Middas, 5:24 PM, 15th of Rain's Hand, 4E 202

Sleeping Tree Camp

It was several days' walk from the Western Watchtower to the Sleeping Tree Camp. Or, at least, it would've been for a regular person, which Kamian wasn't. Even in his full plate armor, his endurance and his sheer physical size meant that he could run faster and for longer than nearly anyone in the world.

But the real difference, of course, lay in three words: "Wuld-nah-kest."

Kamian had made the distance in less than sixteen hours. Within that time, he'd also gotten some food and non-stagnant water into his system, taken in a nice view of Whiterun Hold, and thought things over.

That conversation with Peryite had changed everything, and not just in terms of his new Daedric equipment. As far as he'd been aware, there had been three major threats to the world in recent times: The dragons, the Thalmor, and Morokei. Now there was a fourth. An unseen, unexpected threat. One that was orchestrated by mortals.

And that was all he'd been told. But the most revealing thing about this wasn't in any of Peryite's words—if anything, it was in all of them. Daedric Princes did not sit down to have lengthy chats with their mortal pawns. They seldom bothered to offer any words besides basic instructions. They certainly never handed out their artifacts and then explained how important it was that those artifacts be put to use. They were too lofty, too removed from the world to really care what any one mortal thought of them.

Except Peryite genuinely did care what Kamian thought. He'd taken the time and effort to make sure that they were definitely on the same page. He'd done that for one specific mortal. And there was only one good explanation for that—that talk of Oblivion being in danger wasn't an exaggeration. The Daedra were scared.

But he still had no idea what to expect. There wasn't any point in trying to think of potential culprits. If they'd had a collective name, Peryite would have told it to him. This was going to be nothing he'd ever heard of.

And he supposed he would meet this threat when he reached Sleeping Tree Camp. If nothing else, it was an easy trip. He'd crossed Whiterun Hold a hundred times. He didn't need a map to find this place.

Still, by early evening, he was starting to wonder if maybe he was looking in the right place. It was around that time that he heard, far above him, a dragon's roar.

But he didn't even get the chance to look up, because right then, a voice behind him said, "Nice shield."

Kamian turned and gave his brother a long, silent stare. If he hadn't recognized that voice, he would've just stabbed behind himself without even looking. Just as well, because he didn't recognize this armor. Or, he did—it was the Dragonborn's armor in make, it had the exact same custom design—but instead of dwarven metal, it was entirely made of ebony like his own.

And here he'd been expecting that the first thing he'd find would be the big scary threat. "Nice armor," he said without thinking.

"Odahviing dropped me off. Ethereal shout. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. My potions are dry, but I'm fine," Kamian paused. "Iseus, I'm really… I am so sorry about Paarthurnax. I don't even know what to…"

"No. Forget it. At least until we've gotten this taken care of. Actually, first, how did you get Spellbreaker?"

Just like this, completely by surprise, Iseus had appeared out of nowhere, and they were instantly talking business. It was pleasant to be with someone so focused on getting the job done.

"Found it at the Western Watchtower. It was stuck underneath a Companion's corpse. Four of them, all burnt to ash. Peryite showed up and told me to come here. Gave me the sword, too. Now what are we dealing with?"

"A lot. But I think you'll get to finish your mask collection. Come on." Iseus walked past him and beckoned idly for him to follow. As he did, Kamian noticed the sword strapped to his back. It was absolutely massive. Nearly as long as he was tall.

As they moved, Iseus held out his hand. "Could you give me your gauntlet? I brought refills."

Kamian obligingly unbuckled his right gauntlet and handed it over. His hand appreciated the fresh air, at least. They continued walking while Iseus fiddled with the bits on the injectors.

"I don't have the masks anymore, remember? Morokei took them all."

Iseus didn't look up from what he was doing. "You get the idea. We can get the most important one, at least."

"Also I don't think he's still wearing his own mask for me to take."

"You know what?"

"The only mask we still have is the wooden one, and it's broken in half."

"Hold on. Actual information for a second."

"Sure."

