Content warning: major bodily injury

Chapter 38 – The Inevitable Knower

Tears rolled down my face to my chest. My body shuddered, perhaps somewhat of a measure to keep warm. I couldn't wrap my arms around myself so instead I scooted forward again and hugged my knees to my chest. The downy hairs of my legs stood on end, either in fear or chill or both. Gooseflesh perked across the rest of my body. I shivered. I sobbed.

In my mind's eye I saw Yrsarald and Bird and Marcurio and Flavia, my weird otherworld family, cuddled around a hearth, chatting happily. I felt the hot, stinky breath of my dog Sam, heard his panting. I saw my mother and sister bickering about something trivial, like how to properly load a dishwasher. And I saw my father.

His thick, salted brown curls tangled in the ocean breeze. The air was so warm, sun-blessed and lofty like any spring Hawaiian breeze would be. He was examining my day's work, a collection of shells from the beach, my priceless souvenir of our family vacation.

"Daddy…." The mournful mewl came instinctively. I could feel his arms around me.

"He can't hear you."

Startled, my body jerked upright, and my sobs ceased immediately. A muddy, somnolent, and deep voice had called out to me. In English. "What?" I whispered back.

"Nonnne of them can hear you…."

"What? Wh-why not? Is this the temple? Where are they!?" The chains rattled beneath my violent demand.

"Anna… Rrrachelll… Jake… Sssammm…." At the mention of my dog's name, the voice laughed, although languidly. "So… so far away, and, yet, I can smelllll themmm…."

"What!?" I yanked the chains again, but the peg persisted. "Where are my friends!? Elodie!"

"They remainnn where they were left, watching over your apparition, the scarred one evvver protective…."

I blinked hard, willing the owner of the voice to appear, light a candle, something. And then I felt a hand press to my shoulder. No, not a hand. A snake. Though not at all afraid of snakes I jerked my shoulder as roughly as I could, shaking off the animal.

Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. "Laas!" I whispered harshly, spitting out the sound, commanding the presence to show itself to me.

And there it was, there they were, a writhing mass of snakes on the walls and on the ground, surrounding me, waiting. Another dared come near me, grazing my thigh. My elbow shoved it on its way.

"What the fuck!?" I cried out, beyond aggravated.

"Ohhh, I thought you lovvved snakesss…." The lazy laughter stewed through the thick air.

"Who the FUCK are you!? What is going on!?"

"You don't remember me?"The voice growled, rumbling my insides. "I'm… hurt…."

Another snake slid over me, this time on my back. Another, my left bicep. Three more joined in across my legs. They constricted. They held me. My violated body shivered in memory.

"Mora… Hermaeus Mora?"

"Ohhh, you do rememberrr. How delightful." A snake caressed my cheek.

My body began to not just shiver, but quake. These snakes were not snakes, not if this was Hermaeus Mora. They were tentacles. The Daedra Lord of Knowledge finally had me, and was now caressing my skin with his cold, slimy fingers. Visions of what might happen next ran rampant through my mind.

His dampened chuckling echoed against the stone. "You... 'Earthlings' and your obsssession with tentacle rape."His voice clicked, recognizable to me as a sound of dissent. "Believe me, nothing innnterests me less."

I swallowed hard in distrusting relief. My fists tightened around the chains, however, aching muscles still wary against invasion.

"No, I have no interest in your bbbody. No, nooo…. I have been trying so, sooo hard to bring your mind to me, so that I may know what you know. My first attempt faiiiled! Thwarrrted…. Your consciousness was made physical, and my prize ssstolen!" He hissed the last word of the sentence angrily, and grumbling followed. "My second, so close, sooo…. Meridia, oh, how she secludes you, keeps you to herself and those Aedra she now allies with. She is not like me or those whom mortals call Daedra, no. She is not like any of us children of the universe…. But now, nowww I have you. Yes, you are mine, now, for as longgg as it takes."

"Yours…. Yours!?" I spat. "Did you mean to weaken me, my spirit? Take away my clothes and chain me, take away my magic? Oh, but you aren't going to sexually violate me with your tentacles. What a relief."

