A/N: So sorry for the long wait for this chapter! Life got in the way of writing, like it sometimes does, and my creative motivation was lacking. I felt if I rushed just to hit a deadline it wouldn't be as enjoyable to write or to read. I plan to get back to writing this fic this week and will hopefully be posting again weekly or bi-weekly! Thank you for your patience and understanding. :) Content warning: gore and graphic violence.

house of roses

She walked through the grand gardens in a haze. If she were thinking clearly, she would certainly marvel at the vast flower fields that stretched beyond her sight. They were filled with different species and dotted with a rainbow of colors that spread out in each direction. A warm breeze greeted them when they stepped onto the estate. She should be warm. Instead, her head was fuzzy, and her feet were numb. Her hand was ice cold in Mannimarco's.

All she could think about was Vorstag. He came back for her, even with his broken bones and mangled body. He fought through it. All to save her.

She has to hold back tears, thinking of the power that was thrown at him. That fall. He would survive, gods, she hoped he did. But she wasn't sure what he could do after. Mannimarco made certain to close the portal swiftly after they stepped foot out of it.

All that stood before her was this sprawling estate with a sky so blue it shouldn't be real. "What is this place?" She didn't wish to speak to her captor. She would rather hole herself up in a room, preferably a library, and figure out how to build another portal to the Soul Cairn. She made sure to watch Tolfdir and Phinis's directions closely as they demonstrated its creation. So, she knew how to make it. She just wasn't sure if she'd be able to get the right ingredients.

"A little slice of Aetherius." He murmurs. Serana tilts her head. She wasn't sure she heard him right, he had to be joking.

"I'm sure." She whispers while taking in more of the sights. They were just walking onto one of the paths that entered the vast gardens. Wisteria and other plants soared overhead, leaving them basking in a tangle of periwinkle and magenta colors that draped down from above. It left a sweet lasting scent. Leaves shielded the ever present and assaulting sun from sight. Serana quickly checks her hands. It was too bright here and she was too careless, she didn't even have any gloves to cover them with.

Mannimarco pauses next to one of the ornate fountains that dot this landscape. She barely glances at it and finds the marble carving in the center depicting an Argonian she doesn't recognize. Out of the weapon they held over their head, water spouted to trickle down the fountain.

"When I say this is a slice of Aetherius I am being genuine." He notices what took her attention from him.

"H-how?" She asks, gaping at such a thing. Only the gods were known to walk that plane.

He smirks. "They took me for a fool. They never understood what the apotheosis truly meant. Many people, mages and other Altmer, thought I merely became a celestial being and left it at that. No one thought it was real." He looks around at the blooming pink flowers and purple flora.

Her mouth went dry. It was like she swallowed a handful of chalk. "You're a divine? One of the nine, or ten?" Serana corrects herself.

His strange pale eyes watch her. "No. They would not accept such a creature as me into their pantheon. I am a lesser god. They didn't take into consideration that I've earned my keep, so I carved out a very small pocket from a realm of Aetherius."

Serana looks around again and she starts to see it. The scent of the fields and flowers were a little too potent. The sky was incredibly blue. The sounds were…unnatural. "Well, then what is this place called?"

Mannimarco smiles and it is the perfect look of tranquility. "I call this land, Amaranth. The concept of Amaranth is extremely complex and I have many books that might shed some light on the subject. At it's basic form, Amaranth is said to be the being who dreams up the new world. And that is what I achieved in my time. Not many people can say that."

Wow. This place, and its inhabitant, sound more like the Cloud District, she thinks. A land of pompous and insufferable people.

"Come now, I have more to show you." Mannimarco strolls along, at least he had his hands in his pockets. Serana keeps a safe distance from him. "Do you know much about apotheosis? It's also known as the Walking Ways."

She shakes her head but realizes he can't see. "Just the bare minimum, you…well, you fly into the sky and become one with the gods."

He laughs, a beautiful sound, if he weren't so terrifying. "Ah. How adorable and quaint. The process is a little more complicated. You have to want it. You have to want to survive the ascent. There are many people who have tried this in our history and only a few greats have made it. Timber Septim became the god Talos after death. Reman Cyrodiil later on was known as the god Reman. The Hero of Kvatch became Sheogorath. Well, his is a little more complicated than a mere ascension…" He trails off. "But many have tried and fallen from the sky. More failures have taken place than successes."

