A/N: Hello all and welcome to the first chapter of Arc 2 of WotN, Oblivion Walker. This overall arc will be less heavy than the first one (we'll still get dark moments and shit) and we'll see even more of Solstheim and its native creatures. A lot of fun quests to undertake, including an assassination plot on the councilors. Also, we have a special guest appearance in this arc! Overall, I'm super excited for it.
Whispers of the Night
Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…
*Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 1*
Alana was drowning.
She knew she was dying. She could hear her body screaming for air, her lungs burning as they begged for her to snap out of it and swim to the surface. But she could not move her limbs, despite her instincts' pleas for her to stop. The weight of the lukewarm water intent on dragging her to the shadowy depths was too much for her to handle in such a weakened state.
Even if she wanted to, she doubted she would be able to. Her right arm dangled uselessly at her side, having broken during her fall, and she could feel the harsh sting of the saltwater on the stab wound in her chest. 'I want to die. I want to die.'
Those four words repeated in her head like an echo. In a twisted way she found solace in them. She was finally dying and ridding Tamriel of its greatest threat.
She dared to blink her eyes open a bit, fully expecting the tangled webs of the Spiral Skein to snatch her and swallow her whole. However it was not the case.
Her eyes snapped open when she no longer found herself drowning in the sea. Instead, she was in some sort of inky chasm between the mortal plane and the afterlife. "W-where…where am I?"
A gasp of pain left her lips as she took in a breath of air, clutching her chest with her good arm. Her hand came away wet and red with her own blood, the wound slowly knitting itself back together.
"You're in limbo."
Alana froze. The voice was as familiar as it was impossible. 'N-no…it can't be him.' She slowly turned around and found herself staring into the face of the man who should have been dead. Every bit of him was achingly reminiscent, from his rugged beard and the scars on his cheeks to his calm blue gaze and long blond hair. He wore steel plate armor forged by his own hands, the craftsmanship subtle but strong enough to block a blow from a weapon made of elven materials. It was a bit of a shock to her to realize that their eyes were on the same level, even though she spent her life looking up to him.
"Father…" Alana said numbly, clenching her shaking hands into fists and biting back a whimper of pain as agony spasmed up her right arm. Her golden eyes began to fill up with tears as emotions she thought she had lost forever stirred in her dead heart. Suddenly she was just a child as the familiar fumes of smoke and iron filled her nose, terrified of the judgment she knew she deserved. Dammit, why did it have to be him?
"I'm sorry," she choked out, knowing it wasn't enough for everything she had done wrong. Before she could say anymore, however, he stepped forward and hugged her tightly. His rough hands gently ran through her hair, reminding her of warmth and safety, and the cold armor around her heart shattered.
Alana allowed herself to cry into his broad chest. How many years had it been since she last got a chance to speak to her father after he was killed by the Thalmor? She could feel the slight bulge of his Talos amulet on his chest even through the armor and his voice had a hint of raggedness to it thanks to him breathing in the smoke of his forge.
"What are you sorry for?" he asked gently, his hands massaging her shoulders.
"For everything! Everything I've done!" Alana clutched onto the edges of his armor, her fingers digging into the cold steel. "I couldn't do anything to save you. I couldn't do what I was chosen to do! I couldn't even save the ones I loved! Everything is my fault!"
Her father let out a quiet hum. "Alana, my child. Ever since you were barely knee high, you were always someone who did things with their own two hands, like a true daughter of the north. However, you mustn't take on everything alone. Not everything that happened is your responsibility and it is arrogant of you to assume so."
The desperate warmth in her chest faded as he spoke to her like a misguided child. "It was my destiny to save Skyrim and all I did was lead it to ruin!" Alana hissed, pulling back with pained defiance. "You don't understand. I wasn't strong enough to fight back! Of course I was alone; people I loved died when I got too close!"
Her father narrowed his eyes, folding his muscular arms and refusing to back down. "You led our homeland to independence. You saved all of us from Alduin," he reminded, his tone brooking no argument. "Every hero in Sovngarde wishes they had half of your courage. I only feared that you would fall down the wrong path."
"And I did!" Alana shot back, her voice cracking, but her father was already shaking his head.
"You dug yourself out of it! Alana, you are much stronger than I could ever hope to be. Even when things were at their worst, you still took sword in hand and fought on. You saved the entire world from the World Eater himself. Give yourself some credit!"
Alana flinched from his words. She knew he was right. "I hate this. I didn't ask for this. I never wanted it. Why me? Of all the people to be burdened with saving the world, why did Akatosh choose me?"
