CHAPTER 62: LOCKMASTER 2/2
A/N: Hi guys! This chapter was probably trying to kill me, but I finally got it done. I know I said in the last chapter that I'd have more time for writing, but I went and got myself a job! Though I've enjoyed it so far, I've missed writing so much. But no worries, this story isn't going to be abandoned, even though updates might take a bit longer. I'll always pinch time from somewhere, though dealing with school, work, and family is really busy.
Well, anyway, to the brief warnings about this chapter:
1. It's long.
2. It's distressing.
3. It's explicitly violent and brutal.
4. Forgive me ;_;
With the melody of her mother's song, she drifted lost in a sea of memories.
So vividly did the images form into her vision that she truly believed to be home again. Fire soared brightly in the hearth and the table was laden with food, a feast to celebrate her homecoming. Finally, she could see her mother's beautiful smile and hear her father's bright laughter. They both caught her into a tight embrace – it had been so long since they parted, but now their long-lost daughter had returned at last, and she swore them she'd never leave them again.
The sun was shining through open windows and the gentle wind blew the scent of summer herbs from the garden as their embrace carried on and on. Lucy clutched her fingers into her mother's dress and wept against her chest, feeling mother's falling on her shoulder. Even father, who she'd never seen in tears, cried now – as if all the regrets were now freed by a realisation of what they had lost, and at what price. Her parents refused to let her go, because if they would, she'd disappear for the one final time.
But there, amongst the happiness, Lucy sensed an ominous dread. She lifted her head and moved her teary eyes to the closed door, past the counter desk and the selves of goods in the back of the room. A faint thump sounded on the wood. Someone was knocking. The sound was heard again, and Lucy's chest began to tighten. Her mother's hold around her loosened when the sun outside hid behind a veil of stormclouds, and the house fell into darkness.
Under the door, the serpents came crawling in – before she realised anything else, the vision disappeared. Her home and family turned into colourless ash, dust that was blown away with the breath of death. A sudden, sharp, piercing pain on her palm pulled her out of the trance, and brought her back to the realm of dead dragons.
Then she jolted awake, and found herself staring directly into the Eye above her.
Time went entirely still.
A mass of shadows swarmed around the Eye. The large, black pupil within a poison-yellow iris had split into two round spheres that merged from the middle. Her soul seemed to freeze as she was pierced by the all-knowing glare, deep as the abyss itself – she was overcome with terror, an overwhelming dread and fear and despair, and no matter how she tried, she could not close her eyes, she could not turn away. She just stared into the abyss, and it stared back at her.
The Eye blinked slowly, just once.
"Come closer. Bask in my presence," said a deep, harrowing voice that echoed in the nothingness, with no source, as if she heard it within her mind. It buried all her thoughts, silenced all noise in her soul, until there was nothing but the voice left. "I am Hermaeus Mora. The guardian of the unseen, and the knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal."
Lucy failed to answer. All words were lost to the Void. She had let her guard down, thinking she'd be safe within the realms of her mind, only to find that the wolf was right at her door. The piercing gaze petrified her completely – she had felt it before, as the Eye had been watching her longer than she even knew, and now she had fallen into His trap. Miraak had saved her before, she couldn't sense his presence now, as if the Eye had banished him from this realm. This time, no one would come to salvage her from the devil.
"What... what do you want of me?" she managed to whisper. No words seemed to leave her lips, but the Eye still heard her.
"The tides of fate are changing, Dragonborn. You are being changed, by forces mightier than you, into something you wish not to witness. I sense your brave resistance in a battle you know you cannot win, and I… offer you the power to overcome your oppressors."
Lucy stared blankly at the Eye. There was something so eerie about Hermaeus Mora, something as ancient as all the ages that had passed – enormous power and knowledge bled from him. He was the long-lost brother of Akatosh and Lorkhan, one of the first and strongest divines, yet His path had strayed so far from them. Once a god, now a Deadric Lord – and Lucy knew not how she could refuse His offer.
Just as Miraak had warned her, the Prince of Knowledge sought to lure her under his grasp, into eternal servitude. With whatever strength she had left, she knew she must refuse this deadly trade – but gods, she had nothing left. He had locked her down, pinned to the ground, and she couldn't awaken until He'd have what he wanted.
"Whatever it is, I will not have it!" Lucy answered, pouring all rage and courage into the shout – yet the determination in her voice was fake. And the Prince knew it. "I know your trickery, and I shall not fall under it!"
The Eye stared at her in silence.
"I offer you a Word of knowledge. Ancient and forgotten knowledge, with the power to bend the tides of fate around you. With the very same knowledge, your predecessor escaped the grasp of the very same oppressors. But all knowledge has its price," Hermaeus Mora said. Frustration flooded over Lucy. Her refusal had meant nothing to the Prince of Knowledge. "All I ask for this power… is the soul of a dragon."
The dragons in the skies, far above them, roared in response. The sound shuddered through the atmosphere and resonated within Lucy's heart – it was a plea to not give them up. Even the dragons didn't want to fall into the hands of this demon. And somehow, Lucy knew which dragon the Prince wanted. He wanted Milmurnir, the dragon who had seen the turning of the ages – and Lucy wouldn't sell him out.
"I will never deal with you, vile monster! Keep your knowledge! I do not want it!" she answered with no strength in her words, only despair. "Leave now, and never come back to me!"
Then, so suddenly, down from the skies they came. The dragons shouted apart the mass of serpents, as if defending Lucy was the only way to salvage their souls. With tears welling up in her eyes, she watched as the dragons drove away the darkness, and the great Eye was blinked shut. She could still feel the gaze permeating her like rot, and in her head she could still hear the voice.
"Be warned. Many have thought as you do. I have broken them all. You shall not evade me forever," whispered Hermaeus Mora. "I will be in your mind."
When the Prince was gone, the dragons landed on the ground around her. As if she had kept her eyes open forever, she finally closed them, but failed to find any rest. In her hand, the serpent released its jaws from her flesh, with two bleeding holes on the back of her palm. Milmurnir growled at the snake to make it disappear. It dissolved into black dust, but the pain remained. Her shelter had turned out to be a pit of serpents, and she knew she couldn't stay here any longer. She must return to the real world, face her oppressors, and face them alone.
But as she began to awaken, she felt a wing placed upon her, chilling cold like the breath of winter. It was Krosulhah, she realised, taking her under the shelter of her wings. She struggled to recall the details from when they had spoken for the first time, but the dragon had promised she'd be broken, crushed, and corrupted by the power of the dragons. An inevitable bitter end. Why would the dragon protect her now?
Lucy remembered the hatred, the rage, the grief of the dragon who had lost her child. Upon her death, the 'humiliating bond' between them would be broken, and the dragons would return to Aetherius to their divine creator, Akatosh – but even Krosulhah seemed to understand that if the Dragonborn would fall into the hands of Hermaeus Mora, they'd all remain forever trapped in His servitude, in planes much darker than this. The child of Krosulhah had already passed to Aetherius, and if they ever wished to reunite, she must protect Lucy at all cost, despite all the hatred and bitterness, for only the bond between a mother and her child could overcome that.
She touched the dragon's wing and traced her fingers down the scales, a sudden warmth flowing to her soul – courage, bravery, that maybe she'd endure, survive, and overcome this trial ahead of her. She must pass through the most extreme pain, keep her soul from shattering, and keep believing that there would once come a time after all this – a world that was freed from Alduin's evil, because at this moment she saw the good in dragonkind, the love they had learnt to feel, that had long been stained by Alduin's rage.
