Author's Note:

This is a side story I wrote for a Halloween competition. It wasn't planned originally and it doesn't depend on anything in the main story, but since it also doesn't contradict anything in the main fic, this is now canon ;) The contest's theme is 'spooky', just so you know what to generally expect (though I guess I would call this more 'creepy' than anything :D ). There's gonna be a few more content warnings though, but I'll add them to the bottom of the story in case you don't want to spoiler yourself (I recommend you don't look at the warnings, that will ruin the intrigue :D But I don't want to catch anyone off guard, so I included them just in case.)

I hope you'll enjoy it.

Thank you for reading.

Greatness

She always knew that she was meant for greatness.

The voice told her as much.

She heard it ever since she was little, ever since she could remember. It was kind, comforting and inviting. It was exactly what she needed. What she always needed. It spoke to her in her dreams. It spoke to her when her body passed out from exhaustion, from pain. When the memory of her mother's rage waned in her head at last at the end of each day, the voice was there. It reassured her, it made her feel at ease.

It told her that things would change. That she would be free of the pain one day and then… then she would follow her path to greatness.

It told her that she had been chosen for it from a young age.

And it told her to be grateful to her mother. Because she was the one who set her on this path.

It was a strange way of looking at it – remembering the torment and abuse of her everyday life, of her childhood. It all meant something. It was the beginning of her tale. A tale which would one day turn into a veritable legend.

That's what the voice told her.

And she had no reason not to believe it. It was always there for her, it always knew what to say to make her feel better.

It was funny. Even now, after all these years, after she had heard that voice every night, she would not be able to even begin to describe it. Was it a masculine voice? A more feminine one? Soft or stern? Deep or high-pitched? She had no idea. Maybe it changed each night. Maybe she just forgot the details when she awoke. But she always knew exactly what it said.

The trouble was, she had no idea when her moment would come. It told her that it was close, but where was the greatness about her life? What about the life she led was 'great' in any way?

When her mother finally died, she thought that maybe the moment would come then. She escaped the farm she had been held prisoner at and she made it all the way on her own to the nearest city. And what a city it was. Markarth. They called it the 'city of stone', but for her, it was the city of endless riches and endless options. She didn't even know where to start.

She thought that maybe the voice was Dibella herself. Maybe she could achieve greatness as her most revered priestess. But when she came to the temple, she was brushed off and sent on her way. The women there did not think her worthy of being one of them.

The voice chastised her that night for thinking their false charms held any value. Their beauty was a lie they used as a shield from the harsh world. The great ones had no need of such things.

With the money she took from her dead mother, she could still afford a few nights of rest at the inn, but she knew she had to find something to live on. She saw the people in the lowest parts of the city. She did not want to end up like that. There was no greatness in that for certain.

But as time went by, she accomplished nothing. There was no work for her, nobody to take her as an apprentice, nobody that needed anyone's help. Everyone in Markarth seemed to be doing well for themselves, but she had no idea how they built themselves up to it. After all, she could hardly do anything. She didn't know any crafts, she could barely read and write. The only thing she could do well was count. Her mother had her count out loud all their food supplies each day to see if she didn't take anything she wasn't given.

But what was so special about that? Everyone could count.

It only made her realize that she didn't have enough to spend another day at the inn.

She had no choice. She had to go into those warrens and to see whether someone there would take pity on her and at least give her some shelter. She heard that anyone caught sleeping out in the streets was arrested and put to work in that awful mine.

When she came to the warrens, nobody paid any attention to her. Everyone looked sick or just passed out. She weaved her way through the chambers, but she was too afraid to ask any of those people for help. Until she found someone.

Someone who could help.

Even if he wouldn't want to.

There was a man lying on the ground in one of the chambers. It was a bit secluded, nobody probably noticed him yet, but she did. She saw a familiar sight, the pale skin, the empty eyes.

A corpse.

But more importantly, she saw something else.

The man had a ring on his finger. A golden ring. It looked like a wedding ring.

