Hi! It's been a while.

So uh...school was a thing, and I just had trouble writing this part in general. Boss fights are always hard, at least for me.

Anyways, enjoy!

Onmund yelped as a flaming draugr ran towards them. "Ysmir's hairy balls!"

Minerva burst out laughing. "What?"

Onmund and Minerva went at the draugr with lightning magic and sword and dagger swings. After Onmund managed to extinguish it with a blast of ice, Minerva dealt the finishing blow by decapitating it.

As Onmund caught his breath, he realized Minerva was still giggling. "What's so funny?"

Minerva snickered. "Nothing! Nothing! Just...uh...new swear, huh?"

"It's not that funny, is it?" Onmund frowned. Was the idea of him swearing so weird to Minerva?

MInerva grinned. "Well...you know Ysmir is a title, right? Not just a name?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, according to the Greybeards, I'm apparently Ysmir, now."

Onmund stared at Minerva. Then he burst out laughing as well. "Wha-! When did this happen?"

Minerva counted on her fingers. "About...three days ago? I think?"

Onmund shook his head. "By the Nine..."

Minerva pushed the draugr's body out of the way with her foot. "For the record, I don't have balls. Which is good because otherwise I'd get a lot more debilitating kicks to the groin."

Onmund stifled more giggles as he followed Minerva into the next room.

And then something in the air changed. Onmund felt the energy being sucked out of him, and his magelight sputtered out.

And then the voice came, echoing through the tomb. "Wo meyz wah dii vul junaar? Nivahriin muz fen siiv nid aaz het!"

"Who comes to my dark kingdom," Minerva translated. "Cowardly men will find no mercy here." She shivered. "You felt that too, right?"

Onmund nodded. "Y...yeah. I can't..." he tried to summon a magelight again, and failed. He sighed as he pulled out his staff. "Whoever...whatever that was, it had serious magic draining powers."

"He shouldn't be able to do that," Savos' voice said. "The enchantments and...are they failing? What's going on?"

"Enchantments?" asked Onmund. "And who is 'he'?"

The Archmage's voice was silent. Then, he spoke again, softly. "I only hope you can forgive me."

Minerva frowned. "Huh? For what?"

"...what you're about to see."

Minerva and Onmund looked at each other. Minerva took Onmund's hand, and they both walked into the next room.

The feeling from before sank into Onmund's bones, and the voice came echoing again. "You do not answer...must I use this guttural language of yours?"

Onmund frowned. "Guttural?"

Minerva cupped her hands around her mouth. "Mu ni fraan fahraal, pahlok mey!" she yelled down the tunnel.

Onmund groaned. "Min, don't taunt him!"

Minerva huffed and crossed her arms. "You don't know what I said!"

"I got the general feeling behind it!"

In the next room, there was yet another vision. The group had been halved, with only Aren and two others remaining. Onmund thought he heard Aren choke back a sob from inside the amulet.

"We shouldn't have left her there to die!" sobbed the Redguard. Atmah, Onmund remembered.

"What else could we do?" snapped Savos. "Stay there and die with her?"

"This is it, you know?" said the Nord. Hafnir, he'd been called. "Going through this door. Can you feel it?"

"We're not going to make it...are we?" whispered Atmah.

"We stay together, no matter what," Hafnir said decisively. "Agreed?"

"I'll be with you, no matter what," whispered Atmah, nodding.

"We all stay together," said Aren.

The shades faded away. "I'm sorry," Aren whispered from the amulet. "I'm so, so sorry..."

Onmund looked down at the amulet. "...they didn't make it. Did they?"

Aren was silent. Minerva looked at Onmund. "We have to, don't we? Go in, I mean. If we don't get this staff, then..."

Onmund nodded. They had no choice. They could only hope they'd have better luck then Aren's group.

As he reached for the door to the next room, that draining feeling came again. "You are not Savos. Has he sent you in his place? Did he warn you that your power would only serve to strengthen me?"

Onmund swallowed. "We...we're not afraid of you!" The words rang hollow, even to him.

There was a deep chuckle. "No? Then come. Face your end, little mages."

Onmund took deep breaths. He might die. Minerva...she was Dragonborn. She'd be fine. He looked over at her. "Min...you'll get the staff, right?"

Minerva startled and looked at him. "What?"

"If I don't make it...you'll get the staff. Stop Ancano."

Minerva shook her head, grabbing both of Onmund's hands. "That's not going to happen," she said through gritted teeth. "Not on my watch."

Onmund shook his head. "You don't know that. Just promise me you'll get out if...well..."

Minerva gave Onmund a piercing look. "We're both getting out," she said in a tone that told Onmund it was not up for debate.

