A Doom Driven Hero: Dragonborn Chapter 2 – Collective Amnesia
Marcus walked into Raven Rock with his head on a swivel. It was a very interesting place, to say the least. The buildings looked like round huts dug into the dirt, their structure indicating most of the interior was underground. Most of the citizens seemed to be dark elves, everyone bustling around taking care of their own business. The colour choices seemed rather drab though, in terms of clothing and most construction materials. Browns, greys and reds seemed to be prominent, matching the countryside that he'd seen on approach by sea.
Marcus felt something brush his cheek. He wiped it off, and looked at his hand. Ash. He looked around and realized with a jolt that it was snowing ash. The little flakes falling from the sky weren't ice at all.
"Strange, isn't it?" Serana muttered, walking up beside him. "A very… silent, drab place."
"Quite," Marcus replied, wiping the grey dust off his hand. "I'd imagine it'd be even more barren outside the town."
"Huh. I'm surprised my father didn't want to live here."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Well, by your standards, the volcano only erupted in recent history. Come on. That councilor pointed us towards the stone outside town, let's go check it out."
They made their way through the town in a few minutes. It wasn't a big place. Various residents looked at the pair with curiosity, but not hostility. They probably didn't get a whole lot of visitors, and Marcus doubted their attire made them look like a regular couple.
The 'Earth' stone outside Raven Rock was a tall, oblong stone standing about 4 or 5 metres tall in a small pool of murky water. Around it, a strange structure was halfway completed, with various people working on it with weary, yet unrelenting persistence.
The people working on the construction all seemed to be townsfolk, apart from one dark elf standing a little way away from them, watching with a professional curiosity. This dark elf wore a set of extravagant robes, with swirling gold patterns and rich red cloth. As Marcus and Serana approached, he turned around and fixed them with an interested look.
"You two… you don't seem to be in quite the same state as the others here… interesting."
Neloth examined the pair from a short distance, hand on his chin. He raised his eyebrows at Serana, then looked long and hard at Marcus. The young man crossed his arms and studied the dark elf in return. No-one said anything for a moment, the elf and the man discerning each other's abilities just from the telltale visuals only those of significant experience knew.
Marcus could tell rather easily that Neloth was an exceptionally powerful mage. His robes had a faint shimmer that spoke of enough enchanting magic crammed into them to raze a building to the ground, and his eyes spoke of frightening intelligence. This was someone who'd been a master of magic centuries before he'd even been born.
Neloth, in turn, could tell that Marcus was the single most dangerous individual he'd met since the Third Era.
Serana cleared her throat, breaking the spell over the two. "Um… hey, I'm Serana. This is Marcus. Do you know what those people are doing?" She gestured to the stone.
Neloth turned to look at the people slaving away at the strange structure. "Building something, clearly. And yet they don't seem to have much to say about it. I'm very interested to find out what happens when they finish."
"They look like they're enthralled." Marcus said, frowning. "Have you tried to stop them?"
"Certainly not!" Neloth exclaimed, almost taken aback. "Doing so would interfere with whatever is going on, and I would be unable to see how this all turns out."
"Huh." Marcus tilted his head to the side. This guy must be so old he's become apathetic… "Well, I'm going to have a closer look."
Neloth shrugged. "That might be inadvisable, but… oh well."
Marcus walked over to the stone. The people working on it moved sluggishly, shuffling their feet as they walked. Their expressions were blank, like a someone who'd just woke up and was still feeling rather dopey. As he walked up to one of them, they spoke in a low, monotone voice.
"Our eyes once were blinded..."
"What?" Marcus asked.
The man who'd spoke didn't say anything further, though someone else nearby did.
"Now through him do we see..."
Marcus muttered, "What in the… This is really weird."
He walked up directly to the stone, looking at the markings on it. He didn't recognize it definitively, though it did look faintly similar to some nordic texts he'd seen in dungeons before. It was rather grubby though, with many etchings filled with ash.