Serana studies him. How…brave and stupid of him. "What made you think you'd be able to make it through?"

"Because I was meant to be. I knew from when I was very young, I was destined for something great. I had tried for many years to become a powerful being through other means and this was one of the last options I had." He stops.

Serana does as well. She still marvels at her surroundings. They were now standing in front of a large fountain, almost more like a bathing pool. The short pond spread out for ten or so feet before meeting up with another elaborate sculpture. She squints a little, just so she can see past the glare of the sun staining the shining white marble. And notices…

"That's Lord Harkon." Her breath leaves her. She moves closer, but not close enough. When the edge of the marble wall hits her shins, she pauses. This couldn't be real.

Before he can hold out a hand to her, she pulls up her cloak and steps into the water. It was shallow and easy to wade in. The cool water lapped at her feet as she made her way to the center. By the gods…

Harkon was sitting on his throne. Next to him, stood her mother in all her glory. Well, after seeing her now, Serana knows she is not depicted accurately. Here, she has a more…conservative and uptight look about her. It's not what she wears, but how she holds herself.

And below them both, kneeling at the foot of the throne and facing the viewer, was Serana herself. Her face was exquisite, more so than what she sees in the mirror, she thinks. She didn't have that straight of a nose or that high of cheekbones. But watching the statue and the look on her face, Serana glances down.

Dread fills her. The statue version of her was depicted to be holding petals that fell from the flowers surrounding her parents. Instead of petals, though, a black substance was pouring out of her hands.

"Get back!" Mannimarco snaps at her. She hears the sloshing of his feet before she feels it. The black substance hits her and she falls backwards. Her legs have locked into place, she can't move them, not even if she were to fall back.

Rough hands grab her by the armpits and pull her back from the monstrosity before her. She thrashes. There was no way she was going to let him take her anywhere, not in this state. "Get off me!" She screams.

"I'm helping you." He growls into her ear. His white hair had spilled over her shoulders and head. He was so close she could feel his heated breath on the skin of her neck. But she could do nothing as he pulled her back to the water's edge and over the marble step.

She begins to breathe more quickly. Her arms and legs are still locked, along with her spine. She can't even twist her head to see the daedric creation she was looking at. Mannimarco sits on the edge and pulls her to him.

"Give it a minute. It will go away." He tells her.

Her breathing was as shallow as the water. "What was that?"

Mannimarco looks down to her, his face was angelic in this light. It brought out the sharp planes and soft lips of his. "A trap. It's so anyone who I invite in here cannot get to the center of the fountains. I have many of them and they all have this kind of alarm system."

"What…" Her lips were buzzing. She has the instinctive fear that they might go next. Then, she wouldn't be able to talk.

"I set that up so anyone who gets into the fountain won't be walking away without my help." He studies her. "There is something important going on here, as you've probably guessed. In the center of those fountains are statues depicting real people. Inside those statues are a piece of their soul."

She freezes, it wasn't that poison keeping her from uttering a word now.

He seems to take notice, a soft smile spreads across his face. "In my long time here, I have made many bargains with many people. While they are being completed, as insurance, I take a piece of their soul. No one is to tamper with it but me. They rest in those statues and are set free once the bargain is complete."

Her heart was in her chest. He had a piece of her soul…and her father, her mother. "He's dead." Is all she manages to get out.

He nods, slowly. "And he is suffering a great deal in a plane of Oblivion. He has this little piece of his soul left. I guess you could say it is keeping him from suffering a worse fate. Most Daedric Princes don't like to play with tainted souls. Once our bargain is complete, I will set him free to be whole again."

She blinks, and slowly, moves her fingers. Feeling was coming back at a snail's pace. "My mother." Me. She wants to say, but she can't get the word out.

"Ah, yes. Valerica. She was not a part of the bargain, but your father wanted to show his gratitude to me. He gave me a piece of her soul for safekeeping."

Horror slowly creeps its way up her spine. She wanted to jump out of his arms and run all the way back to that portal. Anything to get home.