Iseus handed him the gauntlet to put back on. The tubes on the inner side were all filled to capacity, even the one for the cure potion. "When Odahviing passed over, we saw the camp. Or I think it was the camp. Someone's built a huge fort right on top of the tree. Made out of stone and everything."

"Peryite told me that there's a mortal force that's threatening every plane of existence. He didn't say what it was, but I figured it wouldn't be the giants."

"You never know," Iseus said through a laugh. "Giants hit harder than I do."

"Yes, people getting punted miles through the air by giants, I've heard the tales too."

"Wait a minute. Mortal force threatening every plane of existence? And it's not Morokei."

"It's something we haven't heard of. He sent me to stop it."

Iseus made an affirmative noise. "Is that why you're still in Whiterun Hold? I'd almost given you up for lost, it's been so long."

"Are you kidding? It's been, what, four days?"

"It's been over two weeks, Kamian. Today is the fifteenth of Rain's Hand."

Now, that just didn't make sense.

At that moment, the two of them came to the top of a shallow hill. Iseus stopped in his tracks. When Kamian looked past him, he stopped too.

"You said it was a fort."

"It was a fort. It wasn't this."

The natural features nearby did look like this was the site of Sleeping Tree Camp. But where the camp itself should have been, there was a huge dome of magical energy. Completely opaque, and hard to pin down the exact limits of, but raging within them like a self-contained storm.

Iseus slowly drew the greatsword from his back. "Any idea what we're looking at?"

"Not really. I wonder what they're doing in there."

The two brothers stood there in silence. Some time went by. The dome just went on whirling. It went without saying that they wouldn't be able to walk through that thing. Even Spellbreaker wouldn't be enough against something of this size.

Eventually, Kamian spoke. "I can't believe this is where we've ended up."

"You've killed seven dragon priests. I've killed the World-Eater. We've been to Blackreach and Skuldafn. How is this too much?"

"I mean any of it. You're my little brother. We're just… We're just kids from the Imperial City. How did this happen?"

Iseus paused. Kamian could hear him breathing deep through his visor. "We… I dunno. We decided to make the world a better place. I guess we happen to be pretty good at it."

That was what Kamian had been telling himself for a long time. It was that sort of thing where maybe if he repeated it enough, he'd start believing it. He'd been going through the motions of this way of life for quite a few years now. But he couldn't just choose to believe things. That wasn't how that worked.

"Are you nervous, Kamian?" Iseus asked.

A surprisingly good question. Kamian had stopped being mindful of his exact thoughts some time ago. "I don't think so. I'm mostly confused. Why did you think Morokei would be here?"

"I have sources too, you know." His brother paused. "All right, we need to focus. Let's just get up to the edge of this thing, at least. Put on your invisibility. We can't see in, but there's no reason whoever's inside can't see out."

And with that, the ebony-armored Dragonborn put a finger to his forearm and disappeared. Strangely, when Kamian followed suit, he reappeared again. His form was blurry, like he was just a little out of focus, but he was right there. Maybe it had to do with the way these potions had been made.

But it did mean that he and Iseus could stay just by each other as they went. The dome was just under a mile away. In order to make it there before the invisibility ran out, they'd need to move fairly quickly.

With his greatsword still drawn, Iseus took off at an easy jogging pace. Kamian followed right behind.

This dome really was gigantic. If there had been a fort here previously, it could have easily fit inside. It seemed logical to think that it was centered on the actual Sleeping Tree. If someone had managed to use it for this kind of magic, Kamian supposed he had his answer for where that mortal force was, if not who.

Suddenly, Iseus stopped. Kamian instinctively did the same even before he saw what his brother saw.

"Oh, shit," he murmured. "Now what?"

"Now we watch," said his brother.

This was his first time seeing Morokei up close. They were maybe a hundred yards from the dome, but the dragon priest was practically touching it. He'd come walking around its right edge. He was already here.

Iseus had been right after all. In fact, it looked like this camp was where all the threats to Skyrim were going to converge.