But he was dead. What use did he have for it? It could save her life. Surely he wouldn't mind.

She left the warrens with the ring just as easily as she had entered. She didn't want to return to that place ever again. But it was the beginning of something else. It gave her an idea.

She couldn't steal from people – she didn't know how. They would catch her and she would have to go to the mine.

But the dead wouldn't catch her.

She sold the ring and she could once more afford some shelter. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more.

The only thing she was terrified of was what the voice would say. Surely the voice that wanted her to become something great would not want her to rob dead people for trinkets, would it? That was not what great people did.

But that night, as she finally fell asleep on the hard stone slab at the Silver-Blood Inn, the voice spoke. It was… pleased. It liked her resourcefulness. It liked that she didn't shy away.

That was good. She was still on the right path. She just needed to… expand a little.

Twenty years of that. Twenty years of plundering tombs and the Hall of the Dead as well as corpses on the road. It was a good operation by now, she only did the work in the city. Her husband, Gunnar, had good contacts. It was steep at first to use their out-of-town services, but it paid off. Their pawnshop was standing strong, business was not exactly booming, but it kept them afloat.

It was a good life. A decent life. Gunnar had passed a decade into their marriage. She grieved, but the voice was there to give her comfort in those trying times. And in some time, she was able to hold up the shop on her own. A good life.

A… mediocre life.

There was still something missing. This was still not greatness.

But the voice promised that it would come.

She waited while the shop struggled in the harsh times of war. Although the corpses were numerous, the trade was suffering with the roads being so dangerous. Not to mention the dragons that came later.

But she persevered. She always did. She just wished she got a hint, a sign of what to do. How to come closer to her goals.

Until one day, it finally came.

…

"Good evening, daughter," Verulus, the priest of Arkay nodded at her with a kind smile. He knew her well. She was there every day. If only he knew her as well as he thought, he would have never let her step foot in this place. "I hope that honoring your husband brings you some comfort today."

That was not what gave her comfort. The voice was the only one giving her any real comfort. But he didn't need to know that.

"Thank you, Verulus. Would you mind?" she asked. As always, she asked for privacy and the man was more than willing to oblige, oblivious to what she would do. He would go outside and smoke some herb he got from Bothela. He said it's good for his joints. She didn't know anything about that, but it always gave her plenty of time to do what she needed to do.

The man left the Hall of the Dead and she once more found herself alone in her familiar environment. The smell of death permeated these chambers and the eerie quiet always made her feel oddly at ease. Ever since the madness stopped when her mother died. The voice told her that she would enjoy the silence when it finally came.

She moved towards the end of the Hall, where she knew any new bodies would be. These days, there were a couple of new ones each day, often soldiers. At least the war brought some good.

She started to rummage in the wrappings with practiced motions – unwrap here but fold back the right way, then look into the bottom, there were always a few drakes for luck at the bottom. The Halls weren't usually well stocked with riches, but sometimes there was jewelry left on the dead, family heirlooms and such. Most of her profits came from the corpses on the road though.

She found a nice bracelet this time. It would fetch some septims. But that was it. Not the best haul, but it could have been worse for a day's work.

Verulus would be gone for a while yet, but that was alright. She liked this place. She liked enjoying the silence.

Although…

Huh.

She felt like she heard something.

It was coming from the other end of the hall. At least she was pretty sure about that. What was that? It was an odd sound. Was it a skeever? She hated skeevers.

If there were skeevers, Verulus might close the Hall before the issue is resolved.

She walked towards the sound curiously, though she hoped it wasn't a big one. She wouldn't know what to do with it. She usually hit them with a broom when one made its way into her shop through some of the cracks in the walls, but she didn't have anything to hit it with here.

But when the disruption finally came into view, she was left stopped dead in her tracks, slack-jawed in shock.

That was no skeever!

It was a woman.

The stranger gasped loudly when she noticed she had company. She promptly straightened herself from her previous, oddly crouched, stance, but that wasn't the main thing that was worthy of Lisbet's attention.