Perhaps some of the dragons wanted to be free of that, too.
And when she let go, she faded back to Nirn, merged with her unconscious body, and was immediately faced with the utmost regret.
She awakened to the pain.
The deeper they had gotten into the well, the richer the bitter smell in the air had become. It hadn't been mould or rot, but a herbal scent, strong and deadly.
The circled stairway had seemed to go on and on, to the very core of the mountain, but eventually, the steps had ended into a pool of water that hadn't seemed too deep – until Gildarts had stepped in and disappeared from their sight, with only a trail of bubbles rising to the surface. Gajeel's terrible singing had come to an abrupt halt. A moment later, the old man had resurfaced, gasping for air, shrieking from the cold as he searched for the bottle of antidote from his pockets. The vampire had helped him back to the steps, and they'd all realised that they'd faced quite a big problem.
The waters hadn't dried up not even half as much as they had hoped for.
And even worse, they were still poisoned.
The toxins were once boiled in sorcery that bound them to haunt the waters for an eternity to come. How the cult had managed to do it, Gildarts couldn't tell, but such ancient alchemic arts were long since lost. A single sip of the water could still kill, and dipping fully into the well would paralyze them in a minute as the poison would seep through their skins. And for a while, that had felt like an unpassable obstacle.
Before this mission, Gildarts had spoken of a knee-deep pool they'd have to cross in the worst case. He had been so wrong. There was still plenty of water to fill the tunnels that connected the first chambers to the crypts – it would be a long and deadly dive if they wished to reach them. They'd all stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Natsu, who'd walked behind all of them, had been suddenly overwhelmed by burning frustration. He had been just about to evaporate the poison water with a firestorm – which would've boiled all of them alive in lethal steam – when Gajeel had stepped in with a brilliant idea.
Gajeel, undead as he was, had convinced them that it wouldn't be that bad. No poison or lack of air could harm what was already dead. He could go first, scout the area, return to tell about it, and guide them all through. After Gajeel had disappeared into the waters, Natsu and the others waited in the stairs for a time that had felt like an eternity.
When the vampire had returned, he hadn't gasped for a breath nor shivered from the cold. He had surfaced from the water like a ghoul – suddenly reminding Natsu of tales of monsters that lived in old wells – with a grim look on his face. He'd told them that it had been a long way, way too long for mortals to survive, and difficult to navigate. He had gotten lost a few times, but now he remembered the way, yet knew not how the mortals could make it.
Thankfully, Gildarts had a solution to the problem. Waterbreathing spell, from the school of Alteration, could help them through. "Will five minutes be enough?" Gildarts had asked. "That's how long I can sustain the spell for the three of us."
"If you swim fast," Gajeel had answered.
And then the decision had been made.
Quickly, Gildarts had gathered water into his palms and altered the poison into another antidote with his sorcery. He had let Loke drink from his hands, then he filled his palms again, repeated the spell, and drank it by himself. Gildarts had glanced at Natsu, who'd refused, trusting in the poison immunity in his own blood. The old mage shouldn't waste his magicka any more than was absolutely necessary. Waterbreathing was a challenging spell – Natsu remembered it being taught in the College, but he never learned it – and if Gildarts would fail, they'd all drown.
And so, after Gildarts had cast the spell on their lungs, then they dove into the dark waters. Even much later, Natsu recalled that as one of the most distressing moments of his life. The moment he immersed in the water his instincts screamed for him to get up, but he had to go down, forward, deeper into the frigid darkness. It froze him to the bones, the shock of cold sending jolts all across his body, making it nearly impossible to coordinate his movements as he tried to follow Gildart's magelight. Towards the end, he was sure that he wouldn't make it, but the old mage's hand had pulled him to the surface right before the spell expired.
Now, they stood in the room where the tunnels had ended, drenched and shivering from the cold – all except the vampire, who remained disturbingly unbothered by all of that. Loke jumped around screaming, tearing the heavy, drenched cloak off his shoulders. With the cloak, he put something on the ground too, but Natsu's vision was too blurry to see what it was.
"Alright, try to get as dry as you can," said Gildarts with clattering teeth, squeezing the excess water from his robes. "The fool who freezes to death gets impaled on an ice spike, is that clear?"
Natsu shivered, still gasping for breath as he leaned to the wall, gazing at the pool of dark water in the corner of the chamber. A mouldy wooden platform was built around it with small barrels stored on the side, but there was something on the ground which haunted him. Dozens of empty bottles as large as wine cans scattered the moss-covered floor. Natsu felt himself growing sick with the bitter scent, a bit faint on the head, to the point where he truly doubted his immunity to poison.
Gildarts took a deep breath and surrounded himself with an aura of fire. Steam began to fill the room as he evaporated the water from his robes until he was dry. Natsu knew using fire to warm up came with risks, but those were the risks they had to take now. He followed the older mage's example, summoning a fiery spell around him. The warmth tingled softly on his skin, but even after all the water had been boiled away, he felt cold within.
Loke, who was trying to squeeze out the water from his cuirass, glanced at Natsu with envy in his eyes. His face had grown pale, his lips purple, and he trembled like a leaf in the wind.
"Want some help?" Natsu asked.
"I'm okay," Loke answered. "Just a bit cold."
"Are you sure you want this old man to impale you on an ice spike?" Natsu scoffed, stepped closer to him and lifted his hand. "Stay still. This might scorch a little."
Before Loke protested, Natsu surrounded him in flames, focusing the fire on the water only. Loke let out a frightened shriek but knew better than to panic, and did not move an inch. A cloud of steam rose from the Nord. Natsu let the flames die down, but as the air began to smell of smoke, he noticed that one tuft of Loke's wild ginger hair had caught a flame. Grimacing, Natsu suffocated it with his palm, and lowered his gaze to the ground.
By Loke's drenched cloak, there lay a green object, shaped like a dragon's claw.
"What's this?" Natsu asked.
The Nord picked it up and tilted it around on his eye level. Gildarts and Gajeel turned to look at it as well. "I'm not sure. I saw it glimmering on the bottom of the well, so I picked it up." The icons of a bear, whale, and snake were carved on its emerald surface. "Could probably fetch a good price for it if we ever make it out of here."
Natsu glanced up at Loke. It had been a joke. There wasn't any true hope amongst his words, but he still chuckled dryly while he gazed at the claw. It certainly held great value, yet Loke didn't seem to believe he'd see it turned to gold.
Gildarts walked to them. "I've seen some of these. They are special keys, usually found in old Nordic ruins." A frown appeared on his forehead. "We might need it later, so keep it. They've probably tossed it to the poisoned well for a good reason."
Loke nodded, then carefully secured it on his belt. "Never seen a key this strange, though."
"And when you see even stranger door, you'll know where it fits," Gildarts said, then went away.
When they were all somewhat dry and mentally ready to continue, they began examining the room they had arrived at. A heavy wooden door led into a stairway, possibly into the crypt. They had gone quite deep within the mountain, and the cult had once buried their dead in these tunnels they had carved into stone. This chamber seemed to be the lowest of the whole system – as if they dug so deep that they found water, and stopped right there. However, from here they had successfully poisoned the waters, so Gildarts thought that their gardens and alchemy had to be close by.
When they found nothing of importance in the chamber, they headed to the stairway, this time putting out all the lights. The Draugr in their burial crypts were bound to be restless. Gajeel walked in front, silently like a ghost, while the others followed a small distance away, still a bit stiff and worn out from their cold dive. Natsu's heart raced slowly now, he was growing drowsy out of a sudden, but he fought away the sleepiness and carried on.