Kamian had indeed killed seven dragon priests already. Morokei was practically identical to all of them. His body was tall and slender, and at some point in the distant past, he might have looked like the picture of Nordic strength and beauty. But every exposed part of his body was emaciated, dried out, lifeless. He was like a draugr, almost. The only difference was that he obviously didn't need his body in working order anymore. The weight balance of his body looked like he was being held in place, like all of his movements were being dictated by some external force. He even floated rather than walked.

Like all dragon priests, he wore tattered old dragon-style ceremonial robes and a unique mask, and carried with him a magic staff. The robes were nothing special, but the mask and staff were unmistakable. Two impassable obstacles in between Kamian's sword and Morokei's neck.

Eventually, the dragon priest stopped and looked around himself. Then he raised his staff and held its head against the magic wall. The area around it started to glow brightly. Kamian didn't even need to know anything about the Staff of Magnus to understand what was happening.

"What are we going to do when it's down?" Kamian whispered.

Iseus' whispered reply was, "Find out who's inside."

At that moment, the entire dome flashed white. A brilliant, blinding white, as bright as the sun itself. There was an ear-splitting crack. For a split second, Kamian saw the Staff of Magnus shattering in the dragon priest's hands.

A solid wall smashed into Kamian's body. His feet left the ground. For a moment, all of his senses failed him. Everything had gone white. He couldn't even see the inside of his visor.

His back hit the ground hard. Just like that, it was over. He sat up and blinked hard a few times. His vision came back slowly. At first, all he could see were shifting blobs of color, which slowly sharpened into shapes, which he could soon identify. Before he even realized what he was looking at, though, the Ebony Warrior was up on his feet.

The dome was gone. Where it had been, there was a huge field of stone rubble. And it looked like Morokei was still standing there, but his staff was definitely gone. He was standing there, and looking directly at the two of them.

No sense in keeping the invisibility going, then. Both of them turned off their potions' flow without saying a word.

The last time the Dragonborn and the Ebony Warrior had fought alongside each other, neither of them had been known by those titles. Kamian's own fighting style had changed completely. He wondered how his brother's would look. He wondered, right at this final moment of preparation, if they'd still be able to coordinate with each other. If not, this would reach a whole new level of misery.

It wasn't like how the legends all made heroic battles begin. There were no words exchanged, there was no running charge. Morokei simply appeared right in front of the two brothers, and the fight began.

This wasn't destruction magic, exactly. It didn't seem to belong to any school. Morokei lashed out with an open hand, and a wave of pure, energized force issued forth, as deadly and wild as the surface of that dome. Kamian blocked with his shield as he lunged in.

The dragon priest met his blade with a bare, skeletal hand, and with a flash of magicka, the blow was deflected. Iseus drove his greatsword upwards, meaning to take that hand right off its wrist, but another flash and his attack was knocked away. Again and again, the two of them attacked, and every time, Morokei neatly parried, throwing back attacks of his own all the while. It was too fast to keep track of. This wasn't a situation where Morokei seemed to be in two or three positions at once—he was in one position, and no matter what, it was always the perfect one to block whatever was coming at him.

The first time one of the waves of magic came at Iseus, he threw up a ward to hold it off. The shimmering wall instantly collapsed when struck, barely managing to take the wave with it. The second time, he didn't bother to block it at all, but ducked and rolled to behind Morokei's back. His footwork and balance were perfect, even with all that armor on. Just like that, he'd completely changed the dynamic of the fight.

Being outflanked like this, with one opponent on either side, was a death sentence for even very seasoned warriors. The general technique for fighting in groups amounted to "don't get surrounded". It simply wasn't feasible to keep track of the attacks of every opponent in a 360-degree field, and even if it were, the body wasn't designed to block things from behind.

The fight turned dizzying very quickly. Morokei was like a whirlwind, moving to deflect every single strike from every single angle, even as Kamian and Iseus steadily weaved their way around him. The idea was to get the dragon priest busy, get him distracted, make him vulnerable—but he just wouldn't let his guard down. Even when it looked like Kamian had a clear shot at his body's core, somehow a hand would end up in the way.

