spell on herself, not even waiting for her senses to catch up, forcing her limbs to pull in, making herself sit up. She had to start seeing again. She had to look at this.

Where the nirnroot had been, there was only a shining, violently rippling orb of white energy, as wide as a person was tall, floating maybe ten feet in the air. It was making a strange noise, like it was burning, but without any fuel. The garden below had been reduced to burnt gray ash.

Zaryth was off to the lab's right side, just a short distance down the road. It put her in the perfect place to watch as J'zargo emerged from behind the lab's left wall, out into the garden space, with his sword up on guard. Her limbs weren't letting her stand up.

As she watched, the orb filled up suddenly with a blossoming inner light. Then the light gathered in on itself and took a distinct form, all in a span of perhaps a second—and then a spectral being was floating down to the ground below. Pale blue, fading to transparency, letting off a bluish mist. A ghost.

Even from here, she recognized the ghost's appearance. It was dressed in ornate layered robes, ankle-length, with prominently flared shoulders. Upon its head was a banded, pointed hat. It carried in its hand a plain, straight-bladed sword. But what made it so recognizable was its beard. It was full, long, and just as ornately decorated as the robes below. She would have recognized that anywhere.

The ghost was that of a Dwemer. Blackreach was being visited by the ghost of one of its former owners.

The very moment that the ghost had alighted upon the ground, it charged straight at J'zargo with its sword held high. The Khajiit responded with a lightning bolt spell that struck it squarely in the chest, and then lunged in with his own blade coming up. But the ghost managed to block his strike, and the two of them became embroiled in a vicious melee.

As they did, the orb above them brightened again, and another ghost floated free. A second Dwemer ghost, armed and outfitted just like the first. Zaryth realized that there was no definite limit to how many enemies they would be facing. A correction to her previous thought: Blackreach was being invaded—not merely visited, but invaded—by, quite probably, many ghosts of its former owners.

This was new. This was very new. It was true that Zaryth had been around plenty of enemies before, but for the longest time, the only thing she'd had to defend was herself. She wanted to turn invisible right then. To turn invisible, muffle herself, and flee the battlefield so she could live another day. That would've felt like the wisest tactic, once. But she was in Blackreach now. She had to defend this place. If she fled, the ghosts would only turn on everyone else in the Alftand outpost, and maybe beyond.

Fortunately, illusion wasn't the only school she knew. As she shakily rose to her feet, she raised both hands before her, and lit them up with the aura of conjuration. This spell would take nearly all of her magicka, but once it was complete… these ghosts wouldn't know what had hit them. She might not have been ready to fight this battle herself, but she could summon somebody who was. Somebody who would feast on these poor ghostly creatures' little ethereal hearts.

She cast the spell right at the ground in front of her. A purple, swirling orb appeared on the spot … and then collapsed in a sad little crackle of expired magicka.

Right. Iseus had killed all the Dremora. That was annoying.

J'zargo had just put his sword through the first ghost's chest. The ghost disintegrated from around his blade, just in time for the second to throw an ice spike straight at his head, then another at his middle. He responded by letting himself drop backwards onto the ground, and for a moment, Zaryth thought he was leaving himself helpless—until he tucked his legs in and sprang back to his feet with his sword still in hand.

Zaryth frowned. That wasn't very mage-like of him. They had wards for this sort of thing.

Not that she could talk. She was still waiting for her magicka to replenish.

Behind her, voices were calling out. She turned to see an assortment of people standing in the street, perhaps a couple dozen, staring in some mix of blankness and horror at the unfolding spectacle. J'zargo's assistants. They'd just been coming out of the buildings.

They had to get out of here. But even if they did, there was no guarantee this ghost-generating orb would simply exhaust itself. And as nimble as J'zargo seemed to be, he and Zaryth would not last forever against these things. Zaryth thought quickly.

She called out to the onlookers, "Get up to Alftand, and call Savos Aren! We need him!"

Thankfully, they didn't need to be told twice. They all hurried past towards the Alftand exit in short order.

By the time Zaryth turned back to the orb, a third ghost had already emerged. The first had come out not twenty seconds ago. This orb was proving to be worryingly productive. She had to think her plan through.

