A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 22! I have to say, last chapter was one of the most enjoyable I have ever written for Alana. Giving more insight on what it really means to be Dragonborn, how she has to constantly battle against her own instincts, it made her initial downfall more realistic and believable. No filth here; I think I hit my lewd quota for the month.

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 14*

Saoron felt the sudden shift of magical energy before anyone else did. The Breton was having a chat with Glover Mallory about maybe issuing glass swords and arrows to the Redoran Guard to upgrade from the basic elven materials of moonstone when he felt the air become thick and heavy. Pain exploded in his temples and the brunet immediately tried to massage the aches away. 'What the hell is going on!?'

The Nerevarine was still out in the ashwastes on her way to the giant fungal castle of the Telvanni southeast of Raven Rock. If Vaermina or Mephala wanted to strike, now was as perfect as a time as any. But unlike their power, which felt more demonic in nature, this presence was heavy and almost mystical. It was as if the gates to Oblivion had opened again, inviting him to take a look at all the secrets buried within. 'Daedra. I need to get to the captain, now.'

Saoron ignored Glover's query about if he was fine and ran out from underneath the blacksmith's shop, watching as a beam of green light fired into the sky. 'That's where the Earth Stone is!'

Captain Veleth was already running towards him, the seasoned dunmer warrior showing the concern on his face. "Saoron. What the hell is going on? The townspeople are acting like they've been bloody possessed!"

"What!?" Saoron fell in next to him and they ran towards the Earth Stone, kicking up ash and sand in their wake. "What do you mean by that?"

"They're beginning to build something around the stone. It's like some sort of temple or shrine, but I don't know what for," Veleth answered. "It's not natural, whatever it is. Witchcraft maybe?"

"Doubtful." Saoron shook his head. "No witch could have this kind of magic at their fingertips. The amount of control one would need to exert their will over an entire settlement is too much for one person to handle. They'd vaporize themselves. This is a daedra." 'But which one? This doesn't feel anything like what Vaermina does. She either spawns her demons or inflicts horrifying nightmares. Mephala doesn't bother with taking control of bodies, either.'

The Earth Stone came into view and Saoron saw that the captain was right. Several townspeople, specifically those who had no choice but to squat in the abandoned buildings, were all huddled around the Earth Stone either praying before it or building a temple around it.

"Bralsa!" Saoron reached his hand out to grab the dunmer woman only to find himself on his back with his headache considerably worse. He blinked ash out of his eyes and righted himself up, rubbing his head. "What the hell was that?"

He reached out with his magic, this time more cautious, and like before he was thrown onto his back by some kind of invisible barrier. "I can't stop them! There's a damn barrier preventing me from going through!" 'This confirms it as daedric. No mortal can create a barrier this powerful.'

Captain Veleth tried to swing his battleaxe, only for it to fly out of his hands and send him tumbling. The veteran soldier dusted his bonemold armor off and his red eyes were glowing with frustration and anger about not being able to do a damn thing to snap the hypnotized villagers out of it. "What do we do?"

Saoron wiped his cheeks and took a deep breath to regain control over his emotions. With both the Nerevarine and Alana away for considerable amounts of time, things fell down to him to keep order and do what he could to keep them safe; Alana had entrusted him with the duty and he wouldn't let her down. "Secure the town. Until we figure out what the bloody hell is going on here, I don't want to take any chances. Nothing gets through the Bulwark." When it came to dealing with a daedra attack, he wasn't taking any chances. But they needed information and he couldn't afford to go gallivanting all over Solstheim for answers. If Alana was here, they might be able to do something about this damn barrier.

But the Northern Maiden wouldn't make port for at least another five days and that was as if the weather was in their favor. Looking at the storms brewing out at sea, Saoron doubted it would be smooth sailing. 'We don't have much time left. If the daedra responsible shows itself, then maybe we can do something about it. Until then, all we can do is prepare and wait for the enemy to show their hand.'