Her father put his hands on her shoulder, briefly running a finger over the scar on her pale skin. "Because he believed you were capable of it. And he's right in his choice. I've watched you from Sovngarde ever since you left Cyrodiil. Yes, you made terrible mistakes. But you made amends for them. Because of you, Skyrim stands independent and free of the Thalmor. You stopped the dragons. You are the sole reason the world is still here."
"Saviors don't fall to temptation by the daedra." Alana let out a bitter scoff. "Nor do they kill innocents. Some damned savior I was. I'm just a damned daedric puppet who deserved to die."
"Is that you speaking, or Mephala?" her father challenged. "The daughter I know and raised would never let herself fall to a daedric prince. She'd take her sword in hand and fight back."
Alana stopped for a moment to think about his words. 'It's the same thing Saoron said to me, before I fell. He said it wasn't me speaking. Was he right? Were those thoughts someone else's voice? But it sounded like me!'
'…I'm such a fool. I should've seen it. Mephala disguised her voice before, as the Night Mother. I was too busy drowning in my guilt and sorrow to see it. Oh gods. I'm so pathetic.'
Her inability to see how she was so easily manipulated made her furious, replacing her sorrow. Her anger gave her strength.
"You always acted on emotion," her father murmured. "It's okay to let them give you strength. But you must not depend on them. Like right now, for instance. If you say a daedra appear right now, you wouldn't hesitate to try and cut them down. However you'd lose. You'd lose because you are blinded by your hatred and anger. You need to keep a clear mind, which isn't easy due to Mephala's meddling. She's left your mind open for invasion, allowing Vaermina to project nightmares into."
The blonde looked up at him. "What do you suppose I do? I can't fight back against both of them."
"Not in your current state. That is true," he agreed. "But use your head. There have been plenty of Dragonborn men and women before you. What separates you from the others?"
"I don't know…I devoured Alduin's soul?"
"Precisely. You've done something no one had ever done. You devoured the soul of the Firstborn of Akatosh and absorbed its power. Your powers as the Last Dragonborn are far superior to those of the past because of that alone. Your abilities in magic superseded even the Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold. Even if you have not used it in a very long time, the power is still inside you."
He put a hand on her shoulder. "They're afraid of you, Alana. You. A mortal who slew the World Eater and devoured his soul. They're afraid of what you can become."
"What are you saying?" the blonde asked. "Why would they be afraid of me? I'm just one person."
"True," he conceded. "But no person ever truly defeated Alduin. You did. You alone went through the maze of Labyrinthian. You led Skyrim to be free of the Empire for the first time since the Second Era. Alana, don't you see it? There's only one other Dragonborn whose mortal feats even come close to what you've done and we bear his amulets."
He was talking about Talos himself. The Dragon of the North, the Ninth Divine. The legendary hero who conquered all of Tamriel and forged a dynasty that lasted for hundreds of years until it fell over two hundred years ago. The hero-god of mankind.
"Talos."
"Yes. You are on that very same path. The path that leads to divinity."
Alana looked away from him, lowering her head. "I didn't ask for this." 'Me, a Divine like Talos? Please. Don't make me laugh. I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Someone like me doesn't ascend to godhood.'
'And who's that talking? Me or Mephala?'
"Child, you've finally seen it," a deep voice grumbled behind her. Alana turned around, looking for her father, but he had vanished. She was once again alone and her hands went for her sword's handle.
"Who's there!?" she demanded. "Show yourself!"
"I am here." A bright ruby red dragon appeared in front of her, flapping his mighty wings. He landed in front of her, his old and powerful gaze meeting her own. "My champion."
"Akatosh…" Her hands clenched and she stalked towards him with a hiss of fury. "What the hell gives you the right to call me your champion!? You never bothered to take responsibility! You didn't even lift a damn finger when the daedra meddled with my life! You didn't stop them from turning my own family against me!"
"I can see through the past, present, and future, but I cannot interfere," he said with a low grumble. "The tides of destiny were clear and as such, I could not waste my power trying to change an inevitable fate."
"Don't give me that," Alana snapped. "You are the Chief Divine, as your kin are so fond of boasting. You could have easily done something. I don't mean a damned thing to you. To you and the daedra, I'm just a pawn."
"No. You're much more than that." Akatosh's body began to glow a bright white, the flash blinding her. Alana shielded her eyes and when she lowered her arms, she found herself not in an inky chasm between realms, but back in Tamriel. She was watching as she fought against Saoron on top of the tower before she killed herself and though at the time she couldn't see it being blinded by her sorrow, she saw the cruel form of Mephala standing behind her, a twisted smirk on her face as Alana stabbed herself.