Marcus reached out to rub some of the ash away.
"Marcus! Look at me!"
He opened his eyes blearily. A pretty woman with bright eyes was clutching him as he looked up at her with a blank expression. He sat up and turned his head to glance around at his surroundings. Equal parts confusion and curiosity slowly crept onto his face. He rubbed the back of his head.
"This is..." he began slowly, unsure of himself. "Where am I?"
"W… you don't remember?" The woman asked, her face switching to one of surprise.
He blinked at her. "Who are you? Why are you holding my shoulders so tight?"
Her face dropped, and her eyes widened with horror. "You… Marcus, it's me! What's happened?!"
He frowned. "Marcus? Is that my name? Wait… shouldn't I already know that?" Marcus' face shifted to complete confusion.
The the woman let go of him and spun around to face a Dark elf so fast her hair flicked about. "Neloth! What's happened to him?! Why can't he remember who I am?"
Neloth placed a hand under his chin in a calmly thoughtful pose, a stark contrast to the woman's stature which was becoming more stricken by the second.
He said, "He must be suffering from some kind of amnesia. Makes sense, I suppose, with the strength of the mind-altering magic he was just under the influence of. His mind would've been weakened when he forced himself away from the stone, in any event. Very fascinating..."
Marcus slowly stood up, scratching his head. He did a 360 to take in the area around him, looking rather bewildered. He glanced over at a large structure around a stone, and all the people working away at it. He walked up to one of them and tried to ask a few questions, but the person just replied with some strange rambling. He frowned again, and walked back over to the only two coherent individuals present.
'Neloth' was wearing very regal-looking attire. Long flowing robes, with multiple colours. The woman was different, wearing a red and black armor that seemed to almost look like a dress. She had very bright eyes, to the point they almost glowed, seemingly made brighter by her dark shoulder-length hair and pale skin. Her face and body looked… beautiful. Every feature symmetrical and well-shaped.
The woman's gaze switched between him and the dark elf a few times. "Please tell me this isn't permanent," she asked the dark-elf desperately.
"Relax my dear," Neloth held up his hands. "He clearly hasn't lost his mind, so there hasn't been any actual brain damage. I doubt it's permanent, but there's no telling how long it'll take for him to return to normal."
She looked devastated. She walked up to Marcus, and reached out to cup this side of his face forlornly. He took a step back to avoid her touch, surprised at the action. Her expression grew sadder.
She whispered sadly, "What did that thing do to you, Marcus?"
"What thing?" he asked back. "Where am I?"
"You're… you're on an island called Solstheim. You touched that large rock behind you, and it… it stole your memory."
"What?" Marcus exclaimed. He turned to look back at the stone. "I… I've lost my memory? Um… How do I get it back?"
Neloth cleared his throat. "There's an alchemist in Raven's Rock. She might be able help. But for the time being, would you mind answering a few questions for me?"
"What's a Raven's Rock?…" Marcus stared at him blankly.
"I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind." Neloth rubbed his hands together. "Do you remember anything about the stone behind you?"
"No."
"Are the words those other workers are chanting mean anything to you?"
"No."
"Do you know what the structure they're building is?"
"No."
"Does the name Miraak mean anything to you?"
"No."
Neloth frowned. Marcus' short, curt answers were most unhelpful. He clearly didn't know anything. Whatever magical effect broke when he forced himself away from the stone, it'd made him draw a complete blank. His entire memory had been wiped. The dark elf sighed, and went back over to watch the still enslaved workers building. Marcus was of no further use, so he was of no further mind.
The young woman reached forward and gently patted Marcus' shoulder, getting his attention. "Hey… so, can you come with me? We'll go back to the town just over there, and see if we can get your memory back."
"Um… Ok." Marcus nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."
They began walking. The woman kept glancing at Marcus with sad, worried expressions. Marcus was looking down at his person with a thoughtful frown. He could feel chainmail underneath his shirt, and there was two rather heavy blades hanging at his waist.