Dammit, he hated waiting like this. Their enemies weren't going to wait until they were ready to bring the fight to their home turf. Mephala and Vaermina already showed neither of them cared about collateral damage. 'What would Alana do if she were here?'

He realised he didn't have an answer and he felt his frustration build. There wasn't much Saoron could do but wait until the Nerevarine returned. 'Now, Alana would be more cautious. She'd want to know more before she struck back.' It was still hard for him to wrap his head around that the Alana he saw for more than a year was nothing more than an empty shell wearing her face as a mask.

He wasn't by any means a true master of magic like the Nerevarine was; his senses, while finely tuned for someone who never went to the College of Winterhold or any other mage guilds, was nothing compared to someone who had centuries of magical theory under their belt. But still, he could sense the change Alana underwent. Her aura had completely changed from a dark brooding cloud to a beacon of light, and while he would normally be glad about the change, he couldn't help but feel as though something was off. 'It's as if part of her is missing.'

Saoron looked back at the pillar of green light coming from the Earth Stone, hearing the sounds of pickaxes striking rock and the beating of hammers. 'Focus. We can only prepare for an attack now.'

The brunet Breton marched over to Glover Mallory's shop, the blacksmith hammering away on an elven sword. "Glover, I need a favor."

"What can I do you for?" Glover asked, dipping the blade into water to cool it.

Saoron sighed. "I need you to make enough glass swords, bows, and arrows to arm the entire Redoran Guard here. I'll pay double your usual rate."

Glover raised an eyebrow and dug his finger into his ear. "My, uh, my hearing isn't what it used to be. What did you say the order was? I'm good at my craft, but that's a little steep."

"Glover, the townspeople are being bewitched to build some shrine around the Earth Stone." Saoron jerked his thumb over his shoulder, where Glover could see that he wasn't making it up. "Veleth and I can only cover so much ground by ourselves. The other guards need to be prepared for anything. I have a very bad feeling about this."

He couldn't mention he feared a daedra attack was coming; the last thing he wanted to do was start a panic. The councilors knew enough to not want to speak of it. 'I think we're being set up for a trap. If either Mephala or Vaermina wanted to attack, now is as good of a chance as they'll get. We have a better chance if our guards are better equipped.'

The Breton blacksmith rubbed down the sides of his face, wiping away sweat before giving Saoron a nod. "…I'll do what I can for obtaining material. I've still got a few friends who owe me favors."

"Thank you." Saoron breathed out a sigh of relief and dropped a large bag of septims onto Glover's workbench. "Consider this a showing of faith."

This was not going to end well for any of them at the rate things were going.

Alana looked over at her mistress, grinning as she easily parried the blow of a lowly bandit. "I think this is the last time I let you take me on a date."

"In my defense, I didn't think they'd be stupid enough to try and fight you," Astrid huffed, burying her ebony longsword through the chest of another bandit. "Look at you; you're carrying a sword that's bigger than them for Sithis' sake."

The First Tsurugi spun with the grace of a weapon half of its size, the Last Dragonborn showing very little effort in her movements. Instead of sitting around her new manor doing nothing but getting ruthlessly shagged, Alana had suggested that they find some way to be productive. Ulfric was happy to oblige and alerted them of a bandit den that had been causing a few headaches for the residents of Darkwater Crossing. Astrid of course thought it would be a good chance for the two of them to indulge in a fun and invigorating fight. But she was wrong.

For Alana, it was almost boring. Compared to fighting daedra and demons, a pack of bandits was incredibly simple. No ridiculous strength or magic to deal with, just normal bandits that infested many caves and castles around Skyrim.

Flame flickered at the corners of her mouth at the sight of more bandits pouring out from deeper within the den and her Voice unleashed the fury of the sun itself. "Yol Toor Shul!" She breathed the fire of the fiercest dragons and bandits screamed in agony as they were burned alive by the power of her Thu'um.

Astrid spun her longsword into the holster on her back and scoffed, looking at the twitching and smoldering bodies in disgust. "You could've been a little less messy about it. Did you really need to breathe fire?"