"And you. I'm guessing you know a part of your soul is here." He smiles, it's meant to be charming but it only looks grotesque in the way it contorts his face. "Your father made this bargain with me, binding your whole family to Amaranth. But don't worry, sweet Serana, I know it doesn't hurt. I'm guessing you wouldn't have known a piece of you was missing until now."

She didn't feel any different. He was right on that. Feeling comes back to her arms and legs and she pulls away from Mannimarco so quickly. All she had to do was race back to the portal and get through. She could do it. Just a simple spell, the other ingredients be dammed.

But he ensnares her. His hands lock onto hers when she pulls away. The strength in them keeps her from pulling as hard as she can.

"Serana. I know sounds horrific, but it is a common practice among my kind." He reminds her. She looks at the gravel below her feet, willing them to carry her away. "It doesn't hurt anyone, and it doesn't affect their lifespan. It only allows me to gain what I need. That is the truth of it."

"What do you do if the bargains don't work out?" Serana almost spits out.

He pauses in consideration. The warm breeze met them again, ruffling their hair and her cloak in the air. "Fear is sometimes a greater motivator than any form of torture. I don't have to tell them what might happen. It could be terrible, or it could be harmless. What I am telling you is that they are safe, as long as they sit in those statues."

Her breathing turns ragged. "What bargain did you strike with my father? Why do you want me?"

He looks to her again. Gods, his face is gorgeous. Soft, sharp eyes on an angular face, skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair as white as the snow she left behind. But she knew what kind of creature lay underneath.

"I think you've had enough revelations for one time. Come, you must be tired and hungry. Allow me to accommodate you." His voice was deeper, rougher, she knew he didn't want her to pry further.

She would have trembled before in his wake. Now, she stands tall. "I drink it myself. You don't feed me. You don't tell me where to go. I decide for myself." She says firmly.

His eyes glimmer in delight. "Whatever you wish for, Serana. I am here to accommodate your every need, remember that. I will not harm you."

He releases her hands and that flimsy fantasy of running to the portal is gone. It was born out of an instinct to survive. She now knows running won't get her anywhere. But if she plays along and allows Mannimarco to help her, she will find a way. And once she gets out of here, she will stop at nothing to find the mercenary.

Her heart beats strongly, but she was beginning to realize it was still empty. It has been this whole time until she found that other piece back in Winterhold. She was timid the whole time her and Vorstag were together. She wasn't quite sure if what she was feeling was real. But those few blissful moments with him…she had him. She had it. And now with an empty heart she knows with certainty she was meant to be with him.

Vorstag gasps. That nightmare that kept him in a cocoon, played before his eyes over and over again, it was real. His heart thunders in his chest with that realization. It was real. Serana was in his arms, she finally allowed herself to show him what she was feeling. They were perfect. He felt like a longstanding puzzle that was missing that last piece. Never empty and drained…just missing something. He finally felt that click into place, in his heart, in their small room, in that cramped bed. Then she was torn away so brutally.

Mannimarco was going to die.

He promised himself that, in this dark and dense forest he woke up in. A cold place with no light to pierce it with any hope. He breathes in again, allowing the ice shards he feels to settle in his lungs. At least, that's what it felt like.

But no, this was not the cold forest he woke up in the first time. He was in a thicket of thorns and in the deep shadows that covered this place, he saw the outline of roses. Soft and beautiful. And littered in thorns.

He struggles. The spine of the thorns was so close to him. The stems and roots of these bushes were so long that they crisscrossed over his body. There was no other way out. No one would come for him. This was his first test.

"Fine then." He growls, still immobilized.

He pushes with such strength the thorns covered roots begin to crack when his muscles strain. He can hear it but the by the gods, he can't feel it. All he feels is the thorns digging in further and further into his fragile skin.

The scent of blood permeates the air, his blood. He can smell it and it's not enticing in the slightest. He just has to push through. Even while the pain sears his skin, he thinks of Serana's elegant face. Her tantalizingly soft lips, her deep and soulful eyes, the way they softened when she saw him.

She was in his arms at last, then torn away. He would not allow it to happen again.

He pushes through and lets out an inhuman roar when the thorns hold tight. They snake along his skin, biting into him further with each move he makes. The force of them pulls him back to the earth. He lets out a breath, a soft, pathetic, squeak of exhaustion.

And lays for a long while before he tries again.