One of Morokei's waves made it past Spellbreaker. It hit Kamian across the shoulder, sent him off balance, made him fall down on one knee. He could have brought his shield back up right away, but instead, he raised it a fraction of a second too slowly. Just enough time to encourage Morokei to attack him again.

This was how fights went. The participants spent the whole thing dodging and blocking each other's attacks, until someone missed a step and got killed. Kamian had just made it seem like he'd missed a step. In taking the opportunity to finish him off, Morokei lagged behind along with him.

Iseus' greatsword came down so hard on Morokei's collar that it clove through his spine. One huge, diagonal chop, from shoulder to hip. If it'd been a hair more horizontal, it would've cut the dragon priest in two.

"Odahviing says hi," the Dragonborn said, then kicked the dragon priest's limp body off his blade. It was sticky and glistening where it'd passed through undead insides.

Kamian pulled himself back up onto his feet and looked down at Morokei's corpse. It had twisted sideways at the wound, so the legs were splayed out on their sides, but the upper body was flat on its front. He planted his foot on its back.

"Take off his head," he said. "Get his mask away from him."

Iseus nodded, then lined himself up with Morokei's shoulders and raised his greatsword high above him.

Something slammed into Kamian's chin. It hit like a war hammer, so hard that it nearly broke his neck. He was sure he was landing on his back, but it was impossible to tell. His ears were ringing, his vision was blurred.

A deep, hollow voice rang through the air. "My greetings to Odahviing."

Kamian looked ahead just in time to see Morokei's body forming itself back together. The two barely-attached halves were floating in the air, turning to realign with each other, and sealing perfectly along the cut. Even the robes repaired themselves. It was hard to tell through that mask, and maybe it was just his imagination, but something about Morokei right then looked absolutely furious.

He noticed that Iseus was nowhere to be seen. Almost that very moment, the person in question walked right past him, sword in hand. "Get up," he murmured, then charged at Morokei head-on.

Sure enough, the dragon priest unleashed a storm of lethal magic, but right before it would've hit him, Iseus shouted "Feim!" and ran straight through. Kamian brought Spellbreaker back to guard as he got up. Maybe they needed something besides swords to finish this.

When Iseus returned to normal form, his ebony sword—actually just a one-handed sword, his greatsword was gone—was an inch away from Morokei's neck. But before he could complete the swing, the dragon priest hit him square in the chest with a punishing blast of force. He went flying back onto the ground. His sword spun off to the side, well out of reach.

To keep Morokei from trying a finishing blow, Kamian closed in and renewed the melee by himself. Just for the sake of appearance, he struggled to maneuver his Daedric sword in a way that it would hit some vital part of Morokei's body. Spellbreaker was making it almost effortless to defend himself. Everything just bounced off it.

Iseus hit the earth on his shoulders. For a moment, it looked like he was going to land in a semi-conscious heap, but instead, he gracefully completed the tumble backwards onto his front, and skidded to a flawless halt on the grass, one leg out behind him and the other tucked in. With the flash of an orange aura, his sword snapped back into his outstretched hand.

Morokei glanced back and saw the armored man rising to his feet. For a fleeting moment, he seemed to realize what was coming, and simply stared in disbelief. Kamian had just enough time to jump out of the way. This moment belonged to the Dragonborn.

"FUS-RO-DAH!"

The air itself cracked apart. Kamian felt it just as much as he heard it. Morokei's entire body was picked up and flung like the gods tossing a pebble. He hit a huge chunk of rubble with a sickening thud, and landed flat on his front.

Iseus exchanged a silent glance with Kamian. They could have closed the distance again, used the whirlwind sprint Thu'um to attack Morokei before he could recover, but neither of them moved. They just stood right where they were, and waited for the dragon priest's next move.

When Morokei stood back up, he spent a good three seconds just watching them, and then slowly, almost idly, he pointed a finger at Iseus.

Kamian had been expecting that. He'd stood still just to give Morokei the chance to do this. "Wuld!"