"Hey, it got the job done." Alana smirked and prodded one body with her foot. It didn't respond and she shrugged. "Well, he's dead. Means there's only one thing to do."

"What?"

"Go through his pockets and look for loose gold."

Astrid stared blankly at Alana for a few seconds before dragging a bottle of wine out of one bandit's pockets and taking a long chug. "I'm not sure whether to hit you or not."

"Hey now. Keep the flirt down until we get home." Alana winked and twirled her broadsword over her head before letting it rest in the series of leather straps wrapped around her torso. While it may have been a boring fight, it would put a decent amount of gold into their pockets courtesy of Ulfric's steward. "Feeling a little hungry or are you fine for now?"

"I don't need to feed, but I'll never pass up a chance to get a taste." Astrid let out a sultry purr and lazily dragged her tongue over her canines. "I can wait until we get back to Windhelm."

"Any reason why?" Alana tiled her head to try and tempt her mistress anyway. She was well aware trying to poke and prod usually ended in Astrid doing many diabolical things to her, but the humility of it made her knees weak.

"I feel like being merciful." The vampire smirked.

"I hear they make potions that fix that sort of problem."

"Funny."

Alana laughed and backed down. "Fine, fine. We'll call it a day." She rubbed her shoulders, feeling the familiar burn one got from intense exercise. "Still feel a bit stiff. Bloody hell, woman. I didn't know sex was something that would leave long lasting bruises."

"I don't recall you objecting," Astrid shot back slyly. "In fact, I remember you begging for more, you little masochist."

Alana's face flushed and she looked past her mistress to see one body twitch. 'Sorry. But playing dead doesn't work.' "Let me get back to you on that." Her crossbow was in her hands and she fired at the bandit. The blonde was rewarded with a satisfying thunk into the man's skull and he stopped moving after that.

"All done." Alana turned back to Astrid and let her crossbow dangle from her vest. "Now we can go."

Astrid sighed into her fist as she followed her.

Alana strode into Ulfric's palace to collect the bounty alone; Astrid had run off to make some preparations for the trip back to Solstheim later in the week and told her to go on and have a chat with Ulfric. As the blonde walked across the grand dining hall to his throne, she gave a sigh of content. It felt nice doing this kind of simple work. Bounty hunting was easy compared to daedra hunting. It was a nice three step process.

There's the enemy. Kill the enemy. Go home. No gods or daedric princes to worry about getting involved. Clean and straightforward.

The High King was just easing himself into his throne when the Last Dragonborn entered and he gave her a weary yet warm smile. "Ah, you're back. And without losing a few drops of blood this time. I imagine it was simple, then?"

"You could say that. Barely broke a sweat." Alana smirked. "They had numbers, but I don't think they were expecting someone who could breathe fire."

"Your Voice is still strong then. That is a welcoming sign." Ulfric's face turned into a frown. "It's good you came as soon as you have. I've received…troubling news. Have you heard about the incident in Riften since you've been back?"

"Riften? No." Alana shook her head. "What happened?" She was a bit out of the loop when it came to current events.

"Maven Black-Briar has been murdered. As have some of the city's guards. Lady Maven's corpse was drained of blood and her throat ripped out. I am more than aware of what a vampire can do, but something tells me this one is different. Two of the soldiers appeared to have suffered wounds from a wild beast. No blade leaves cuts like what they suffered, making me think this one is particularly vicious. I know you're not going to be here long, but I would like to ask how to deal this beast."

A vampire was attacking Riften? She supposed she did have a hand in that; she was responsible for destroying the Dawnguard as the new leader of the Volkihar clan. Not one of the blonde's finer moments. 'It was a dark time. Not a time I'm proud of, but I'm better now. I'm not the same person.'

'Or at least, I know I'm not a puppet on Mephala's webs.'