Her entire mouth, jaw and cleavage were covered in blood and… for the lack of a better word – guts.

What in the Gods' names was happening?

Why was this woman bloodied like that? Divines, that wasn't the only thing bloodied. The corpse she was still holding onto was unwrapped and half-eaten!

A cannibal!

Did such people really exist?

The woman's gasp had been shocked, but soon, her expression lightened. She seemed oddly calm for someone who had been caught doing something so frowned-upon.

"You," the cannibal spoke. "I can see it in you." Her face bore nothing but astonishment, but soon, it turned into glee. "Ahaha, and why are you here, hmm? Coming for a taste before the old man gets back again?"

"What? You… you ate a person!" Lisbet gaped at her in shock. How was she acting like she hadn't done anything odd?

"It's alright, you can stop the charade," the woman smirked. "I feel the hunger inside of you. Gnawing at you. You see the dead and your mouth grows wet. Your stomach growls. It's all right."

What? Was this insane woman suggesting that Lisbet was… like her? Why would she think that? That was not true. She may not have been an upstanding citizen, she may have been stealing from the dead, but she was not a cannibal. And her mouth was certainly not 'watering' at the idea. How did human flesh even taste like? It couldn't actually be… good. Right? How could it? That was ridiculous.

"No! What are you talking about? I'm not… I'm here to pray for my husband!" Lisbet scoffed defensively.

"I can tell," the woman scowled a little. She seemed frustrated with Lisbet denying the claims. "I can sense it, smell it. I know. But maybe you don't… it's possible."

"What?" Lisbet shook her head at her. Why was she still talking to this woman? She should just tell the guards or tell Verulus. They would deal with her. But… this woman kept claiming she knew things. What things? Maybe she knew what Lisbet was actually doing. How many times had the woman been here without Lisbet noticing her?

"You're… at ease here. Content, aren't you? The smell, the silence, the stiffness of the air, it's like a balm for the soul," the woman sighed wistfully.

That… that was true. That was exactly how Lisbet felt. Most people shied away from the Halls of the Dead, but never her. She wasn't sure why. She had always thought it was because of her business – death meant profit. But how would this woman know?

"Some didn't know what they were. Some didn't realize. But there was this… craving. Always the craving. Something is missing, isn't it? You need something to help. To show that you are something more. While other people would squirm and flee, you go boldly, unafraid to claim what you want."

Greatness.

Was this what the voice was talking about? But… 'craving' what? What did she mean? Lisbet still understood so little.

But before she could understand any more, the sound of the heavy doors opening interrupted them.

The woman scowled fiercely. She quickly wrapped the body up again in expert movement – nobody would be able to see that it was eaten for the most part. She only threw a quick glance at Lisbet and her next words came in a whisper.

"You need more. Find me. Find us. Find Reachcliff Cave."

What? A cave? What was going on?

The woman suddenly disappeared from sight, right after Lisbet noticed a brief flash of purple light. Was she still here? Invisible? That was disturbing.

And what did she mean?

Could this really be the sign Lisbet had been waiting on?

But if it was, what would this be a sign of?

…

Yes. Yes, child.

Your path unfolds, dark and twisted, but you know those things are not to be feared.

Curiosity grows in you while others would scream. Intrigue beckons you while others would cringe. You are stronger than them. You are better than them. Greater than them. The false beauty and serenity of the world pale in your eyes, you know where the truth lies, you know where to see worth.

Things await you on this path, things you never even dreamed of. Riches, respect, reverence.

Just walk along with my children.

They will soon see you for what you are. I will make sure of it.

My only one.

Chosen for greatness.

…

There was no more hesitation.

Lisbet set out the next morning. The voice told her she was on the right path and there was no doubt in her mind of its good intentions. Only good things awaited her there.

Sure, she had been shocked. She had been surprised by that woman in the Hall of the Dead. But the voice was right. Others would scream, cringe, shy away. Not her. She was different.

She saw worth.