Mora laughed again, obviously enjoying every second of this encounter. "Your spirit. Yesss, your spirit. Your minnnd." Several tentacles encased my head and face, squirmed around it, and pressed against my skin and scalp, gently. "Oh, the secrets and mysteries you hold within. I could eeeasily… squish! Pop!" More chuckle-growling. "But no, the more you grow, the more you have to offer…. Hmm, yes. Bones, stones, tongues, beliefs, technology, events passed…. Yes, yesss…."

I struggled against his vile touch, but the movement was futile. My head began to hurt, but not from the pressure of the monster's appendages. He was inside me, my mind, as if he had sent nanobots to scan each and every crevice of my brain. In the darkness through strained eyes, I saw flashes of green. Distant and small, the little lights glowed, blinking on and off slowly like faint, soft LED lights on a hundred sleeping laptops.

I wished I could have used my Shouts. Fire, yes, fire would have been useful, though likely that would have angered my captor. I wanted out of this ordeal alive. Ice. I could have made ice, too. A Daedric ice statue. Same difference. Force would have just pushed him away momentarily.

"Ahhh, yyyesss, rememmmberrr. Remember for me…. Remember alllll of it!"

I stopped thinking about Shouts. I stopped thinking outright. I stopped squirming, stopped giving the creature whatever thrill he was achieving by my reluctance. I calmed, completely.

"What is it that you want, exactly?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice calm.

"My dearrr, my dear I am a collector. Want? All. Evvvery. Given. Forbidden. Painful or swwweet." More tentacles swirled around my body.

There was nothing that I could do. I wasn't even truly there. He had stolen my consciousness, as Meridia had before. We were speaking and acting in my dream, or in a land created by dreams – nightmares, rather. We were communicating in my natural language, or perhaps thoughtspeak. Was my nakedness the result of my own subconscious, as Meridia had suggested before my first encounter with Mora? Like nightmares that involved standing in front of a crowd without any clothes on, I wondered if my state now was an artifact of my insecurities.

Wait. I halted my thoughts. "First attempt?" I asked aloud. "You said, 'my first attempt, thwarted'. I was made physical. You…."

No. No. Not possible. Not….

My body stiffened, not from defense against tactile and mental invasion, but rather from pure, unadulterated rage.

"You… killed me! The scaffolding, you…." It was my turn to growl. "It broke! You broke it beneath me!"

Mora's laughter bounced off the stone and vibrated the entire cavern. My head continued to hurt from the mental probing, and I winced.

"Killed! Broke the scaffolding! You!"

I squealed. He laughed. The pain was sharper then, like needles pressed into my temples. The sensation became overwhelming, and even my consciousness couldn't withstand the suffering.

. . . . . .

Moments, hours, or possibly days later I awoke to a sky of smoggy puss-green swirls. The floor was still damp and cold beneath me. I was still naked. However, I was no longer shackled, and no longer in the dark. I blinked against the onslaught of light, and took in the rest of my surroundings.

The floor was a mix of basalt, iron, and some sort of ash-like substance that created the grit I had felt earlier. Something fluttered across my vision. I thought it was a leaf, but there were no trees, only iron and stone citadels stretching across the horizon, tall and short, wide and narrow, curved and straight, some even swirling. I found the flying object. It was a piece of paper. Following its path, I realized that some of the structures surrounding the place where I was sitting were formed by books, scrolls and papers, all woven together by iron or nothing at all. Magic, most likely.

My gaze scanned the rest of the area, and something dark caught my eye. It was gone when I turned toward it, whatever it was, but I knew I had seen something. But shivering with the feeling of being watched, I knew something was behind me. I dared not whip around, resisting the urge to fling naked arm or leg in defense. I resisted the urge to attack without knowing what I was attacking. Rather, I swallowed my fear, stood, and turned.

My breath caught in my throat when I looked upon the nightmare floating before me. My eyes were locked onto two, tiny, beady yellow lights that stared back at me from between six… eight… more facial tentacles. Its skin glistened like that of a wet squid out of water. It wore over its shoulders and back a sort of tattered cloth cloak. I saw no legs – it wasn't standing, anyway – but rather more tentacles. Again, like a squid. It boasted what appeared to be two sets of spindly, taut arms, one set larger than the lower almost vestigial pair. Dark talons topped each of its twenty digits. Mainly, I found myself gawking at its most terrifying and puzzling piece of anatomy, its abdomen. Where a navel or other such normal midsection feature might have sat on a human, this creature displayed a gaping, toothed maw that was apparently its mouth, as it may not have had one under its facial tentacles. The moment the monster knew I had seen this horrifying feature, the multitude of teeth gnashed, and I whimpered.

