AN: Well, here comes the main reason that Skingrad is so special. It will end with no survivors, but imagine someone finding what Ayleid left behind; it's not the end of the events there, though. There will be one more flashback to Skingrad itself, after this chapter's. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Jul

Lucius

The entire room was silent, deadly fear running in an undercurrent between the thoughts of everyone present. Besides those at the central table, the room was empty; Isran did not want panic about what we were talking about to spread. Besides Serana and I, the only ones in the room were Isran, Florentius, Gunmar, and Sorine. The best part was, no one was shooting angry glares at Serana, the worst part was that we were all simmering in our communal misery. "You're... sure about this?" Isran asked, fear in his voice for the first time. Real fear that I had only ever seen on the faces of, well children whose parents had just been murdered in front of them. My own face, for one.

Florentius nodded, and Isran slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn it!" the leader of the Dawnguard screamed. The entire room could do nothing but agree in silence. "Oblivion!"

Sorine piped up next. "This is... from the view of scientific and Magickal study, this information proposes countless questions and a few... unsavory answers," Sorine said hollowly. "Florentius says the Ancient Dawnguard did her in with an entire army? Then her power must be what corrupted them, drew them into the darkness."

"Are you implying the same could happen with us?" Gunmar snapped. He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Sadly, yes," Sorine continued, her voice heavy. "But that doesn't even scratch the surface. She was able to enthrall an entire contingent of Vigilants over the course of mere minutes without even feeding on them once. There is obviously some ability she has to control the minds of those around her."

"As Arkay said," Florentius interjected, his voice squeaking worriedly, "she is Molag Bal's firstborn. She did not use some ability to control them, Domination merely comes naturally to her. Serana herself can testify to such."

The Vampire woman frowned, her brow furrowing, and she stared at the ground. She was still disappointed – no, enraged with herself for being unable to help me against Lamae in Ruunvald. "Yes. I found myself sapped of any ability to move, to even think. I couldn't look at her without -" Serana's voice caught and her eyes jumped between me and the ground again. Her fangs flashed at the stone and she looked like she was about to fall to her knees. She stayed strong, though. "It was like I screamed at my limbs to move, I demanded they respond. But they froze." She snarled bitterly and I frowned, worried about Serana.

"It wasn't your fault," I said, trying to comfort her. She looked up at me, eyes narrowed. I sighed and backed away – she obviously didn't want to be comforted at that moment. Instead, I turned to the rest of the room. "Then why didn't I? Or you, for that matter, Florentius?"

"Oh, well, for me it is Arkay," the prophet said excitably. "He protects me, especially from control of those that would do evil. For you... I am unsure."

I shook my head, trying to think of what it could be. "She said I'm not the only one she's seen, either," I said. I looked up, a ghost of hope in my eyes. "I know we don't have any information on who it could be, but we should at least try to make it a priority to find that person."

"Yes," Isran agreed gruffly. "Maybe then we can figure out how we can all resist her, just like the Dawnguard did all those centuries ago." He placed his fist on the table and sighed, tired and weary. Then he looked back up at all of us, eyes ablaze again. "This doesn't mean we can stop what we're doing. Harkon's men were able to capture a Moth Priest who was in Skyrim. I sent some men to secure him, but they never reported back; they must be dead. Luc, Serana – see if you can find any other Elder Scrolls in the country. Your father, Vampire, is obviously after some sort of prophecy, and they sometimes need multiple Scrolls. Try to hunt down any others that might be in Skryim. Sorine, get me as much information on the last battle with Lamae Bal as you can. Gunmar, the Morthal guards are heading back soon. Go with them to talk with Jarl Ravencrone about this, she might know something or be able to help us with soldiers when the time comes. Florentius... just do what I brought you here to do."

"Talk to Arkay?" the priest responded dryly.

"If that's what you want to call it," the older man replied with a disbelieving sigh. He glanced around the room. "Well? Waiting won't make it happen any faster!"

Fahiil

Thera

This constant defeat was... infuriating. It was all I could do to not brutally murder Harkon right then and there. He would be useful in helping me exterminate Lamae and the new Thalmor Assassin that was present in Skyrim, though it would have been incredibly fulfilling to just... lightly skewer him and leave him to roast, still alive, over an open flame. But I resisted the powerful urge.