Serana swirls her goblet of blood. It was…tangy. Some strange taste to it. She wonders where it came from. She sits on the edge of one of the ornate couches that bless this room.

The interior of the palace was magnificent. Pale colors of yellow and blue, some pink but mostly white blended together. She sat on a very pretty pale blue couch while Mannimarco took the white chair across from her. He drank and drank all the blood that was offered. More so than she was.

Blood still stains his lips, when he sighs. "Are you still hungry?" He purrs to her over his goblet. It wasn't suggestive as one might think. Based on his heavy-lidded gaze, he was merely contented.

"Not really." She tells him and keeps the goblet on her lap.

He pouts, "Come now, are you sad about what happened in the gardens?" He laces his long fingers under his chin, goblet all but forgotten on the nearby table.

Her eyes flicker to him. "No. I am just bored. I wish to find a library, books. Do you have those?"

He grins, "Of course, I know how much you love your books. Follow me."

He takes her through the long corridors, filled with many ornate paintings. They depicted various images. Only a few had Mannimarco as the subject, the others featured landscapes of Tamriel or static objects like flowers and fruit. Serana marveled at them as they passed by and wished to linger some more, to drink in each and every detail.

Another time, she decides. For now, she must get to the library and find all that she can on the subjects of Aetherius, soul trappings, and giving Mannimarco enough time just to turn his gaze away from her. Then she could focus on the portal.

There was a grand marble staircase lined with golden bannisters that led them up from the proper entrance. The door they first entered was from the back of the house. This entrance led out to another thriving garden and beyond to a gravel road that reached another hill. If this door wasn't so ornate, and this staircase wasn't so large, Serana would think the road led to nowhere.

"Where does that lead?" She nods to the road just outside the door. Her hand clutches the banister, but she doesn't start the ascent until she gets an answer.

Mannimarco gives a very bored look at the door before quickly saying, "A warp in the sky. It's like a portal but only I can pass through. It is the proper entrance here. The portal I took you through led us to the back gardens. But, in my opinion, they are the most magical."

She turns her gaze away from that devious smile of his and forces herself to put one foot in front of the other. All the way up the steps. In another grand hallway, with windows that let in the brightest of light. No paintings up here until they reach the end of the hallway.

"This, my sweet Serana, is all you will need here." Mannimarco moves before her, with his long arm he's able to get the door handle before she can. She decides to let him have his time of showmanship.

In a flurry, he pulls on the door and Serana has to keep from gasping. She slowly enters the cavernous room to stare. Stare and stare at all the rows of books lining the walls from floor to ceiling and lining the bookshelves that spread out from the center. Even above, the books towered along each wall up the probably forty feet of this domed room. The light fell in from above, showing her there were stairs and rooms up above to get to the bookshelves higher up.

Every color of each tome was bright and beckoning, every page smelled new. She even saw little alcoves embedded in the walls and seating arrangements laid around sparsely. If one wanted to hole up for days and never be found, this was the place to do it.

One thing snagged her attention. Two things, actually. In the center of the room, there was a circular desk much like the one helmed by Urag gro-Shub in Winterhold. Behind it was an immaculate woman, she was older, had fine lines and white hair pulled back in a severe cut. Her eyes were sharp, and her clothing was a black dress.

Her hands were clasped before her. Serana could scent her before she noticed there was no heartbeat. "Don't worry about Sorlod here, she will only help you if you need recommendation or can't seem to find the latest bestseller." Mannimarco whispers to her.

"She's a Lich." Serana gapes. Her heart was beating faster, remembering those that Lorred had in his captivity.

"A well behaved one. If you look, you'll notice it truly isn't just me around here. I have many servants who breathed their last living breath centuries ago. Now, they get a second chance at life in my service."

A shiver skitters up her spine. How creepy did this man have to be? But the Lich doesn't hold her attention for long. Serana now gapes at the large fountain behind her. The water didn't spread out nearly as much as her family statue did. It was more like a tiny pool surrounding the statue. In the center was a man depicted, holding a book and holding one hand out to the room at large. He was an Altmer like Mannimarco, although his robes were very plain. His face joyful in his youth. This was the only place in the great room where the light did not touch. Something up above, in the great domed windows, didn't allow it.