The creature simply hovered there another lasting moment before turning away from me and floating to my right. I watched it move. I watched it stop. I watched it turn and stare again, tiny yellow twinkles eyeing me. It then turned again, floated some distance, and repeated the action.

It wanted me to follow it, like an eerily calm dog that didn't otherwise know how else to command, or implore.

Knowing full well that I had no other choice than to comply, I followed. The being floated its way further along iron and stone walkways, and soon I was gazing down upon more and more of the same sorts of structures. At the bottom of the valley, or base of whatever tower I was standing on, was what appeared to be a moat of churning black oil.

Further out we went. The floor became a sort of woven iron filigree, and footing was uncertain at best. No wonder you float, I thought towards the creature. Its tentacles quivered, as if in response.

We exited the area where I had awoken and came upon a flower-like platform made up of the same iron filigree. Above it was poised a similarly-made grotesque chandelier of sorts, sans candles. Towering around the platform at some distance away were spindles of iron or stone, and swirling around them as if caught in a dust devil were various papers.

I was in a demonic library.

In the center of the platform stood an iron podium, atop which sat a hand-thick, black leather-bound book with a glowing circular emblem on the cover. The emblem featured Hermaeus Mora in all his tentacled horribleness. The physical similarity between him and my hovering guide was curious.

Without my needing to touch it, the book opened. Pages flitted by and finally landed near the back, on a blank page. A chill swept through the heavy, sulfuric air, and below the iron chandelier appeared a mass of oily, black tentacles and dozens, hundreds of green-yellow eyes. I turned to look behind me, but my guide had gone.

"Finally, you wake…," Mora drawled, sounding delighted.

I was no longer shivering. The air had warmed considerably; perhaps the heat from whatever lay below radiated to the height where I stood. Acutely reminded of my nakedness, I folded my arms over my chest.

I turned back to Mora. "What… what happened? I was asleep? For how long?"

"Not long. My Seekers brought you to this tower, so that I may return the favor."

I blinked and rubbed my upper arms, confused. "Favor?"

"A gift, in thanks, young 'Earthling'."

I was stunned. "For what? What did you do!?"

Languorous laughter. "I learrrned. I learned alllll about your world, your people's imaginaaation, your own type of… 'magic'. I learned of your desire for reeevennnge on the one called... Torug. Ohhh, you are wise to not yet seek him out. He is farrr stronger."

"You… took my thoughts?" I asked, moderately calm. "My memories? Knowledge about my world?" My fingernails pressed into my flesh. "Is that all?"

"Mmph, yes, yes, that is all I ever wanted of you, Outlander. Your knowledge is unique, priccceless. The others offered no more than…," the demon took in a breath, "carrrd tricksss…."

I stared into the mass above me as it swam in the warm, humid air. "Others?" was all I managed to utter, though it was clear to me that Mora was referring to the four British men. I hoped they were alright.

"Dussst in the winnnd…," was Mora's reply.

I scoffed. "Did you kill them too? What do their families smell like? And how can you smell my father seeming how he died twelve years ago!?"

"Mmm portals, portals…. Sooo many portals. The Thalmor are helping with that. But, tooooo many portals, no, this cannot last. I lllike this world of… mmmorrrtalllsss. I want to keep it! You must stop them, dragon-blooded, you, and your friendsss."

As Mora spoke, images began to appear on the blank pages before me. Sketches of elves, noted by their pointed ears, stood in a circle around an orb with intricate designs. The sketches then began to shift, to animate. I watched transfixed as the elves walked around the orb that floated above a circular platform, spinning, its designs pulsating from dark to light. The orb and elves then vanished in a flash, leaving behind just the platform, surrounded by shrubs.

"What was that?"

"Where you need to be, once I releassse you."

"But, where? What was that? Where was it?"

The creature chuckled. "First you must go to the Sssummoning Stonesss. The Sssumoner summoned swarmmms of submissive specters to stand sssentinel over their sssinister scheeemes…."