"I'm a very well-armed person," he said in a matter-of-fact way. He looked up at the girl as she was fixing him with another expression of anxious concern. "You also seem rather attached to me… um… Miss?"
"Serana." she said quietly. "My name is Serana."
Marcus nodded. "Serana. That's a nice name. So, are you a relative of mine or something…?"
"We..." she took a quick breath. "We're lovers."
"Oh… shit." Marcus' eyes went wide, and he stopped walking for a second. "You… you're serious?"
She looked at him, a myriad of feelings fighting for dominance on her face. She looked… afraid to hear whatever he had to say next, anticipating something that'd crush her spirits.
"Wow..." Marcus breathed, looking Serana up and down. "What did I do to earn the affections of someone as stunning as you?"
Serana blushed deep red, and a smile touched her face.
He asked, "How long have we been together?"
"A few months, technically."
"Wow..." Marcus mumbled again. He began glancing at Serana a lot more, then shaking his head in disbelief. He suddenly found he wanted his memory back a lot more, if he was missing out on several month's worth of memories with her.
The trip to the town didn't take long, and they found an alchemist quick enough. The dark elf woman, Milore, listened to Serana's desperate description of what happened and then asked Marcus a few questions about what he knew. Which was nothing, of course, aside from the fact he was apparently well-armed and in a romantic relationship an incredibly attractive woman.
Milore gave him a foul-tasting potion to drink, instructing him to sip it slowly over the course of an hour. The pair found a quiet spot overlooking the docks near the large wall that protected the eastern side of the town. Marcus sat down, grimacing every time he took a sip of the liquid. The alchemist lady had been fairly confident it'd work, so he hoped it was worth it. It had some complex name, made from a variety of ingredients. Marcus was concerned about how he'd pay for it, when he looked in one of his pouches to find a huge stack of coins and gemstones. Another surprise about the kind of person he apparently was.
"What's my occupation?" he asked Serana curiously.
She smiled a bit. "That's… That question has a rather complicated answer. You sure you want to know?"
"How bad can it be?"
"You fight and kill Dragons."
"What?"
"You also delve into dangerous, creepy dungeons, wipe out bandit encampments, exterminate vampire covens, and have saved the world twice."
"Ok, seriously." Marcus said, frowning. "It's hard enough not having a clue about who I am, without the fact being made fun of."
Serana chuckled. "I am being serious, believe me. It's… not very common, what you do."
"But… I just..." Marcus scratched the back of his head. It was ridiculous. It had to be. "How could I have done all of that, and survived?"
Serana looked sideways at him, a funny expression on her face. "I… I don't know the answer to that question. And… I don't think you would either, even if you had your memory."
Marcus looked at his feet, dangling just above the murky dock water. He took another sip of the potion and cringed. He couldn't remember the taste of enough things to describe it adequately, but it really sucked.
What Serana was saying explained a few things, he guessed. His strange bone weapons, his large amount of money, and why he was meddling with giant mind-controlling rocks. Still, saving the world twice… that was too much to believe.
"Is that why you're with me?" Marcus asked.
"Is what why?"
"Me saving the world. Is that why we're 'together'? Some kind of admiration?" Marcus couldn't think of another reason. He could see his reflection in the water between his legs. He was nothing special.
Serana laughed. "Goodness no. I'm not impressed so easily. No, I'm with you because…" she fidgeted a little. "You complete me."
Marcus started a little. "That's… Um… wow." He didn't really know what to say, or how to react. Aside from her beauty, he didn't know a whole lot about her. What kind of person was he, in terms of why he'd decided to be with her? Were the reasons purely physical, or did she fill a void in him similar to like she was saying he did for her? It was confusing.
Wishing to change the subject, Marcus took another sip of the drink and cleared his throat. "So, how did I save the world?"
"The first time was from the most powerful Dragon in existence, and the second time was… from a very powerful vampire clan."
"Which one was tougher? Alduin or the vampire clan?"