"Ah, here is the resting place for dear Vanus Galerion. What a shame…" Mannimarco lays a hand on the edge of the marble holding the water in. Water trickled out from holes in Vanus, all along his body. As if someone impaled him with a few ice spikes and he was now leaking.

"He's in there?" She asks.

"Wholly." Mannimarco grins up at the statue. "I'm sure you know of our history. Our rivalry. When he died once and for all on the battlefields, I made sure I was around to snatch his soul up before some other god could. Now, Vanus lives out his days watching the people mill about here." He laughs, "There aren't many. Vanus did enjoy his studies. He spent so long in the libraries I told him one day he would watch books decay. How right I was." He knocks on the marble. As if giving a sign to the living soul inside. Serana shudders.

"Is the water poisoned here too?" She has to ask.

"Hm. Yes. But it's no poison that would alert me. It would just kill the person entering the pool right away." He stares down at her. "But I'm sure no one would think of that. Who would want to free Vanus anyways?"

It was a clue. A little piece to the puzzle of what made this man tick. Out of all the people and statues, he had his most dreaded enemy in this most heavily guarded room, from what she could see. Looking at the perimeter, she noticed many bonemen and draugr standing at attention. If one didn't look too closely, they would think they were mummified remains. But she could see the haunting aura around them. The glow in their undead eyes.

"Enough talk of that. How about you find something to read? Something to your liking and I will show you to your room." Mannimarco smiles down at her with his hand clasped behind him, giving her the space she needs.

Very well, then. She turns and slowly makes her way into the jungle of books. She didn't want to be too obvious with her choices, so she chose conservatively. "Is this place open at all times?" She asks conversationally as she browses each spine.

"Yes. It will be open day and night, except for dawn. It is closed for the hour when the sun rises."

"Why is that?" She ponders.

A laugh greets her. "None of your concern, sweet Serana. Just know not to spend an all nighter here."

She files away that information for later. There was something he didn't want her knowing and she wasn't going to pry. Not when it would rouse his suspicions. Her hand brushes a tome. The Children's Anaud.

"I'll start with this one. I'd like to see my room as I am getting tired." She wasn't exactly lying. Sleep was fogging her brain. The sun has probably a few more hours before it sets.

"The Children's Anaud. An interesting choice, that speaks on creation myths. If you wish, I could drone on about Padomay and Anu but I'm sure you would much prefer the more eloquent wording of the anonymous author." His tone drips with something. She can't quite place it, but it's not too kind.

"I'm honestly very tired. It just hit me walking in here. I can leave this and come back later for other books."

Mannimarco studies her. She prays that he doesn't know what's going on in her head. It would be so easy to piece together. She should have said she'd rather spend time in here, looking over all the books. But then he would be a second shadow to her. He was adamant to show her the room she will be staying in. So, she'd rather get it over with now.

"Follow me. I'll take you to your room at once."

She was tired and the feeling of heaviness in her limbs and crust in her eyes was a surprise. This day took more out of her than she thought. Maybe that's why she asked the question she did as they wandered the halls. "Why do I have runes on my arms? When I cast a spell they glow."

Mannimarco, who was walking steadfastly ahead of her, stops. "Is that so?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Let me see them." He tells her.

She has no choice, his tone was alarmed. But once she pulled back her sleeves and bore the runes burned into her skin, his shoulders relaxed a little. "That's normal. You're powerful and this helps it." He turns and continues to find her room.

"No, wait! I had someone," She wasn't going to tell him about Tolfdir, "tell me that these have to be either cast upon me by someone else, or myself. I never did this."

"It's a gift. Enjoy it." He thoroughly shuts down the subject of conversation. She opens her mouth to keep pushing, to get anything out of him. She knows he has a part in this. But she bites her tongue.

It would be unwise to push at the moment. Not if she wanted to avoid suspicion. Thankfully, Mannimarco pushes open one of the doors to their left at the end of the long hall, inside…it's magnificent.

A large room greets Serana, with silk curtains made of the lightest pink. Her bed is framed with an elaborate white bed canopy, detailed with little ruffles and bows. It's large and sits in the center of the room. The light from the window and nearby candles keeps the room lit. A nightstand, large wardrobe and a doorway to a bathing room complete the package. She notices a small bookshelf that sits barren.

