This is the fourth and final piece of Arvil Bren's story. If you have landed here without reading what came before it might make sense enough, particularly if you are familiar with Morrowind...but I'd say it would be much more enjoyable if you start with Arvil Bren's Journal.
Awakening
I started writing journals in the Imperial prison in Cyrodiil, a wandering survey of my mental landscape, frequently gibberish. I credit those prison journals with keeping me sane. My journals since arriving in Vvardenfell have been much more coherent, I think. Given my unexpected encounter with great destiny they may someday qualify as history.
For now they just give me comfort, the comfort of knowing where I've been and the events that brought me to where I am. As I am released from prison a second time I can see the tremendous value of that knowledge. Lacking the comfort such knowledge brings is what has forced my jailer to release me. I bring pen to paper now in search of stability, to secure my sanity, to convince myself it has not been lost. I could not keep a journal in my second prison...in the prison of my own captive mind.
From the day I received the ring from Azura I stood always at a fork in the road, even as my body traveled the length and breadth of Vvardenfell. The fork was internal; to be myself or to be the Incarnate; a vessel for the spirit of Lord Indoril Nerevar.
As I pursued the fourth and fifth trials of the Nerevarine prophecies I relied more and more on Moon-and-Star. Perhaps if I had not followed such a course I could not have repeated his greatest accomplishment, uniting the Velothi against Dagoth Ur. Perhaps it was just a shortcut, or a way to convince myself that the blood of great house nobles and Ashlander khans darkened Nerevar's hands rather than my own. In any event I have paid for it in full measure.
At the camp of the Erabenimsun clan I did not know how to convince the Ashkahn to join the cause. I gave up, then found myself standing over the bodies of those who would have denied the Nerevarine. In the chambers of the Telvanni Archmagister, Gothren, I did not fear him, or his Dremora guardians. I was afraid that his power would be needed, but could not see how to bring him into alignment against the danger from Red Mountain. Again I succumbed to the voice of the ring. Again I found myself standing over a fallen foe. When I climbed over the railing of Grytewake, cast my water walking spell, and strode ashore in the Grazelands I went under for the third time...and drowned.
Peering out from my prison, through eyes I could no longer claim as my own, I watched Nerevar take control of the Zainab and Ahemmusa clans. I rode, a passenger in the body I had lost, to the camp of the Urshilaku, where I saw them rejoice over prophecy fulfilled. I did not resist.
I had been afraid of my failings; afraid that as an outlander I would not be able to unite the Dunmer; afraid that as a thief, or mage, or adventurer, I had no background to serve as their general. I have watched Nerevar deploy his forces. Ashlanders of the clans scout the land seeking the monsters of Dagoth Ur. They slay many, and track others. When they are led to strongholds the warriors of the houses move in. If the enemy's strength extends too far beyond the physical the magelords of the Telvanni are brought to bear. I could not have managed it, but I have watched, and I have learned. Unfortunately, despite all defeats Dagoth Ur grows ever stronger.
Watching Nerevar is also what taught me the value of my journals as history. He has ceaselessly pored over books, seeking the truth. As a spirit he has ruled my body, but he yearns to know what happened to his own. Among the conflicting histories of the battle under Red Mountain he sees glimmers of truth, but he cannot weave them into an actual accounting of events even though he was there. That lack of knowledge has paralyzed him.
Was he betrayed by Voryn Dagoth, who became Dagoth Ur? Or is he the betrayer, who abandoned his friend to the power of Lorkhan's heart? The tribunal of Vivec, Sotha Sil, and Almelexia; are they the council of advisers who betrayed him, or loyal followers trying to hold together the alliance he left crumbling? Did he stand against the Dwemer's efforts to control a god of their own making, or did he attempt to control it himself? Did he free the Velothi people from the Dwarf king and his Nord allies, or betray their way of life to the council of great houses?
