-Elden Root-
It took all day to care for the injured from the horrific battle. At last, the injured have been treated and are resting. Iriea is weary. Some may not make it through the night, but she and the other healers have done what they can. And so now, she moves to the small room near the infirmary where Iveryni rests. Iriea takes care of her and then leans against the wall, looking at the Dunmer. Iveryni lost enough blood that she should have fallen at Craglorn, but somehow her body clung to life and it has stood between life and death ever since. A shiver runs down Iriea's body. She knows Iveryni's soul is unmoored and far from here. Will she know to come back? How can she come back, when the damage is so severe recovery seems impossible, even with what Iriea and the other healers have done?


-Deadlands-
Iveryni flinches from the inferno before her. As a Dunmer she is somewhat resistant to fire, but this is not normal fire. It burns as bright as the dawn, as hot as the sun, and the darkness of the Daedra flickers through it. Iveryni steps back. "I cannot," Iveryni hisses, sweat dripping from her body. "It is too much to bear."
The inferno surges and then dies down leaving Iveryni alone in the cave shaking. She thought she knew fire from her studies of destruction magic, but this...
"Mortal, you fear the flames."
Iveryni's head snaps up as her eyes regard the Daedra standing on the other side of the room. Dark black armor, dusky red skin with three rolls of horns, and crimson red eyes. Iveryni has come to rely on this Daedra to survive here, but she has also come to nearly loath him for the brutal training she has endured. "I feel the heat," Iveryni says. "It tells me it will destroy me. Eradicate my soul from existence, Deimyite. How am I to step into it knowing that?"
Deimyite crosses his arms over his chest and glowers at her. "If you fear it, that is what will happen. You will never be strong enough to be our Prince's champion if your fear continues to dominate you. You must shed your fear and embrace the dawn. Only then will you be his Champion. Only then can you stop Viperish Night from sending all the souls of Nirn to his Egg-Father, Molag Bal."
The truth of it all still staggers Iveryni. She was told soon after her training began. What Molag Bal had done was find a way to manifest on Nirn, but in such a way that the Compact was not broken. He was in mortal form, so his true self was not present. It was a way to get around it, and to get what he desired, all the souls of Nirn. Once more, he tried to take everything, and this time it was more than just Meridia who had gotten involved in finding ways to influence the outcome. Including choosing champions to do battle in their steed. Iveryni takes a deep breath. She knows she must overcome her fear. She must find a way to surrender utterly to the fire, and be reborn. Otherwise... Iveryni's eyes narrow. "I will embrace the flames," she tells Deimyite. "I need time to gather myself first."
Deimyite scowls at her. "Time runs differently here. Our Prince has made sure you have more time than you would have had otherwise. But Nirn catches up with us. Do not take too much time." he tells her. All Iveryni can do is nod as she turns and retreats from the room to the surface.


Iveryni walks on the obsidian black rocks as ash falls from the dusky red sky. Occasional crimson bolts of lighting streak as she moves to the river of lava that courses through this part of the Deadlands. Her eyes move to a huge structure some distance away. Remembering what it was like when she stepped from the darkness into this fiery inferno where the air burned your lungs, and the heat parched every part of you. It was not a place mortals were meant to survive. Iveryni raises one hand and tilts it back and forth. She was mortal...yet almost not, for her physical body was back in Nirn, and it was her soul that had manifested here. Iveryni tilts her head back and closes her eyes, memories chasing her back months, or had it been longer still?