I gazed back down at the once-again still sketch. "What?"

Laughter. "You will understand, when you feel it. And now, dragon-blooded, my true gift to you. Look once more upon my book…."

I glared up at the mass of terror hovering above me. "I do not want anything from you. Murderer."

More laughter. "Goraan, a gift given glaaadly need not be granted gateway. It is a gift - and you will receive it. Recall, dragon-blooded, how paaained you were when you… 'ate'… that dragon's sssoul. Recall the voices you heard. Recall the uuurge you felt to utter the Dragonspeak. Nowww imagine it alllll happening again, only… easier, quicker, more… certain. You have only experienced a fraction of what your blood offers. Look…."

"No."

"Look!" Mora growled and shot down two tentacles toward me, each gripping an arm and pulling me against the podium where the massive book was displayed. My upper stomach pressed against cool iron and my breasts plopped atop a set of blank pages. Mora's tentacles held my wrists to the top of the podium. A third gripped the back of my head. My back was forced into a forward arch. My face had nowhere else to look but at the book.

"Rrread."

I stared at the page as slashes and dots inked their way across the paper. Dovahzul. I recognized the writing immediately.

"Read!" the Daedra commanded with a vicious growl.

I focused on the first word. A series of vertical lines, a dot, and two slanted lines. "Mul," I recited the dragon word. It meant 'strength'.

"Good, good yes, the Monks on the Mountain have learned you well. Finishhh."

The second word was shorter, though all that meant was that the symbols used to inscribe it required less writing. "Qah," I whispered. Armor.

"How fffunny these ophidian phhhrases…."

The third word was the most complicated. "Diiv," I concluded. The meaning of the word was unknown to me. It sounded like 'dov', dragon, but I had not been taught this word by the Greybeards and I had no dragon soul awake within me to teach me its meaning. "I don't know what 'diiv' means," I admitted, still pinned to the podium.

"No? Wellll, thennn, the ssstudent becomes the teacherrr…." Mora growled as he chuckled. "'Diiv' in your language means 'wyrm', whichhh, of course, holds a meaning closer to 'sssnake' than to 'drrragon'." Mora let loose his tentacles, allowing me to stand up straight. An imprint of the book and podium had impressed itself into my flesh. It itched.

"Strength, Armor, Wyrm? What do those words mean? Is that a Shout?"

"These words will awwwaken within you the will of the wyrrrm-souled, wieldywarriors who once wandered the world."

Mul. Qah. Diiv. Mul qah diiv. I repeated the phrase to myself. "What do you mean, the will of the wyrm-souled? Is that not me? Aren't I dragon-blooded and souled? Do you mean to say… other than Torug, were there more like me?" Paarthurnax had mentioned Talos, Alessia, and Martin, dragon-kin like myself. Torug and a man named Miraak were dragon hunters. I wondered how much Hermaeus Mora knew.

"Many, ohhh many before you. Torug stole the first from me. Stole him from under my…. guidance. I was not ready to part with him. The Orsimer now walks the world triumphant and god-like, unfit to be my Champion. You, Earthling, will stop him. Ohhh, yesss, you will. Learn this 'Shout'. Learn it well. Embrace the ensnared energy, become the beast, and an antecedent will come to your aid and bequeath you her blessing. Say it, utter the dragon words to me, Earthling. A fitting farewell!"

I doubted the Shout would work. I couldn't learn the true meanings of words that quickly, not without a dragon's soul blended with my own to help. At High Hrothgar learning single words took days or weeks. The Greybeards reminded me that this was remarkably fast, that they spent entire lives meditating on a single word or Shout. But I had to admit to myself, I was curious, and I wanted out of Mora's presence. He would have his fitting farewell, but first….

"Why did you kill me?" I asked flatly, staring into his hundred milky, puss-green eyes. "Why did I have to die? Why couldn't you have just taken this knowledge you thirst for and then thrown me back into my world? Meridia and the others only took my soul once it was there, once I was dead! Why did you cause me to die!?"

For half a second, Mora's tentacles stilled before recommencing their flowing, swimming motions. He answered with more sinister chuckling.

"My Lurkers can be… nnnaughtyyy…. It was an accident. I ssswear. Now, speak the words, dragon-blooded."