When the stairs ended, they came into one dark valley where the stench of an old grave lingered among the dust. In silence, they stood at the entryway, and in the darkness, Natsu could see that the stone coffins were all open. The lids had been pushed to the side, and the dead were waiting for them. Gleaming blue eyes fluttered in the distance, yet hadn't found them yet.
"There's about a few dozen Draugr in this part of the crypt, wide awake," Gajeel whispered to them. "What a nice welcoming party, isn't it?"
Loke gulped. The poor lad had probably never seen a Draugr before, while Natsu was so familiar with them that he almost found them hilarious. At least if there weren't a dozen of them armed with greatswords and axes. "Any idea how to handle them?" Loke asked.
"Turning the undead would be a simple and easy way to get past them, but I don't know how it would affect our undead companion," Gildarts said and turned towards Gajeel. "What do you say, will your esteem be harmed if I cast turn undead to the area?"
The vampire shrugged. "Bringing all these restless shits back to death isn't easy on your magicka, grandpa. There's a whole lot of them. Picking up some old swords and splitting the Draugr in half would be a more frugal way."
"I could just burn them all," Natsu said quietly. He stared at the distant Draugr, feeling the itch on his palms, luring him to send waves of raging flames on their way. "That would save us a lot of time."
"But what about Gajeel?" asked Loke.
Natsu glanced at the vampire. "Could you go back to the well for a moment?"
Gajeel roared in laughter, unable to answer.
"Maybe it would be best if we all went back to the well until you've put your flames down," Gildarts answered with a small grin on his lips, but then went serious as one pair of blue eyes found them. The Draugr snarled, a sword was raised to the air, and the other undead joined the upcoming charge. "Fuck, go burn them, laddie! I'll cast a protective aura upon the rest of us!"
Natsu nodded to them, and while they stepped quickly back, he prepared the spell on his palms. He gathered flame, pouring the sorcery from within, locked his gaze with the Draugr, feared not their swords of axes – then he blast the fire down with full force, his hands on the crypt's stone floor, and on the ground the flames crawled on. Behind him he could see a faint flash of bright light from Gildart's ward, then he was blinded by his own fire. The flames caught the Draugr's feet like burning ropes, set them ablaze, tearing growls from their dry throats. Swords dropped to the ground, Natsu poured on more flame until the fire swept through the whole crypt.
And then, the old dead of the dragon cult were laid back to rest, and the way ahead was clear.
For a moment, the pain was more than she'd ever known.
It poured to her like fire, scorching her soul yet leaving her body almost unharmed – it was a spell designed to shatter the human mind, burn one's spirit into ashes. Through the mist she could see four hands lifted above her, summoning the deadly sorcery upon her, to twist her into something she was not – it was pure evil, magical darkness, that aimed to smother the light in her eyes for an eternity. The corruption of Alduin, that's what it had to be. The very same darkness had fallen on the Order long ago, and thinking they had no other choice, they had succumbed to it.
But Lucy knew she had a choice. She had hope. And in that, she placed her last strength – she endured it, for she knew that the moment she'd break, she'd be as good as dead.
The flow of time spiralled around the pain. She knew not how long she'd been awake when the sorcery faded suddenly, and three ghostly hands were pulled back. The one that was left belonged to Rahgot. For a moment, he called the spell to a halt, and spoke to the others. Lucy could see them now – they weren't living men, not even Draugr, they were wraiths. They had once been Rahgot's sorcerers, and now they kept serving him, long after their deaths.
"Nust bo wah fin qoth," Rahgot said to the wraiths. They've reached the crypt, Lucy understood him saying. "Bo wah niin nu. Krii niin, nuz drun fin Deinmaar wah zu'u nahlaas. Rok fen dir voth dii haal daar tiid." Go to them now. Kill the others, but bring the Keeper to me alive. He will die by my hands tonight.
The devastating spell had left her in a staggered state, her mind was clouded, but she still understood what he meant, and who he was talking about. Is Natsu here? she wondered, and though she had expected him to search for her, terror filled her now. Earlier, she had sensed the great ward falling apart – could that be when he had arrived? Rahgot had mentioned the others, so who was he with? She couldn't know, but grave danger awaited them. These ghosts, old and dead they might be, were still a force to be reckoned with.
Painfully, she moved her gaze to one of the three wraiths – they were so similar it was hard to tell them apart with her foggy vision – and stared at the empty place within the robe's hood. Sinister energy formed the ghost's outlines, resonating ancient hate. They nodded to Rahgot and each summoned a staff into their hold. Then they left to the darkness, their power fading to the distance.
"I know the Keeper might be important to you," Rahgot spoke quietly when they were left alone. "But there's no place for such mortal feelings in the era of the dragons. All that was taken will be taken back. He will die, and the flame will be returned to its rightful owner. Such is his fate, to pay the price of thievery committed by the fathers before him. A circle closes here tonight when blood falls like a hard rain. Now, we wait."
His words planted the seed of despair in Lucy's heart, but with all her might, she didn't let it grow. She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes and remained brave, placing her hope and faith in Natsu. But would he have any strength left for fighting Rahgot, if he had to face his generals first? There was no underestimating him, but the battle of Riften wasn't so far behind them. If she was still weakened by that, he had to be as well.
But he wouldn't have to face Rahgot alone.
She was already here.
If she could hurt the dragon priest before Natsu would find her, they could both survive – they'd both live, leaving no circles closed, except for the priest and his pitiful Order. Rahgot left her side for a moment, turned his back to her, and began walking away, as if he went to get something from the back of the chamber. And there, Lucy saw her change.
Rahgot had sent his best sorcerers to fight Natsu and whoever he was with – on his own, the priest was so vulnerable. From the scraps of knowledge she had gathered from Milmurnir's memories, she could remember that Rahgot hadn't been a mage at the beginning of time. He had been a mighty warrior and made a priest for his physical strength alone, and now he sapped to the sorcery woven into his mask, and that's where his greatest flaw was; something she could, and should, strike into.
If she only had more strength.
The devastating sorcery had sapped her from all her power, but it hadn't touched the souls of the dragons within her. She forced her fears and doubts to retreat to the Void, gathered up her courage and strength, and mouthed a line of words, a faded chant, so quiet it could not be heard.
"Zu'u bel hi Krosulhah. Bo wah dii aak ahst daar tiid do viik," she began. I summon you Krosulhah, to come to my aid in this hour of despair. A faint force simmered within her, so she raised her voice. "Ofan wah zu'u hin Thu'um, ofan wah zu'u faal bah do hin fro. Meyz zu'u aan veysun fah hin krosis ont tiid." Lend me your power, lend me your Thu'um, lend me the wrath of your frost – let me become a vessel for your grief once again.
Rahgot halted in his steps as he heard her words. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder.
"What did you say?" he asked.
Then, she felt the power surging within her soul when Krosulhah answered her call. Frigid wrath, a raging blizzard erupted in her throat, and when she'd open her mouth, she'd breathe out the winds of winter. Lucy turned her head towards him, parted her lips, and let out the Thu'um.
"FO – KAH- DIIN!"
They treaded in silence through the crypts when the embers had grown cold.
Though Natsu's fire had raged on in the halls just a moment ago, turning wood to coals, bodies to ash, no flame fluttered on the ground anymore. He had commanded them to die, and now the air smelled of lingering smoke instead of a mouldy grave. Gildarts had cast him a worried look when he had brought the fire down, yet only now Natsu realised what it truly meant. Somewhere along the way, he had gained the power to kill his fire. Upon his command, the flames could disappear.