Onmund sighed. "Stubborn as ever..." Onmund pulled two magicka potions out of his bag, handing one to Minerva. Each mage downed one.

Onmund put a hand on one of the double doors, and Minerva put a hand on the other one. "Okay, on three. One...two...THREE!"

The two slammed open the doors and ran inside.

It took a while for the mages to process what they were seeing. "Archmage..." whispered Onmund. "What did you do?"

"...what was necessary to keep him contained," whispered Aren from the amulet. He sounded resigned.

In the middle of the chamber in front of them, there was a figure in long, tattered robes, wearing a mask that covered his entire face. In one hand he held a staff with a large pale blue orb at the end. The glow it gave off reminded Onmund of the Eye. Surrounding him was a barrier of magic, seemingly trapping him inside

But that wasn't what had provoked Onmund's comment. It was what was creating the barrier.

There were two platforms on either side of the figure, with stairs leading up to them. On each platform was a spirit. Not the same kind of memory spirits that they had seen before, but actual ghosts, shooting continuous beams of magicka to keep the barrier up.

"What in Oblivion..." muttered Minerva, stepping forward. "How are they keeping this up? Their magic has to run out at some point..."

"They have no choice..." muttered Aren. "They were killed almost immediately after we entered. So I raised their shades and...bound them..."

Onmund felt bile rise in his throat. "So they would keep him contained."

"We had to stop Morokei. That's his name. 'Morokei'...Atmah...Hafnir...I'm so sorry..."

Minerva shivered. "Gods..." She stepped forward, looking at the masked figure in front of them. "Morokei, huh? Hi ni ofan mu vasmiir mu vis lif?"

Morokei looked down at Minerva and let out a dark chuckle. "Hi kuz nii waan vos, mal lahjul."

Minerva sighed heavily. "Worth a shot."

Onmund looked at her. "What did you say?"

"I asked if he wouldn't just give us the staff so we could leave."

"And?"

"He said 'take it from me if you can, small mage'," MInerva scowled. "He went and poked fun at my height too!"

Onmund pat Minerva's shoulder. "Ah. That means he has to die, now."

Minerva huffed, then looked back at the enthralled spirits. "Hey, Archmage Aren...to get the staff, we're going to have to lower that barrier, right?"

There was silence from the amulet. "...yes. You'll have to banish their spirits and lower the barrier."

"And by banish...you mean kill them," said Minerva.

"They're already dead," said the Archmage. "You're not killing them. They're already dead." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Minerva or Onmund.

Minerva looked at Onmund. "I'll take one, you take the other?" Onmund slowly nodded. They're already dead, he repeated to himself as he climbed the steps. They're already dead. If anything you're putting them out of their misery.

And of course the platform he picked had the Nord on it. Had Hafnir been like him, once? Had his family considered him a runt as well? Did he run away like Onmund had? Or were his parents okay with magic? Did they write? Did they know what had happened to their son?

Onmund swallowed, pulling out a dagger. "I'm sorry...I hope you rest easy in Sovngarde..."

Mages don't go to Sovengarde, you stupid runt, said his brain.

Just shut up and let me have this, Onmund thought back.

Onmund drove the dagger into the back of the ghost's neck. There wasn't even a scream as the ghost dissipated, not even leaving ectoplasm behind. "I'm really sorry..." He whispered to the empty air.

Across from him, he saw Minerva stab Atmah through the chest, and the Redguard's ghost disappeared as well. "Get ready!" he heard Minerva yell.

Right. Morokei. Onmund readied his lightning magic. Do or die time. Quite literally.

Morokei let out another chuckle and summoned lightning in the hand not holding the staff. "Pahlok meyye. Dinok!"

"This isn't funny, you ass!" yelled Minerva as she made her way back down the stairs. "I'll distract him!" she yelled. "You focus on wearing him down!"

Minerva started running around the outer edge of the room, dodging the lightning that Morokei threw at her. "What kind of name is that, huh? 'Morokei'? Who names themself 'glorious', hm? Are you compensating for something, sahlogein?"

Morokei snarled. "Hi aus dinok faaz!"

"Up yours too, buddy!"

Onmund began striking Morokei with lightning and ice. "Please work, please work!" he muttered. He could only hope the staff didn't give Morokei some kind of magic immunity...

After a few hits, Morokei looked up at Onmund and scowled. He shot a spell that hit on the steps below Onmund, and the black and purple swirl of a summoning spell appeared. A storm atronach began making its way up the stairs towards Onmund.

"Shor's bones!" Onmund dived out of the way as the atronach's lightning struck the wall behind him. Several pieces of rubble fell from the charred cracks. Onmund looked back at the rubble, then checked his bag.