I swallowed my harsh reply and glared down at the three inked words. Mul qah diiv. Mul qah diiv. Strength, armor, wyrm. Strength and armor of the wyrm. That was what I was. That was who I was. I was a wyrm, a snake, a creature of the underworld, slithering to and fro between worlds like a god… or demon… shedding its skin to be born again. Arkay saw my marks. Snakes crawled all over my back. Dragon-blooded. Embrace the will of the wyrm-souled. A dragon's will. And what is that? What do dragons will? I sighed. Just do it, get your ass out of here and pray you wake up with your clothes on.

I didn't intend to literally shout the words. It didn't feel necessary. A simple utterance should suffice, I convinced myself. One breath. Two. Three. I recited the words lazily. "Mul qah diiv." My vision went black, and I fell into the abyss.

. . . . . .

Warmth, low humming, and a strong smell of honey roused me. I smiled, thinking about those two weeks in Hawaii with my family when I was nine years old. I had gorged myself on honey mochi after a visit to a bee farm. Mmm, mochi….

My plummet from the iron filigree platform recommenced. With a shriek, I screamed for Mora. I called for the demon's death in three languages.

I heard my name spoken at me in front of my face. Deb. Deb. Deborah. Deb.

Yes, that's me. Deb. Deb. I am not a dragon.

"Ra, ra, Deb, it's alright. Stay down."

With a rush, I became grounded, like letting the helium release violently from a balloon. I groaned or wailed or sounded something in-between. I kept my eyes shut, but knew I was in the presence of Stenvar, and somewhere indoors. His hands were upon me, holding down my shoulders, making sure I didn't sit up again. Confident I would stay where I was, a hand left my left shoulder to cup my cheek. I reached up with my own hand and pressed his palm firmly to my flesh. I needed to feel a person, any person, to remind myself of what and where I was.

Deb. Bed. Warm. Not in a cave. Not dead. Not with Mora.

Eyes still closed, I muttered, "Not Mora."

"What?" Stenvar questioned fruitlessly.

I wasn't in my armor, I could sense that much, but I was wearing something, likely my hide underarmor. Under a fur blanket I was content and warm, so in the end I didn't care where my armor went.

My eyelids creaked open.

"Here, water," Stenvar ordered as he pushed a cup to my face.

I nodded, rose just enough to not choke on the liquid, and took three sips. His forearm helped me retain the position. He insisted I take more water. Satisfied, Stenvar took away the cup and let me lay back down. I closed my eyes.

"You messed yourself yesterday. Ingjard cleaned you up n' redressed you."

Messed? "What? Yesterday?"

I opened my eyes again and found myself staring up into the furrowed, weathered and scarred visage of my old sellsword friend and his serious grey eyes, every bit of his face full of dire concern. The necromancer's frost spell from months ago had permanently stained a portion of the right side of his face a dull pink, adding to a few faint, old scars, making him look even more badass.

I propped myself up on an elbow. "What day is it? How… how long…?"

"Three days. I…." Stenvar shifted his gaze to the wall. "If it weren't for your friends' spells, we'd've thought you were dead. Couldn't feel your blood flow," he turned back to me, "or breath." The muscles of Stenvar's lower jaw danced with emotion. "That just isn't..." Stenvar looked away again, shaking his head. "I'd never seen that before, as if you were dead." His gaze moved to my hands that lay on my abdomen. His demeanor changed. Harder. A rock. "Don't worry, it's what happens when someone falls into a long sleep. But you'll need new underarmor leggings and smallclothes."

What? "Oh…." I looked away from Stenvar and concentrated on the wood ceiling. I had apparently been in a coma, and did what coma patients always did. Note to self: buy Ingjard something really, really nice.

We were quiet for a while, and then I blurted, "I smell honey."

"Ahh, yeah, I've been drinkin'."

I chuckled wearily, and Stenvar did the same. I wondered if I, in a coma, was the reason he had been drinking. I then groaned, and looked again to the ceiling. "Where are we?"

"Olfina and Jon's house. It's small, but it's somethin'."

The information took a couple seconds to click into place. "We're in Solitude?"

He nodded. "Seemed kema to sit around in the cold at that temple when the city was a day's ride away. Elodie said you weren't broken, so we just decided to move ya." He smiled, but quickly looked away and stood from the little footstool he had been sitting on.