It would take about five minutes for the Alftand lift to make its ascent. From there, it might take, charitably, one or two more minutes for the Arch-Mage to answer a call for help. If this orb was releasing a ghost every ten seconds, they would have to fight at least thirty in the meantime. And that was if the rate stayed constant. Zaryth wasn't counting on her luck today.

If she and J'zargo were overwhelmed by this attack, there was no definite limit to what these ghosts would do. How many of them would end up appearing, how far they could travel, how quickly they could do it—these were all unknown. But there was the very real possibility that a failure to contain this orb here and now would result in an invasion too massive even for the Black Machine to stop. And Zaryth was still not counting on her luck.

It could have been, at that moment, that she and J'zargo were Blackreach's only line of defense.

What was she going to do?

J'zargo was doing a remarkable job of holding his own. There were two ghosts slinging spells at him, and he was simply not letting them hit. More spikes came his way, and he ducked and twisted and jumped out of the way. A couple times, he elected to simply raise a ward for a second or so, and let the incoming spike break apart against the shimmering field.

But he couldn't do that forever. Zaryth had to help. And her magicka had returned enough to let her act. She readied a silence spell in either hand, and threw the red bolts of energy one after another at the two ghosts.

Both bolts hit their marks. The ice spikes stopped right away. That was the function of the silence spell—it would temporarily suppress these ghosts' ability to cast spells. They would simply have to take J'zargo on some other way.

And that was exactly what they did. Both of them closed in on him at once, swords readied to strike. But J'zargo didn't wait for them to converge. He ran straight at the ghost to his right, sword up above his head for a huge vertical chop. The ghost saw it coming, and readied a low, upward thrust, to come up beneath his attack—and as they met, J'zargo's left hand shot out and grabbed the ghost by the incoming wrist. The spectral sword went harmlessly past his side.

At the same moment, he made a counterattack of his own. But not with the sword. He still had it high above his head, but it didn't strike first. His elbow did. It came right down and slammed into the ghost's bearded face. Then he struck with his sword. The ghost disintegrated with the blade halfway through its neck.

At that point, the left-side ghost was right on top of him. It was preparing a sideways swing, to hit him in his exposed left arm. The Khajiit responded by bringing his empty hand up, and activating a ward spell for just a split second. With a booming, resonating clang, the ghost's weapon bounced off just as forcibly as it'd come in. And by the time the ghost was ready to strike again, there was a sword through its chest.

Could ward spells even do that? Clearly, they could, because J'zargo had just done it. Zaryth was struggling to keep up with this. She'd never gotten far with non-spell combat. It had always felt so foreign. But here J'zargo was, seamlessly blending spells and swordplay. If they both survived this, Zaryth was going to have to ask him to share his technique.

Another ghost appeared through the orb. To the Dunmer's surprise, the very instant it did, it threw an ice spike straight at her. Thankfully, these projectiles were slow-moving enough that she was able to put up a ward just in time. A lightning bolt would have been much harder to deal with.

J'zargo shouted to her, "We need to get rid of this thing!"

It was true, they did need to. But Zaryth had no idea of how. She wasn't even sure how this spectral disaster had gotten past all the Aetherium ore. Presumably, it was something to do with the cluster of nirnroots—perhaps they had built a sufficiently concentrated path to Aetherius to overcome Blackreach's protection?—but this gave her no insight for how to shut it down.

Really, it was remarkable enough that the incident had occurred during the brief time of her visit here. She almost wondered if her arrival had been what triggered the incident, somehow.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another ice spike. This time, she was unable to raise a ward in time. The spike hit her in the left shoulder—gods, she'd forgotten to put on her mage armor! The pain shot through her whole arm and chest, freezing and stinging and clawing all at once, and she fell down to one knee, grunting under her breath.

But it wasn't enough to put her out of this fight. Her magicka was still very usable. She cast a healing spell with her unaffected arm, then put on a layer of mage armor immediately afterward, as she stood back up and reassessed the situation.

