Chapter 18

MystiYew: I dunno about the conjuration bit. I sort of wrote that whole system of magic idea up on the spot based on what I consider to make sense. About the canon dialogue part, yeah I feel you man. My trouble is that the game is fairly predicated on following those dialogue trees so the characters involved besides our MC's here reach the logical conclusions. Actually that kind of thing gets mentioned in this chapter, which I wrote that part before your review ever came up so believe me I feel your pain. Basically for story reasons and building interactions between the characters and the Main characters, the dialogue has so far been mostly canon because that's how you complete the quests. After the questlines finish, we still plan to interact with a lot of these characters and so will invent new dialogue. Thanks for the review, mate.

An old man, a ranger, and a vampire walked into a fortress. While this seems like the classic setup for a joke, Aramen lamented the simple fact that such jokes did not exist in this universe, and felt saddened by the missed opportunity.

Serana saw her companion slump in a dejected manner, wondering what was wrong with him.

They didn't spot Isran immediately when they entered, so Aramen directed them to the common area to grab some food and relax a bit while he hunted the man down.

There was always someone in the dining hall, in this case being Sorine cooking something in the pot with a few others sitting and eating dried goods. A few grunts of acknowledgement sounded from the warriors, giving little more than an odd glance to Dexion and a far more suspicious and wary one to Serana.

"Remarkable architecture," Dexion commented, sitting down. "Do you think I'd be able to study it when we're done with the scroll?"

"I'm sure Isran wouldn't mind too much," Aramen commented idly, removing his mask and hood. He scratched his stubble. "Damn, gonna need to shave again soon."

"You need your hair cut, not your beard," Celann asserted from his seat. "True warriors have beards."

"Just not my style. What's cooking?"

Sorine looked back, stirring. "Just some stew, won't be ready for another ten minutes or so."

"Well, so much for grabbing some food," Serana sighed.

"Could always grab a bite from Agmaer there," Aramen pointed to the young Nord, who looked surprised and frightened. "Nice and young, juicy meat."

Serana caught Aramen's wink in the corner of her eye and ignored the sudden looks from the other Dawnguard. "Hmm, no. He's too skinny. I wouldn't get more than a bite before I hit bone."

"Maybe he should stop wearing such heavy armor, then. Vampires might look at him and pass him by as a poor meal."

The others at the table laughed, Agmaer nervously following. "Aye, they're right, boy," Durak called to him from the other side of the table. "Need to get some muscle on you."

Isran walked in on the laughing. He didn't comment, but spotted Aramen and his companions. "I'm impressed you could find a Moth Priest so quickly. Let's take this to the main room."

"We always get the job done," Aramen told him while they walked.

"Speaking of, where is your brother?"

"He's interrogating some vampire prisoners we caught. He'll head our way when he's done unless we meet up first."

"Good. Information is power in this war."

"Oh by the by, this is Dexion. Dexion, this is Isran, leader of the Dawnguard."

"Nice to meet you, Isran. I'm very impressed by this fort. I know a few colleagues back home that would love to study this place in detail."

"First things first, priest. Have you got what you need for the reading?"

"Oh yes, I'm quite ready. Let's find out what secrets the scroll can tell."

"Serana, if you would please?" Aramen prompted. The vampire slid the Elder Scroll of her back and handed it to the man.

"Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate." He unfurls the Elder Scroll and looks deeply at the page, eyes staring off in a thousand miles. While he does, Aramen walks behind him and looks at it. He could see the familiar symbols and shapes, but they meant nothing to him. He was disappointed, but not surprised that he would have to do the ritual properly in order to read it.

"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." His voice starts to falter. "My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls." He tucks the scroll back in its case with visible fatigue. "I must rest now, the reading has made me weary."

"Come on old man, you should get some rest," Isran told him with surprising gentleness, directing him to a bunk.

Aramen watched them go and felt a bit of pity for the man, knowing he'd be blind after this with no idea if he would recover. Still, he supposed, it's the life Dexion chose and was fully prepared for. Going blind was always inevitable, at least he got to read an Elder Scroll and be useful. Most people don't even get that.