Before, he had believed that fire was uncontrollable and wild, having a will of its own, but now, he had learnt to control it. In some ways, perhaps surpassed it – but Gildarts seemed to know that Natsu shouldn't always trust in such ability. There were still moments when Natsu had utterly lost control over his fire, nearly killing himself in the process, and the old mage clearly didn't want that to happen again. Especially not here, not tonight.
But now, none of them dared to speak a word. Only their steps echoed as they climbed the stairs that lead them out of the tombs, and they arrived at the upper quarters of the monastery. Yet in the large, high chamber, something was different. Gildarts halted at the doorway, casting a bright light to the ceiling, and studied the room in nearly frightened awe.
"There's been living men here," he said, and then Natsu saw it too. Fur blankets on the old wooden beds were fresh, food was left on the table, and spare robes lay abandoned on the cabinets. "They must have left just recently. Maybe a few days ago. Let's examine this chamber before we continue. Something has been going on here, and I do not like it."
The old mage pushed closed the heavy stone door that lead down to the tombs. The group set out to check the quarters, remaining cautious and quiet. Even if they managed to get past the undead easily, the fact that there had been living men – most certainly some new-generation cultists – forced them to stay alert. There was no sign of them, no clue about why they had left, and perhaps that was the most disturbing thing to Natsu.
For a moment, Natsu froze in front of a shelf. He stared at the old books, written in languages people had forgotten. There were fresh apples and bottles of wine and mead beside the books, some empty, some still full. He remembered how Gildarts had told them about this in his quarters in the Ratway of Riften. 'I believe this is where the dragon cult is regathering. The place's called Forelhost.' Those had been his words, Gildarts had known about this all along, yet nothing had been done until it was too late.
"I just don't get it," muttered Loke, who suddenly appeared next to him. He picked one apple, wiped the dust from it, and took a bite. "Why would any sane man come to a place like this and devote their life to some old dragon gods?"
"Sane men go to many strange places during insane times," Gildarts commented from the other side of the room. "Many went to Whiterun with spears and swords in their hands and struck them to the hearts of their cousins and brothers, all because they believed in something. The freedom of Skyrim, maybe. These men believe in something, too. They have seen the dragons coming back. And they think the only way to survive is to kneel."
Loke chewed on the apple and swallowed. "But, I mean… how did they get here? Probably they couldn't just waltz in through the front doors and say, 'hey, we'd like to join this ancient order of dragon worshipping motherfuckers', didn't they?"
Gildarts scoffed. "No, they didn't. The thing is, I don't know for sure how did the cult start regathering. Only Rahgot, and probably some of his most trusted men, survived the siege in the First Era. There's immense power in the mask of a dragon priest that must've kept him alive, or at least as a conscious Draugr, for all these years. He could've let a few generals sap into the same strength… but it's only a theory. To re-establish their rule, they need more than just a bunch of dead guys. Perhaps some of those generals have wandered out of the monastery and brought back some new blood… either willingly or forcefully."
"Most likely forcefully," Gajeel said. "There's no sign of any personal items here. Their whole identity has been wiped out. Who they were before doesn't matter when they give their lives to the cult. And for me, it seems like they were sent out for some mission just recently."
"I still don't get how they got here, and how did they get out. The way we came is the only way," said Loke, knitting his brows.
"Or so we think," Gildarts answered. "If we pass through the courtyard, we could check it out. They could have a secret way somewhere out there."
Loke took another bite of the apple and rubbed his chin, then swallowed and answered. "Maybe they went to gather some food and drink? The well's water is rather… undrinkable."
"Idiot. They wouldn't send all their men to fill their mead storage."
Loke rubbed his chin. "What if they simply decided to move?" Loke glanced at Gildarts, who stared at him like he was a fool. "It makes sense. The water is shit, this place is rumbling down, there's surely some abandoned fancy castles in Skyrim the cult could settle in…"
Natsu didn't have much to add to the pointles conversation. If the cult had obtained Dragonborn, why would they send most of them away for some mission? What were they trying to achieve? It just didn't add up. He left the shelf and walked across the room while the others kept arguing about which way the cultists had entered the monastery. A wooden door was left open, he peeked into the darkness, and lit a small flame on his palm. Under its light, he left the hall, and went into the dark corridor ahead of him.
Ancient carvings adorned the walls, repeating the same patterns he had seen since they arrived. Gods and dragons, soldiers, magic unleashed; each of the images seemed to tell the story of their ancient prophecies. Alduin's return, dragons swarming the skies, priest kneeling in front of them to plead for a passage into the realms to come after the destruction of Nirn. They had once served as reminders for the cultists to keep on believing, to keep enduring the horrors of the Order's cruelty, for it should all be rewarded in the end. Natsu wondered if those new cultists had watched them in enamourement, or if they'd seen anything at all. Because to him, it seemed that whoever had come here to 'serve the dragons' had nothing of their will and heart and sight left.
He gazed back where he had come from, listened for a moment, but heard nothing but the distant sounds of his companions. He knew he should wait for them. They had agreed to keep moving as a group, at least in pairs, but he could no longer fight the urge to withdraw into loneliness, just for a while. The way ahead of him seemed empty and lifeless, and so he followed it. Let the others come when they'd notice he's gone.
His heart pounded restlessly in his chest. The further he went, the louder it got, and the voices of his companions were buried behind many layers of thick stone walls. But within the eerie silence resonated a power, one he had felt earlier – it came somewhere from above, dreadful and strong, yet somehow luring. It felt like a call to come and test his mettle, a challenge, but at the same time he knew he should approach it with great caution. It had to be the priest's power; nothing else in this cursed place could be the source of it.
And suddenly, it disappeared.
Natsu froze in his tracks when the energy was gone. It had been simmering above him for a while, tense like an upcoming headache, but now it eased as if it had been cut completely. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or terrified, but he recovered his courage, and kept going on. From behind him, he heard a set of steps, hurrying to reach him.
"Hey half-elf, why did you go?" said Loke, his voice echoing in the corridor. Natsu glanced over his shoulder and could see his shadow in the far distance. "Gajeel found a freshly written note. They are trying to make sense of it. It was incomprehensible to me, but Gildarts thought it could be a secret message." Loke laughed, walking closer to him. "I think someone just wiped their arse to it."
Natsu chuckled dryly. Though he had hoped to be alone for a moment, he didn't bother to send the Nord back. None of them was supposed to tread on alone anyway. "I don't think the cultists are in the monastery anymore. If we just keep going, we'll find out why they left, if it even matters. We must find Lucy as soon as possible. I… I really don't like the feel of the magic that's being released here. Don't you feel it?"
Loke fell silent as he reached him. He shook his head slightly. "This whole place creeps me out, but no, I can't feel any magic, alas."
Natsu lifted his gaze up. "It came from above, then it stopped – and I like that even less," he said, then gestured forward to the corridor. "Come."
They walked in the dark, guided by the small flame on Natsu's hand until they reached a closed, wooden door. Natsu pulled from the ornamented handle, but it wouldn't budge. When the cultists had left, they had at least locked the doors to their quarters, probably having great trust that no one would ever come through the poisoned well. For a second, frustration rose to Natsu's head like an angered spirit, he was ready to burst the door into splinters with a fireball, but then Loke knelt by the lock and before long, he got it open with his lockpicks.