Out in the garden, J'zargo had just renewed his own mage armor as well, and it looked like he'd need it. There were two ghosts on the ground, and a third coming down from above. J'zargo charged at the nearest one with a driving strike, only for his weapon to be blocked by the ghost's own. Their blades promptly locked together, both just inches away from their targets. But before that could go any further, J'zargo started pouring a stream of shock magic into his opponent's sword hand. It only took a second or so. He simply used the momentary weakness to maneuver his sword up and across the ghost's bearded neck. A swift, decisive kill.

Something wasn't right. Zaryth had lost track of something. She couldn't see the second ghost. For a moment, she was wondering if it'd gone someplace entirely different, and then something icy crashed and burst against J'zargo's back.

The Khajiit cried out and stumbled forwards. That had been an ice spike, all right. The ghost was standing right there behind him. Rather than land on all fours, though, he tucked his head in and rolled over the burnt ground, coming back to his feet with his sword up and ready.

That meant he was on the ground for a good second or so. Zaryth used the opportunity to hurl a lightning bolt of her own straight over J'zargo's head. It wasn't quite ideal—she was no master of destruction magic—but it was the only ranged spell of hers with an instant travel time, and she didn't want her fellow mage to get hit. In any case, it clearly wasn't a problem, because the bolt struck the ghost directly in the chest, and sent it staggering back long enough for J'zargo to get up safely.

Unfortunately, in that time, another ghost had emerged from the orb. Zaryth realized she'd lost track of the one before it, as well. She didn't know where they were going. As J'zargo turned back and closed in to finish off his weakened attacker, Zaryth stepped back and looked around the streets.

She didn't have to look far for her answer. The ghosts were landing on the roof of the laboratory, and jumping down onto the street. Heading up towards the platform just opposite it.

The ghosts were going to attack Alftand. This was even worse than before.

To be honest, Zaryth wasn't sure how quickly these beings could get to the top of the shaft. But if they could do it faster than the lift, they could slaughter everyone in the cathedral, and prevent the guards from calling Savos for help. And Zaryth, once again, was not counting on her luck.

She called out to J'zargo, "They're going for Alftand! Stop them!"

But she didn't wait for him to catch up. The ghosts were heading up the platform at that very moment. Two were ascending the stairs, and a third was hopping down from the laboratory roof.

Zaryth broke into a sprint for the platform, and as she did, she threw a paralysis spell at the first ghost in line. The pale green bolt hit its mark, and the ghost collapsed onto its front.

She rather adored the variety of targets upon which paralysis could work. At that moment, she hadn't been sure if it even would, with these ghosts being what they were. But while part of her mind wanted to delve into some tangent comparing paralysis spells against equivalent alchemical poisons, the rest of her mind observed that this was not the best time for spell analysis. The second ghost was still climbing the stairs, and she was running low on magicka.

A black-and-gray blur shot across Zaryth's field of vision. It was J'zargo. He was going straight for the platform, right at the vertical edge, completely ignoring the stairs up its side. When he got to the far side of the paved street, he flung his sword up onto the platform, then jumped up and grabbed the edge with both hands. Without even slowing down, he pulled himself up the rest of the way, and righted himself amid the magelight of the platform's top. He picked his sword up just in time to meet the non-paralyzed ghost in melee.

Then an ice spike flew in from across the road and just barely missed J'zargo's head. Zaryth glanced at its source, and was met with a deeply troubling sight.

The orb was generating ghosts much more quickly than before. She could tell that even at a glance. Right then, there were three more ghosts climbing over the roof of the laboratory, and two in the street before her. Thankfully, they weren't paying her any attention, but that was because they were all trying to kill J'zargo. More ice spikes were coming in. The paralyzed ghost remained where it lay on the stairs, but that was one of many. This wouldn't last.

Fortunately, Zaryth was equipped with potions. She strode out into the path of the ghosts, and as she did, she pulled a slender blue bottle from her belt, pulled the stopper with her teeth, and downed its entire contents in one swallow. The fluid inside was fiery and full of energy. This was the energy she needed.

She let the bottle fall through her fingers to the ground. The ghosts turned on her just as the spell aura began to charge in her hands.

The nearest few ghosts were approaching her with swords raised. It didn't matter. It was too late for them.

The spell discharged in a gigantic, radiant wave of pale green energy, sweeping outwards through the air, over the ground, into the ghosts in every direction. They instantly went rigid and collapsed, motionless but for the ethereal mist swirling about their bodies. The mass paralysis spell was a costly, difficult one, but it worked. Now she had a few seconds in which to act.