Ultimately, reincarnated Nerevar would not trust the tribunal. He could not trust Dagoth Ur. He chose not to trust himself. He chose to trust me, and I am free...but who can I trust?
Day 1
With the situation deteriorating I wasted no time. The only way to proceed is forward. I ran to my estate at Bal Isra and let Ahnassi know that I had been returned to myself, but the moment was bittersweet as I could not linger there. I left, not knowing if I would ever return.
Nerevar had established our headquarters in Ald-ruhn. With the guild guides one place is much like another for the purpose of command. Between my library and Edwinna's it served his other purpose as well. It does not serve mine.
In Ald-ruhn I am the Redoran hortator. The guards answer to me, and I am secured against the tribunal temple which calls me a heretic. Likewise in Balmora, or Sadrith Mora; I am secured by the guards of the great houses who call me hortator. But security against the forces of the temple is not enough. I must bring the temple forces to bear against Dagoth Ur. Through the network of couriers and guild guides I let it be known that I would be in the guild hall in Vivec.
The guild hall is like a cage. To go out into the city would invite a confrontation with the ordinators, so I remained indoors. To a great extent the business of the guild is the war and that business has been kept completely up to date. There was little else that called for my attention. Even with my best efforts to be approachable the new members scatter as I come near. Malven explains that I have become nearly a legend. I long for the days when the guild halls were filled with cameraderie for Arvil Bren the tired journeyman.
The letter I received from the Archcanon of Vivec, Tholer Saryoni, I unrolled on a table in the conference room. As could be expected from someone high in a religious order he uses a hundred words where ten will do, but the gist is that the temple might be willing to accept me as the nerevarine upon his examination of my claim. As the members of my inner council arrived through the services of the guild guides they paused to read the message, knowing this would be the issue to be resolved today.
Some of my inner circle do not believe there is any reason to take the risk. The ordinators are stout warriors that would serve us well in our stand, but we do not lack for warriors. Though he has a far more subtle grasp than his predecessor Athyn Sarethi is still at heart a warrior of the Redorans and stressed that point. I reminded him that it was he who explained to me the subtle nature of the temple's craft with magica. Naturally my friend Baladas scoffed at this, as could be expected from any Telvanni. They also use a more intricate weaving in their craft than is taught in the empire, and I've come to have great respect for those differences.
Ultimately there could be no effective argument against the need to bring the temple into our cause, and here in the city of Vivec the reason is hanging plainly in the sky for all to see. It isn't the temple's warriors that we need. It isn't their subtle brand of magecraft. It is the power that can hold a small moon hanging against gravity. It is the power that can create the ghostfence and have it hold for eons. What we need on our side is their gods.
I sent a messenger to Tuls Valen of the Ald-ruhn Temple, and he arrived before dinner. My council met again in the conference room.
"Thank you for coming," I greeted the mentor who had indoctrinated me into the temple.
"It is good to see you, though the circumstances are difficult."
"I know the temple no longer considers me a friend."
"You are a threat...or a hope. The Archcanon has informed the leadership in the temples that there may be a reversal in the official position on the Nerevarine, but it has not happened yet. Some say that even if there is it will have no bearing on you. They will not believe you are the Nerevarine, so acceptance of the prophecy would make no difference to them." I showed Tuls the message I had received from Tholer Saryoni. "So he wants to meet you."
"Apparently," I said. "Or he wants to trap me."
Day 2: Examination
Tuls Valen and two of the local guild mages used intervention spells to travel the length of the city, to the High Fane. I waited with my council.
Janand Maulinie, the enchanter assigned to the guild hall, reappeared some time later, having used her recall spell to return to the mark in her quarters. She reported that Tuls Valen and the temple healer, Danso Indules, were awaiting my arrival at the High Fane. Leaving my weapons, but with a conjuration spell ready in my mind, I used an amulet that she had enchanted with an intervention spell to make my appearance.
