(Wow. It's been a while. Writer's block sucks. The lack of an attention span sucks. This pandemic sucks. Etc, etc sucks.)

I turn back to the door, struggling with the knob. It doesn't turn; the door doesn't budge.

"Brewer!" I shout once more, my voice cracking. There is no sound from the other side. This can't possibly be happening. Not again.

There is a familiar growl in the distance. "Ash…lynn…" Molag Bal has kept his promise to Sheogorath. Once I am out of his protection, he'll take me.

I timidly turn back to the beast in the distance, still grasping the doorknob behind me. Our eyes meet. I drop to my knees and cover my eyes, screaming in despair.

Once more, I try for the door, but like the door in Sheogorath's garden, this one disappears when it leaves my line of sight. Something tells me not even Sheogorath suspected this. He knew Molag Bal would try to get me, but did he suspect a tactic from his own playbook? I find a shadowy alcove to hide in from his eyes, panicked thoughts running through my head like an overflowing river after a storm.

"You're mine, Ashlynn!" The growl echoes around me, reverberating off the stone structures. "This is my realm. You cannot hide from me. Sheogorath can read your thoughts, but I've learned to sense the sparks that make up those thoughts. I can counter his madness with facts; his whimsy with reason; his nonsensical unpredictability with formulaic knowledge. The sparks of your thoughts makes you merely a fly stuck in a web. There is nowhere you can hide."

How can I escape that? Even a mere thought will give my position away. There has to be some way to counter Molag Bal! I'm over thinking things. This is like me holding up a bright, neon light signaling my position. Sheogorath's words echo in my mind: "Even madness can bring clarity. Just let me in and I can show you." I delve into my own mind to grab at the slippery tendrils of Sheogorath's gift of madness, grasping at the clarity he promised me. And I find it.

I am certain that thinking would be of no use to me. I must become a mindless beast to fight Molag Bal; an animal that acts only on instinct and nothing more. I duck out of the alcove and scan the horizon for Molag while my mind remains blank. I draw my bow and knock an arrow, ready to fire at the next sight of movement. No thoughts; just instinct.

If he chooses to use Sheogorath's madness against me, I'll use his bestial instinct against him.

I spy movement in the courtyard at the bottom of a hill and fire my first arrow. A scamp cries out and collapses. Shit! He has minions about. Shit! Stop thinking! My mind goes blank once more and I sneak towards a collapsed statue, another arrow ready in my bow. I spot movement, fire an arrow, and change location. No thoughts, no randomness; just a predictable, formulaic system. My position is only given away when an arrow is fired, nothing more.

I have another arrow ready to fire when a blue-black portal opens. Without hesitation, I fire.

"Gaw! Fuck!" they wheeze. Hold up…

"Brewer?!" Kind of hard to keep up a mind blank when an ally enters the field, you know?

"And more," Brewer continues to wheeze, only winded. More people file out of the portal, weapons and magic ready. Brewer brought more of Sanguine's souls to protect me.

Seeing as they are more mentally lucid than I am, I agree to them deciding on their own battle formations and tactics as I remain shielded in the center with Brewer by my side. I explain what Molag has told me and Brewer relays the message to the others. Everyone else seems to formulate the same plan I had: act on instinct, but now as a pack. Brewer allows me to recharge my enchanted weapons and gives me an alchemically made mass regeneration potion.

After realizing we were merely remaining on the outskirts of the area and taking down scamps for nearly an hour, I suggest a new tactic. "I think we should find Molag and fight him instead of…whatever this is," I tell Brewer.

"Are you fucking mad?" He responds, then he realises what he said and adds, "No. We have to get you out of here."

I huff and place my hands on my hips annoyedly. "Then why haven't you already?"

Brewer doesn't answer aside from giving a noncommittal "err…"

"Exactly. We have to fight him!"

"He's no match for us! Sanguine lost a handful of souls to Molag Bal already. Sheogorath likely did too. We can't risk it."

"Fine!" I equip a spell, the only master level spell I know, and begin casting it. "If you won't fight him by my side, I'll do it alone!" My hands are engulfed in pale yellow-green mist and I release the magic, paralysing everyone around me.

I step around everyone, apologizing half-heartedly to everyone as I go and accusing them of blindly following the loathsome coward that is Brewer. Then I drink a fortify potion and make myself invisible, and run in the direction where I last spotted the Daedric Prince of Domination.

I equip my mp3 player and La Den Gå plays as I run into battle. A sly grin slowly grows across my face. You want me, Molag? Here I come!