Immediately, she readied a spell to conjure a bound weapon. These were still functional—she knew this for a fact, since she'd used a bound battle-axe outside Saarthal, well after the date of the Oblivion Purge. She had enough magicka remaining for a sword, at least.

Just as she was about to bring the spectral weapon into existence, a lightning bolt snapped through the air over her head. That had to be J'zargo, targeting more ghosts coming from the orb. It mattered not. She had to finish these ones while they were down.

"Zaryth!" The Khajiit's voice called out. "Come up here! You are too exposed!"

So she wasn't supposed to finish these ones, then? That didn't make sense to her. But still, maybe her fellow mage had some sort of plan. She dismissed the spell and ran for the stairway to the platform. As she did, a couple more ice spikes crashed into the wall beside her. She forced herself to ignore them, and kept moving up.

Atop the platform, J'zargo was standing with his sword at the ready. There were no ghosts around him. His hands were trembling a little bit, and it was making his whole blade move around. Zaryth realized that he was actually panting. This must have been demanding a great deal from him.

He pointed with his sword at the doors to the corridor. "In there. We will bottleneck them. Their numbers will mean less."

That didn't sound very promising. Zaryth had expected more from his plan. That doorway was far from narrow. "Just the two of us?—"

J'zargo's eyes widened fiercely, and he suddenly shoved Zaryth back, hard, by the shoulders. Nearly the very same instant, an ice spike shot past her face, so close by that she actually felt the rush of cold air. It shattered audibly against a wall somewhere, but she wasn't looking.

That spike would have gone straight into the side of her head. J'zargo had just saved her life. What was she even supposed to think right now?

She was being dragged by the wrist, pulled forcibly towards the Alftand doorway. This was where they were supposed to go. She willed herself to cooperate, and move up alongside the Khajiit mage, before the ghosts could close in any more.

The doors to the corridor beyond were wide open. Once they were through, Zaryth and J'zargo pulled the doors closed without a word. The latch engaged with a heavy metallic click.

It was quiet in here. All Zaryth could hear was her own racing heartbeat, throbbing in her temples, making her feel faint. This was becoming too much to handle. Blackreach was being invaded by ghosts. She didn't understand how J'zargo was still thinking so clearly. She could hardly think at all.

All of those ghosts were still coming for them. There must have been a score of them out there by now. And it had only been a few minutes. That wasn't long enough.

She asked in a hushed voice, "What now?"

J'zargo responded by readying a frost spell, and sealing the door latch with a jet of crystallizing ice. In air as warm as this, the ice wouldn't last terribly long, but perhaps it didn't have to. When the Khajiit was done, he replied, "Now, we pray that this is enough. And we plan that it is not."

With that, he took a few steps back from the door, and readied his sword once again. Zaryth walked slowly over to his side, and watched the doors before them. There was a vertical line of haphazard ice growths down the middle, focused on the point where the doors latched together. Zaryth couldn't stop staring at it. She had no idea what was on the other side.

A brief time went by in tense silence. At least her magicka was replenishing.

Eventually, she asked, "What are we going to do?"

The noise came suddenly. Zaryth would have recognized it from a mile away, but it wasn't even a stone's throw beyond the doors. It was a huge, earth-shaking thud. And then another thud not a second after it. And another, and another…

There was only one thing this could have been. It was impossible, but there the noise was. She'd heard it so many times before. The wise thing to do now would be to run.

The lift to Alftand was gone from behind them, the barred doors closed tight. There was nowhere to run to.

The noise was getting louder with every moment. It was coming.

J'zargo took a deep breath in, then sighed and shook his head. "If you have any more tricks up your sleeve, now is the time to use them."

"Well, uh…" That wasn't very reassuring at all. Zaryth joined him in taking some more deep breaths. She didn't want to die in here.

That thought hit her like a knife in the chest. Not an exaggeration—it felt that physically painful and wrenching. She gasped involuntarily. This could be the actual place of her death. She might never leave this corridor.

Why had she been worrying about what she would do without Thorald? She was on the verge of leaving Thorald to live without her. And he'd never even said if anything was making him happy yet.