"Restoration magic keeps them at bay," Alana answered. "There is still several priests and priestesses in the city, so they could create a barrier once the sun sets." In theory, it did work; vampires could not stand any kind of magic that was used to ward off the undead. But the user had to be honed in their talents; restoration was a very difficult school of magic to master thanks to the toll it took on one's magicka reserves. Creating a barrier around an entire city would be draining and it would only last for so long.

"It has to have a lair somewhere. There are several dens in the Rift where it could hide."

"Not any close enough to the city, though. No vampire of this power would be stupid enough to reside within distance of being stormed. Stronger vampires prefer to hide in the shadows and not be detected. This is one that's trying to send a message."

"What do—"

Alana felt the shift behind her first and immediately her hand was on her broadsword. 'Oh you have got to be kidding me! Now of all times!?' "Get Ulfric the hell out of here!" A daedra was here and it was damned powerful; she could buy enough time to get the king out of the hall before all hell broke loose.

She whirled around to stare down the Oblivion portal, sword at the ready to cut the wretched being down. But the purple magic swirled around, soft whispers coming from it and Alana's grip tightened as a ghostly pale hand reached out, not the black and red claw of a dremora.

It looked human, albeit a human that resided in the darkest caverns and had never seen the light of the sun.

The rest of the body came forth, stumbling in a drunken manner and encased in the black and red armor of a dread knight summoned from the depths of the Deadlands. But instead of the dremora horns sitting on top of a head of red flesh, she was a golden eyed woman with bleached blonde hair that was nearly white tied into a ponytail dangling down her shoulder.

In her other hand was a massive black and red scythe, and her head slowly tilted to the right as she leered over the grand hall. "Aw, is it too late for an audience, my king?" She spun her weapon fluidly and sank the blade into the floor, stone shattering on impact.

Her voice was brittle and cold, capable of freezing a dragon in its tracks. It was capable of paralyzing even Ulfric's elite guard in fear and Alana had to fight off a shudder. Whoever this was, she was the living incarnation of malice. "What are you?"

Her golden glare was then fixed on her, soft chuckles leading into a fit of insane laughter. "Y-you don't have the slightest clue, do you? You really don't know?" When the madwoman saw Alana's stance shift ever so slightly, she let the laughter die into a giggle. "She was right about you. So pathetically blind."

"Mephala…" Alana ground her teeth together and started to seethe. The bitch was finally making her move.

"Ha!" The pale demon scoffed. "Only in her dreams. I'm you, perfected. I'm the one you tried so desperately to hold back!"

Alana barely had time to move her broadsword in time to block the swing of the bleached blonde's scythe. The Last Dragonborn slid back and sprung off of her heel, the First Tsurugi colliding with ebony treated with daedra blood, meeting the furious golden glare of her enemy. Her face was eerily identical to her own, albeit much paler. "You are not me!"

"Typical cowardice, failing to acknowledge the truth!" the bleached blonde spat in anger. The ground beneath her feet began to heat up and Alana rolled to the left to avoid being set ablaze from the fire rune. "Still too afraid to embrace what you are!"

Alana swung her broadsword in vicious fury, her arms burning with each swing. Her heavy blows were parried and matched by the fluid movements of her opponent's scythe, both weapons groaning under the strain from the abuse their respective masters were putting them through. "You are the remnants of a bad memory!"

Her demonic self hissed in rage and looped her scythe's blade around the hilt of Alana's broadsword, yanking it firmly out of her grasp and kicking her squarely in the chest. The Last Dragonborn tumbled, wincing as her shoulder jolted from being disarmed and rolling to minimize damage.

Alana halted her momentum and now the remaining Stormcloaks could attack without worry of hitting her. Steel arrows whistled from all directions and her alternate self was forced to spin her scythe in her hands to block them, a smug smirk plastered on her face and ignorant of the blonde back on her feet.

Alana looked at her fist and shrugged. With a snarl she leapt and her fist slammed right in the center of bleached blonde's face. She stumbled back, holding her bloody nose, and Alana kept pressing. Two more punches connected with her jaw and the Last Dragonborn lashed out with a kick of her own.