"As you can see, there is room for improvement. I want you to decorate this room however you want it. Add whatever books you want." Mannimarco's eyes rest on the bed. "If things are not to your liking, please tell me and I will have my servants re-arrange things for you."

She was so tired, it was a chore to keep listening to him. His hand runs up her back to her shoulder. She nearly shudders from the touch but keeps her composure.

"Sleep. Rest. I will see you in the morning." He tells her. She knows he wishes to lean down, just so he could kiss her on the cheek. But she keeps her distance. He doesn't seem to take offense, only ghosts through the room and slowly shuts the door behind him.

Serana's head is spinning with all she learned tonight. But she doesn't want to think on it further. Instead, she falls belly first on the soft, cloud like bed and falls soundly asleep in a matter of seconds.

Stinging tiny wounds, like a million papercuts dot his skin. It was as if he were thrown in a pit with a bunch of saber cats. The winds howls, making them just hurt further. They burn with each step he takes away from the thicket. But Vorstag finally breaks the last of the roots. Blood runs in tiny rivers, coating his body, streaming down his arms and legs. Even his face.

He groans when he pulls his left foot free from the snarl of thorns. The forest of roots left behind, he turns to find the rest of the woods. Those same woods he woke up in the first time.

The evergreen trees tower over him like sleeping giants, waiting for him to make the wrong move. The very tops swayed in the wind but the trunks were strong. This forest grew so that it was a dense maze in the interior. It was very, very hard to traverse. But he had no other way of getting to the other side.

Vorstag grits his teeth and pulls his short sword, so it was at the ready. And he takes that first step. The light leaves him, in its wake sits a cold land with so many shadows, it's hard to see through. Vorstag uses his other senses, his sense of smell, mainly. He can scent other beings on the other side of this dense forest and that is where he needs to be.

He can also hear them.

"Is he here yet? Have you seen him?" One of the daedra asks with brimming excitement.

"No…maybe he didn't make it. I knew Molag Bal chose only the weak." Another one sneers, "If we're lucky maybe he won't find the body and we can take it for ourselves…"

Vorstag stops listening. He has to suppress the shivering he was feeling. Fear was an ever-growing presence in his chest. He had to get through these trees, into the larger part of Coldharbour, and he would be free. As much as he disliked the Prince of Enslavement, he would not allow his daedra to tear him limb from limb. No matter how much they promised to do so.

He keeps moving, around the large trunks and under low hanging branches. He thought he was being careful, but in a forest such as this it is hard. Vorstag feels a twig snap beneath his foot. He stops.

"Hear that?" One of the waiting Dremora crows.

They're sick looking things. Blue skin, white eyes with graying skin around the face. Like zombies but worse in a way. Vorstag didn't wish to meet them so soon, so he stays put.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." One of them calls. Vorstag moves his head, just a millimeter and he notices he can see through a large gap in the trees. Perfect. He has a good view of the two Dremora and they look just as he thought they would.

"He's not a cat." The other whispers. His eyes rove around the forest edge, his hand fiddles with his dagger.

The other Dremora gives him a lecherous grin. "I wasn't calling him."

Just then, Vorstag feels it. The breath on his neck. He slowly turns his head and beholds the creature behind him. A Daedroth. Tall, muscular, and menacing, the humanoid reptilian creature opens its maw.

It was a strange sight, Vorstag mused, a man with a crocodile head. What a way to die. Those sharp jaws come crashing down on him.

With his heart in his chest Vorstag moves. He leaps into a nearby tree and hears the Daedroth ram it with his shoulder. Good thing it couldn't climb.

"Ah! There!" The Dremora crows. "Dragon found something! Something scurrying about." He laughs and follows them along the tree line.

Vorstag reaches for another branch. If he can get high enough and leap away from the things, he can get to Molag Bal on his own. He feels the next branch, so close. His fingertips just grasp the edge when something wraps around his calf.

He yelps as he's dragged down. He slams into the ground with such a force it would have killed him if he were human. He scurries back, kicks out at the damn Daedroth can't get him.

Think quick, think quick, he tells himself and in the nick of time he pulls. A nearby branch jams into the trees above him, leaving him with room to escape the Daedroth. Its teeth come down and can't clamp past the branch.

He roars. Vorstag scrambles to his feet and runs. Full out races out of the forest.

