A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter nineteen. Last time, Saoron and the Nerevarine (whose name will be revealed, I assure you) were about to take on a demon together. Here, we continue from where I left off.

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 Two: Oblivion Walker Part 11*

Saoron spun as the giant insect-like demon took a swipe at him with its barbed tail, the brunet Breton grimacing as it nearly took his head off. He kept on his balance and cast a Chain Lightning spell at it, watching as the electricity coursed through its body. However, he would have had better luck throwing sand at its single eye, for its carapace wasn't even marked by the attack. 'Damn, even my magic has no effect on it!'

The Nerevarine landed next to him, spitting out a mouthful of ash with an annoyed hiss and wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. "Nasty bastard is tough. My magic isn't strong enough to pierce that body."

The demon coiled its body up, its lone red eye gleaming with malice. It dove back underground in a hurry when the two closed in on it, burrowing around them. Saoron stumbled briefly as the ground shook from its movements, shoving his sword into the ground to keep from tumbling over.

When it burst out again, ash and dirt rained down on the two and Saoron raised his shield to protect himself from the debris. His shield arm jolted with each hit and he blasted it in the face with a Fireball. It shrieked in pain and thrashed uncontrollably, Saoron ducking under the lash of its tail. "NOW!"

The Nerevarine's sword flashed red and it was replaced by a blood red scythe, the dunmer twirling it around in her hands before bringing its blade down through its body. The demon screamed as its tail was severed off and it once again burrowed underground to recover from the wound it was just given. The redhaired dark elf smirked and spat out some blood, resting her scythe on her shoulder. "Not so tough if you hit it hard enough, huh?"

Saoron heard a series of Oblivion portals open and he looked behind him to see some more traditional daedra had entered the fray. 'Dammit, spider daedra! Mephala and Vaermina are taking this seriously now. Alana, hurry back please!'

He blocked the pinchers of one of the daedra, forcing it back with a powerful bash. His sword found his free hand and he cut across its chest in a crisscross pattern, the daedra falling in a puddle of blood. His main worry wasn't so much Mephala's pets, but rather that damn demon of Vaermina's. He had faced one with the best damn daedra hunter possibly in Tamriel's history and even with her, it was a difficult fight. He didn't have the same kind of communication and coordination with his new partner, and it showed.

They were both separated and being as outnumbered as they were, this could prove to be fatal. 'We have to call out. It's the only way either of us are living through this!' "Handle the left! I'll get these ones busy!"

The Nerevarine must have heard him, though she didn't give any sign of it. Her scythe was a whirlwind of death in her hands, the redhaired elf spinning it with the grace of a master. Its cruel blade easily made short work of two spider daedra, slicing them to ribbons. One, partially alive, had been forced into the air and she punched it hard twice in its abdomen. Its momentum was halted by the two quick blows and Saoron ran it through with his sword.

The handle of her scythe was caught in the pinchers of a spider daedra and with one twist it was yanked out of her grasp. The daedra looked up in surprise only to receive a hard kick for its lapse, the Nerevarine catching her scythe and leaping forward. One vicious swing later and it fell in two pieces, cut cleanly from the side of the head down. The bodies of the fallen daedra were already fading back into Oblivion, retreating to their master's lair to regain their strength.

Vaermina's vile spawn showed itself, shrieking in rage. The remaining spider daedra faded back into the Spiral Skein, Mephala withdrawing for now. Saoron's grip on his longsword tightened as he stared down the demon, drawing on his remaining magicka reserves. He had enough to cast a few Thunderbolts, but spells were not effective against a demon as large and well protected as this. 'We won't have a better opportunity to take this thing down.'

Its mouth opened and the brunet raised his shield as it struck, wincing as the force jolted through his body. He ground his feet into the soft ash, feeling himself started to slip. With a loud grunt he forced himself to stand sturdy, ducking as a glob of acid missed him by inches. The black liquid hissed and bubbled behind him, eating away at the very soil itself. 'One hit from that and we're dead!'