And there had to be one here, whatever this was all about.

Fortunately, the cavern wasn't too far away from the city and Lisbet had been fortunate in her travels not to encounter anything dangerous. Maybe the voice was guiding her, maybe it helped her in her path, as it always did.

And despite what she had witnessed in the catacombs, she was not scared in the slightest to enter this cave.

She was excited.

It reeked of death, even more than Lisbet had ever experienced before.

It was so comforting.

"Welcome."

Lisbet was almost annoyed when someone interrupted the silence she always enjoyed so much. But she was too intrigued by the implications of this place that she didn't let it show.

It was the same woman from before. She had been lurking around the entrance as if she had been waiting for Lisbet. Creepy. But it made her feel… important.

"So… who are you? What is this place?" Lisbet started to question. She still didn't have any information, aside from some strange ravings and the cannibalism.

"I am Eola. And this is a… sanctuary. For me and those like me. For you too," the woman smiled surprisingly kindly.

"Right, you said so," Lisbet scoffed. "Why do you assume I'm like you? I've never… done what you do." One would think she would remember eating human flesh, wouldn't she?

"You're wrong. I am never wrong about this. I can sense it in you, see it, smell it. I know you have and I found you. Just like I found all the others. But maybe you're the one who doesn't know. It happens. You know, sometimes people block it out. And then… then they crave something all their life and they don't know what it is."

"The only thing I crave is greatness," Lisbet scowled. She still didn't understand how this was supposed to lead her to it.

"And you don't think this is it?" Eola scoffed. "When disease rips through the streets and famine claims countless lives, there are those who die, those who survive and we who thrive. When you lay wounded and dying of hunger on a field of bodies in the midst of war, you survive where others would not. There is greatness. There is perseverance. There is strength. When the world scoffs at the ugly and distasteful, only the clever and the resourceful make use of it and achieve what they need through it. Have you not done the same all your life?"

"What do you mean?" Lisbet gaped at her. What did she know?

"I know how you do your business. I know some who know you well. I found them too," Eola chuckled proudly. "It's admirable. We need to learn how to embrace the shunned and discarded so that we can thrive where others die. Do you not agree?"

"I… I do…" Lisbet nodded. It did make sense. It made a lot of sense. It was what she had always believed. And… she understood the reasoning for Eola's… cravings. But that still didn't explain one thing. "But you really think I've… eaten human flesh before? I think I would have remembered."

"Not everyone does," Eola shrugged. "And not everyone knows. Have you never eaten meat you had no idea where it came from?"

"Well… my mother fed me Gods-know-what whenever, but…"

"Perhaps you should thank your mother for that then," Eola's chuckle interrupted her pondering.

Thank your mother for setting you on this path.

It was like the voice had said! Could that… could that really be right? Her mother force-fed her anything she found distasteful while she kept the counted produce for herself. It was… not out of the realm of possibility.

"Come with me. I'll show you the rest. And I'll give you another taste," Eola inclined her head towards a hallway leading further into the cave. "Most people remember after that."

This peaked Lisbet's curiosity to the limit.

Maybe she really belonged here.

…

She remembered.

The taste – salty but also a little sweet. And quite soft too.

She had tasted it before. She knew it.

It wasn't what she had been craving. Not really. But she didn't mind it. She was curious. Intrigued.

She knew several people in this 'coven' from Markarth. Some of them even did business with her, knew what she was up to with her wares. It was so fascinating to see this small covert society, brought together by the mutual fascination of the ugly, disgusting and depraved.

They all welcomed her warmly. She accepted their choices. But there was still something missing.

She still had a craving for what she had been searching for her whole life. She hoped it would be the flesh, whatever feeling of greatness it would make her feel. But it didn't.

Why?

She tried to mask the slight disappointment and concentrated on the good. She found people who would never judge her for anything, who would accept her should anything come to pass. That was a good thing. How could it not be? And this had all given her another means to reach… resourcefulness. That was never a bad thing either.