'That meddling little bitch. This is what she wanted! She wanted me to die so she could claim my soul for herself! Why did I not see it sooner!?'
'Because I was too caught up in my own guilt and pain. She used that against me and it worked.' Alana sank to her knees, feeling nothing but shame for being so blind as to not see the obvious. The pain of losing Serana clouded her mind and Mephala tricked her into thinking it was her own fault. 'The real Serana would have never blamed me. She would have stayed by me regardless.'
"Death is not your fate. Not today. But you will never reach your destiny as long as you are tainted." Akatosh's eyes flickered towards Alana's covered arm, noticing it shake. "Stay still, my child. I will cleanse you of your filthy impurities."
Before she could even utter a protest, Akatosh enveloped her in his cleansing light. She thought it would be a calming and even soothing experience.
She was wrong, so terribly wrong.
Alana fell to her hands and knees with a loud wail of pain, trembling as it rippled through her body like a wave. Her blood hissed and bubbled beneath her skin and tears stung the corners of her eyes. It felt as though her body was being ripped apart and sewn back together all wrong, the blonde falling down on her side and gasping for breath.
"W-why?" she asked with a rasp, sweat pouring down her face as she tried to control her body's shaking. "Why did you choose me?"
Akatosh's eyes met hers and he rose up into the air with a flap of his powerful wings. "Because there is no one else who could do it. You are the true savior. No longer will your body be stained with the foul presence of the daedra."
The bright light faded away from his scaly hide and Alana felt a sudden surge of raw power course through her body. She stood up, wobbling a little and clutching her side, but she was still able to stare back at him.
Her mind felt lighter than it had. She couldn't feel the heavy darkness that had warped it for over a year; instead, it was clear. Nothing was there. No hint of a dark whisper telling her to kill herself. Nothing. He had done what she thought to be impossible and cleared her mind of any and all daedric influence.
"Do not use your powers as a means to destroy. Use them as a means to protect. Be the savior you know you can be. Be the Eternal Angel."
Alana felt her back quiver and to her shock a single black wing sprang out near her right shoulder. "What…what did you do to me!?"
"I've made you stronger, child. This is your gift from me to aid you in your destiny. Now go," he commanded. "Go forth and strike with the power of the Divines, my child." Akatosh started to fade away and Alana's wing vanished. This new power that surged through her veins was intoxicating. It was the power of a god and she closed her eyes.
'I think…I think I know why you told me to live for the two of us, Serana. You wanted me to be able to atone for the things I've done. You wanted to see me keep fighting back, even if it looked helpless. Because you knew I could do it.' Alana rested a hand over her heart, feeling it beat beneath her dark vest. 'I'll live for you.'
'I promise.'
Astrid followed the brunet man carrying Alana's body back to Raven Rock, ignoring the many stares that some of the male population sent her way. It wasn't unexpected; her tight leather armor clung to her body in ways that left very little to the imagination. Still, it would be very unwise for one of them to attempt to approach her with the intent on bedding her in her current state. The trip to Solstheim had been long and tiresome, leaving her bitter and hungry.
Her vampire blood hissed and boiled in the sunlight, though thankfully the sun was beginning to set as they progressed through town. 'Can't see why anyone would want to live all the way out here on the Morrowind frontier. It's barely more than a giant ashy wasteland.'
The Breton man fumbled with a key, holding between his teeth for a second to heft Alana's still body onto his shoulder before taking the key back. "We're almost home. I'll brew up a potion or two to keep your hunger at bay."
"There will be no need for that." Astrid waved her hand dismissively, smirking at a young dunmer guard patrolling the town square. "I think I've already found my prey." 'Foolish boy. He'll blame what happened to him as nothing more than having too much to drink.'
She could feel the monster inside her begging for release, to spill blood until it bathed in it. Astrid squashed it with ease, remaining in control of her powers. That soldier would make a fine enough meal for now. 'I can wait. I'm in control of my own power, not the other way around.'
Astrid may have had her vampire powers under control, but her fury with her former Listener bubbled and popped like molten rock. Alana didn't say a damn word; she just abandoned her and her family as if they didn't mean a damn thing to her.
Astrid glared at Alana's blank open eyes and noticed something. They weren't the brilliant shade of gold that she was so used to seeing. Instead, they were a dark blue, the color of the sea after a storm. "Breton." 'How did they do that? Did she find a way to cure herself?'
"The name's Saoron," he snapped back. "What do you want?"
"What color are Alana's eyes?"
"Gold. Why?"
"Take a look." Astrid gestured to the body. "They're blue."
"Impossible. The only way her eyes could have turned back to normal is if she was cured of her vampirism," Saoron murmured, frowning. He stroked Alana's cheek with one of his rugged hands and he tightened his grip on her. "She's breathing."