The blow sent the demonic blonde to the ground and her hands became cloaked in the dark purples and blacks of conjuration magic. "Rip their damn souls out!" She summoned two dremora lords from Oblivion to buy her time to recover and Alana reached her sword, clicking on the handle to spring Vendetta into her left hand.

The bleached blonde's scythe met aetherium-treated steel and she snarled like a vicious beast that roamed the wilds. "What the hell makes you so damn special!? Acting like you're all high and mighty when you're no better than me!"

"You're just a puppet of a daedra! Nothing more!" Alana spat back and felt a surge of petty satisfaction as the glob of saliva hit the bleached blonde's face.

"So what if I am? You were, too!" The scythe groaned in protest against every heavy blow it was forced to endure and her right hand transformed from the elbow down into the stony claw of a gargoyle. Alana leapt back to avoid being sliced into ribbons, both of her swords spinning to parry wild swings.

"You cast me out!" The bleached blonde seethed and for a moment her eyes flashed before her lips parted, ice forming at the corners of her mouth. "Fo Krah Diin!"

"Yol Toor Shul!"

Fire and ice collided, both Shouts cancelling each other out and creating an explosion that forced both blondes flying back. Alana slid back, dragging Apocalypse against the floor to slow down. She looked up and saw her alternate self running towards her, scythe poised to cut her in half at the waist.

She raised Apocalypse to meet the blow head on and prepared Vendetta in her weaker hand. The blade of the scythe slammed into the claymore, one jagged spike impaling Alana right in the gut. But the bleached blonde's grin was short lived, for Alana brought up Vendetta in an arc and cut right through the stony flesh of her gargoyle arm.

Her alternate self howled in agony as the limb fell, clutching the stump to stop the tide of black acid that rushed out instead of blood and staggering back, glaring hatred. "You bitch!"

Alana panted for breath, covering the bloody hole in her abdomen after combining both swords into one. The bleached blonde's dremora were still fighting the Stormcloaks and she shook her head, muttering loud enough to be heard over the shouts and roars from the fight on the other side. "She'll forgive you…yes, she'll forgive me…"

She vanished into an Oblivion portal like the one she came from, and both dremora dropped into heaps, disappearing into the Deadlands. With their summoner gone, they had no tie to the mortal plane anymore. Alana fell to her knees and grimaced, feeling every pulled muscle and bruise. 'My…my alternate self. What did she mean, I cast her out? I didn't do anything! I…'

'Akatosh!' It hit her like the club of a giant. She remembered the agony she felt when he bathed her in his cleansing light. The pain she experienced was nothing more than the Chief Divine ripping out part of her soul and tossing it aside into Aetherius. Even part of her soul was powerful enough to be birthed into the mortal plane; the darkest parts of her that she tried so damn hard to keep suppressed now walked the planes of Oblivion and Nirn. Her anger, her despair, all of it crammed into a demonic version of herself. 'Why would you do that and not tell me!? Am I just a tool to you, too!?'

"Alana!" She was jolted away from her thoughts. Ulfric was running over towards her, flanked by one of his battlemages. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Alana answered through gritted teeth. "She just grazed me; I've lived through worse." She pulled her hand away briefly to find it stained red with blood and she let out a bitter laugh. 'That one's going to leave a scar.' Another one to add to the growing collection.

"What in the name of Oblivion is going on? Who the hell was that?" Ulfric demanded. "Why did she look like you?"

Alana shook her head. "Not here. Meet me at Hjerim in the evening."

"Why so late?"

"Because I need some time to think."

A mere two hours later, Alana stared blankly at the pile of glasses stacked in front of her, her side bandaged up to let her wound heal. The blonde barely lifted her head from the bar, snapping her fingers to signal for another drink. The confirmation that Akatosh had indeed ripped out part of her soul had shaken her belief that she wasn't being manipulated and she turned to the one thing that helped with keeping a more neutral state of mind.