It was curious that the Elder Scrolls inflicted blindness upon those who could discern their meaning. Any normal schlub can look at the page and just see what might be constellations or runes, but little else. Moth Priests go through years of study and training to be able to read them, but something about them also makes them blind. It wasn't physical, he presumed. If it were, magic would fix that up in a jiff and the priests would have done it centuries ago. No, this had to be mental. Some effect that rendered the brain incapable of receiving or interpreting what the eye perceived. A theory corroborated by the fact that Dexion could clearly still see when he finished reading, but would not be able to when Aramen returned.

It was a good thing Septimus, the mad bugger, would have that lexicon that could nullify the effects of reading an Elder Scroll. A device like that… it could very well spark war. Anyone who possessed it would be receiving assassination visits or very generous offers from the Moth Priests. Fuck, if the Thalmor ever got their hands on it and were able to read Elder Scrolls all damn day without training or worry of blindness… Aramen winced at the idea. It wasn't a pretty thought. They would topple the White-Gold Tower in their zeal to plunder the Elder Scroll library and hide it away from the world. Not even Gods know what the hell kind of information they could gain from all that knowledge.
Of course, that would've been before the Elder Scrolls library mysteriously emptied overnight, the many scrolls scattered across the world. No one knows why, and Aramen could only theorize, but it definitely smacked of divine intervention. Eventually, the scrolls will be recovered and sent there.

Then again, Aramen contemplated, if Mikael and I could get in there with this thing...

"Do you have a moment to talk?"

Serana's voice snapped him out of his contemplation. Aramen realized he'd been standing around and mulling for a while, and so gave himself a slap on the face. No use worrying about that future right now. "For you? Always." He smiled. "What's on your mind?"

The vampire gave a small smile back before turning serious. "That Moth Priest, Dexion. He said we needed two other Elder Scrolls. I think I know where we can start looking"

"Marvelous! Where would that be?"

"We need to find my mother, Valerica. She'll definitely know where it is, and if we're lucky, she actually has it herself."

"It's been a while, any idea where she went?"

"The last time I saw her, she said that she'd go somewhere safe... somewhere that my father would never search." Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Other than that, she wouldn't tell me anything. But the way she said it... 'someplace he would never search.' It was cryptic, yet she called attention to it."

Aramen frowned, sure he knew that Serana would figure it out because he had played the game, but Valerica sure was banking quite a bit on that. Guardian figures, parental or otherwise, really just needed to tell their adult children important fucking imformation. He kept his thoughts brief though, no need to bitch about it now. "Sounds like she was being cautious. Though if she referenced it like that, she is probably decently sure that you'd know a place that your dad would avoid."

"Maybe. What I can't figure out is why she said it that way. And he's had all this time, too. Any ideas?"

The Breton adopted a thoughtful expression. "Well, if I were being pursued by some powerful madman, I'd be clever. Thirty feet of rock between you and your pursuer wouldn't deter them, you'd need to outwit them. I'd go right under their nose. How about in the castle?"

Serana's glowing eyes lit up even more. "Wait... that almost makes sense! I used to help my mother tend a garden in the courtyard there. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there. She used to say that my father couldn't stand the place. Too... peaceful."

"It's a risky move, if that's what she did."

"Oh, absolutely." She smirked briefly. "But my mother's not a coward. That is... I don't think we'll actually trip over her there. But it's worth a look."

"Doubt they're gonna let us use the front door."

"True. But I know a way we can get to the courtyard without arousing suspicion. There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel from the castle exits there. I think that's our way in."

Aramen smiled. "Well then, let's hop a cart and get back to my brother and fill him in on the plan."

Lydia exhaled a deep breath, mist forming in the air as it passed her lips. Similar clouds formed more frequently from the mouths of her three exhausted opponents, gasping for breath as they were, but standing firm. With a beckoning gesture, she taunted them to attack again.