"I saw what you were thinking," Loke chuckled, "but breaking the doors will only launch their nearby traps." He pointed to the walls, where Natsu's firelight illuminated the hidden spearheads. "You'll get a spear to the face if you don't set off the trap by properly unlocking the door's own mechanisms. I think Gildarts would still impale you on an ice spike if you'd die to an idiotic trap."
"Thank you," Natsu said quietly as Loke nudged the door open, his words nearly buried under the loud creaking of the old rusty hinges. He meant to say something more, but suddenly felt unable to – maybe he was glad that Loke was there with them, and he struggled to confess that to the man he had hated so much. "There isn't a lock in the world you can't get open, is there?"
Loke grinned sadly, with strange bitterness. He was about to say something, then hesitated, then said it anyway. "Yeah, except Lucy's heart. Only you've managed to find the keys to that."
Natsu halted, turning his eyes to him. There was nothing left of the boisterous Nord who'd challenged him in Bee and Barb, claiming Lucy's love upon himself. Maybe it had been just for a show, because now, all Natsu could see was utter defeat, a young man who had lost everything. But still, Natsu didn't know how to answer. Fighting about which man she loved would be foolish now when Lucy's whole life was hanging on a thread.
"I don't think it's a matter of keys and locks, Loke," Natsu said then, turning his gaze down in confusion.
"I know," he answered and sighed. "Would be foolish to think if it was. And I guess I've been a fool. I… I'd like to say that I'm sorry. Sorry to her. Sorry to you."
Natsu glanced at him again. Neither of them stepped over the threshold, yet cool air flooded from the chamber. "It's okay."
"I was a fucking idiot," Loke mumbled, dragging his hands down his face. "I… I thought we had something. Me and her. We were so close. We had always been. I thought she felt the same way I did, but when I saw the way she looks at you… I realised she never loved me at all. And I was mad. Mad at you, but also mad at myself. You had something I never had that made her fall for you, not for me." He sighed and shook his head. "Maybe because I'm a fool, and you are not."
Natsu smiled a bit, then the smile died. It seemed that Loke had wanted to speak those words for a long time – probably not necessarily to Natsu, but there wasn't anyone else who'd understand his pain. And somehow, he was glad. Natsu had needed to talk about this too.
"Maybe we're both fools. If we hadn't been so caught up in our shit we could've noticed she was messing behind our backs," Natsu said grimly. Loke glanced at him in wonder, not knowing what he meant. He hesitated for a moment, but felt like Loke deserved to know. The truth was a heavy burden to carry alone, and Loke, of all people, wouldn't let this secret spill. "In Riften, before all this shit happened, when she escaped right below our eyes. She fooled us both."
Loke rested his back against the stony doorframe, nervously rubbing his chin as he remembered what Natsu was talking about. "I… I just don't get it. I never thought she'd… lie to me like that," he muttered. "Shor's bones, why did she do that for?"
Natsu took a deep breath and sighed.
"For murder," he answered with coldness in his voice. "She went off to kill of Grelod the Kind."
Loke stared at him for a long while.
"She did what?"
"Earlier that day, we visited Honorhall. We had some… business to be arranged. Well, fuck it, it doesn't matter anymore, I could just as well tell the whole story," Natsu scoffed, shook his head, and continued. "A few months ago we met a boy in Windhelm who had run away from the orphanage. He was trying to summon a Dark Brotherhood when we got there, and he thought we were assassins. He wanted Grelod the Kind dead. And just to comfort the poor kid, Lucy agreed to the contract." Natsu clenched his teeth and squeezed shut his eyes. "I never thought she'd actually fucking do it."
Loke shook his head in disbelief. "How do you know that?"
"Because I found Grelod dead," Natsu muttered, distraught as the sight appeared into his mind once again. "When I found Lucy missing, it didn't take me too long to realise she's gone back to Honorhall. And when I got there, Grelod was dead." He fell silent for a moment, then glanced at Loke. "If we both had had one crumb of sense in our heads, we could have prevented that from happening. I was a fool for not realising how deep she had fallen into the darkness, despite seeing it all the time. The signs were there, but maybe I was just so enamoured by her that I refused to see it."
Loke looked down, his shoulders trembling from distress. "I just can't believe it," he mumbled. "I'd known Lucy all my life and I'll swear ya, she'd never murder anyone, not even the cruellest headmistress. It… it cannot be." He glanced into Natsu's eyes, with sincerity in his gaze. "She's not a murderer. Not an assassin. A simple life with books and magic was all she ever wanted."
A hint of truth lingered in Loke's words, but it was so distant now. Maybe once it had been true, yet not anymore. Natsu had seen the murder scene with his own eyes, and could no longer deny that sight.
'Oh how much I'd want to believe that.'
"Then the Lucy you've known all your life is gone," Natsu whispered, suddenly shocked by his own words – they didn't seem to be spoken by himself, for so long had he lived in denial of her state, but now the truth bled out of his consciousness. "The dragons took her away from us long before Odahviing captured her and brought her here."
Then, none of them seemed to know what to say. They had stood there in front of the opened door for a while, but now Natsu crossed the threshold and stepped into the tall chamber, where rays of light flooded from the ceiling far above them. Natsu curled his fingers into fists, smothering the flame on his palm. A stone walkway went around the chamber, but in the middle, there was a shallow pit. Natsu walked to the edge with Loke following him, he halted there, and gazed down.
In the pit, there grew countless plants, deathbells and nightshades, lilac and pink scattering the ground. Natsu lifted his eyes up and the light blinded him for a moment. It was midday, a hint of blue sky could be seen through the iron bars of the window's gate.
"You can get her back," Loke whispered. "If someone can get her back from that darkness, it's gotta be you. So, promise me," he started, then fell silent, glancing up at him, "that she'll get to live the life she always dreamt of, that one day, she could wake up, and there'd be no bloodshed, no death, no dragons. Give her what I could not give." He smiled sadly. "Happiness."
Silence fell on them again. They stayed on the edge, where rays of light shone on the poison flowers, for a while. Natsu drifted lost in his thoughts and memories. There had been moments when he'd seen joy sparkling in Lucy's eyes – and oh how he had loved that sight – but had she ever felt true happiness during the time they had known each other? Had she been happy before they met, ever in her life?
And somehow, as he stared into the light, he found hope within his heart. Despair had already rooted into his soul, staining his spirit with darkness, but at that moment he swore to himself that he'd see her smile again. Even if it would take his whole life, he'd give her the world without bloodshed, without death, without dragons, so she could finally taste true freedom, true happiness.
"I will," Natsu answered then. "I promise that."
Loke nodded to him, and smiled sadly.
Soon, without the sound of footsteps, Gildarts and Gajeel arrived at the garden. When the vampire saw the rays of sunlight, he halted in the doorway and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, shielding his bright crimson eyes. Natsu gave him an understanding nod. He remembered painfully well how much sunlight had burned, and how it still did.
"Alright lads, by analysing the magical traces on several different sources, we figured out that the cult has possibly gone to many different locations in Skyrim. I'm not sure if I got all names transcribed right, but Brumjanaar, also known as Labyrinthian, was mentioned, also Valthume and Ragnvald. They seem to be the burial grounds of other dragon priests, which makes me nervous." Gildarts sighed. "They are going to wake them."
"Magical traces of several different sources?" Loke giggled, hiding his sadness. "You mean you found more shitpaper?"
Gajeel let out a lifeless chuckle. "Then there's gotta be more old members involved in those missions than just some new recruits," Gajeel said. "But other than that, we can't know for certain what has happened. But now that they are out, their numbers will keep growing. The homeless from Riften, the defeated soldiers from Windhelm… they are all suitable victims to turn into the cult."