The slender raven haired Nord man serving as the innkeeper looked over at her, wiping a mug with a grey cloth. "Same thing?"

"No." Alana shook her head. "Make this one a triple." She knew she was going to hear it from Astrid later, but right now she didn't give a damn. She needed this, if only to stop herself from shaking. 'Not even twenty five and I'm an alcoholic. Then again, I think anyone would if they went through half of what I did.'

The Nord man raised an eyebrow but did as she requested, setting down his rag and wiping his hands on his white apron. He reached under the bar and pulled out the bottle of her favored whiskey, pouring three shots worth of the brown liquid into a glass and sliding it over.

Alana caught it and tilted it towards him in appreciation. "Thanks." She raised it to her lips and chugged it as quick as she could, the burn on the back of her throat as familiar as her heartbeat. 'Still impossible to get completely pickled and forget what I've learned. By Talos, it's a curse not being able to forget.'

The glass hit the bar with a soft thud and Alana heard a frustrated hiss behind her. 'Didn't take her long to figure out where I was.' "If you're here to chastise me, don't waste your breath. You're too late."

Astrid took a seat next to her and grabbed her wrist, her golden glare burning into her. "Dammit Alana. When will you quit blaming yourself for everything?"

Alana smiled mirthlessly. "This time, it is my fault. I gave in to my instincts. I let enough of my soul be tainted by the daedra that it became strong enough to birth an alternate version of me. The monument to all my sins, born out of the darkest shadows of my heart. I acted no better than the dragons whose souls I devour."

"By Sithis, how much have you had?" Astrid glared at the pyramid of glasses in front of the black clad blonde.

"Not enough to forget it." Alana scoffed and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Alana, I'm in no mood to be screwing around."

"I wasn't trying to be funny."

The vampire snarled in frustration and turned her head aside. "And you don't see how pointless it is or do you just not care?"

"I was trying to reach a more neutral state," Alana shot back. "But I guess now that's nothing more than a fantasy."

"Alana—"

"Do you not realize how terrified I am?"

Astrid stopped in her tracks and took a closer look at her. It was subdued at first, but Alana was still shaking. The blonde swallowed and gripped the edge of the bar tightly. "I just saw the persona I never wanted to let out. The part of me that I kept buried as much as I could, in the flesh. I'm terrified I might not be strong enough next time. I don't want to lose you, too. I got lucky; next time, I'm not going to be."

The only reason she got the better of her alternate self in their fight was thanks to the bleached blonde's arrogance blinding her to Alana's second sword. If it weren't for that, Alana doubted she was coming out on top. 'Outmatched by myself. That's a new one.'

Alana saw Astrid's hand rise and she flinched, fully expecting a slap across the cheek. But it never came. Instead her mistress wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into her bosom, planting a kiss on her head. "Such a child…fear has its uses. Is this the woman I fell in love with or a little barmaid who whines when she gets knocked on her backside?"

"Astrid…"

"When the Alana I knew fell down, she got back up with the vengeful fury of a war goddess. You're not afraid of losing. You're afraid of giving in to the darkness and losing yourself again."

"That about sums it up…" Alana mumbled into her chest. "Yeah, the bitch got me good a few times. But I gave as good as I got." Her alternate self was just as skilled in battle as her, harnessing the powers of Oblivion to aid her in their fight. "I guess this is the time where you say something cheesy like, 'You've already beaten her once. Next time should be easier now that you know what you're dealing with'. That about right?"

"Close enough." Astrid wrinkled her nose at the stink of alcohol and waved her hand to make it go away. "You need a bath before you even think of talking to Ulfric. I can smell it on you."

Alana groaned in despair as she remembered she still had an audience with the High King. 'I hope he's in the mood for a big shock.'

This was going to be a pain to explain.

A/N: So, fun little fact: this was written to the epic boss music known as One Winged Angel: Rebirth from Final Fantasy VII Remake. Easily one of the most badass themes I've heard in a game in years. Just sends chills down your back.

-Kagerou#0007