"Thought you said she was dead," Astrid reminded with a bit more snappiness than intended. It wasn't his fault that Alana abandoned the Brotherhood. If anything, he probably attempted to persuade her not to do to it.
Saoron gave her a sharp look but managed to remain in control of his emotions. Astrid was impressed. Anyone else would've come back with a snappy remark, but he remained calm and composed. It was admirable.
"She was. I can promise you that in the time it took for me to get down into the water and pull her out, she had long since drowned," he replied evenly. "I know a dead body when I see one and I can very much tell you she had died."
"Then why is she breathing right now?" Astrid countered.
"Use your head," Saoron snapped, finally having enough of her tone. "Do you really expect Akatosh to just sit back and watch as his chosen one is sentenced to an eternity of torment at the hands of the daedra? I guarantee you he interfered."
Astrid bared her fangs in a snarl. If it were anyone else who took that tone of voice with her, she'd have torn their throat out and drained them dry right then and there. It was only the fact that he was Alana's friend that prevented her from acting on those urges.
Saoron wasn't intimidated in the slightest and merely scoffed. "You'll have to do a lot better than that." Bastard.
Astrid sized him up in case it did come to blows. He was particularly muscular for a Breton and moving efficiently in heavy steel armor, meaning he was a master of it. She noticed that his right shoulder guard was completely missing, possibly being cut off by Alana. He carried a glass sword on his belt, lighter than her ebony one, and a steel shield was fastened to his left hand. More than just some kind of brute mercenary, that was for sure. Alana wouldn't be around someone who couldn't handle their own.
'He's a strategy fighter. He'll use his shield to absorb damage and wait to counter. No wonder why their fight was close; Alana doesn't have an ounce of defense in her.' Astrid had seen her fight plenty of times and was able to deduce exactly what her weaknesses would be. Her style revolved around using brute strength to simply overpower an enemy. However she relied on fluid movements; disrupt that and she'd be caught off balance.
At least, when she had been using the sword Astrid last saw her use.
Her new blade was unlike anything she had seen. On first glance it looked like it was pure steel, however upon closer inspection one could see the rare material of aetherium on the blade. A small button was on the gold and brown handle, though what it did was a mystery to her.
Saoron focused on Alana's motionless form, his hands glowing with restoration magic. The ugly wound on Alana's chest started to knit itself back together and now Astrid could see the faint rise and fall of it now as life slowly returned to her broken and battered body.
Astrid felt her thirst get unbearable now; she had been fighting it for days and knew she couldn't keep going for much longer before she snapped. 'I will not do what she did and starve myself. I am better than that. There should be someone around here who could be a good meal.'
She turned on her heel and left, looking over her shoulder. "Find me when she wakes up. I'm going to feed."
She didn't wait to hear his reply and she found herself in Raven Rock's ashy streets. Astrid closed her eyes and let her senses roam free. She could hear the clanging of metal coming from the forge, the gentle scuffs of the townsfolk as they walked through the marketplace, the sobbing of a child—
Wait. A child?
Astrid was many things. She was a dangerous assassin who could send battle hardened men into cowering away in fear with a single draw of her blade and make bandit chiefs beg for mercy. But something about seeing children in anguish touched her heart. Perhaps it was because of her own experiences as a child when her uncle molested her.
Astrid's golden eyes blinked open and she started to approach the sound. Her enhanced hearing enabled her to pinpoint their location within seconds and she found herself looking at a young dunmer boy crouched against one of the abandoned buildings in town. He couldn't have been older than eight years of age by the look of him.
He was tucked into a tight ball, rocking back and forth and sniffling. He looked up at her with teary red eyes, shaking as he saw the assassin. "P-please…please, don't hurt me anymore…"
"Relax, child. I won't harm you," Astrid replied soothingly, crouching down so she was level with him. Poor boy looked like he had been beaten; ugly bruises and cuts lined his arms and she could make out bruising on his neck.
"What is a child like you doing out here by themselves?" she asked.
"I…I ran away from the temple," he stammered, tears dripping from his face. "Elder Othreloth wouldn't believe me."
"Believe what?" she pressed. The boy was hiding something. Something big.
"T-the things Galdrus Hlervu did to me…" he said with a quiet whimper.
It clicked in her mind all at once. The bruising on the neck, the reason why he was so terrified of her when she first approached. 'That sick bastard. Even here, there are scum like this priest using their status to harm children in that manner.'
Memories of her own abuse flooded her mind and she started to seethe. "Where can I find him?"