As promised, Danso Indules had directed the Ordinators guarding the temple canton to stand clear. Though I suspected they were scowling behind their masks they made no move to approach. "I remember your generosity Archmage," said the pretty, exquisitely dressed Dunmer woman standing with Tuls Valen. "I am Danso Indules, healer and apothecary. You purchased a potion from me to leave at the shrine."
"Of course," I replied.
"A pilgrimage Arvil Bren completed with distinction," said Tuls Valen.
"So we have heard, even in Vivec," the healer responded with a slight edge. Differences between the temple hierarchy in Vivec and the more 'provincial' views are obvious, and probably unavoidable. I used to let my respect for the charity and piety displayed in the smaller temples color my view. Being responsible for the mage's guild as a whole, not to mention head of the forces gathered against Dagoth Ur, has made me more forgiving towards those who serve in the seats of power than I used to be. They bear a great weight. It may be hidden behind the trappings of fine robes and ceremony, but they bear it.
I filled the breach in the conversation. "Thank you for the escort," I said to Tuls. "The guild guides will get you back to Ald-ruhn whenever you are ready."
Danso Indules led me into the High Fane Temple. The ordinator guarding the door was obvious in his discomfort but clear in his duty and let me pass. Archcanon Saryoni met us, and led the way into his private office. He slipped behind his desk and sat. Danso Indules placed a chair for me in front of his desk, and he dismissed the temple healer with a slight smile and a nod. I assume she returned to her duties outside. I sat.
"So, you claim to be the incarnation of Nerevar," he said.
"I am." I drew Moon and Star from the pouch on my belt where it rides. Since my release the voice of Nerevar has been mostly still, though it still advises me ocassionally. But I do not wear the ring. I placed it on the desk.
"Moon and Star," said the Archcanon. "A gift of Azura that would slay anyone other than a true incarnate who dared to wear it; but you are not wearing it."
"I have. I have worn it enough." The red eyes widened slightly beneath a raised eyebrow. I felt as if they were looking through me more than at me, and recognized the tendrils of magica feathering on my skin. "I'm guessing you can see that it has left a mark."
"Indeed." The invasive feeling ebbed slowly. "You have been claimed. Ridden like a guar. Yet you still carry the ring. Why? Without putting it on the uninitiated would not see it as proof that you are anything more than a scavenger of tombs, or perhaps a pickpocket."
"Nerevar might still be...necessary."
He sat back in his chair and tented his fingers in front of his chin. "Arvil Bren. An outlander. I looked forward to meeting Nerevar in the flesh, even in your flesh. Now, I have met you instead. A man so badly scarred who would still put on that ring at need. I find myself hoping you will not need him." He leaned forward. "You have many questions. Some I could possibly answer, others I am sure I could not." I started to speak but he raised a hand and continued. "Even questions I could answer can be better answered, and time is a scarce commodity. It will go faster in the long run if you wait and ask Vivec your questions."
The Archcanon led me out of the High Fane through his private access, across the bridge to the palace, and we climbed the long staircase. At the top he opened the door with an ornately crafted key. We entered the audience chamber of Vivec, the living god. He did not sit on a throne, but floated restlessly above a central dias. Now sitting cross-legged in midair, now in a standing position with pointed toes stretching towards the floor, but never making contact with anything but the air. With the magica enveloping him he may not have even made contact with that.
"So, you have arrived." His voice reverberated in the chamber, though his mouth did not move. Perhaps it only reverberated in my suddenly empty head. Unlike a normal conversation, where one thinks about what the other person is saying, or perhaps more often what one intends to say themselves when the chance arrives, I found myself thinking what Vivec was saying as if his speech were my own thoughts. "You are the Nerevarine. So it will be proclaimed to all of Morrowind. Nerevarine and Incarnate. My curse upon the Nerevarine is lifted, and there will be no further persecution of the priests known as the disidents."
"It shall be so," intoned the Archcanon, and I noted that his voice also seemed to originate somewhere inside my head. I did turn slightly, quickly enough to note that at least his lips moved.