"Indeed. It's something I've gotta deal with after this," Gildarts said. "If they reach the crypts and wake the other priest, it will get ugly. But now, we should proceed." Gildarts moved his eyes to the rays of light that descended upon the poison garden. "Their alchemy lab should be close by, which means it isn't a long way to the inner sanctum. Stay cautious."
Then, they walked across the garden. Gajeel went hesitantly past the sunlight, staying in the shadows near the walls with his hood pulled tightly over his head. Natsu had thought the vampire's biggest fear was fire, but he had been wrong. It was daylight he dreaded the most.
From the garden, a stairway led them up to a balcony, where many pathways seemed to lead in the same direction. They passed through a dark corridor and soon arrived in a great hall. The scent of deathbell lingered heavily in the air, the same bitter smell that had overwhelmed the well. Gildarts lit a ball of magelight to the ceiling, causing Gajeel to scorn. The dim light chased away the deepest darkness, revealing the numerous distillers that rested abandoned on the tables, endless lines of shelves on the walls filled with bottles and dried deathbell.
Here, it seemed like time hadn't touched the scene at all. Despite all the living men who'd inhabited the lower chambers, no sign of them was seen here, except for a path in the dust to show where they had walked. Nothing else had been moved or removed. Everything was blanketed with a thick layer of dust, and spiders had woven great webs upon the alchemy labs. In the stone chairs at the back of the chamber, there lay mummified corpses in alchemist's robes, with empty bottles in their palm. Natsu's gaze froze upon them.
And before he even blinked, Gajeel shot the bodies with bolts of sorcery – a banishing spell, just to be sure.
"Nothing else to see here," the vampire said then, and walked to the stone stairs at the side of the chamber. "Let's keep moving."
Gildarts and Loke followed him, but Natsu remained there for just a moment. Somewhere nearby, he sensed ghostly power approaching them, but the corpses remained still, and whatever spirits had haunted them were banished into Oblivion. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and hurried after the others.
Upon her Thu'um, Rahgot was caught in a raging blizzard. A surprised, ghostly screech echoed in the hall as he was thrown back with the unrelenting wind. The priest called for power, attempting to break free from the storm of ice, but her words of power were strong, stronger than he ever expected.
Tonight, underestimating her would be his undoing.
Perhaps by Krosulhah's soul taking over her again, the paralysis in her veins began to wear off. Frozen scales began to form on her cheeks, they spread down her neck towards her hands. She felt her legs, sensed the weight of chains around her ankles and wrists, yet she couldn't break them, not just yet. Her soul was regenerating the energy required to Shout again, and when she'd feel the words of power readied on her tongue, she'd summon her spectral form. With become ethereal, she could break free from these chains.
"Pahlok goraan! You insolent brat!" Rahgot growled, breaking through the veil of swirling ice, then marched towards her with rage in his steps. "You're just like Miraak, but killing you too would be pitiful!" He raised his hand. "Silence that poison tongue of yours!"
Before she could shout, Rahgot struck her in the face with full force. Her sight dimmed out as pain spread from her cheek to her whole head. A clear crack sounded from her jaw as thin fractures spread on the bone like a spider's web. When she tried to speak, utter a word of power, the sting of agony forced her still. She clenched her teeth, swallowed the blood in her mouth, and then shouted through the pain.
"FUS – RO – DAH!"
Rahgot attempted to summon a ward to take cover from the unrelenting force, but failed. The power hit him, sent him flying across the hall, and gods, Lucy could sense how enragement filled the air. He hit the ground, his weapons clattering against the stone floor. Lucy smirked, but blood burst from her mouth, dripping down her chin. She coughed up, then ice began to close the wounds on her jaw, gradually stopping the bleeding.
But Rahgot rose up, and the air around him changed. It swirled with power drenched with bloodlust, and there she understood how he had gotten his name. Perhaps if she'd provoke him enough, he'd lose control and kill her, thus dooming the Order's mission completely. Slowly, he walked closer to her again, his eyes fixated on the frozen scales that restored her wounds.
"Dragonborn! Surrender while you still can. Serving the dragons is the only way to serve mankind. Don't embark on a path of ignorance and decay. I have laid the foundation for humanity's survival, reserved us a place in the new world – what you'll bring by resistance is death and finality." Rahgot walked closer. "You cannot even dream of defeating me, but even if you'd somehow manage to do so, you'd face nothing but doom. The Order is the bridge mankind walks upon towards salvation. Don't you dare to demolish it!"
"There is no… no such bridge," Lucy answered, stuttering as she spat out blood. "It's only built on Alduin's lies and corruption. You are just his tool, Rahgot, who'll be disposed of use when it's no longer needed. Your time is gone, and it will never come again. Today, you will die." She grinned. "How does it feel? To know everything you've done, everything you've sacrificed, has been in vain? Murdering your own cult, betraying those who believed in –"
"Nahlot!" he shouted, and the power of his word silenced her. "Resisting the inevitable will lead to your destruction, and I'm here, upon the command of my Lord, to prevent it from happening. Whether you, believe it or not, isn't my concern, but this insolence, arrogant rebellion, shall not be tolerated! Fall into despair, fall into the sea of death, and return to the Order as faithful Konahrik!"
Lucy's gaze froze on the emerald-green mask. A familiar power radiated from the priest, as if he was charging the final spell that would plunge her into darkness. She curled her fingers into fists – in a heartbeat, she'd be ready to call upon her Thu'um again and become ethereal. The words were already there, yet they raced against Rahgot's, and then they both spoke; hers was a faint whisper, while his was a raging roar.
"Fei –"
"KRII – LUN – AUS!"
With the same words Odahviing had used to bind her into days of unending obscurity, Rahgot shouted her world apart. Her eyes slipped closed as everything began to fade. She tried to hold onto her power, her soul, but it all slipped right through her grasp. But before the true darkness came like a black flood, she heard a line of quiet words within her head, spoken in the voice of Krosulhah.
"Praan nok kriin." Sleep now, child. "Zu'u fen spaan hi."
Natsu was sure he heard Lucy's voice somewhere in the distance.
Though there were no words he could understand, he recognised the power of her Thu'um. It sounded so faintly, as if only a whisper had carried to him. Despair lingered in its frequency, but was accompanied by immense courage, determination, and bravery, that could only belong to Lucy.
Natsu halted in the dark pathway they were traversing at, lifted his gaze up, listening for a moment. The rest of his group halted as well, but her voice wasn't heard again. Seconds passed in agonising silence, until another shout echoed through the walls, sending a devastating shiver down his spine.
That one had to be Rahgot, and it had the same sorcery woven into the words as Odahviing's shout did.
"We've gotta hurry now," Gildarts stated and beckoned them forward. "If we can hear them, it means we're close to the inner sanctum. Come on, this way."
No one said a word back to him. In silence, they followed, fast-paced walking turning into running. Though they had been hurrying through the many corridors and quarters, Natsu no longer felt any fatigue. The faded shout had wiped the last crumbs of tiredness from his mind. Lucy was in deep trouble, if Rahgot had truly used the same Thu'um as Odahviing on her, they were dangerously running out of time.
They hadn't encountered a single enemy since they left the laboratory. Not even spiders or rats lived in these parts of the monastery. Only silence haunted the halls, yet the silence seemed to speak in a thousand voices, with whispers from the ancient past. Natsu hadn't stopped to listen. His mind was fully focused on their task of finding the inner sanctum, yet he felt like each step led him astray.