Harkon had responded with interested surprise upon hearing my description of the woman. "Ah, she lives?" he had asked while the Moth Priest was put through the process of Thralldom before we used him. "She was the one I told you about, the one who approached me with the offer to kill Lucius. I thought she was dead."

"No. Instead she attacked me for no reason," I had snapped, drawing a snarl from Harkon. I had smiled meekly and apologetically, playing my part. "She is no ally, not now."

"Yes, I am inclined to agree," Harkon had replied, still glaring down at me.

I was brought back to the present by the noise of the Moth Priest, Destivius or something inane and human like that, beginning his reading of the Elder Scroll Harkon had in his possession.

The human shuddered as the immense, divine forces within the Scroll began to flow through his body like a river through a small pipe. His back arched to a painful looking angle and he took a deep, gasping breath for air. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was dying. Being a Moth Priest, however, he must have been through this many times before.

"I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow! Now a voice whispers, saying "Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise". In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one.

The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort. But wait, there is more here. The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls. Yes, I see them now... One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood.

My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls."

And, like that, the vision was done. The Scroll and the Man holding it collapsed to the ground, a froth forming at the Moth Priest's mouth. He was in pain, dying perhaps? "Damn," Harkon growled beside me. The Vampire King sighed and pulled me aside, snarling at our luck. "We need more Elder Scrolls, it appears. I believe that the College of Winterhold has one – see if it is one that we need."

I nodded. It was lucky that I had sold the powerful item to the College, and now could take it back by merely enthralling a simple minded Orc. "I'll be back soon."

Jul

Ayleid

I walked towards the beckoning Insect army, a lone silhouette against the blazing flames I had set in Skingrad while approaching. With a flick of either wrist, I caused my cloak to billow outward, casting a long, imposing shadow that would cast even more unease into the hearts of the Men who would soon die by my hand. I, unflinchingly, continued walking even as arrows and spells flew towards me through the air. Most missed me by a great distance, and the ones that came close were done away with by a wall of flames erupting from the ground. Best to enforce the mystery of my image.

"Attack, men!" the general screamed. I scoffed to myself when I recognized the voice – Justianus Quintius, author of the definitive Imperial history on the Great War and a Man enshrined in the Imperial City as a hero of Men. In other words, a false idol waiting to be cast down.

As the Imperial Legionnaires ran towards me, jumping through the flames I understood just how weak they were. Or perhaps, how strong I had become. The flesh of the first that came through the flames was melted off by a blast of Lightning, his sword arcing through the air and into my outstretched hand. His bones clattered against the ground on the other side of the flame wall, charred. His fellow drones gasped in fear and I heard them tense and consider fleeing for a moment. But the battle was already begun.

I jumped through the flames, my hood up and my cloak flying out around me like an endless abyss of shadows. Frost froze solid the bodies and blood of a wall of soldiers, only to be shattered as I grabbed another and tossed his form into his onetime allies. The frost flew around the man's body until I Magickally forced the shards into his body. I was already running off to fight the next group as his blood exploded from his corpse to the sound of his screams.

As I decapitated the next soldier and burned out the eyes of another with my off hand, I glanced into the sky to see flames. I ran towards the source, narrowly escaping the blast radius of a catapulted, rune-encrusted boulder. I laughed at the assortment of trebuchet and catapults that I began to approach, slashing through the bodies of soldiers or boiling their blood within their bodies while I ran. Everything the Empire used was outdated, weak; they had lost their strength upon their defeat, and the eruption of the Civil War in the far north seemed to sap their strength and focus even further. The Lords would be beyond happy to know that the warriors of their military were able to be so soundly defeated by a single, mere slave such as I.

I jumped over the wild swing of an Orc's hammer, nicking the twisted being's neck tendon with my blade as I flipped over him. He screamed in pain, his head flopping uselessly to the side. A mere moment later, the creature's skull was on the ground and I was continuing towards the artillery.