A warm hand gripped firmly on her shoulder. She focused enough to see J'zargo looking into her eyes.

"Zaryth," he said. His voice was so low and soft, it was nearly a whisper. "Stay with J'zargo. You are needed."

"I… I don't…"

"It is no more than a particularly exciting puzzle. Now solve it."

Solve it.

It sounded so simple when he put it that way. Maybe it really was.

Zaryth nodded silently, and took one more deep breath in.

Nearly every time she'd come near one of these things, it had already been inactive. Sometimes, it had even been halfway dismantled before she'd gotten to it. She'd never quite thought about how to fight something of this size and strength. But she remembered what she'd seen.

That would be enough, she thought. And, as J'zargo seemed to like to plan, if it wasn't enough… if it wasn't enough for them, then maybe at least it would be enough for Alftand. For everyone else.

She readied a spell in one hand. A simple spell, with herself as the target. And as she did, she told J'zargo what she planned to do. His cooperation would be needed for this.

The thudding was almost right outside the doors. Zaryth had little time to prepare.

She used her time wisely.

It came suddenly, in one instant. A huge, reverberating crash, nearly as loud as the concussive explosion of the giant nirnroot. The metal of the doors dented and bulged grotesquely outward in the middle. J'zargo's seal of ice burst apart instantly. The doors swung open from the lingering impact, and in stepped their new enemy.

Zaryth had never seen an ethereal centurion before. It was just as huge and armored and expressionless as one made of real metal. Its left arm ended with an axe, its right with a hammer. But its entire body was misty blue instead of gold. Its elbows and collar were letting off the ghostly version of plumes of steam, the latter through three dedicated vent slits by either shoulder.

It scanned the way down the corridor, detected J'zargo at the far end, and began to move forward. It never saw Zaryth coming.

All it had taken was a simple levitation spell, and she'd perched herself right on top of the wide stone doorframe, between it and the ceiling. She watched the centurion walk out into the corridor beneath her, and when it had gotten all the way inside, she jumped.

Dwemer centurions were rather like people in shape, but they didn't really have necks. Their heads and torsos were the same fixed mass of vaguely cylindrical metal, widest at the shoulders, with narrow waists below, and a rounded, cone-like top above. Perfectly smooth and seamlessly armored, except for a barred strut running along the top and down the back of its head-segment, like a helmet's crest. Zaryth grabbed onto that strut with both hands. It was strangely warm to the touch. Then the rest of her landed against the automaton, and things promptly went mad.

Her knees had landed against the base of the centurion's head-segment, just above its widest point. She was very firmly secured here. But the automaton immediately tried starting to shake her off. Fortunately, its arms' range of motion was too limited to reach her. It raised its arm-mounted weapons towards her, and they stopped a fair few feet short.

The Dunmer let go with one hand, and reached to her belt. This had to be quick. The centurion was staggering and flailing at random, wrenching this way and that against her weight. If her other hand lost its grip, that would be the end of it.

On her belt was J'zargo's sword. She drew it in a reverse grip, reached over the centurion's shoulder, and jammed the blade into the highest of the three vent slits. Instantly, her hand was bathed in a scalding jet of steam. She grimaced, ignored it, and forced the blade in deeper. It had to get past the opening vents. It had to.

Her eyes were watering profusely. Her hand hurt more than anything ever had. And the centurion just kept thrashing around beneath her this whole time. Her other hand was slick with sweat. It couldn't hold onto this strut forever. She ignored everything and forced the blade in deeper, through inner layers of metal, until it had carved the gap it needed to.

Strictly speaking, this centurion didn't need its steam in order to function. Automatons, ultimately, ran on magical force alone. The steam was just there to bolster its strength, and function as a ranged weapon. So rupturing these steam conduits wasn't enough. She wrenched J'zargo's sword back out, flung it aside, and prepared another spell.

At that moment, the ghostly centurion stumbled backwards against the wall. Zaryth felt the stone surface collide with her back. It very nearly knocked her straight over this thing's head. But her grip stayed firm, just long enough for her to put this one last spell to use.