"And Malkoran?" I asked, hoping the necromancer had been killed.

"Elodie got 'im. The bac reappeared after you passed out, and then Elodie disappeared only to reappear with 'er magical sword in 'is chest. Selina got an arrow in 'is neck, too. Was kinda easy, if ya ask me. Or, well, ask Elodie." The man shrugged and smirked, and commenced pacing around the small room.

He was wearing some new clothes, or at least ones I had never seen him wear, something made out of what looked like very supple leather, like from a young animal. The outfit was plain at first glance, but upon a second viewing I could make out intricate patterns stitched into the shirt and trousers. The hide and mead-stench joined for an interesting scent.

"He returned, though, as a ghost," Stenvar continued. "That wasn't so easy." Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned back to me. "No one died, though."

Stenvar walked over to a table, grabbed something, and walked it over. "Asleep for three days, your stomach's empty. Too much food, not a good idea." He held up a clump of what looked like grapes and then replaced it onto a wooden plate. "Eat one, chew slow, let it sit. Don't drink too much water too fast, either. And no wine or mead, not for a while, alright? We've got plenty of clean water, here."

I plucked a grape and popped it into my mouth. I recalled that it was called 'jazbay' and that I had eaten them in Whiterun, and pies made from them in Windhelm. I squished the fruit between my palate and tongue and let the juices wash down my still-parched throat before chewing, slowly, as instructed.

After I swallowed, I lay back down and stared again at the ceiling. "Three days?"

"Yep."

"It didn't seem that long."

"What didn't?"

We were interrupted by scurrying outside the small room, which didn't have a door. Beyond the door frame appeared a frazzled but very relieved Ingjard. My bodyguard paled as she entered the room and, betraying a quiet sob, fell to her knees.

"Oh, thank the gods," the warrior blubbered. "I would never have forgiven myself, Dragonborn, for failing to protect you. If you had died…." Her tousled flaming hair fell over her unarmored shoulders as she bowed her head. "Please, forgive me. Allow me to stay at your side. My sword is yours until Shor takes me."

"Ingjard, please, stand." I couldn't help but laugh a little, mainly because I was remarkably dizzy and groggy. "It was not your fault. Not even Meridia's fault. I…." I bit my lip, stopping myself. "I am fine, see? I need food," I said with a grunt as I lowered myself again to the mattress, "but I'm fine."

"Where did you go?" Elodie prodded as she peered into the room. "I searched everywhere for you, this world and otherwise."

I rubbed my forehead, puzzled by Elodie's remark. "Water," was all I said, lazily demanding anyone to hand me a cup. Stenvar readily complied; I drank, and then continued. "Bring Jenassa, Brey, and everyone. I hate repeating myself."

Stenvar looked to Elodie, worry crossing his face. Elodie returned his emotion.

"What?" I asked, unease sparking my nerves.

. . . . . .

Jenassa sat on a bedroll in the main room of the house, staring at the hearth fire. Brelyna and Darius sat by her, fussing over her left side.

Ingjard's words haunted my mind, repeating, overlapping, buzzing and blaming. Frozen. Shattered. Frozen and shattered. The ice magic hit her. Malkoran's ghost hit her. Shattered. Her arm had shattered. A shade's sword hit her and it shattered. Shattered. Her arm shattered. Frozen. Shattered, shattered shattered shattered...

Stenvar related everything to me. The rest of the group caught up with us after I lost consciousness. Malkoran had cast awful frost spells that cracked Ingjard's sword and singed Fa'nir's fur. Malkoran's ghost was only defeated when Darius cast another circle of protection and J'zargo stalled the attacks with a fear spell. The ghost was invincible to any sword that was not enchanted. It was Stenvar who finished the necromancer once and for all.

Jenassa did not want to live with only one arm; Brelyna had begged her to reconsider. Darius did what he could to mend the tattered, remaining flesh that had thawed, but stitches had to be made after Brelyna's fire magic cauterized the end of the stub.

The stub. The stub.

Jenassa was an archer. A dual-wielder. A sword-and-shielder. Jenassa used both arms for everything, and wrote with her left. She did not want to learn how to thrive with only one arm, let alone not her dominant one. For Brelyna, however, she said she would try.