"Hey! Where are you going?" One of the Dremora stops him with a blade at his chest.

Vorstag ignores it, his fear now a wild animal. He leaps over the daedra and races down the cold cobblestone path.

It was darker here. The light that came through was murky. Like swimming in a swamp and trying to open your eyes. Vorstag keeps watching the horizon. As long as he can see that boundary between sky and land he knows he will find his way home.

Coldharbour was larger than he thought. This area was…more like a pocket to the outside world from his understanding. In the interior, there were cities and full-on palaces that mimicked what was found on Nirn. It was just more…daedric. In all the ways one would find possible.

His heavy footsteps are the only sound on the cobblestone street. He pauses for breath, he didn't really need it, but oxygen can help a vampire after extreme exertion. Especially after so long without enough blood.

"Thought we'd let you walk there yourself?" Something whispers in his ear.

He turns, quickly as possible, with a blade at the ready and comes face to face with a Winged Twilight. The daedra of dreams, they tended to be messengers for Azura. This one had blue and gray skin, eyes red as blood, and bat like wings that kept her lithe body afloat. Her legs seemed humanoid and reached out into clawed feet. Her arms were nothing more than a shuttle for long wings. Feathers adorned her head. This was all Vorstag could assess before he was scooped up.

He yells into the wind as four other Winged Twilights latch onto his arms and legs to pull him racing up to the sky.

"Put me down!" He yells, he panics when he sees his sword clattered on the ground.

"I have it." The first Winged Twilight smiles back at him and leaves to retrieve the sword.

They carry him over the vast land. It is pointless to thrash and buck, he wasn't getting out of their strong grasp on him, and he needed to conserve energy. He kept telling himself that. Let himself calm his breathing. When they were closer to ground, he would fight back.

Vorstag looks down, seeing Coldharbour teeming below him. It was gruesome, even when seeing familiar sights: The Hollow City where those from Nirn dwell, the daedric ruins, and the numerous wayshrines dotting the land. His sight was soon obscured by the clouds.

He grits his teeth as the burning sensation returns to his skin. He was told, a long time ago, from a wanderer who had stumbled into the Silver-Blood Inn for the night that Coldharbour was strange. The ground was sludge, the sky was burning, and the air was freezing. So far, almost everything he said was right. He said it was so dark sometimes that it was hard to see here. That monsters roamed the land waiting to find prey to tear into. And everything was absolute chaos.

He was wrong on two things. Sometimes, the ground wasn't just sludge. And most of the time, this place had more order than certain parts of Markarth. As if to hammer the point home, the Winged Twilight's suddenly drop from the sky. Vorstag watches as the ground soars closer and closer. The burning clouds leave them behind and now they're just a bag of bones and blood falling through the sky.

He nearly screams when he sees where they're heading. They're falling so fast they were certain to be impaled just like everyone else. Below them, sits a palace that was more like a colosseum. Vorstag only saw it once in person, when he was lucky enough to travel to Cyrodiil with his brother. Now, the Imperial Palace isn't as grand as it was then. This one isn't shining with the light from above and the prosperity of a teeming kingdom.

This Imperial City was covered in blood and littered in bodies. On almost every piece of the building bodies were staked through and still bleeding. It almost looked like a building of corpses. That was, until they got closer.

The City is built in a series of rings and Vorstag thought they were headed straight for the center, instead they fall right at the entrance. He barely has the time to catch his breath before the Winged Twilight creatures shove him to the ground and keep him held down in the sludge.

Cold, wet, and putrid dirt cakes his face and hair. He can feel it leeching into his skin. It was better than the burning but it didn't help the cuts he had.

"Finally. Took him far too fucking long." A dark voice greets him. It's low. Guttural. Vorstag keeps his head down.

Something grabs his hair and pulls. It's not his whole hand, it's too large for Vorstag's head, but the ends of his fingers are tipped with talons. Vorstag wishes to close his eyes, but he doesn't. He watches as the ghastly face of Molag Bal comes into view. "What were you doing all that time in the forest? Struggling?" He grins, showing sharp teeth tainted with blood.

Vorstag can't stop panting. "I would have been here sooner if your minions didn't come for me."

Molag Bal laughs, "Ah, they were told to find you. I needed to show you something."