A moment ago, they had passed by a large door, with snow and frost and wild mountain wind seeping from the crack underneath it. When Gildarts tested the handle, it was locked tight, but they all knew it was the door to the courtyard. Loke had suggested picking the lock, but Gajeel had denied him. They weren't supposed to go that way, and besides, they couldn't afford to lose one member of their group to the daylight.
And now, in the seemingly endless tunnel, the fear in Natsu's heart transmuted into burning rage. The moment he had dreaded was drawing near; it wouldn't be long before they'd face Rahgot and his henchmen, and what they had done to Lucy. She had to be alive, but in what condition, Natsu didn't dare to think beforehand. That was the only way he could remain calm, but when they'd find her, if he'd notice just a single scratch on her, he knew he'd lose it completely.
Then, nothing, or no one, would be spared from his rage.
Finally, the path led them into a large and long chamber, possibly an old lecturing hall of the cult, judging from the many stony benches lined up across the floor. Before they managed to take a single step further, a powerful blast of energy put them to a halt. It wiped out Gildarts's magelight, leaving them in utter darkness.
"Daar los ni hin qoth, nuz hi los pruzah grind ahst nii," a ghostly voice spoke from the other end of the chamber. "Dir ko maar."
There, obscured in the shadow, stood three creatures shrouded in an aura of grim magic. They appeared to float above the floor like ghosts, yet they still carried the potent magic of a living being. Their robes fluttered behind them as sorcery bent the dusty air, Natsu couldn't see their faces, and the longer he stared at the empty space within their hoods, he realised they lacked any features. Darkness and death incarnated.
One of them raised its staff and struck it down, sending a devastating wave of black sorcery across the hall. Before it reached them, Gildarts summoned a ward to shield them, but it shattered when the wave hit it. Shards of magicka flowed down like snowflakes, and Natsu knew it had been just the beginning.
"Talos be with us, they're the guardians of the sanctum," Gildarts growled, his angered gaze locked with the dark sorcerer. "Good thing is, there's only three of them against the three of us."
"Three? What about me!?" Loke shrieked.
"You aren't a mage, lad, so you'll stay out of this," Gildarts whispered to him, then exchanged a brief glance with Gajeel. He lifted up his hands and conjured a thread of lightning between his palms. "Sneak past them, find Lucy, and free her. Whatever lock she's held behind is no match to you. Go now!"
"But –"
Loke's voice was buried under the loud blast of thunder, summoned from Gildarts's hands. The lightning strikes danced towards the shadows, and within the distraction they provided, Gajeel turned towards Loke.
Sensing the fear and hesitation in the boy, Gajeel prepared a spell on his palm. "A lockmaster you might be, but a visible man will be a dead one." Then he released the magic upon Loke, and just like that, he disappeared completely. "For a while, move like a true nightwalker, and get the Dragonborn into safety. Get going, we'll take care of the wizards."
Without saying a word, Loke's presence faded out. Though Natsu couldn't hear his steps, he knew he was already running. Gildarts's lighting spell wore off as Natsu faced the sorcerers in the distance.
Then he enveloped his fists into flames.
"Spaan – slen – laas."
The Thu'um sounded deep within Lucy's mind, in the black sea of the abyss where Rahgot's words had thrown her into, where the waves cut her like blades. Like an aeon had passed in a heartbeat, time flowed through her and shattered as she bled. The crimson drops fell like rain, landing on the wings of the dragons.
"Spaan – slen – laas."
Somehow, she recognised Krosulhah's voice. Once, it had simmered with unending wrath and sorrow – the threads were still there, but woven into the sound of worry and care. The pain had curled her soul into a tight ball, crushing her sanity once again, and she didn't know how she'd ever wake from this. But there was soothing warmth amongst those words. Upon their will, ice crawled across her bleeding wounds, but it wasn't nearly enough. The strength of the life-draining shout still prevailed on her.
But somewhere, she heard a quiet discussion. The words were blurry and misplaced at first, but slowly she began to recognise the voices and understand their language. They were the dragons she had slain caught in an argument, one that would determine the course of her destiny in this hour of despair.
"I cannot heal her alone. Help me, Sahloknir! Help me, Milmurnir!"
"She killed us. She deserves this. Don't let yourself be corrupted by a mortal, Krosulhah," spoke Sahloknir. It had been so long since Lucy had heard his voice. Out of arrogancy and pride, her first kill had never interacted directly with her, yet Sahloknir's influence on her had been subtle and strong. Even against their wills, their souls had been merging for the longest.
"No. We cannot let her fall," Krosulhah answered. "It's what The Old One once foretold, what we all refused to listen. The fall of the Dragonborn will be the fall of the dragonkind as well, when Alduin ends our world in his greed and delusion."
"Pruzah. All things must end, so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world from being born?"
"Krosulhah speaks true, Sahloknir," said Milmurnir somewhere in the darkness. "Alduin has gone too far. Many of us have begun to think so. Even some of the Eight began to question his leadership. Aren't you aware of what choices he gave to Odahviing when he was woken?" Silence fell for a moment. "He could serve him, or be killed, and absorbed back to Alduin. He destroys everyone who opposes him, even his own children."
"Alduin, the wisest and oldest of us, is fulfilling his destiny! Though we've been absorbed into the soul of this pitiful mortal, we shall not let ourselves be affected by her spirit. You, Krosulhah and Milmurnir, reek of weakness. Mortal weakness. As dovah, we are immortal!"
"And here we are, lying dead, within the soul of a mortal. We might've once been the crown of creation, but the gods have created her to put us into order. Saving her is the will of the gods. Stop pretending to be one, Sahloknir!" Milmurnir shouted. "Darker forces have stepped into the play. Shall we not offer her our aid, we'll find ourselves trapped in Apocrypha for an eternity, just like all those who Miraak slayed, those who fell with him!"
Sahloknir was silenced then.
"With all my wisdom and knowledge, helping the Dovahkiin is the best we can do. Her condition is grave. So, hearken my words, our kin of blood!" Milmurnir spoke again. "Spaan – slen – laas!"
"Spaan – slen - laas!" shouted Krosulhah.
And after a brief moment, Sahloknir joined them. "Spaan – slen – laas!"
Slowly, the wounds torn into her soul by Rahgot's Thu'um began to close. The combined voices of the dragons took the shape of wind and ice and fire, the elements wiping through her in a raging blizzard. The leeching, poison shout was shattered by the strength, and amongst the shards, she emerged back to consciousness, with the flame of a dragon's will burning bright in her broken heart, the pieces now being forged back to whole.
As she opened her eyes, tears of gratitude welled up and rolled down her cheeks. She still couldn't see, her body felt numb, but the priest's presence had retreated from her side. She turned her head slightly and gazed into the dark distance, sensing Rahgot still somewhere across the hall. He hadn't expected her to awaken ever again, not as Lucy, but she did.
Against all the odds, she was still her.
"Lucy!"
Suddenly, a familiar voice of a young man whispered to her, calling her by the name. Through the fading pain, she struggled to recognise it, but she knew the accent of her hometown vibrating in the tone, yet so distraught and terrified. She attempted to ask his name, and as if he could read the confusion on her face, he answered before she wasted a breath on speaking.
"It's me, Loke," he whispered, and then Lucy felt a chain around her wrist snap open. He seemed enveloped within a strange spell – his movements were mute, and his arms transparent with receding invisibility. As his presence couldn't be sensed, he must've been able to slip past Rahgot's generals, but now the spell was fading. "It's okay now. We've come to get you out of this terrible place. Hold on for just a moment."