Meanwhile, Minerva was running out of stamina from running. "Okay, enough of that," she declared, turning back towards Morokei. "Take this! FUS RO DAH!"

The wave of force exploded from Minerva's mouth, slamming into Morokei and pushing him back into the wall. Minerva sheathed her sword and summoned lightning in both hands. "Stay back! Stay down!" she yelled, putting all her will behind the lighting.

Morokei was stunned for a bit, but then seemed to recover and Minerva could sense him grinning behind his mask. He raised the staff and shot a beam of light that connected with Minerva's body before she could dodge.

Minerva gasped as her lightning sputtered out. Then her vision started to blur. Oh shit! That staff didn't just drain magicka...

"YOL TOOR!" Minerva shouted desperately. At least her Shouts didn't seem to run off her magicka, as the fire still hit Morokei with quite a bit of force.

"Hey ugly!" That was Onmund's voice!

Morokei turned to look in the direction of the yell, and was immediately slammed with pieces of stone, as well as several bottles of alchemy mixtures. They all had the green glow of a Telekinesis spell around them.

Morokei flew backwards again, hitting the wall. The staff fell from his grip on impact and bounced away. Minerva picked it up.

Morokei seemed to regain his bearings a bit, then looked down and realized he was missing the staff. "Niid!"

Onmund ran down the stairs and to Minerva's side, panting heavily. It seemed that throwing so much had taken a bit out of him.

Minerva smiled and handed him the staff. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Onmund smiled tiredly, then took the staff from Minerva. He turned to Morokei and primed the staff. "It's over. Now let's see how powerful this thing really is."

The staff shot a connection of white magic towards Morokei, and the effect was almost immediate. Between Minerva's Shouts and Onmund's various poisons and bludgeons, his health had been quite worn down. So when the staff was finished draining his magicka, there wasn't much left to drain.

It only took about five minutes for Morokei to let out a howl of defeat and completely disintegrate. There was only a pile of ash and a mask left. Onmund reached down and picked up the mask. He'd check the enchantments on it later.

"...he's gone?" Aren's voice came from the amulet. He hadn't talked during the whole fight.

Onmund nodded. "He's ash now. I don't think he'll come back from that."

"Good riddance," Minerva muttered.

"...I...can't thank you two enough. You've put this to rest...finally." Aren was silent for a bit. "...Minerva?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind terribly if I spoke to Onmund alone? Please?"

Minerva looked Onmund up and down, then nodded. "Take your time. I'll go check and make sure the way out is clear." She walked over to a pull chain and used it to open a barred door at the back of the room. Once it was open, she stepped through and disappeared.

Onmund sat down heavily. "So, what was it you wanted to speak to me about, sir?"

Onmund heard Aren chuckle. "'Sir.' How quaint." The air shimmered in front of Onmund, and an apparition appeared. It was Aren, looking as he did when he died, archmage robes and all. He looked around the room. "...I had to do it, you understand? If that thing got out, who knows what would have happened. We were no match for it..." He closed his eyes. "That's what I kept telling myself. But...I never quite believed it."

Onmund shivered. "I'm sorry for what happened. It must have been awful." He looked up to meet Aren's eyes and held up the mask. "But he's gone now. He'll never hurt anyone again. We still have to deal with Ancano, though."

"Yes, you'll have quite the mess to clean up when you get back." Aren smiled sadly. "But...my time's running out. I won't be able to see you win."

"Archmage Aren..."

"I'm afraid I haven't been a very good Archmage. I could never fight past the grief, and the whole College, over time, suffered for it. I just hope...no...I already know you will do better, Onmund. Thank you. Goodbye."

Onmund blinked. "Do better? What do you-"

But the Archmage simply closed his eyes, faded away, and then was gone.

Minerva came back, wiping blood off her sword. "Looks like Ancano sent a patsy to stop us. Fucking Thalmor- Onmund? Onmund, what's wrong?"

Onmund held up the archmage's amulet. There was no more humming. No more voice. "He's gone."

Minerva made a noise in the back of her throat, though whether it was pain or sympathy, Onmund couldn't tell. "Onmund-"

"I'm okay," Onmund said, putting the archmage's amulet back over his own. "I'm okay. We have to get back."

Minerva looked at him, apparently not totally convinced. But then she nodded and grinned a bit. "You're right. Let's go kick some Thalmor ass."

Next up: Kicking Thalmor ass

Translations:

Mu ni fraan fahraal, pahlok mey! - We didn't feel the need to answer, you arrogant idiot!

Pahlok meyye. Dinkok! - Arrogant fools. Die!

Sahlogein - weakling (lit. weak-one)

Hi aus dinok faaz! - You will suffer a painful death! (You suffer death pain)