Serana shrugged, "Depends, I think you… wait, you just said Alduin."
She turned to look at him, eyes widening with hope. Marcus blinked a few times. Alduin. The firstborn of Akatosh. He'd fought the Dragon in Sovngarde.
The young man looked at the potion in his hands. "Well I'll be. Looks like it's working."
Marcus was huddled up on the edge of the bed, a rapidly deteriorating fingernail pressed against his teeth as a form of anxious expression. His head felt muddled and tired. Most of his memory had returned... the important bits anyway... but it'd left him with a bad headache. He'd normally be asleep by now, and it wasn't due to the difference in bed designs that Raven Rock had. Serana could feel the worry emanating from his side… his slightly too-fast breathing, his tiny shifts under the sheets, mumbles that no-one without enhanced hearing would be able to listen to. She didn't know what she should say, to broach the topic. She didn't know why, but she was certain he was scared about something.
Serana was wrong, though. Marcus wasn't scared, he was terrified.
He'd come very, very close to losing Serana. But not in the conventional sense. Neither of them had nearly died, but such a thing could arguably be better than what nearly occurred.
When Marcus lost his memory, he'd lost every memory and thought relating to Serana. He'd treated her like a stranger. If he hadn't regained his senses he could've abandoned her and gone off back to Skyrim, to live out a dreary life. He'd come so, so close to never realizing she'd been in his life at all.
And it freaked him out really bad. The idea of consciously removing her from his life, not knowing the significance of doing so, almost gave rise to the onset of a panic attack. Marcus didn't know if Serana had thought that would happen, but he couldn't imagine how badly it would've affected her if she had. He'd won the ultimate game of chance when, for whatever goddamn reason, she had grown to love him in the same way he loved her… and he never wanted to let go of that.
"Hey," Serana said softly, snuggling up to his back. Marcus instantly felt much of his anxiety melt away.
"Hey..." he replied, turning over so he could face her. Serana's black hair was haphazardly strewn about her head. The messiness made her look cute. He reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She said, "Something's bothering you. Is it about losing your memory?"
Marcus sighed, then nodded slowly. He turned and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "It was too close… too damn close. I shouldn't have to rely on luck for these things. Staying by your side should be such a certainty that fate never dictates its permanency. Everything we've shared… I nearly lost that."
"I know..." Serana smiled sadly. She rested her head in the little curve of his shoulder and neck. "But you didn't. You came back."
"If this journey keeps holding our relationship in the balance, I'm not sure if I can see it through…"
"You always see it through, Marcus… only this time, I'm along for the ride."
He breathed out, traces of a smile on his lips at her stubborn responses. He knew she was just trying to make him feel better. Her voice was laced with hints of worry herself. Her lips were pressed together a little more than normal.
Marcus placed his hands on his chest, clasped together. "In the past it was easier, you know? Just me and my abilities, carving through the world without a care. Now… I've got another, better reason to stick around. You."
"Aww..." Serana smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."
"It just seems like this place in the world I've sculpted for myself, it just… doesn't mesh well with anything else." Marcus breathed in and out heavily. "I don't know what to do."
"We can't control everything, Marcus. Even you, with all your abilities and knowledge can't change that."
"Yeah..." he mumbled, a few thoughts popping up in his head. Marcus knew he couldn't control everything, but what's to say he couldn't control a few select things? And who's to say what those select few things were?
What exactly did he have control over in his life?
Marcus looked down at Serana, lying next to him. "I still wonder how you fell in love with me. Surely now, you see the mess you've wrapped yourself in?"
She smiled. "Of course. You're an overly speculative, deeply self-critical, whirlwind of death with as much control over his emotions as a grain of sand over the tide."
Marcus blinked. That's a bit harsh, he thought. Not entirely inaccurate though.
Serana continued. "Moreover, I knew that not long after we first met."
"Then why did you fall in love with me?" Marcus frowned in confusion, reiterating his question.