"Thank you," I said. "I anticipated that I would have to offer some sort of proof."
"What do you think you know that I do not already know, Arvil Bren? Long ago I was young like you, and I was impatient as I know that you are now. Perhaps later we will take time for other things, but for now I will keep our business short." Perhaps I should have expressed my appreciation, but faster than the thought entered my head I understood there was no need to express it. A gauntlet appeared, floating between Vivec and I, drifting slowly towards me. "This is the Wraithguard. You will need it to safely handle the tools of Kagrenak. Only with those tools can the power of Lorkan's heart be harnessed."
"With Wraithguard comes the responsibility to destroy Dagoth Ur. This has been the task of the Tribunal for an age, and we pass it willingly to you. The legends among the Ashlanders say that Azura has returned you to destroy us as well, and you may choose to do so. The power of the Tribunal was drawn from the heart and may be severed with Kagrenak's tools as well. That is for you to decide."
I reached out and Wraithguard slid onto my hand. Despite its bulk it seemed weightless, and offered no restriction to my movements as I flexed my fingers.
"I would have you swear an oath, but it would have no meaning. Others have sworn solemn oaths, but in the matter of Lorkan's Heart it seems even the most sincere may find themselves twisted to the breaking point. The good that can be achieved with such power is undeniable, but the burden may be unbearable. When the power is founded on a broken oath it is certainly unbearable, as we now know. So I ask for your promise, but acknowledge that you may break it at your will. Stop Dagoth Ur. Preserve Vvardenfell."
I left him there, floating in his chamber. He knew I would do the best that I could.
When I left the palace I was met on the stairs by a trio of ordinators. Much to my surprise they lifted the anonymous golden masks that cover their faces while they are on duty. Though I could discern no sign of rank one stepped forward and spoke for them all, leaving the impression that he was their leader. "We have been informed that Vivec has proclaimed you as the nerevarine, champion of all Dunmer in the battle against Red Mountain. The Archcanon recommends that until we can be sure this news has spread throughout Vvardenfell you be accompanied by an honor guard carrying the proclaimation to prevent any misunderstandings. It would be our honor to serve."
I nodded. "A wise measure, and I am honored by your company," I responded. I had been considering alternatives to walking the length of the city to avoid any unneccessary confrontations, but with some regrets. I wanted to enjoy the splendor of the cantons rising from the bay in the glow of the setting sun, and was pleased to have the opportunity. It is hard to say whether I will ever have the chance again.
Day 3: Final council
I rose early, and established myself at the head of the conference table in the guild headquarters. The business of running the war never ends, unless the war ends. For the first time I felt that one way or another the end was coming into sight. Messengers brought reports courtesy of the guild guides, and directives went out in return. Broad directives. I have confidence in my generals.
Midmorning came, and there was a great stir in the guild hall when a portfolio of temple documents arrived. The documents themselves didn't cause the excitement, just the bearer. I found Malven in my offices, surrounded by scurrying apprentices.
"Malven, what's going on?" I asked, perplexed.
"Archcanon Sarethi is in the canton, and he is coming HERE!" She paused to summon a storm atronach.
"I don't think he is going to attack us," I observed, then started to laugh as the powerful elemental construct was tasked with dusting the already immaculate furnishings.
"This is historic. No archcanon has ever visited the guild hall. Never. I cannot believe he is coming unannounced."
"Apparently he isn't coming unnannounced. I assume you aren't keeping him waiting at the door while you clean up."
"I keep track," she said. "That is my job." Her eyes were blazing and I was briefly concerned. Then she smiled. The atronach vanished in a puff of wind, taking all the gathered dust off to some elemental realm. "I may be over reacting here," she said. The sighs of relief from the apprentices matched the atronach's departure, but I noted that they kept to their tasks. Malven has done a good job recruiting, and establishing an orderly hall.