He tried to keep its head busy, occasionally poking up to hit it in the eye with an Icy Spear or Incinerate spell. The frozen magical spears imbedded in its tough exoskeleton and burst, the demon flailing in agony. Blood dripped from its wounded eye but it could still hear and smell them. Even if they blinded it, it was still too sensitive to attack its blind spot. 'If only one of us could attack from the high ground! Then we would have its head.'

As he continued to block the demon's fierce headbutts, he looked around for the Nerevarine but realized he couldn't find her. 'What the hell!? Where did she go!?'

His grip slacked and the next thing he knew he was on his back from a powerful strike. He heard something snap and he gasped for air, the wind being knocked out of him. The demon may have not pierced his armor but it was still strong enough to wind him completely. He rolled out of the way as it went to bite down on him, reaching for his sword. He found the handle and rolled to his feet, waves of pain rolling down his shield arm. It dangled limp and uselessly at his side, the brunet not having time to properly inspect it. He suspected it was broken from the blow and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, the salty metallic taste filling his mouth. 'I have to be more mobile. I can't absorb another blow like that.'

Saoron tried to focus some of his restoration magic into the broken bone to begin the mending process, but his recovery skills, while impressive, were not able to heal broken bones on the fly. Even Alana's absurd regenerative abilities had their limits and took a week to fully recover. Trying to ignore the pain as best he could, he slid under strike from its spiny legs and cut alongside its underbelly. Bits of its exoskeleton were shaved off and he followed through with a vicious chop. He felt a twinge of satisfaction as the sharpened malachite tore one of the demon's legs off and dug it into the ground to halt his momentum. 'Dammit, where the hell did the Nerevarine go!?'

Saoron didn't want to admit it, but he was outclassed by this monster in terms of power. One more hit would cripple him, leaving him easy to eat, and he could feel even his strength beginning to falter. He jumped back as the damn demon tried to bite his head off, wincing as his shield arm banged against something hard. Glancing back, he didn't even have enough time to swear before the demon lunged again. The Breton narrowly avoided death and was about to swing his sword when the Nerevarine jumped from the remains of the crumbling walls that bordered the road to Raven Rock. The blade of her scythe lopped its head clean off, blood dripping from its cruel length.

"Sorry I'm late," the dark elf apologized, looking at the battered Breton with a grimace. "You don't look so good."

Saoron bit his lip to prevent from yelping out as he sheathed his glass sword. "I'll live. Once my magicka reserves recharge I can let it do the work. Be fine within the month." 'Either way, I'm not going to be able to really work while my arm recovers.' He glanced back at the dissolving demon corpse, his sense of worry only increasing. He suspected that the two were working in sync before, but now he could confirm it. Both of them sent their filthy minions out on him for a reason. To send a message.

'This isn't good. The two of them are planning something big and it's only going to get worse from here. A demon attack this close to the town is sending a message that they're not afraid to kill anyone.' He reached around to look for the alchemy pouch he usually kept stored on his belt, but his hand grasped nothing but air. 'Dammit. Of all the times to leave it behind, it had to be the same day as a demon attack.'

The brunet kept his broken limb elevated as he began to make his way back to town. He was in no condition to go out hunting kagouti with the Nerevarine, who still refused to share her real name. "I'm heading back. Think you can handle yourself against those kagouti?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at that?" She gestured to his arm.

"I'm fine," he insisted, declining her offer. "Just make sure you can get the job done. Once you do, just talk to the captain and tell him I'm going to be out of commission for awhile."

"Oh for…" The dunmer rolled her eyes in exasperation and stalked over to him, letting her hand become cloaked in purple magic and hovering her palm above the broken bone. Whatever spell it was, it wasn't painless by any means. Saoron ground his teeth together as he felt a thousand tiny knives pierce his bones, but when the burning sensation faded he found he could move his arm again without crying out.

"Interesting little trick of yours, Madam…?" Saoron flexed his fingers, confused as to what to call her. She was much older than him and somehow calling her by the title of Nerevarine seemed tedious.