In the blink of an eye, he was standing right in front of his little brother, shield raised. It was at that exact moment that Morokei released his full power. The all-destroying bolt, the one that outshone lightning, that had left no remains of Paarthurnax's body. It had been meant for the Dragonborn, and it hit Spellbreaker instead.

The bolt rebounded. For a split second, backlit by the source of its own destruction, Kamian saw the silhouette of Morokei's skeleton.

And then it was all gone. There was nothing left but a great scorch mark on the rocks. Definitely a step above swords, that was for sure.

"Thanks," Iseus said from behind him.

"No problem." Kamian didn't take his eyes off the burnt area. He was still so tense. After this fight, after being brought so close to death, it seemed too good to be true.

"I don't suppose there's any limit to what that shield can reflect?"

"I'd been wondering the same thing."

Spellbreaker was certainly earning its place as a Daedric artifact. There probably wasn't any stronger magical weapon in the world than Konahrik's mask, and it had—

Konahrik's mask. Why had it gone away with the rest of Morokei? Had that really managed to destroy it?

The moment that thought entered Kamian's mind, the dragon priest reappeared completely unharmed. One moment, he was gone, and the next, he was there.

That hollow voice spoke again. "You fools. Do you truly believe that I would not protect against my own magic?"

"Morokei! My old friend. What a pleasure."

Another person appeared amid the rubble. Morokei's dramatic return was accordingly ruined.

A dark elf, it looked like, wearing burnt, tattered rags and what was once probably some kind of backpack. He raised a hand towards Morokei. The golden mask tore right off the dragon priest's face and flew into his grasp.

"I'll take that," the elf smiled.

Beneath the mask, Morokei's face was little more than a skull. His eyes, or what passed for eyes now, glowed blue from within. It was just as expressionless as the mask had been.

He turned that lifeless face to look right at the newcomer, and opened his lipless mouth. "Savos Aren. Your arrival is ill-timed."

And then he backhanded the air. There was an audible crack as the magical strike connected. Savos landed on the ground some five yards back. The mask fell somewhere between the broken rocks, out of Kamian's sight.

"You think I still need the mask?" Morokei's gaze turned back to Kamian. "You are mistaken."

This was the decisive moment of the fight. If that elf was Savos Aren, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, then the four most powerful fighters in the world were all in seeing distance of each other.

Kamian didn't get to finish that thought. An unstoppable force collided with his chest, straight through his armor, like it wasn't even there. This was so much worse than when the dome had erupted. His sword and shield fell from his hands. The impact sent him spinning around onto his front. He landed right on his elbows, so hard that he was sure he'd broken at least one of them.

Right in front of him, Iseus prepared to dodge something, but then there was a flash of light, and he collapsed on his back. He wasn't getting back up. Kamian hadn't even managed to see what exactly had brought his brother down.

"I have tested your power," Morokei said, "and you have disappointed me. None of you are worthy to live under my rule."

A thousand needles were stabbing through Kamian's body. He could barely even breathe. But he willed himself to roll onto his back and look Morokei in the eye.

The decisive moment had come and gone. Worst-case scenario, he supposed, they'd regroup and plan their next move from Sovngarde.

The dragon priest stood tall over him. A bitter taste rose in the back of his mouth. He'd anticipated this moment for years, but that didn't make this any less horrible.

"Die," Morokei said, and raised his hand one last time.

It all happened so quickly.

This was the last thing Kamian would ever see. The dragon priest standing with his hand pointed downward. The merciless, piercing stare of his glowing eyes. The energy forming together at his fingertips, coalescing into usable being. The man in black and gold armor standing right behind him.

A fleeting burst of energy silently struck Morokei's body. For a split second, he vanished from sight, leaving nothing behind at all. Then a shower of gold coins fell to the ground where he had just been.

"I… Didn't expect that," the man said.

Kamian stared dumbly at the dragon priest's remains. If they could even be called that. He honestly had no idea what had just happened.

"Thorald," Iseus said, "where did you get the Wabbajack?"

He twisted around to see his brother shakily getting up onto his knees.