"Perhaps a bit, or perhaps not. But historical significance aside I think this visit is in keeping with the seriousness of the times..." A shout down the stair cut me off, announcing the august arrival. "Are you ready?" I asked.
"Yes Archmage, we are prepared. This would have been a bad day for Ranis to be here. Being raised a Telvanni she would no doubt be laughing herself sick at me. I think my temple upbringing is showing."
I laughed a bit myself. "Nothing wrong with that Malvin. I'll meet with the Archcanon in the conference room, unless you want to conjure a Daedric throne for him to sit on in here somewhere..."
"The conference room then," she said with false gravity, then grinned. "Should I bring back the atronach to spruce you up a bit Archmage?"
We both laughed, and the tension in the room eased completely. "I don't seem to be carrying my usual layers of trail dust lately Malven. Too much hall living. I think I'll be okay."
The documents confirmed that ultimately the only way to defeat Dagoth Ur is to sever his connection to the Heart of Lorkan. Through interrogation, analysis, and outright speculation the tribunal is convinced that Dagoth Ur is constructing some sort of god idol around the heart. Powered by the heart this mighty construct will be the spiritual leader of Dagoth Ur's new order, while giving the heart and its power a mobility it currently lacks. By all indications Dagoth Ur needs proximity to draw the immense amount of power from the heart that he is using to maintain himself, his ash vampires, and the blight, so it seems he must be in the heart chamber itself.
Throughout the day I consulted with the archcanon and my own generals. There are battles being won, and battles being lost. The fate of the war though will be decided under Red Mountain in the heart chamber. Decided by Dagoth Ur and me.
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Arvil Bren wrote no more, for a long time. The events that followed are recorded as history, though like all history one can only wonder if the story is what really happened or just what the winners choose to tell. Or possibly what they choose to believe if even they don't know.
What is certain is that the next morning Arvil Bren set out for Red Mountain, where he confronted the kin of Dagoth Ur and recovered Kagrenak's tools, Sunder and Keening. Bouyant Armigers saw him entering the final redoubt of Dagoth Ur, the heart of Red Mountain itself. What he faced there is uncertain. But what he accomplished is not.
Everyone knows what happened of course. Even I, who was at the time unborn. The Nerevarine battled a simulacrum of Dagoth Ur, only to be taunted by the mad god at what seemed the final victory, then entered the heart chamber and destroyed Dagoth Ur himself by destroying the heart of Lorkan.
Also well known is the price he paid.
When he emerged the ring, Moon and Star, blazed on his finger once again, and Arvil Bren was gone. What the histories do not tell is when Nerevar took over the Breton form, and whether it happened because Arvil Bren chose to put on the ring, or if Nerevar donned the ring himself after donning the flesh. It was Nerevar who returned to Vivec City and entered the palace, Nerevar who spoke to Vivec and said what only the two of them will ever know. And it was Nerevar who removed the ring as he left the body, leaving it an empty shell.
What few know and fewer are around to remember is what became of that empty shell.
Slowly the essence of Arvil Bren returned. In his home at Bal Isra, tended by Ahnassi, he mended. Unfortunately he mended very slowly, and by the time his spirit was connected well enough to animate that immortal flesh Ahnassi's own mortal flesh had begun to fail. The doom Arvil Bren feared most was upon him. When Ahnassi died in her sleep the faithful retainers of the estate were shocked to find Arvil Bren gone as well.
Tormented by his immortality, a Breton woefully unprepared for endless life after the loss of a mortal love, he took refuge with another immortal. An elf. A Dunmer. Not a Dunmer wise, or powerful, or well versed in magic; he took refuge with a simple woman, and tended guar.
You may wonder how I know this.
My mother told me. She gave me his journals. His final journal was private, for his not yet conceived son.
Azura returned his mortality, but the immortal essence had to go somewhere. To a son born of mer, not mortal. To me.
Bren Falen