"Dissordia," she said simply. "Not really a part of any of the Great Houses anymore. And what you saw was daedric magic. Azura's Respite."

"Azura? Why would she willingly give you that?" In his experience, nothing a daedric prince bestowed upon a mortal didn't have some sort of little trick or catch with it. They never handed out anything for free.

"Not all daedric princes are cruel and malicious." Dissordia rolled her eyes. "Some of them once saved an entire race. Boethiah, Azura, and Mephala are so revered by my people because those three helped us survive, giving all of our natural gifts. Azura gave us wisdom, Boethiah power, and Mephala gave us the ability to weave a lie. All the things we needed to survive in the harsh climate of Morrowind."

"Mephala, helping anyone but herself?" Saoron scoffed bitterly at that. "That selfish bitch has gone too damn far in her lust for Alana's soul. She manipulated her life. Turned her own spouse against her. Nearly everyone she loved has been torn away from her. All because of Mephala and Vaermina."

"I agree she has gone too far. Mephala has strayed from her duty in her lust for more power," Dissordia admitted. "She's broken the rule of the Tribunal, to never stray from her sisters. She has to be stopped; if she isn't, there will be another Oblivion Crisis."

Saoron nodded grimly. "In the meantime, we should think of a plan. You said we should take that Black Book of Hermaeus Mora's to the Telvanni wizard to the south. Do you know of him?"

"Oh yes." The red haired elf smiled and sighed wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. "He can be rather…irritable, at times, but he has his moments. When it comes to dealing with him, just keep in mind that he has very low tolerance to stupidity and you have to be just as bitingly sarcastic as him to keep up. His name is Neloth, master wizard of House Telvanni. I reckon he's one of the few people who can teach me anything new about magic. Never met a man who knows more than him."

"So he seeks knowledge?" Saoron asked.

"Yes. Meaning he has, undoubtedly, tried searching for any of Mora's Black Books," she answered. "When I first came here centuries ago, he was looking for the Oghma Infinium, the tome written by Xarxes himself and Mora's personal artifact. In his mind, dangerous knowledge is still knowledge and therefore useful. In my personal experience, it turns out to be the most useful."

'I don't much like leaving Raven Rock defenseless. Especially not after a damn attack this close to the town. But we need to find out more about that book before we can even think of a way to bring Vaermina and Mephala down. Dammit. She knows the wizard best; she can take the book to him, and I can talk to Veleth and see if we can bolster the defenses.' Saoron pursed his lips before heading up the road away from the abandoned farm and towards the remains of Fort Frostmoth. "I'll go talk to the captain then. You grab the Black Book and take it to the wizard; here's the key if you need it."

He tossed her the key to his home so she could get in, the dark elf catching it easily. "Good luck. We're going to need it."

"You're telling me." Saoron snorted and started on his way back to Raven Rock. His arm still felt stiff but it wasn't painful to move. If he needed to draw his blade again he'd still be able to fight, albeit while not moving as fluidly as he normally would and just one mistake in a fight with one of Vaermina's demons was fatal. They were both lucky to make it out in one piece.

'We need to start preparing. Vaermina's just showed she isn't afraid of wreaking havoc so close to a settlement. Nor is Mephala. Two daedric princes drunk on power. This couldn't get much worse. At least during the Oblivion Crisis it was just Dagon.' Dealing with one daedric prince trying to take form in Tamriel had crippled the Empire. Two would do even greater damage to an Empire recovering from not just the Great War, but losing their best warriors thanks to Skyrim's rebellion. It would fall again.

Once he had reached the Bulwark barracks he approached one of the soldiers standing guard. "I need to speak with Captain Veleth immediately. Where is he?"

"Having a chat with that orc loan shark Mogrul in the prison," the soldier answered. "Apparently he was caught talking to reavers about getting some of the treasure that shipwreck southeast of here had onboard. I've wanted a chance to strangle that nasty bastard for awhile."

Saoron grimaced. He knew that the orc would prove troublesome as he always did, trying to weasel his way out of facing justice. The bloody coward. "Am I allowed to enter or is he still interrogating him?"