Grimaced faces twisted with anger under the helmets of the attackers, who crushed an instinct to rush the woman and instead advanced together; shields close enough together to maximize their defense without restricting their individual attacks. Lydia backed up and quickly circled around them, avoiding getting boxed in. They tried to turn together as smoothly as possible, but were not used to their equipment or this formation. When they were roughly in a line and attempting to spread back out to face her new position, she suddenly dashed forward and bashed into the front woman's shield with her own. The force caused the attacking woman to stumble backwards, but sadly the backwards in this case was her two comrades, and so they all attempted to regain their footing in too tight a space and nearly tripped over themselves.

The Nord woman capitalized on this distraction and stabbed her sword directly into the stomach of her opponent, who had moved her shield out of the way in her attempts to steady herself. The wooden weapon drove the air from her lungs and she fell, taking her two comrades with her.

Cheers and jeers arose from the surrounding guards, a few hands exchanged gold. Lydia returned her training weapon to the rack. The three duelers picked themselves up and did likewise, then stood before her.

"Now tell me, how could you have done better?" Lydia began in a lecturing tone she picked up from Mikael.

"Should've stepped together better," one of the men grumbled.

"These new shields are hard to get used to," the other offered.

Indeed, they were very different. Lydia had remembered the event that brought them about clearly.

Wibbly wobbly flashback

During another trip to Whiterun for some trading, about a month before the vampire attack, with she and Aramen along as "security." Aramen commented on her Dragonplate shield, saying it was top-level heavy armor, but wondered why she wasn't interested in a different design, like a kite shield, instead of her current heater style. Lydia had responded she wasn't aware what that was, but was just used to this style of shield. Aramen stared at her for a moment, before muttering something along the lines of "right, fucking Bethesda," and dragged her to the forge while Byrna sold some goods. With a little time and some gold, he forged what he called a "Norman Kite Shield."

It was, without a doubt, the oddest shield she'd ever seen, It was nearly as tall as she, roughly triangular, pointed at the bottom and had a rounded top. It was made mostly out of wood, but along the edge it was lined with iron, and what looked like an iron bowl on the front that he called an "umbo." It was also curved inwards slightly, and had two straps in the interior, as well as a longer strap.

Aramen, being roughly the same height as her, picked it up and strapped it to his left arm. "It's a design that I would rate highest in terms of defense. Note how it covers the legs fairly well and can be stabbed into the ground for more stability." He demonstrated just that, the rounded top just barely above the tip of his nose. "The flaws are obvious; it's big and cumbersome, which makes it unsuited for cavalry like the Redguards use and is most unlike what most people use in general around here. Still, you couldn't ask for better protection in a shield."

He quickly hammered out a few more until they had four, which he then announced would be the "trial batch" for the guards of Winterhold and herself.

Timey wimey flashback end.

Lydia snapped out of her thoughts and refocused on the guards. "What else?"

They shuffled around for a moment before she offered more insight. "Don't forget that more fighters give you more options. When facing a single enemy, you could have also tackled me to the ground and held me down while one of you stabbed me." This caused a great deal of quiet conversation and some surprise to the gathered guards. The Housecarl was reminded once again of the Twins, but this time it was Mikael's advice. He'd pointed out that very few people ever seemed to be interested in grappling or wrestling in combat in Skyrim, even though many people were plenty strong enough to do so. Done right, it was "damned effective, but not very cool to look at" and was something he recommended they try when they got the chance. He also had said something about "fucking Bethesda" which caused Lydia to start to wonder if this Bethesda was a Daedric Prince or something similar.

"Still, well done overall. You three are doing fine, so get some rest and report back for duty tomorrow," she informed them. They nodded and walked off towards the barracks to nurse their bruises. The rest of the guards dispersed to either go back to patrol or relax.