"I said I knew your flaws. I didn't say that you weren't worth it despite them."
Marcus looked into her glowing eyes for a few seconds, feeling his chest warm from her words. "You… you're literally perfect, you know that?"
Serana hugged him again. "So trust me when I say that there's some things not worth worrying about."
Marcus wrapped her arms around her, and pulled her closer. As the unease in the pit of his stomach lifted, he gently pressed his cheek against her forehead in an intimate gesture as they both drifted to sleep.
"Looks like the structure around the stone, doesn't it?" Serana mused.
"Yeah..." Marcus chewed his lip. He fiddled with the handle of his sword, a testament to his anxiety. The area around Miraak's temple showed signs of renovation, with scaffolding and stone pillars being raised all around. He was scared, seeing as the last time he'd been around something like this he'd lost his memory.
Still, the fact that an age-old temple was being rebuilt was a good indication they were on the right track. Miraak certainly had a presence in Solstheim, and was working on making that presence larger. Trouble was, Marcus had done a bit of reading before he'd left Raven Rock to learn a little more about his quarry, and what he'd found out brought no end of furrowing to his brow.
Miraak was dead. He'd been dead for thousands of years.
This wasn't the first time someone or something of ill intent had returned after discarding their mortal coil, but none had quite the same history as Miraak. He dropped off the map around the first Era, under very ambiguous circumstances. Why he hadn't been seen or heard of since, and why he suddenly was so prevalent in Solstheim raised some important questions. So important, that Marcus had come to Miraak's temple, even though he was scared out of his mind that he'd lose it again.
The pair walked up to the top of the structure, looking for an entrance of sorts. They heard the clang of metal on stone – the telltale sound of more enthralled workers. As they got closer, they heard a different sound, as the voice of a woman in distress rang out near the entrance.
Marcus and Serana made their way up the boardwalks, to the strange basin-shaped top of the temple. Down below, next to a group of enthralled workers wearing heavy fur coats, was a woman in armor.
She had sandy blonde hair, and there were two war axes hanging off her hip. She clutched one of the workers in fur and almost shouted at them.
"Ysra! Can you hear hear me?!"
The worker stared blankly back at her, waiting for the woman to release them so they could return to their mindless toil. Marcus and Serana walked down towards her. She heard them coming, and turned warily. Her hands strayed close to the handles of her axes. They seemed to be made of some strange kind of stone. A deep, crystal blue.
Marcus had to stop his eyes widening a token when he got closer to the woman. She was gorgeous, as much as he irrationally felt it was unfaithful to think so. Her hair was braided ornately, yet practically, to keep it out of her face. Her figure, even though mostly hidden under armor, was shapely and muscular. Her skin was pale like most nords, with a few barely perceptible freckles across her upper cheeks, and two piercing blue eyes a shade darker than the colour of her axes. Her facial structure was more angular than most other nords, giving her a striking look. Maybe she had a bit of elf somewhere in her ancestry? Marcus wouldn't have been surprised.
He realized he'd been staring for a few seconds, then cleared his throat to say something. The woman beat him to it.
"You two. What brings you to this place? Why are you here?"
Serana stepped forward to reply, a smidgen hostile. She'd seen the brief look in Marcus' eyes. "You first."
"I am Frea of the Skaal," she said. "I am here to either save my people or avenge them."
Marcus frowned. "Save them from what?"
Frea hesitated. "I am… unsure. Something has taken control of most of the people on Solstheim. It makes them forget themselves, and work on these horrible creations that corrupt the stones, and the very land itself. My father Storn, our Shaman, says Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but that is impossible."
"Cause he's dead." Marcus finished for her.
Frea nodded. "Quite. Now, my first question?"
"I'm Marcus, this is Serana." He gestured to both of them. "Miraak tried to have me killed. We seek to ensure it doesn't happen again."
The nordic warrior placed a hand on her chin. "I see. Then we share a goal to see what lies beneath us. Let us go. There is nothing more I can do here. The tree stone and my friends are beyond my help for now. We need to find a way into the temple below."