The dunmer chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, go on in. You might want to find a way to get the captain calmed down, though. I think he's properly beating him in there." Not much of a surprise there. If there was one person in Raven Rock the good captain hated more than Teldryn Sero, it was Mogrul. The bastard was hated for the way he purposely screwed over those who were in dire need of some coin.

The brunet shared one last look with Dissordia and she nodded before breaking out into a jog towards his house. With her gone Saoron entered the Bulwark's prison cells, hearing the thumps of fist on flesh. He rounded a corner and saw Veleth plant his fist right into Mogrul's exposed stomach.

The orc was cuffed to shackles at the far end of the room, bleeding from a bloody lip and it looked as though Veleth had broken one of his tusks. Yet in spite of his injuries his gaze still burned smug defiance. Cocky bastard. "Is that all you got? Pathetic weakling."

Veleth growled and punched him in the ribs, bone breaking this time. Mogrul let out a sharp cry of pain and the dunmer snorted before turning away from the prisoner. "Sorry you had to see that. Bastard won't give up any information. But what brings you here? I had figured you would have been out hunting."

"Bad news, I'm afraid. News I'd rather not share publicly." Saoron glanced past the Redoran Guard captain at Mogrul, who sneered at them only to stop at the glare sent his way by the Breton. "Don't act smug. Consider it a blessing the Black Swordswoman didn't find you first. This is a mercy compared to what she would do to your hide." 'Hell, Alana would rip him to shreds. That is, if her damn undead lover didn't do it first.'

Mogrul might have not said anything, having now fallen quiet, but Saoron could tell from the paling of his face that the orc was frightened of crossing paths with someone as savage in battle as Alana. The only reason the Breton even lasted as long as he had against her was because she was in a terrible state and not fighting at her full potential. Now, with her recovering from the mental assault Mephala put her through, she was on her way back and not a moment too soon.

Veleth snorted and took a minute to wash Mogrul's blood off his hands, the old dark elf leading Saoron away from the prison cells. "How bad of news are we dealing with?"

"The worst." Saoron grimaced. "There was a daedra attack just beyond that ruined farm outside of town. Don't worry; we had it handled. But with Alana not here, we might have a real problem if we don't prepare for another attack. This was the daedra sending a message. We have to be ready for all possibilities. I'm going to pull a few strings and see if we can turn the tide against them. Put them on their heels for a change. In the meantime, we might want to bolster Raven Rock's defenses."

"I agree," Veleth said. He remained calm about the ordeal thanks to his extreme discipline, though the Breton could tell he was feeling slightly anxious even if he didn't show it. "I'll have extra patrols scouting along the Bulwark's top walls and put in an order for glass weapons instead of elven. Glover will be busier than normal these next few weeks; I just hope he can fill out an order of this size on his own without needing to take an apprentice."

"He's handled bigger orders than this before. He'll manage. Always has."

"I hope you're right. To think that the daedra are once again invading…I already lived through one Oblivion Crisis. I don't think I have enough in me to handle another on my own."

"We won't," Saoron said firmly. "We have the best damn daedra hunter on our side, who also happens to be the Last Dragonborn. Tamriel has lived through much more powerful daedra before and it will again." 'I hope,' he added silently, not wanting to add more to the captain's worry. He didn't mention the Nerevarine, as it was her choice to reveal her identity and not his. When it came to secrets, he knew how to keep his lips sealed.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Do you have a plan on how to fight back?" Veleth asked.

"I do, but it has to wait until we know more about our enemy. I have my sources looking into the matter," the brunet answered. "Once they've returned with more information, we can look into ways on how to take the fight to their home turf. Turn the tides against them." 'Alana's fought against fate for years. Dissordia, even longer. Even then, this is going to be difficult. The Hero of Kvatch only had one daedric prince to worry about, not two.'

"Very well then. I'll leave you to it," Veleth said, regaining the presence of an experienced soldier who had seen more than his fair share of battle. "In the meantime, I'll break the news to the men about what we're up against."