Lydia, meanwhile, returned to her room at the Frozen Hearth and removed her own armor. She hadn't suffered bruises like her trainees, which was little wonder considering the bone armor. More importantly, Aramen had emphasized, it was "Full plate." The armor left little to no gaps for any attack to pierce through, and the wooden blades hadn't been strong enough to bluntly harm her. It was something she took more notice of when she thought back to the enemies she had fought in the past, and indeed her old steel armor. Aramen pointed out that they simply didn't cover much of the body and left gaps for blades to slide into, making them a poor choice for armor. In contrast, her own armor was molded smoothly as possible and covered every part of her body except her head and neck. Most blades wouldn't harm her now, and she only need fear magic, hammers, and strikes to her head. A few other common designs, such as ebony or dwemer, used similar a similar design, but it wasn't quite as good and was uncommon for the others.

It was something Lydia hadn't really considered before, and wondered why more people didn't make armor like it. When she brought this up to the Twins, they responded in unison, "Fucking Bethesda."

At any rate, she needed a bath and some food, and so shucked the rest of her armor and grabbed a nearby basin to fill with water and heat over the fire.

Aramen was once again faced with the conundrum of precognizant social interactions. It would feel a bit weird carrying out most of a scripted dialogue tree in real life, but he liked Serana and wanted to get her to open up. The more they talked, the more she would be willing to share her thoughts normally. So as they trundled along another carriage ride, he opened up a conversation with her.

"So, I met your dad. Can you tell me a bit about your mother?"

Serana seemed to snap out of the doze she was falling into. "Hm? Oh, yeah, my mother. Well, her name is Valerica," she told him.

"Were you and she close?"

"Before my father became obsessed with the prophecy, mother and I spent quite a bit of time together. She was very fond of her alchemical garden in the castle courtyard. She taught me quite a bit about cultivating quality reagents." The vampire smiled, fond memories playing in her head.

To him, it was a beautiful smile. Serana was usually sarcastic and dry, and occasionally vicious. He enjoyed that, mind you, since he was much the same. Still, seeing this happier side of her was wonderful. He hoped she'd show it more often. "So you always got along?"

"Like the best of friends. I would never hesitate to share anything with her." Her smile faded into a grimace.

"But then it all changed."

She nodded. "It was very sudden. It was almost like one day we were a normal family, and then the next I didn't know who they were. I'd try to visit my mother in the garden, and she'd quickly shoo me away saying she was much too busy." She shook her head. "Looking back, I did spend a lot of time with my mother, but she saw me more like a protege than a daughter."

"It sounds like you don't like either of them very much."

"It's not that simple. I guess it never is with families, is it?" Aramen gave a dry chuckle. Serana gave him an appraising look. "What about you? What were your parents like?"

Aramen paused to consider his words carefully, and how to translate the foster system into Tamrielic. "My parents died when we were pretty young," he began. "After that, we moved around a lot, but never settled anywhere until we were adults. Our parents left us some inheritance, and Mikael and I are not big spenders, usually. We were left to ourselves and our pursuits of the mind."

After their parents died when they were about six years old, the foster system took them in and they were shuffled around a lot. They refused to be parted, and taking in twins is a big commitment most people weren't willing to take, so they were never taken in by anyone. It was a bitter realization that no one wanted them, when they were old enough to process that thought. But by the time they hit their mid-teens, they decided it didn't much matter. They got by fine as it was without parents, they didn't need them. After they became adults, they got their inheritance and it was plenty for their frugal sensibilities. They got a small apartment in a nowhere town with enough space for both of them to live in. They spent their days reading and playing video games and barely interacting with the world beyond their jobs.

"It sounds lonely."

Aramen shrugged. "We had each other and most days that's enough. Honestly, Mikael took it harder. We didn't really have friends growing up, and while that's fine for me, he's more of a social guy. He wants some good friends, but we never really were good at finding them. But yeah," he sighed, "it was kind of lonely."

Serana looked off to the side. "I know how that feels. I mean... I know it isn't the same thing. But I was a pretty lonely child, myself." She turned back to him

The ranger looked into her eyes with a small smile. "Do you still feel lonely?"