The talons digging into his back and arms leave him and only Molag Bal drags him by the hair. Over the sludge. Vorstag bites his tongue as each stone he hits makes his body ache. Here, in Coldharbour, he couldn't heal as quickly as he could on Nirn. He didn't know why, but he hated it.

"Look." Molag Bal shoves him forwards with that hand still curled around his skull. Vorstag glances around the Palace entrance. All he saw was more of the same. Bodies scaling the walls, dripping with blood and giving off a putrid scent. He winces when he sees exactly where those spikes were impaled. On the most sensitive of organs and most were piercing right through the neck. Some were even impaled through their whole body, through one end, and out the mouth.

"So?" Vorstag tries to make his voice strong.

The Prince's breath brushes his neck as he leans in closer. Vorstag can feel his fangs graze the base of his throat. "You are my Champion and I have three tasks for you. You will hate them, little moral vampire you are, but you will complete them. Or else, you spend the rest of your days just like these souls."

Horror rises in his stomach. Bile forces it's way up his throat but he holds strong. He breathes heavily with the realization. These people were still alive. Breathing or not, they knew where they were and felt everything that had happened.

"Don't act like that. They deserve this fate, boy. If you knew what they did…I know you'd impale them yourself." Molag Bal drops him and Vorstag falls to the dirt face first. It was almost like the sludge was trying to pull him in, like quicksand. He almost wishes it would.

"I have one thing to request." He chokes out.

"Hm." Vorstag winces as he feels a large, monstrous foot push on his head. The pressure increases as the Prince speaks, "What is it? You aren't in the position for requests…I should impale you for even asking. But since you have been gone for so long and aided in defeating the witch, I'll let you ask."

"I need to kill Mannimarco." Vorstag coughs out. Dirt and putrid liquid was entering his mouth and nose with each breath.

The pressure releases, Vorstag gasps when he can finally breathe. The air was horrible. It smelled of rotting flesh, but it was better than his face in the dirt. Rough hands grab him by the shoulders and yank him to sky. He cries out as the talons rake his skin. But he halts when he sees his face.

The daedric skull with flaming eyes is staring back at him. Sharp teeth keep extending until they're dripping in blood. "You will not speak that name around me." Molag Bal snarls in his face.

He'd shudder if he could. As it was all Vorstag could do was thrash his legs while the Prince of Enslavement held him. "That man is dead and being tortured in this land as we speak. That is the price he pays for crossing me!" His guttural voice sounds.

"He's alive. He took someone very special to me." He shouldn't have said it. But he had to get the Prince back on his side. Wrong choice.

The Prince pulls him closer, his mouth opens wider, until his flaming eyes are boring into Vorstag's. All he had to do was take a bite and Vorstag would be without a face. "I am corrected. The man who brought you to me said you were not in the right mind. You are not the Champion I claimed." He drops him.

The air seems to catch him before Vorstag falls back to the earth. He nearly sinks into it. Molag Bal turns, now back in his usual form. Yet, it was no less terrifying. "You need to be reforged. Before your first task, you will have training and I know just the right people for it. Follow closely. We don't have time to wait." He begins walking with the Winged Twilights flying around him. No doubt all the way to his palace.

Vorstag can't catch his breath. The panic is threatening to break in. It's not the fact that he's stuck in Oblivion with the threat of being impaled alive hanging over his head. It's not the fact that he has to serve the Prince, probably until the end of time. It's that the Prince doesn't believe him. He won't help him. He helped Eve.

But Molag Bal was threatened then. If the Night Mother had her way, there would be no Oblivion. And from what he's heard of Mannimarco, whatever he did to Molag Bal made him his primary target. He just didn't understand how Mannimarco could be here. Unless, he was mistaken.

He opens his mouth, just to tell him that thought. That he saw the hateful, evil Altmer right before his very eyes in the College of Winterhold. But every time he pushed was another moment he risked being put on the stake. And he couldn't find Serana from there.

He keeps her face in his mind's eye as he gets up. Breathing heavily with the smoky cold air and the putrid dirt, he watches the black clouds blot the sky, showing any change in the weather. Based on the wind blowing through whatever storm was coming their way wasn't going to be a pleasant one. Not at all. He watches as Molag Bal recedes in the darkening distance. And takes his first step to follow him.