"Make sure the citizens don't know for now," Saoron suggested. "The less panic we'll have to handle, the better. Once we come to grips with the fight ahead, then we'll reveal what's happening. Until then, we keep this under—"

The Breton was cut off by the arrival of a killer migraine and he grimaced, rubbing his temples. 'What the hell?'

He could taste the scent of oil and sludge, followed by the wet slaps of squishy appendages coming together filling his ears. "You are but flesh and nerve, yet your mind is concluded. The other is more god than human and is the more deluded."

Hermaeus Mora himself, the demon of knowledge and fate. The one who bribed countless mortals to his realm of Apocrypha with the temptation of forbidden knowledge. 'So you're making your move. It doesn't matter a bit; we will stop you as fate decrees. So go on. Bring your worst. We'll do as the circle of life dictates and stop you every damn time.'

The daedric prince merely laughed and faded away from Saoron's mind, taking the migraine away with him. Saoron righted himself, shaking his head to get the horrible stench of decaying flesh out of his nostrils. He could still feel the thick slimy grasp of Apocrypha trying to bait him into its secrets and he let his magicka come to life, letting it roll freely from his body to act as a ward. 'Mora's interested in Alana too for some reason. Why? What could secrets could she have that he so desperately yearns for?'

Somehow, not knowing the answer didn't make it weigh less on his mind. For now, he had work to do. Glover was going to be a very, very busy man and so would he until Alana returned.

Alana panted for breath, her hair free and splayed out behind her in a sweaty tangled mess. The thin blanket did little to cover her bare body and she felt along the bite marks in her neck and collarbone, shivering a little as she recalled just how much passion her mistress had put into each bite. It was more than a simple roll in the hay seeking pleasure; it was about Alana showing Astrid just how much she trusted her. Her heartbeat quickened as the memory of Astrid's hand wrapping around her throat resurfaced and a sultry purr left her lips.

"Seems like you enjoyed it very much, hmm?" Her mistress came into their room with a small bottle of alto wine in her hand, popping the cork to take a sip. "I never knew you were such a masochist."

"Learned a little more about me after shagging me senseless, did you?" Alana winked and looked for her clothes amongst the haphazardly thrown pile on the floor by the foot of the bed. "It looks like my effect hasn't quite worn off, has it?"

"Keep talking and I'll do much more to you." The vampire growled and Alana shuddered.

"Oooh…I like it when you take that tone with me, mistress~." The blonde purred at her mistress and propped herself up, stretching out her sore legs. "What are you going to do to make me behave, hmm?"

Astrid merely smirked and twirled a piece of leather on her finger. Alana felt her face light up when she realized what it was and the hunger set in. "O-oh my~…"

"Now will you be a good girl?" the assassin asked silkily, still twirling the collar on her finger. "We do have a trip to make to Windhelm, if you recall."

Alana groaned but conceded, caving in. "Fine, fine. I'll get dressed…" 'Time to think of what to say to Ulfric. I know I've done terrible things, but he was always one who believed in me from the beginning. Even went so far as to call me a good daughter of Skyrim. I wonder if he'll still believe it after all this.'

Of course he would. Ulfric was a man who knew the price of freedom more than almost anyone else. His brutal honesty and flair inspired thousands to take up arms and defend their homeland against an entire Empire. He knew war all too well; a few times, the now High King of Skyrim had talked to her about why he fights. He carried the burdens of thousands of slaughtered men and women on his shoulders, and he continued to fight against the Empire so all of their deaths wouldn't be in vain.

'Ulfric never underestimated me. I won't do the same thing to him.' As Alana thought about the reasons why Ulfric continued fighting when so many others would have given up, she realized she knew what she had to say to him when she arrived in Windhelm.

She had to confess the burdens she had on her own shoulders.

A/N: I was gonna add more but I couldn't really think of anything else. I want to have a bunch of content for the Nerevarine and Neloth (I have a feeling he is going to be a joy to write as a sarcastic asshole), but all of my notes says to do it separate. Fuck.

-Classiest#8332