Iveryni steps from the darkness into the fiery light of the Deadlands. The heat staggers her as she fights not to fall. She had not known that any kind of heat could stagger a Dunmer, but this...this heat had a heavy presence. Iveryni glances around, she's in a large black tower with huge openings to the left and right. And in the shadows in the back is a huge shadowy figure on a throne.
"Iveryni Rathnil," Mehrunes Dagon says.
Iveryni trembles, trying not to take a step back. Trying to know what to do, when this is all unknowable. Her people once worshiped the Daedric Princes, before the Tribunal. This would be frowned on now. Being here, pledging oneself to a Daedric Prince, and one from the house of troubles besides.
"The mortal seems not to know what to do in your presence, Lord Dagon," A Daedra emerges from the shadows and stops, staring at Iveryni. "You may wish to kneel, mortal. He is your Prince now. Unless you want to close your eyes and fade from life."
Iveryni can feel Mehrunes Dagon's eyes on her. She slowly kneels, her eyes on the floor as she fights her natural Dunmer pride. It would only get her in trouble here, and she was so uncertain. She had always been so certain, but this? This shook her to her core. What she agreed to do, to save Nirn. "My Prince," Iveryni says softly.
"Iveryni Rathnil, there are things you must know," Mehrunes Dagon says. Iveryni raises her head and Mehrunes continues and tells her truth. Iveryni's eyes widen in shock as she learns of Molag Bal's involvement, the depths of it. Mehrunes Dagon falls silent for a moment, letting it sink into Iveryni's mind before he continues. "For our reasons, four of us have chosen to involve ourselves in this."
Four? Iveryni stifles a gasp of shock. For four Daedric Princes to be involved in this...but what four? Should she even ask? Her eyes shine with curiosity but the look in Mehrunes Dagon's eyes has her lowering them again, deciding not to ask.
"You must begin your training, Iveryni Rathnil," Mehrunes Dagon says. "I have matters to attend to, so Deimyite will be the one to train you."
Deimyite smiles at that. "We will see if the mortal can withstand this kind of training. I have my doubts," he moves to Iveryni. "Come, mortal. I want to see how long it takes for you to beg me to cease your training." Deimyite laughs and his right-hand falls to his belt, where a whip with jagged edges lies.
Iveryni rises and turns to follow him. "I will not beg, Deimyite. I will persevere. I must."
"We shall see, mortal," Deimyite says.


A few days later Iveryni stands on a large rock amid lava. There are more rocks near her, and on one is a Daedra. In her hands is a sword, a foreign instrument, though she has been practicing with it for a week. And then Deimyite had brought her here for a test of some kind.
"You must learn to fight, Iveryni. Do not use your magic." Deimyite says. "You must be strong in every way, not just spell-craft."
The Daedra withdraws his sword and comes for her and Iveryni is dashing across rocks, her sword skills clumsy. The Daedra strikes and her sword is knocked out of her hands and into the lava. The Daedra raises his sword and Iveryni's hand glows with magic as she launches a fireball at him, knocking him back.
"ENOUGH," Deimyite thunders, and the Daedra backs down and Iveryni leaps from the rocks to the shore. Deimyite surges forward and grabs Iveryni by the arm and throws her against a rock. Iveryni catches herself with her hands and then a crack, followed by a lightning bolt of pain on her back. She gasps, as it's followed by several more. Iveryni throws her head back and screams, finally falling to the ground. Deimyite moves toward her. "Get up, mortal," he hisses. "You will be punished when you falter, when you fail. Only then will you find the strength to be reborn as you are meant to be." Iveryni staggers up, her eyes filled with fiery anger as she stares at Deimyite. "Good, mortal. Hate me. Use whatever it takes to be strong enough to withstand the flames." Deimyite looks back at the rocks and Iveryni staggers to them, picking up another sword as she tries again. Tries not to fail.


Iveryni opens her eyes, once more returning to the present. She never once begged, but there were times she wanted to. Times she wanted to flee back to Nirn, fade into death, scream for mercy. Anything but continuing, for the training was like none she had ever endured. Anytime she faltered, Deimyite had lashed her with his whip, until she struggled up to try again, and again until she triumphed. She knew how to fight without magic, should she need to now. Her body was no longer the lithe mage she had once been but honed with muscles and steel. And her magic? It had grown in leaps and bounds. She could command the lava to rise from the earth, the fire to leap from her palms to streak across the ground until they engulfed her target. She was almost strong enough now. Just... Iveryni turns back to the cavern. She had to overcome the last of the fear and doubt within her and embrace the flames. Risk everything so she may be what she needs to be. Iveryni takes a deep breath and heads back down.