She returned it. "Not as much." They stared at each other for a moment, before she looked away. "Let's... uh... let's get some sleep. We'll probably be there when we wake up.." She fidgeted until she got comfortable in the carriage bench.

Aramen did the same, smile remaining on his face as he closed his eyes.

Mikael took a moment to clean himself off with some conjured water, ridding the blood, grime, and ash that decorated his arms and face. Once clean, he re-donned his armor and turned back to his notes.

The last vampire had expired about two hours ago, during which he continued jotting notes and organizing his thoughts, muttering to himself.

"Anchor proved much more efficient than trap… ash degradation rate nullified by healing… twenty minutes before permanent neural damage… age and power difference factored in… won't be getting much clearer than that…"

Had he more test subjects, perhaps he could've done more varied experiments and accelerated the late-stage testing. Though, having roughly a fortnight of time was generous enough that he could slow down and approach them cautiously and accurately enough to make up the difference. He made each of them last, putting them to the brink each time to get the most use before his final tests were ready. He wasn't too proud to admit that he had thrown up after all was said and done.

Well, he had to work with what he had, and Mikael was confident he knew what he was doing by this point. The trouble would be selling the whole thing, but the logic behind it as well as the benefits to be gained was, in his opinion, worth the risk.

Hearing some footsteps echo through the cave, Mikael stood and dusted himself off, tucking away his supplies and notes into his inventory. It wasn't long before a familiar face strolled up the stairs. They met each other's eyes and walked forward into a hug.

"What's happenin', brother?" Mikael asked with a laugh.

"Just another day at the office," Aramen replied with a grin.

Separating, Mikael smacked himself on the side of the head. "Oh! Meant to tell you, I had an idea regarding the inventory." He pulled a book from the air. "Right, so I thought it would be useful if we could communicate while far apart without having to deal with couriers or whatnot."

"Yeah, that'll be useful."

"Right? So, what we do is I've got this book here, it's blank." The wizard flipped through the pages, showing no writing. "This'll be our communication book. I write a message for you, then drop it in the inventory. Once at least, say, every hour, we check it to see if the other left a message. Badda bing, badda boom, Bob's your uncle, instant messaging." Mikael smacked himself again. "I'm such an idiot! We could do this for all our shit!"

Aramen facepalmed. "We're idiots. I should've thought of that a week ago. Now we can just grab things and transport them across the country if one of us is there." Aramen slid his hand down his face. "And that way we've got access to all the same stuff."

"What about living things?" a third voice interjected. The Twins turned to Serana, who had been watching the conversation with some amusement and fascination. "Could you go inside?"

"And then we could teleport," Aramen whispered.

"Or we could get torn apart by cosmic forces," Mikael rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We'll need to run some experiments, start with some small creatures and step up to live test subjects. No shortage of crazy cultists or bandits in this world."

"There are a few people in Skyrim who already can do some short-range teleporting, but if this goes right we could step across the world."

"And then there would be no one who could stop us."

"Yes."

"Yes!"

"AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Serana once again simply stared in growing apprehension and intrigue at the laughing Twins, dreading what she may have just enabled.

"But," Mikael abruptly cut them off. "That's a matter for another time. Here," he tucked the book away. "Try retrieving it."

Aramen focused his mind on pulling out the blank book from the inventory, his will and visualization guiding his hand in the blank space to the object. He felt the leather cover and pulled it out from a purple glow. "Fantastic."

Mikael searched for a potion he'd seen Aramen tuck away a while ago. A moment later, the glass vial of stamina sat in his hand. "Yeah, looks like we can just take anything out of it."

"If you two are done, we did have something to do? Rescuing my mother?" Serana pointed out.

"Er, yeah, let's go," Aramen rubbed his head sheepishly. "I'll fill you in on the way."

With all this distraction, Serana didn't get the chance to ask what Mikael had learned from the vampires he'd interrogated, and so they walked out the door with Aramen giving him the canned mission brief.