The spell was a lightning bolt. She put her scalded hand to the widened hole in the steam vent, and sent it snapping into the centurion's insides. It went straight through the gap created by the ebony sword's incisive force, and struck directly against the centurion's control assembly, where its soul gem was housed.

This had the same effect against all automatons everywhere. The fact that this automaton was a ghost made no difference. It was as sure as a sword strike to one of the Dwemer ghosts' unliving hearts.

She jumped off the automaton as it crashed to the ground behind her. Immediately afterward, she cast a healing spell on herself with her uninjured hand. All of that burning pain faded away instantly.

The doors to Blackreach were still wide open. An army of Dwemer ghosts was standing there and looking at her.

"Go away," she grumbled, and swung the doors closed again.

They didn't exactly latch shut, seeing as the latch had been completely ruined just now, but it served to block the flurry of ice spikes that followed. Zaryth held them closed with one arm, and turned back to look at J'zargo. "How about that bottleneck, then?"

"Why not," the Khajiit said. He had his sword in his hand again. He walked up to the other side of the doors from Zaryth, just opposite the big protruding dent, and renewed his mage armor spell. "It should be fun enough."

That was a good reminder, actually. Zaryth did the same spell for herself. She was rather low on magicka now, but this was J'zargo's moment. All he had to do was hold the line.

When the ghosts reached the doors, they forced their way through by sheer numbers alone. Zaryth backed away quickly, and J'zargo gave his sword a flourish as the crowd met him. All things considered, he could have been much more afraid.

He met the first ghost with a casual, sweeping strike of the sword, cutting its legs out from under it. Then the rest descended on him, and he put up a ward with his free hand. They crashed against it like a wave, and began to edge around to outflank him. But his sword hand was free, and he just kept attacking, all the while.

Sword strikes were biting into him from half a dozen different angles at once, but he didn't seem to even care. They mustn't have been getting through his mage armor enough to really hurt him. His counterattacks, however, were far more deadly. Whenever he struck a ghost, it fell immediately after. He was so fast, moving seamlessly from one killing blow to the next. It was rather terrifying to watch. But it would only last as long as his magicka held out. Probably just a few seconds, and then the ghosts would overwhelm him.

Zaryth didn't have enough magicka left for another mass paralysis spell. This might have counted as another puzzle. She wasn't sure she had the time to think its solution through.

At that moment, a purple, swirling aura appeared in the middle of the air outside, just in front of the laboratory. Zaryth watched silently. There was really only one thing this could be.

Floating there, ten feet or so above the ground, was the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, Savos Aren. He took a brief look around, and raised a single hand. An orange aura appeared in it.

The ghosts tore apart all at once. Their bodies simply ruptured and came apart from within, into a dozen different pieces each. Behind Zaryth, the centurion's inner machinery exploded out into the air. A moment later, it all disintegrated into nothing. The battlefield was empty.

Zaryth and J'zargo walked out slowly, the latter casting a healing spell upon himself on the way. Savos Aren was still floating there, but his attention was on the orb now. Every time something came out of it, he gave it the same treatment.

"Arch-Mage," Zaryth called out from the platform. "What is this?"

Savos glanced over his shoulder with an empty-handed shrug. He was still floating some ten feet above the ground, about as high up as the orb itself. "Whatever it is, I'm very eager to do away with it!" He had such a smooth, refined voice. It felt like quite the contrast right then. A moment later, he glanced back again, his eyebrows raised. "That's some beautiful armor, J'zargo."

"Finally," J'zargo grinned. He hopped down to the ground below, and started walking out onto the street. "Hold on. Khajiit has just had an idea for how to handle this."

With that, he walked up to the laboratory, put his palm to the life-sensor plate, and entered through the doors. Two seconds later, he walked back out with a very familiar glass vial in hand.

Another centurion was coming through the orb. For a moment, Zaryth felt a twinge of worry, but then its components burst apart and went spinning away in a hundred different directions. Savos ignored it and looked down at J'zargo. "What is that?"

"A gift from Iseus," J'zargo said, holding up the vial for the Arch-Mage to see. "See for yourself."