Loke?
A part of her didn't want to believe it. The black fog on her vision cleared, and her fears were confirmed true. The ginger-haired boy, her dearest childhood friend, now worked open her chains one by one. Not even a shiver crossed his stone-still features, which looked now so different from what she had recalled. As if he had aged decades in days, worn down by the grief of an immeasurable loss.
"Gods, Lucy, what have they done to you?"
Loke lifted her from the altar into his strong and warm arms, carefully like a sleeping child. She glanced down at the opened chains and the bloodied stone, slowly realising it was all her own blood. Ice covered her wounds, and even Loke began to shiver from how lifelessly cold she was, as if she'd died days ago and lay forgotten in a bank of snow. Fearful worry crossed his eyes, but he banished it and stepped forward.
"Where's… where's…?" Lucy muttered, but the strength to finish the question was gone. She tried to locate the priest's presence within the hall, and found him in the small side chamber where they stored their poisons and potions. "Where's the –"
"The wizards stopped Natsu and the others," Loke answered silently. "But don't worry. They'll come to find us as soon as they've dealt with them."
"I… I don't mean him," she said. "The priest. He's here. Loke, he's –"
"He cannot hurt you anymore. I've got you, and we're getting you out of here. The sealed door was this way." While he ran, Loke spoke fast and quiet, as he'd often done when he was nervous or scared. "I was lucky to find the dragon claw key. Gods, I've never seen a lock I wouldn't be able to pick open, but that one, that's –"
"Leave me, Loke."
Loke's eyes shot to her.
"No way. We're not leaving this wicked place without you."
Behind them, Lucy sensed a wave of unrelenting rage. Rahgot had found her gone.
"Lay me down and leave me here, then run as far as you can," she said with fierce determination. The aspect of the dragons was slowly charging her soul full with magicka, but it was not yet ready to be unleashed. It worked on her wounds and wowed them closed, preparing her for battle. "I… I've got to kill him myself, but please, save yourself. Don't get –"
Loke shook his head. "Don't even think that. I couldn't save you in Helgen, but I can save you now. We're almost there. Just –"
"Trust me," Lucy pleaded, looking straight into his eyes. "Please, just trust me and run. I'll come find you when –"
For a heartbeat, silence fell between them, then it was broken by the loudest, roaring shout.
"FUS – RO – DAH!"
The next thing she knew was her head hitting the ground hard. The Thu'um had torn her from Loke's arms and thrown her away. The boy shouted something, but the deafening ringing in her ears buried his voice. When she attempted to stand up, dizziness wiped her legs underneath her, and she hit her face again into the stone. The skin on her forehead split, blood flowed between her brows and onto her nose – all the draconic power that was meant for striking down her foes went on healing her injuries first, and so the cuts were covered with crests of ice.
But as Rahgot walked past her towards the boy that lay on the stone floor, Lucy's mind was filled with instant dread. She tried to scream, but her voice died in her throat. The shout had pushed Loke further than her, he had hit the ground harder, but he still breathed, still struggled to fight.
"Foolish thief, do you think you can steal from me?"
With trembling feet, Loke stood up. He squeezed his palm on his bleeding arm and fiercely faced the priest approaching him. Then he unsheathed his dagger, pointing the sharp silvery blade at Rahgot. Flee, you idiot, Lucy thought, too powerless to speak. She turned on her stomach and lifted her head, feeling strings of blood roll down her face.
"You've hurt her enough!" Loke shouted through gritted teeth. "Let her go!"
Rahgot walked closer to him, and only then Lucy saw how tall the priest truly was – he towered above Loke like a mountain. The boy squeezed the blade's hilt, his gaze locked on the two enormous warhammers strapped on Rahgot's back. He began to shiver as he turned his eyes to Lucy, and the door behind her. He would not flee, but his gaze was pleading for her to run.
"Don't you know death when you see it?"
Loke faced the priest again, and answered his question by charging forth and swinging his shift dagger at Rahgot's chest. A sob built up in Lucy's chest as she watched him challenge the giant into a battle he could not win – and she couldn't do anything about it. When she tried to get up, she collapsed to the ground once again, growling endless lines of curses. She prepared a whisper of power on her tongue, an unrelenting force of her dragons, but her body was still too broken for the Thu'um to hold.
Staying brave in front of despair and death, Loke didn't back down. Determination shone brightly in his dark eyes, chasing away the fears, for even if he'd die buying her time to escape, he'd earn his place in the hall of the heroes in Sovngarde. As if he'd already seen the tables laden with food and mead in their endless feasts, and heard their songs of honour and glory, he dodged the priest's strike, rolled down and stabbed his leg. Unbothered, Rahgot just turned and caught Loke from the neckline of his cuirass, lifting him up.
"Admirable boldness, to break into the sacred hall of the Order," Rahgot spoke to him. Loke kicked and screamed, slashing the priest with his dagger, but the cuts didn't distract him in the slightest. "You thought you'd save the Dragonborn, but you've only brought upon your own doom. Take a good last look at her now, and know what you died for! Let her face haunt you in the Void, so you shall remember her when she returns to eradicate your soul as the Konahrik!"
In tears, Lucy kept shaking her head. Loke turned his gaze onto her, but there was no hate, no bitterness, only acceptance in his eyes. This is how it ends, she could read those words from his lips. Run now, Lucy. I'll wait for you in Sovngarde.
Rahgot's choking palm moved up to Loke's neck. As he caught the back of his head with his other hand, Lucy pressed her face against the stone floor and squeezed shut her eyes. The aspect of dragons was right at her reach, building up within her chest, but just a heartbeat too late.
She clenched the ground with her fingertips and held her breath, holding back her weeping, but when she heard the loudest crack, a desperate sob burst from her lungs. It was followed by a brief scream of pain, and then, as if the rain had suddenly started, liquid splattered down with the stench of iron heavy in the air. After a body thumped to the ground, there was only silence for a while.
From the distance, she heard running steps.
In a match of fire and dark sorcery, the fire quickly prevailed.
Natsu wan upwards in the dim stairway, the echoes of battle still raging behind him. After the wraith he had fought against had been turned to ashes, Gildarts had told him to get after Loke. The old man and the vampire held back the other wizards, yet Natsu didn't know how much longer Gildarts would last. The wraith had been a challenge to him as well, but as rage had guided his flames, he had felt invincible – and he still did.
When he arrived at the doorway, all was eerily silent. The green claw key had opened the sealed door he passed through into the inner sanctum. He took a breath to brace himself, climbed the last few stairs, and the sight made his heart fall heavily to the bottom of his chest.
First, his gaze found Lucy, and he froze completely.
Perfectly still, she lay on the stone floor, but she seemed to sense his arrival. Slowly, she lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder. Tears washed clear trails on her bloodied face. He was met with an ice-blue stare that pierced right through his soul. Her lips trembled as she tried to say something, but the sorrow in her eyes was enough to let him know what had happened. Natsu lifted his gaze up and saw it in the distance.
Dead on the ground, in a pool of his own blood, there lay Loke the Lockmaster.
Even his name had been an echo.
Natsu tore his eyes off the grisly scene, turning to look at the monstrous figure that stood next to the body. Rahgot, a giant in a green mask with two warhammers in his back and blood in his bare hands. Natsu clenched his hands into fists.
"So, we meet at last."
Upon those words, Rahgot released a hammer from its straps.
Next up: Rage