It was both liberating and frustrating, the way magic told the laws of physics to go fuck themselves. Mikael and Aramen were, while not science majors in their last life, at least nerdily familiar with chemistry and physics; something that would be very useful in Tamriel, but not where magic was concerned.

Shooting giant chunks of ice or lightning out of your damn fingertips, for example. Ignoring the creation itself, Newton's third law states that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So logically, there should be some kind of knockback from that, like a gun. But no. You could launch a ten foot ice wall from your hands and the only reaction applies to your magicka reserves.

So when Mikael proposed using magic to sail the little boat to the island instead of murdering his shoulders rowing, he realised that wouldn't work because he couldn't anchor himself to the boat and use the push back of casting a spell backwards for propulsion. Another solution would have been to attach a sail to the boat and blow some wind into it, but they didn't yet have a spare boat-making kit in their inventory to supply one.

He also could have used telekinesis, but he wouldn't remember that option until after the return trip. Accompanied by much swearing and laughing.

"Fuckin' oblivion, my arms are killing me," Mikael groused when they stepped onto the island.

"We'll get you a massage later." Aramen stretched and popped his back.

Serana looked interested. "What's a massage?"

"Something that apparently I won't be getting anytime soon, but may be a great business opportunity," Mikael immediately replied. "Ask Aramen to show you sometime." He blocked the pebble thrown at his head with a ward.

It didn't take long to maneuver along the sides of the cliffs and rocks to reach the exterior entrance, what appeared to be a dock of sorts. "Why aren't there any boats?" Mikael asked quietly, eyeing the skeletal guards dotted around.

"I'm not sure," Serana returned. "When I was young, we used to sail a little, and it was used to ship goods to the island. After we… turned, we didn't sail anymore and my father just took what he wanted, and traders stopped coming in."

Aramen hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, but surely the other vampires need a way to reach the mainland to go on their scouting and attacking trips? So they're probably out there now. We don't want to be here when they get back." He gave a sideways look to Serana. "Speaking of, how did you get off the island when you escaped? We took the little boat."

"I flew in my bats form." She grimaced a little. "It's a weird feeling, but useful."

"Badass."

Mikael charged some lightning while Aramen took aim with his crossbow. Serana prepared to shoot some ice. Mikael silently counted them down and then they let loose, each hitting their respective target in order of speed. After that, they stayed at their distant spot and leisurely plinked the remaining undead until they dropped.

"Like a shooting range," Mikael commented. "Man, we need to get some rifles sooner rather than later."

"Before or after the anaesthetic? Because we got a whole list of 'Shit that needs doing'."

"What's a rifle?" came the voice of the only female.

Mikael gave a small grin. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" Her curiosity piqued, she agreed. "Think of the most deadly crossbow in existence. Only instead of a shooting bolts, it's tiny metal stones that fly about 8 times faster and have way better range. We call such weapons 'Guns' or 'Firearms' and they come in many different varieties, from one-handed 'Pistols' to larger two-handed 'Rifles'. Weapons so deadly they replaced the crossbow across our wor- er, entire country. Every soldier used them."

"We've yet to recreate them here, but I agree that it should be a priority. However, it's also something that can't be rushed. Maybe after we get this vampire business sorted," Aramen finished.

The vampire looked vaguely terrified and awed by the thought. "Weapons like that would sure be useful. But if they're so powerful, why has no one in Skyrim used them? Or even heard of them?"

"Why indeed," Aramen answered cryptically.

Truth be told, they had tried to use conjure them up like bound bow and arrows, but it didn't function properly. Mikael theorized it was because they simply didn't know the inner workings of a gun properly enough to create it, unlike a bow which was terribly simple. At least after they made a few, that problem would be solved and they could have ghost guns for days.

The warrens and catacombs of Volkihar Castle were as disgusting and ill-kept as one would expect from its master. It was dirty and dusty, blood stains painted each room. Rats and Death Hounds prowled around, hungry for meals. Feral vampires roamed for the same. At least the vampire skeleton was interesting; it brought up some interesting questions about the nature of double-undead. And of course it was littered with spiderwebs, which Mikael burned with gusto. It was practically a public service for this place, after all.