There was one thing that fascinated her the most about this place.

It was a strange statue. She had never seen its like before.

It was an ugly thing, a shriveled up person, or maybe a creature. Wrinkly, saggy, with protrusions and humps all over its body, covered only in rags and a prominent blindfold. But it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen before and she didn't know why.

"Will you bow to the Lady of Decay?" Eola smirked at her when she saw where her attention lay. Most people were probably relieved to finally be able to feast as they desired here after Eola found them, but Lisbet was much more fascinated by the statue than the bodies lying on the table.

"Who?" Lisbet scowled. 'Lady of Decay'? Was it the name of the statue or…

"Namira."

Namira.

The name echoed in Lisbet's head like a chant. Namira.

Their beauty is fake. Real worth lies in that which is shunned and reviled.

The words she had heard so many times in her dreams came into mind instantly. It was her. It was… that voice. She knew it. There was no doubt about it in Lisbet's mind.

Namira had been talking to her. Lady of Decay.

A Daedric Prince.

Where some would cringe, some would scream, a wave of ecstasy washed over Lisbet.

The voice was right. It never lied to her. It had always promised her greatness.

And now she knew. It was actually something that the voice could give her. There was no greater power than that which the Gods and the Princes wielded. But the Gods only shunned and excluded. Like those priestesses at the temple. Or like her mother. She had worshipped the Divines and she was a horrible person who only punished and yelled.

But not the voice. It loved her. It accepted her. Even if her own mother was reviled by her, for whatever reason she had concocted in her sick mind, Namira valued her.

This was it. Her path.

"We have a tradition here of sorts," Eola again interrupted the silence, annoying Lisbet slightly. But she was willing to listen now, whatever it was. "To be one of us, you have to… bring us a meal, so to speak," she snickered. "I was thinking… hmm… how about the old priest? It would take time before another one replaced him and it would provide us with some… delicious opportunities."

Verulus? She was supposed to lure Verulus here?

Was that what Namira would want? She wanted Lisbet on this path, didn't she?

Before answering, Lisbet turned her eyes to the beautifully hideous statue again, as if something in its expression would give her the answer. The final nudge.

But there was nothing in the expression. Why would there be?

But as always, there was something else. The voice. And this time, it was no dream. It was here, with her. It would always be here with her, wouldn't it?

Go, my child, obey for now and then… then they will all obey.

For I have something for you which none of them could ever dream of.

Only you. If you prove yourself.

My champion.

…

Lisbet stood up at the head of the table, addressing the people watching her with unbridled reverence.

It was everything she had been promised.

It was so easy, so easy to lure Verulus here. She just told him that her buyers uncovered a strange burial site that they had never seen before. The priest was intrigued and wanted to see what that meant.

It meant his death.

And as always, someone's death only brought her rewards.

Her ceremonial robe may have been ugly and ragged and filthy to anyone else, but she saw its worth. Her new throne room may have been covered in blood and gore and stank of death, but she saw its worth.

And the ring on her finer, that twisted ring with a dull gem and rusted copper, it would be considered junk by anyone else.

But it was worth so much more than anyone could have imagined.

"Children of Namira," her voice echoed through the silent halls so pleasantly. So many people gazed at her. So many of them came, not just from Markarth, from all over Skyrim. All of them came for the feast. All of them came to see their Mistress' new champion. "Welcome to our celebration. Today, we bask in death and pain and we bask in the rot of flesh and the stench of it. Because we are the chosen that see the beauty in what the others can't."

Everyone raised their cups with gusto, but nobody said a word. Nobody dared to interrupt the champion.

She could make a thousand speeches and enjoy that fact.

But for now, she just wanted to enjoy the eerie silence.

In it, she could almost hear the voice again, even when she wasn't dreaming.

In it, she could see that everything she had been promised was now hers at last after a life filled with struggles.

Riches, respect, reverence.

Greatness.

* Content warning: mentions of child abuse, grave robbing, cannibalism, mentions of forced cannibalism