Olfina, whose home our mob had invaded, was supplying Darius with rags and salves, a necessary measure used in combination with healing magic. Such a grave wound would not stay uninfected otherwise.

I walked towards the hearth with hesitation, but it wasn't the stub of an arm I was afraid of. No. It was the guilt.

Though it was not me who had corrupted an army of the undead, not me who had cast the spell that hit Jenassa, it was still me who was called upon by Meridia to cleanse her temple. It was for me Stenvar and Elodie gathered aid. Jenassa and the others were there to help me, and Hermaeus Mora had caused me to be unable to help those who helped me. If perhaps I had waited to touch that sword I would have been there when Malkoran reappeared, and when his ghost attacked Jenassa. Had I been there, I might have been able to cast a ward, protecting myself and others around me. If, if, if, if, if.

A creak from the wood floor gave away my slow approach. Jenassa's head jerked to her right, slightly, catching a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye. She slowly turned away.

"Get... her... away... from me."

"Jenassa!" Brelyna hissed under her breath. "You know very well this isn't her fault," I heard my friend say. Brelyna smiled when she looked up at me, full of sorrow and apology. "I'm glad you're finally awake. We were all so worried."

I knelt down by the hearth, leaving a space between myself and Jenassa. "I'm fine," I promised, softly. "And this is my fault, Brey. I didn't cast the spell, but you know very well this is my fault. You are here because I am here, because you know me, because Stenvar knows me." I turned away, towards the fire. "I'm sorry. This is my fault... and the fault of Hermaeus Mora."

"Mora?" Brelyna gasped, clearly frightened by the mention.

I told everyone there what had happened after I touched the sword. Brelyna, Stenvar, Olfina, Ingjard, Darius, and Selina were horrified. Elodie showed no emotion. J'zargo, Fa'nir, and Sharash were unnerved, and intrigued. And though Jenassa had remained silent and would not look at me, I could tell her interest was piqued.

"It sounds to me like you were in the realm of Hermorah, the Apocrypha," Fa'nir concluded.

"Ah... Apocrypha?" I quietly repeated the word. "Why does that sound familiar? Like I heard it before."

"Perhaps Mora told you the name of the realm," Brelyna suggested.

I shook my head. "No…. No, I think I would remember. I don't know. It sounds Greek."

"'Greek'?" Selina asked.

I waved it off. "Where's my journal?" Ingjard retrieved it, and my knapsack as well. Suddenly the woman felt more like a squire than a bodyguard, but perhaps that was what a 'house-servant', skepsehem, was.

I wanted to write down what Hermaeus Mora had told me. I didn't want to forget anything. In my 'Dragon Studies' journal I began a new entry where I wrote down the words of the new Shout the Daedra Lord had taught me, forced into my mind. Mul qah diiv. And what did it do? It woke up the dragon inside of me. Mora said it would make things easier for me, when it came to dragon-related business, like absorbing their souls. I would know the will of the wyrm-souled. I would be helped by another one.

I stopped writing, and immediately looked up, searching for Elodie.

The blonde beauty blinked back. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook Mora out of my head. I could hear him whispering, in the back of my mind, and with the whispers came alliterative thoughts. It was beginning to drive me nuts. "Elodie," I called, eyes still closed.

"Yes?"

I motioned for her to come closer. When she was standing next to me, I opened my eyes and gazed up at her. "Elodie, do you know a place called the Summoning Stones?"

Her eyes widened for just a moment, long enough to tell me that she was surprised I said those words. "Yes, I know a place with that name. Why?"

I reached out, grasped the sleeve of her robe, and pulled her down to me. Eyes wide and face steeled with certainty, I answered.

"I know where to find the Eye."

AN: That's all for a while, now! The next chapter is only half written, and I have some real world work to do. But then the chapter after the next is already written. There's at least one chapter, after, that needs to be written, and then we're getting very, very close to the ending (which is partially written).

Thank you for all the faves/follows/kudos. Let me know how you're finding this story with a comment or PM!

As always, follow me at SCRIPTRIXDRACONUM at tumblr for updates.

Ra - Woah/calm/easy

Kema - silly

Bac - asshole

skepsehem - housecarl

Goraan - young one

Mul qah diiv - Dragon Aspect