Serana made the occasional comment and gave directions. She didn't object when the Twins took to looting everything that wasn't nailed down or covered in blood, merely saying that all of this belonged to her father and she was happy to see it taken away. While they wandered, Serana and Aramen talked a bit about how she used to hang out in these ruins as a young girl.

"You talk about being lonely a lot," Aramen noted.

"Well, growing up the way I did, you get used to it."

"You parents didn't make it easy on you," The ranger said dryly.

"No, they didn't." She looked around the ruined catacombs. "But that's why I like being out there with you. But... what about you?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "You mean, do I get lonely?"

"Yeah. Is it just you and Mikael, or do you have... people in your life?"

Aramen hummed thoughtfully. "I try not to rely on others. Hell, before we came here, Mikael and I would only talk so often. Sometimes a week would go by without us saying more than two sentences at each other, even though we lived together. Then some days, we'd be stuck in conversation for two hours. We hang out a lot more now."

The vampire was quiet for a moment. "Does it bother you that I'm here?" she asked in a more matter-of-fact tone.

He shook his head and gave her a smile. "I'm glad you're with me. It's nice to have someone I can count on," he rose his voice with the second statement.

"Oh bugger off!" Mikael shouted from his position far ahead.

Serana gave a small grin at their antics. "Me too. Anyway, this is all very touching, but don't we have more important things to worry about right now?"

Aramen just hoisted Dawnbreaker over his shoulder and pressed onwards.

It didn't take long for them to reach the courtyard, and Serana pushed past them to see what had become of it.

"Oh no... What happened to this place?" She walked around slowly. "Everything's been torn down... the whole place looks... well, dead. It's like we're the first to set foot here in centuries." She gestured to a pile of stone rubble in front of a door. "This used to lead into the castle's great hall. It looks like my father had it sealed up. I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was beautiful, once." She walked over to the garden area, bending over to touch the dead plants. "This was my mother's garden. It…" she took a breath. "Do you know how beautiful something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years? She would have hated to see it like this." Casting her gaze back towards the moondial that dominated the center of the courtyard, she frowned. "Wait... Something's wrong with the moondial here. Some of the crests are missing and the dial is askew. I didn't even know the crests could be removed. Maybe my mother's trying to tell us something?"

Aramen plied her with questions about the moondial itself while Mikael retrieved the missing crests and telekinetically dropped them into place. With a grinding of ancient stone and cranking of gears, it turned and opened.

"Very clever, mother. Very clever." Serana turned to her companions. "I've never been in those tunnels before, but I'd bet they run right under the courtyard and into the tower ruins. Well, at least we're getting closer. Let's go."

Eventually, they made it to the laboratory. A spectacle to be sure, with arcane components and literature on every shelf, full of all kinds of knowledge. The Twins were tempted to plunder it on sheer principle, but held back. They weren't sure if Valerica would take too kindly to it. Serana was quite fascinated by the place, commenting on how it was far better than the small apothecary lab her mother had in the castle. A few comments were exchanged about the necromancers who tried to strike deals with the Ideal Masters, specifically the kind of comments one makes comparing their relative intelligence to that of mudcrabs.

They gathered the necessary components and prepared to add Serana's blood "Are you ready to go? I'm not entirely sure what this thing is going to do when I add my blood," she warned.

Aramen leaned on the balcony. "Can I ask you something first?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"What will you do if we find your mother?"

Serana sighed. "I've been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle. She was so sure of what we did to my father, I couldn't help but go along with her. I never thought of the cost."

"Locking you away for millennia without knowing what was supposed to happen? It sounds like she was pretty selfish," Aramen commented dryly.