I glanced up with a cruel smile at the flaming stones raining through the sky, none aimed towards the ever moving center of the carnage. With a stream of Magicka, I was able to grab the items and redirect them. The stones began to rain down towards their sources, the massive explosions that resulted sending hundreds of Legionnaire bodies flying in the form of ash and molten metal. "Gods above, how many are there!?" a voice screamed from the battlefield above the dying screams of Legionnaires I had allowed to die slowly. "What are they!?"

I laughed and bisected the Insect who had asked the question – the General himself, it appeared. I dropped my current weapon and plucked his sword from his body, a blade engraved especially for him upon his ascendance to the rank of General; the Lords would want proof of his death and the blow it would deal to the Empire. I turned as I heard boots clattering towards me, a contingent of soldiers who rushed to defend their dead leader. I grabbed his body with my free hand and tossed the jagged, organ-trailing torso at the men. They screamed in fear and disgust as their leader's corpse slammed into their bodies, sending a chill down my spine.

With the General dead, it seemed that the men themselves were beginning to flee. Unfortunately for them, I could have no witnesses. I sheathed the General's blade at my hip and raised both hands before me. "Die, insects," I whispered. A brilliant beam of electric blue light erupted into being before me, reducing the fleeing horde of Insects into ash, the Lightning chaining from body to body to disrupt their movements so they could be subjected to the same death as their fellows as I turned my gaze on them. The light continued unabated for a few minutes as I made sure to exterminate all of the soldiers, the fools. When all was said and done, there was no life nor weaponry left on the field of battle save myself.

"If that is all the strength their armies can muster," I sneered as the ash began to rain down around me, a gray snowfall, "the Empire is surely doomed."

Sosnaak

Lamae Beolfag

Molag Bal's Eve, mother of all his creations on Nirn, listened to the account given her by her first child in more than a thousand years. She was bathing in blood, taking in the energy of the fluid as she did, warming the cold circle where her chest had been torn open a few days earlier.

The one-time Redguard was examining the Vampire with cautious eyes as she finished, wondering why this creature would be so interested with Lucius. "Yes... this is the one that I met," Lamae finally whispered. She turned her gaze towards the Thralls that stood below. They were preparing to go out into the world, to steal more mortals for her plans of domination – she would decide if they were worthy of her power or her hunger. "He is like you."

The Redguard woman narrowed her eyes and clutched at the cloak on her shoulders possessively. "Indeed. He –"

"Made you, much as I did," the Vampire finished. Lamae frowned and ran her fingers across the now smooth skin of her chest. The mortal was more than capable in combat and in Magick; planting Flame Runes within her body was a stroke of insane genius. The kind that would be useful. Lamae glanced at Dwemer. But the boy was like her, strong willed and clever. She was still bound to her mortal masters through her insane worship of them, and Lucius would likely be bound to his own desires much as she was. A dangerous creature, but useful. "I fed from him, yet I do not feel he is one of us. Of course, the woman he was with must have cured him before my blood could take hold."

"Woman?" Dwemer asked, her eyes shifting to a bloody red. Lamae smiled inwardly. This was the best way to control the Redguard, it appeared; her desire – for even Lamae could see this fixation was not 'love', but obsession at its finest, most deep levels – was like a bit and reins for the slave. But, still, that was a problem for a later time.

"Indeed. A Vampire with whom he seemed very close," Lamae said, not even bothering to hide the grin creeping across her face at the rage in her child's eyes. "A Daughter of Coldharbour, it seems, has claimed him as her own. We are incredibly territorial with our Thralls, after all."

"Then I bathe in her blood before I return him to the Lords," the Redguard hissed. She took a breath and calmed herself. "I also found another – a Vampire who smells like him."

Lamae turned, interested. "Yes, when I tasted his blood it was not dissimilar to that of a certain Vampire. Yes... an Elf. Dragonborn. Yes. Damn – I knew that they tasted familiar," Lamae said to herself with a frown. A Dragonborn arising during her attempt to reign once again – Arkay and his ilk were trying to stop her once more with their knight in Tamriel, though now with two? Domination was nothing without a challenge, she supposed.

"Bring me a Thrall," the Vampire Queen demanded, her voice devoid of even her rage. "I have much to consider, and I would rather not do so with burning thirst."