"Ok." Marcus nodded. "Sorry about your friends, by the way."
"They are not dead, so I don't believe they are lost."
"Good ethic to have," Marcus mused, walking about the stone platform and looking for any way to reach the interior of the temple below. He looked at some more markings on the floor, shaped in a wide circular design. It was strange… unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Dark black stone, and lots of swirled carvings. Another one of those stones stood in the centre of the platform. Marcus didn't go near it.
He called out to Frea, a short way away. "What do you know about Miraak?"
She walked over, keeping her eyes fixed on the various spires and markings around the area. "His story is as old as Solstheim itself. He served the Dragons before they fell from power, like many. He was a priest, in their order."
"A Dragon priest?" Marcus blinked. "Huh."
"But unlike most, he turned against them. He made his own path, and his actions cost him dearly. The stories say he sought to claim Solstheim for himself, and the dragons destroyed him for it."
Marcus stood up and held his hands out in a 'hold up' gesture. "Wait, he turned against the Dragons? Are you kidding me? You have any idea how devout Dragon priests are?"
"I can only imagine," Frea shook her head. "But it's what my father told me, and he's never been wrong. Miraak must have had a very important reason to betray them."
"Goodness..." Marcus muttered. How deep does this rabbit hole go?
A creaking noise filled the air, and a section of the platform sunk into the ground, revealing a walkway stretching down. Walking up from it, three cultists appeared, deep in discussion. When they say the three others standing about around the temple, the conversation ceased immediately. Marcus, Frea and Serana all stared at the cultists, who stared back in turn.
"Uh..." Marcus thought quickly. "Our hands were once idle…?"
"For Lord Miraak!" One of them shouted, drawing his weapon. The others followed suit, and charged at the trio.
Marcus sighed, and drew his weapons. One female cultist charged at him, the other two each attacking Frea and Serana respectively. The young man waited as the cultist ran at him, her sword raised. He held his own loosely by his side. The cultist fired a firebolt at him as she ran, and Marcus didn't even bother raising a ward. Lifting his sword slightly, he caught the spell on the flat of his blade, where it flared and burst harmlessly. He still hadn't moved his feet.
The female cultist raised her sword in a two-handed grip as she got close, intent on bringing it down on his unprotected head. It was almost too easy.
Marcus took a single step forward, and slightly to the left of the woman. His sword flickered out like a snake's tongue towards her neck. Then he simply brushed past her at a casual walking pace, leaving her sword to swing down into empty air, then promptly drop to the ground as the woman suddenly clutched her throat with both hands, emitting a gurgling noise as blood rushed out between her fingers. She dropped to the ground in a rapidly widening pool of crimson.
A short way away, Frea blocked the downward strike of the second cultist with one of her axes, then slashed the other across their chest. He dropped to his knees, and she sunk the second axe into his collarbone, nearly splitting him to his sternum.
Behind her, Serana fired a pair of ice spears at the third cultist, one slightly delayed after the other. The man dodged the first, and stepped directly into the path of the second. It caught him in the upper chest, spinning him and forcing him to do a little pirouette before dropping to the ground.
Frea breathed out, and nodded at Marcus and Serana's handiwork. "You two fight well."
"We've had practice." Marcus smiled, the nodded at the entrance that'd been opened up. "Let's not dawdle. I want to see what secrets Miraak is hiding."
"All-maker..." Frea muttered, taking a step towards the podium. "What is that?"
Marcus sheathed his sword and walked up to the book. It was a huge thing, almost the size of a wagon wheel. It was a deep black, with dark yellowed pages that had grown tattered by the passage of time. The lower section of the temple had next to no enemies in it, and the architecture had grown increasingly strange, culminating in this final room with nothing but a book in it.
"Do you feel that?" Serana whispered to him.
He nodded. "The aura. I do."