"She wasn't, always." The vampire lost herself to her thoughts for a few moments. "But I think you're right. She was practically smirking as we left home. Almost like she was proud of herself. Like she didn't want to just stop my father... she wanted to stick it to him, too."
For a moment, the woman questioned how much of her mother's sadness in parting was real or merely fabricated to help Serana accept the situation.

"We won't know until we find her," Mikael offered coolly.

"Yes... yes, you're right. I'm sorry. I just didn't expect anyone to care how I felt about her." She smiled at both of them, lingering on the Ranger just a bit longer. "Thank you. Are we ready, then?"

Mikael cracked his knuckles. "Let's get that portal open."

"All right. Here goes."

In short order, they had activated the ritual and watched the creepy purple portal open up below them. After a quick bout of rock-paper-scissors (to Serana's confusion), Mikael got to be the demonstration dummy as to why they couldn't enter.
The tall Breton felt the edges of his soul fray and be attacked as the Soul Cairn attempted to exact its price for entry. Loud swearing ensued as Mikael rapidly backpedaled up the stairs.

Serana caught him as he stumbled on the last step. "Are you alright? That looked painful."

"Actually it was delightful, a real rejuvenating experience. You should try it," he told his brother, who rolled his eyes.

"Now that I think about it... I should have expected that." She shook her head. "Sorry. It's hard to describe. The Soul Cairn is... well, hungry, for lack of a better word. It's trying to take your life essence as payment."

"Well we're three clever magical folk, surely we can find another way in," Mikael asserted.

"There might be, but I don't think you're going to like it." Serana gestured to herself. "Vampires aren't counted among the living. I could probably go through there without a problem."

"I think we'd prefer to avoid that for now, especially considering Isran might try his luck against us if we showed up undead."

"Maybe we could pay the toll normally, but different-like. Offer our souls, but not entirely."

"Like tying a string to a quarter for the candy."

"Like what?" the woman asked.

"Point is, we could do some kind of partial soul trapping? But we don't know how to do that."

"My mother taught me a trick or two. I could partially soul trap you, and offer that gem to the Ideal Masters. It might be enough to satisfy them. It would make you a bit weaker when we travel through the Soul Cairn, but we might be able to fix that once we're inside. Maybe."

The shorter man sighed. "I suppose those are our only options, then?"

Serana nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew a better way, something that would be easier for you. Just know that... whatever path you choose, I won't think any less of you. Sometimes things just have to be done. I know that better than anybody."

Despite knowing their answers already, they gave it a moment's pause. Answering so quickly against becoming a vampire could be misconstrued as hatred for vampirism, which they had already told her they didn't have, but actions speak louder than words.

"We'll be soul-trapping. Weakened or not, it's the better option in this case," Aramen stated with certainty..

Serana stepped forward. "I know this is difficult for you both. I hope you trust me. I'd never do anything that could hurt you."

They cast their eyes on her with kind smiles. "Serana, we told you the first night we met," Mikael reminded her.
Aramen nodded. "We trust you. Completely."

In the dinginess of an abandoned laboratory, caked in dust and the stench of death from the ruins they fought through, Serana felt a warm glow in her long-dead heart. Where two men put their lives, their very souls in her hands without a doubt in their minds. "Thank you. Let's not waste any more time then." She took a deep breath. "I promise to try and make this as painless as possible. Hold still."

The Twins felt a small part of their souls be shorn off, making both of them go more pale and their visions swim. When they were coherent again, Mikael gave Serana a reassuring smile as Aramen put a hand on her arm, and the trio descended into the uncharted realm of the Soul Cairn.

Heyo there folks, it's Waki. Hope you had a great holiday season, mine was a very welcome relief.
Yeah, I haven't updated this story in a damn long time. I got no excuses for ya, other than shifting some of the blame onto my brother who refused to be of help writing dialogue.
Still, just know that I'm always thrilled to see more follows and favorites in my e-mail inbox, and ecstatic when there's reviews. Because reviews at least give me something to think or talk about and show more engagement from the reader, which I really enjoy. So in case that was too subtle for ya, REVIEW PLEASE.
And take care of yourselves.