"Uh… Solitude, actually," said Thorald. "It's a long story. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Check Savos, he's over there." Iseus pointed in the Arch-Mage's general direction.

Kamian returned to staring at the remains. Gold coins. Morokei had just been transformed into… Coins.

"All right, wait a minute. Hold on. No." Iseus sat down and joined him in staring. He called out without looking. "Thorald? Please tell me your long story."

When Thorald came back, he had the Arch-Mage in tow. They both sat down on Kamian's other side without being bidden.

"Dragonborn?" Savos looked past him at his brother. "Is that you?"

"Yes it is. This is my brother, Kamian, and that's Thorald Gray-Mane. I'm sort of wondering how we all showed up here."

"Fate, evidently," Thorald shrugged.

"That long story, please?"

"Solitude was attacked from within by spectral Dremora. Just an endless horde of them. I tracked down their source at the Blue Palace, and… It was the Wabbajack. A legionnaire had put it there. He was completely mad. He said Sheogorath wanted to celebrate the end times."

"Sheogorath sent the Wabbajack to Solitude because he thinks it's the end times, and Peryite sent Spellbreaker to my brother because he thinks we're under attack by some secret conspiracy." Iseus paused. "Anyone else feel like we're missing something big?"

"I believe I have your secret conspiracy," said Savos. "Nocturnal gave me the Skeleton Key to help me fight back. Did any of you see that wall of magic around this place?"

Everyone else said 'yes'.

"This fortress was populated by the Thalmor. One of them was using the Sleeping Tree to project the barrier. I confronted her, and… She destroyed the tree."

The Thalmor. That certainly didn't help to explain anything. That was two out of three known threats to the world here, and none unknown.

Iseus leaned forward and picked up one of the gold coins. "Anyone else, uh… Feel like the Daedra are all going crazy about this?"

Kamian said, "Thorald, how did you get here? I mean… How did you know to come here?"

"A big friendly green dragon took me here," he said. "Really. I'm… Sorry I didn't hit Morokei any sooner. I was waiting for him to stop moving around so much."

"Well, Morokei is dead." Savos folded his arms triumphantly. "Shall we deal with his mask now?"

"Deal?" Iseus asked flatly.

"Nocturnal told me to destroy it."

Iseus went silent for a few seconds. Kamian had spent a long time around his brother, long enough to often know what he was thinking just by his body language. Right then, he was coming up with some kind of strategy. "Right, tell you what," he said. "I'll take it with me to Blackreach. It just got hit with one of Morokei's own spells, and it's not even scratched. If there's anything that'll let us dismantle it, it's down there. If not, at least it's hard to reach."

"That reminds me." Savos snapped his fingers and reached over his shoulder into that ruined remnant of a backpack. Just like that, he pulled out an Elder Scroll.

Kamian buried his visor in his hands. "I quit. I fucking quit. This is too much."

Iseus wasn't much better off. "Is… Is that mine? Where did you get that?"

"Helgen. Yes. Apologies, I needed it."

Savos paused.

"When I, uh…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "When I gave Brynjolf the Torc of Labyrinthian, I had thought he would give it to you. I don't know what exactly I was thinking. I took that device off its door to prevent anyone from finding…" He gestured to what was left of Morokei. A tremor of emotion had entered his voice. "What I found, when I first… When I first went there. So, so long ago. And everything that's happened since then…"

"It doesn't matter," Iseus said softly. "Not now. You're far more of a good person than I am, Savos, I won't have you being consumed by guilt."

Kamian realized that his brother and the Arch-Mage must not have spoken in person since long before this crisis had even started. Perhaps not even since Iseus decided to start his work in Blackreach. And they had met once again in the most unlikely circumstances that could be.

In fact, this entire thing was unlikely. The four of them, plus Morokei, all with no planning, all perfectly timed. It seemed to all center on whatever had been going on here with the Sleeping Tree.

And they still had no good answers.

Thorald spoke up. "You fellows realize what this means, don't you? We've won. It's over."

"Yes and no," said Iseus. "We've won, but this isn't over."