Marcus took another step toward it. The book gave off a feeling that turned his stomach with discomfort. It reminded him off the darker daedric artifacts he'd come across in his travels… that same twisted, otherworldly magic emanating from it.
Frea breathed out. "This book… it seems wrong, somehow. Here, and yet… not."
"You think it's what we're looking for?" Marcus queried. "Will it explain how Miraak is controlling these people?"
"It was placed at the bottom of this temple for a reason," Frea stated. "I believe so."
"Ok." Marcus breathed out, steeling himself. He reached for the book. Serana stopped him.
"Hold on," she said quickly. "You sure you want to do this? The last time you touched something ominous..."
He sighed, nodding. "I know, Serana. But regardless, Frea is needed by her people, and I'm sure as Oblivion not letting you touch it. Plus, we know that I can at least be brought back from whatever mind-altering magic Miraak has." He gave her a brief smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine. It's just a book."
Marcus picked up and opened the large black book, the age almost making the pages creak. As soon as it was open, huge black tentacles burst from the page and wrapped around his neck. With a huge tug, he was pulled off his feet and into the churning inky darkness that'd become the pages of the book.
The air felt warm, and smelt vaguely like oil. Marcus opened his eyes, and saw a world of green and black. The sky was a churning mix of green and black, with huge tentacles the size of castles hanging down from the centre of larger black spots. The ground was made of cracked tiles, and there were strange spires and structures around the platform he stood on with more in the far distance. The entire place felt wrong.
But that wasn't what immediately drew Marcus' attention. There were four figures in front of him. One was a large, pale-blue dragon with the head of a snake. Two were strange, floating monsters made of a mixture of fur and flailing tentacles. The fourth was a man, in dark green robes adorned with plates of gold. They were all facing away from him, distracted.
The man spoke first, seemingly speaking to the two monsters. "The time comes soon when… wait..."
Marcus had his sword halfway out of its sheathe by the time the man turned around. He could see the golden mask the man wore now, and he knew at once who it was. Miraak. Who else would wear something so similar to a Dragon priest mask, yet so distant?
Marcus drew his sword fully and began running at the man. Miraak's shoulders hunched as he got into a combat stance, and sparks flared in the palms of his hands. Marcus had no time to fully charge his ward before a dual-cast thunderbolt slammed into it, and shattered it with the sound of breaking glass.
The force made Marcus falter mid-stride, the full kinetic energy traveling up his arms and nearly making his shoulder pop out of its socket. This gave Miraak enough time to draw his own sword, and raise it overhead to block the dragonbone blade arcing downwards. It was made of a strange metal, which almost seemed molten in the way its colours broiled like murky water.
"Who are you to dare set foot here?" Miraak demanded, his face only inches from Marcus'.
"You should know," Marcus replied with a hard glare, "You're the one that tried to have me killed."
Miraak kicked Marcus in the chest with immense strength, knocking him backwards several metres.
"I have lots of people killed," Miraak retorted, walking forward. "You'll have to be more specif-Ah..." The sound of dawning understanding crept into his voice. "You are Dragonborn… I can feel it."
"Yeah," Marcus spat, lifting himself off the ground and standing up again. "So you really should've sent more than a few brainwashed idiots to put me in the ground… Yol, Tor Shul!"
A ring of fire burst from Marcus and slammed into Miraak. The force made the man stagger backwards as the flames washed over him, but after they passed there was little more than a few burn marks on his robes to indicate anything had happened at all.
Then Miraak laughed, as if the shout was little more than a passing breeze of warm air. He straightened up to his full height, and held his sword out in front of him, pointed at Marcus. "A brazen voice, no doubt, but your Thu'um is little more than a greeting to me, wyrmling."
The blade of Miraak's sword turned black, and became round. In a split second, it grew into a 5 metre long tentacle and flicked out to stab Marcus in the chest and fling him backwards like he'd been batted away by the hand of a God.