"T-there." The boy pointed to the large temple she and Saoron had passed by earlier when carrying Alana back. "H-he's in his room right now."
Astrid nodded and stood up. "Wait here for me. I'll be right back." 'Even assassins have codes. Do not harm a child or take unnecessary life. This sick son of a bitch needs to die.'
She stalked through the town, a dangerous aura of death surrounding her body. A few guards stepped away from her and she could feel her fangs grow in anticipation of sinking into soft and supple flesh. She needed to kill this bastard before he could repeat his heinous actions.
The temple was the largest building in town and guarded by two soldiers wearing unusual armor. They glanced at her as she marched up the steps but made no move to try and stop her. In fact they backed away, perhaps sensing the aura of death that covered her like a blanket.
She pushed the heavy wooden doors open and was greeted by an elderly dunmer in long flowing robes. He didn't have an air of maliciousness about him and he bowed. "Greetings. I am Elder Othreloth. Have you come seeking guidance?"
"I've come for Galdrus. Is he here?" Astrid asked silkily, calling upon her vampiric seduction powers to aid her.
"Ah, my apprentice. He is down in his chambers for the night. I didn't think he would have a visitor. He doesn't often have female company." The elderly priest stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But please, do not let me stop you. I have urgent business to attend to."
Astrid descended deep into the temple, glancing at the ashy walls and the dancing flames of the candles that lined them. The stench of charred bodies wafted up her nose and she grimaced. 'Disgusting.'
The blonde assassin called upon her Vampire's Sight power to find out just where he was hiding. Her power rewarded her by showing her that he was only a few doors down from where she stood and she licked her fangs. She would take great joy in ending his life.
A few urns lined the halls and in the center of the main chamber was a small garden filled with scathecraw, a dangerous plant that would wreak havoc on one's body. Even an immortal like her wasn't immune to its deadly effects.
She found the room she was searching for and opened it as quietly as she could, pulling the Blade of Woe free. "Galdrus, is it?"
The priest had his back turned to her and he was dressed in pale colored robes with a hood over his head. He had a sneer on his face and smirked. "What's the matter, did that boy go home and cry to you? Take me to the guards and I guarantee that you'll rot in the Bulwark for false accusations. There's no evidence except the word of some filthy street urchin and a harlot."
Astrid smiled cruelly and threw the dagger. It flashed across the room and impaled his hand to the wall, the priest looking at it in horror as the assassin strutted across the room to him. "Take you in? No. I have no plans on that. Not my style, anyway. Even if it was, I wouldn't."
"Because this is so much more satisfying." She gripped the dagger and twisted it into his hand, making him howl in pain. She followed up with a sharp knee to the groin, the force of the blow crushing the soft organs.
He screamed, trying to rip the Blade of Woe free from his hand to no avail. "Y-you bitch! I'll see you hanged!"
"Mmm…" Astrid took in a deep breath of the scent of his blood, leaning in to lick up a few drops. "Delicious. You have a wonderful taste. If you weren't such a sick bastard, I would have considered making you my thrall."
"As it happens, though, I wouldn't want filth like you following me around." Astrid tore her blade free from his hand, blood gushing out of the wound. Before he could fall to the ground the blonde assassin sank her fangs deep into his throat and tore it out.
The priest let out a weak gurgle that was cut short. Blood bubbled out of the wound and Astrid began her feast. Her eyes shone with power as she drank his blood, not letting a single drop go to waste. She only pulled away when she had her fill, licking a few stray drops from her lips. The sweet nectar gave her strength as well as reduced the effects of being in sunlight.
With her thirst quenched, she let his body drop onto the floor and wiped her chin. It was nice not being having her blood boil beneath her veins every second she was outside. With her feed, she would also keep her vampire powers at bay for another couple of days and she even saved an urchin to boot.
All in all, it was a good day for her and she could walk away feeling somewhat satisfied. Now when Alana woke up, she would give her a piece of her mind. She was still very much infuriated with her, not just for running away and abandoning the Dark Brotherhood, but for having the sheer audacity to think that she was the only one suffering from Serana's death and attempting to kill herself.
'When you wake up, don't expect me to just forgive you. You have a lot to answer for, Alana.'
Astrid turned on her heel and began her walk back to Saoron's house. With a bit of luck, no one would notice the priest was missing for a few days or so.
A/N: So…before the questions start, I'll answer them. What's the deal with the priest? That actually came to me because I went to go loot his shit and I found children's clothes in his chest. I did it again with another character and got the same thing. I saw it as an opportunity to add more depth to Raven Rock. Plus, he's an asshole too. He's almost as big of a prick as Nazeem.
C. Strife#5371