Rather than try to reach down for it, Savos simply used his telekinesis to lift the vial out of J'zargo's grasp, and bring it up in front of his face. Without laying so much as a finger on any of it, he twisted the stopper free, and poured the vial's silvery contents out into a liquid globe in the air, leaving the vial and stopper floating at either side.

"Interesting," he said, giving the globe a gentle, rippling spin. He had yet to physically touch anything in this place.

Zaryth asked, "What are you going to do with it?"

"Probably this." And with that, Savos sent the ball of silvery fluid flying outward through the air, over the laboratory's roof—and right into the center of the orb.

It was surprising, how suddenly it happened. It was as though the source of magic keeping the orb active had simply ceased to be. The orb's inner light faded to nothing without a sound, and then its rippling shell melted apart and vanished. Both it and the silvery essence were completely gone from view.

Savos put the stopper back in the vial again, then took hold of it, dropped down to ground level, and handed it back to J'zargo. He didn't even seem particularly affected by it all.

Zaryth hurried around down the staircase. She had very little idea of what just happened, but it felt extremely significant. It simply wasn't quite clear how.

When she arrived, Savos nodded to her and said, "It's a pleasure to see you again, Zaryth." Then, to J'zargo, "You as well. I wish I could have come here under happier circumstances."

"You are always welcome," J'zargo smiled. "We have much to discuss, do we not? Khajiit believed that the Shadow Unending would remain outside Blackreach."

Zaryth said, "I think that was your nirnroot garden, J'zargo. Too many of them in one place. I'm not sure how exactly this works, but there seems to be a connection between the nirnroots and Aetherius."

"Those nirnroots took much work to cultivate," J'zargo said sourly. "They were increasing the power of all nearby magic by nearly double. It is lucky that many potions have been stockpiled. We should not replant the nirnroots until this Shadow Unending has finally found its end after all."

"If it ever does," Zaryth muttered.

Savos nodded to J'zargo. "I am, indeed, familiar with the nirnroot's relationship with nearby magic," he said, rather amiably. "My current theory is that there is a connection—as you said a moment ago, Zaryth—but it is within each nirnroot. They seem to each contain a connecting point between our world and Aetherius. Or, given their propensity as of late to grow uncontrollably at random, a connecting point between Aetherius and our world."

It was strange to think that not two minutes ago, Zaryth and J'zargo had been desperately fighting for their lives, and now they were standing and chatting with the Arch-Mage as though nothing had happened. But something most definitely had. Zaryth was still feeling very shaky from all of this. She could have died today, if things had gone just slightly less in her favor. But they hadn't, and she had survived, and that was worth a great deal.

She had to admit, she was feeling quite impressed by J'zargo at the moment. It was more than the swordplay and the surprisingly useful armor. The Khajiit had handled himself this entire time with incredible poise and proficiency. Seeing him in action, Zaryth had been reminded of Echallos' words about what kept warriors like himself going, despite such inescapable risk to their own lives. In a word: bravery.

Bravery was very difficult. Zaryth herself had just brought down a Dwemer centurion in what amounted to single combat, and she felt nothing about it but terror. Even in hindsight, all she could think of was how close she'd come to losing her life. And this was what warriors dealt with all the time.

When she was done here, she was going to have to go back to the Silent City and report this incident in detail. Then, after that was done, she would have to find Thorald and spend a long time hugging him.

"We have a great deal of work ahead of us," she said. "I have only a limited supply of the substance you made use of just now, Savos. The Dragonborn left it here personally, and… he's not around very much these days."

Savos nodded appreciatively. "If you can spare some more samples, I'd be glad to take one back to Winterhold for study there. I'll be happy to share my results, of course. Most of my time recently has been spent on experimentation and development, but the Shadow Unending clearly already demands direct intervention." He gestured to the spot in the air where the orb had been a minute ago. "We will need to work quickly."

Just then, the doors of the laboratory swung slowly open. All three mages stopped and looked on silently.

It was Aicantar. He stepped out into the street, and looked around slowly. "Is… is it over?"

Zaryth said, "Wait. Were you in there this entire time?"

"Uhh… yes, there was a lot of noise outside, so, uh…" Aicantar waved his hand in a vague gesticulation, before noticing Savos standing beside him. He smiled politely. "Hello, Arch-Mage. What are you doing down here, exactly?"