Marcus smacked into the ground, sliding a few metres and leaving a faint red smear along the ground. His chest sported a gaping wound like someone had dug a huge spoonful of flesh off the surface. He coughed, the violent movement wracking his chest in pain and spraying his chin with blood. With one arm his clutched his bleeding chest, and used the other to prop himself up a little, facing back toward Miraak. Marcus' eyes blazed with pained fury.
"Ah… such a fiery young spirit." Miraak mused, taking a few steps toward the prone man. "I can see how you defeated Alduin, young Dragonborn. I could have slain him myself, back when I walked the earth, but I chose a different path."
"The fuck you could've," Marcus rasped, gritting his bloody teeth. "The Dragons wiped the floor with your ass. Why do you think your temple needs to be rebuilt?"
"Hmph," Miraak folded his arms. "That matters not anymore. I have grown beyond my past self, and certainly beyond you… Marcus Davion Lavernius. You have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield."
Marcus coughed again, trying to heal the wound in his chest. The golden restoration magic sparked at his fingertips, and slowly began to close the hole in his chest. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Miraak made a small noise that sounded like a chuckle. Then he breathed in. "Mul… Qah Diiv!"
Rays of light similar to the kind that flowed from a dead Dragon's corpse rushed out of Miraak, collecting at his feet for half a second, then rushed back towards him and attached to places on his body. The light reshaped itself into pieces of gold and blue ethereal armour around his head, chest and arms. The likeness of the armour was draconic, with tall horns and barbs.
Still chuckling, Miraak stepped towards Marcus and grabbed him by the throat. He raised the young man up, one handed, until his feet left the ground. The restoration magic Marcus had been working spluttered out as he began to choke and lost concentration. The wound in his chest began bleeding again, not having had nearly enough time to heal.
Miraak tilted his head to the side condescendingly. "This realm is beyond you. You have no power here."
Marcus' fingers scrabbled uselessly at the gloves clutching his neck in an iron grip. He tried to swear at the man, but his half-crushed throat didn't allow for it. He raised his left hand, fire spreading in the palm of his hand as he charged a spell. Miraak noticed, and with his other hand reached up to grab Marcus' fingers. With a sharp squeeze, he crushed the bones in that entire hand. Marcus tried to scream, but there was no air in his lungs to do so.
"It's only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine, followed by everything else on Nirn." Mirrak continued, a grin seeping into his voice "I already control the minds of its people, and when they soon finish building my temple, I can return home. Nothing will change that, least of all you."
He dropped Marcus to the ground. The young man collapsed onto the stone floor, heaving in weak breaths through his bruised, constricted airway. Miraak walked dismissively away, towards the large serpentine Dragon.
"Send him back where he came from. He can await my return with the rest of Tamriel."
The pair of floating, grey-green monsters moved towards him. Marcus pushed at the ground, reaching forward and grabbing his sword before attempting to stand up. He got to his knees before the two monsters seemed to 'push' at the air toward him, and rings of bright green lightning rushed out of their bodies to envelop him.
As the energy hit him, Marcus felt his body become wracked with a pain similar to being burned and sprayed with acid at the same time. He collapsed against the ground, feeling oblivion enroaching on his senses. The monsters continued to fire the lightning at him, the waves of energy washing over his body again and again, the pain driving his vision blurry.
The last thing Marcus saw before his battered body sent his mind into darkness was Miraak, climbing onto the neck of the serpentine Dragon and taking off toward the churning green skies.
Author's Notes: Very late upload, I know, but final exams are literally on top of me right now. I'll be done in a week, so expect next chapter to be out sooner at least. I'm toying with the idea of Frea jumping on the Marcus 'bandwagon' as it where (hehehe), seeing as she's one of the few characters in the game with any decent writing, but that might be uncharacteristic given Marcus and Serana's relationship.
I'm also a bit uncertain about the time periods where everything regarding Miraak/Neloth happened. It's a bit ambiguous, I've found, so expect minor inconsistencies here and there.
Thank you for reading.
