It's become difficult for me to sleep down here.
I mean, between the stars, the memories, the list, my head's just full of noise all the time – and that's not even accounting the creepy factor of this whole place. I swear, sometimes when I'm scouting, I can hear a second set of footsteps just behind me.
But that's just silly. Lord Seht made it abundantly clear that I'm alone down here. Besides, I haven't seen anyone else. It's all nerves. I don't want to mess up and damage a star, but the Father of Mysteries wouldn't have chosen me without some confidence in my abilities. I have to start believing in myself more. Like he does.
Right, I've moped long enough. Time for some work. I'll be done with this list and out of here in no time!
Star Nine: (Aem'uvus)
Ten seconds had never felt like an eternity before.
Aem'uvus' apprehension was wound up in tense shoulders and a worried bottom lip, but he did not voice it when he looked down at his beloved fabricant. He had not even confided them in Heem-Tei, who had shared with him a bewildered look when the message first came over the classroom factotum. Perhaps, he thought to himself, his father had overheard his difficulties and decided to recall him from his lesson, so he could conduct it himself. Unprecedented, to be certain, but not entirely outside of the realm of possibility.
But there was an odd pulse in the air, queer and powerful, that Aem'uvus had never felt before. It was alien and familiar all at once, though he could not quite place it.
By the time the lift passed the threshold and clicked into the floor, the child was more than a little ill-at-ease.
Seht rounded the corner in the same instant, and quickly came to meet him as he stepped from the platform. His expression was calm, a touch inscrutable, but it did little to ease the boy's discomfort.
"Father," he said, "what's happening?"
He did not answer him immediately. Instead, Sotha Sil crouched and lifted him from the floor, holding him close as he turned and started once more down the path. "It's of no concern, my little lord. A scan of the environment for the new models, which requires you to be in your room."
"What's that? I can feel…something. It's strong."
"An experiment, nothing more," his father assured him. But Aem'uvus' senses were sharp, and his ears warred with them for dominance. That peculiar energy pulsed in the air as a heartbeat – a fierce, powerful heartbeat, malevolent, and with tar for blood. It was such that after a moment, it threatened to overwhelm him. He ducked his head into his father's robes, focusing on the feel of the fabric underneath his fingers, the mechanical arms that had cradled him his entire life, how his hair smelt, curiously, of metal and jasmine.
"It's too much…" he whimpered. Seht's paced quickened, and the child felt his grip tighten around him.
"Hush," he soothed. "Focus on my voice. You built a senche-tiger, yes? I'm eager to hear more about it."
Aem'uvus squinted against the throb. When he looked at him, he saw his father's eyes were fixed on the path ahead, as if traversing it required all of his concentration. He wondered if the energy troubled him as well.
"Okay," he whispered.
Star Ten:
Sotha Sil felt the clutch of his son's fingers as he set him on the floor. Under the nursery stars, his large, anxious eyes glimmered, and the architect was reminded of children in ancient battles, so helpless and innocent. So much was the casualty of war.
"Remain here," he instructed him. "I will return once the scan is complete."
"Can I come with you?" Aem'uvus asked. "Please?" His voice was nervous, afraid, even, and it pained Sotha Sil that he had to shake his head.
"I must tend to the experiment. If left without supervision, the reaction could be…volatile," he explained. The child did not deflate, but his features were tight and his posture prone, as though he was poised to flee if needed. He felt his comforts would do little to soothe him. "Soon the energy will disperse, my little lord. I will ensure it myself. There's no reason to fear."
But Aem'uvus' gaze remained unconvinced. It was only due to his trust in his father that he did not protest. Instead he lingered, the ever-dutiful son, clasping his hands together as he shuffled from foot to foot. "Do you promise you'll be back soon?"
Seht laid his hand on his own chest. "I would never leave you willingly, my little lord." Then he looked into the room itself – at the brass bed that sat between Aem'uvus' twin guardians, and the bookshelves that had been stuffed haphazardly with journals, hardcovers, and all manner of metal parts. "Read your novels. They will distract you until I return. And, Uvus?"
The child's head tilted.
"I would never allow for you to come to harm."
Aem'uvus rolled his shoulders, straightening so that he could hold his head high and meet the architect's gaze. "I know, Father."
It was an unspoken farewell, when Sotha Sil left him in the safety of his nursery. A promise that he would be with him soon. But as the door closed behind him Seht lingered for a moment more, his hand rested against it, and recalled the dubious expression on his son's face, how he, even in his sheltered nature, could sense that something was amiss. That he had not been told the truth. In calmer circumstances, he would marvel at the child's natural sensitivity. But it was not the time for that. No.
He had to prepare for the trials his son would soon face.
Daedric presences, in the Clockwork City? I was alive when this all happened, and I don't remember a thing about that. Though, Heem-Tei did mention that I was ill at the time. Still, Mother never mentioned it. I don't suppose she would, on second thought. Perhaps she didn't even know? If it was all contained inside His Grace's inner mechanisms…
I've always been taught that Daedric influences couldn't pass through Sotha Sil's wards, and the Congress is not happy to discuss the Princes. Aem'uvus' lectures were the only times I recall them examined in any depth. I suspect because he could withstand Oblivion's lure enough to study it. Those classes had such high standards for entrance, I was so proud when I was accepted!
This is all so fascinating! (Note to self: Terrifying. Terrifying would be the correct response to this revelation).
Star Eleven: (Aem'uvus)
The pulse remained, but over time it had waned from Aem'uvus' notice and existed as but a faint irritant in the back of his mind. He did as his father asked and focused himself on his books. But as an hour passed, and then two, his attention faltered from the rituals of Argonian tribes and turned instead to Seht's prolonged absence.
Aem'uvus jumped down from his bed. The movement caused the stack he balanced beside him to topple, and the books tumbled down on to his beloved beetle.
"Vennu!" he said as he hurried to release it from its sudden prison. "I'm sorry! Father says I need to be more careful."
The fabricant appeared to shake itself quickly of the ordeal and puttered to Aem'uvus' side. Built when he had first come under his father's tutelage, it had been his first project, and ever since his constant companion. Sotha Sil had advised him against calling it his friend, for one day its soul gem would die out or its legs would corrode and cease to function. But he did in secret, for it travelled with him wherever he wandered.
"Where is he?" the child wondered, folding his arms across his chest. He looked at the door, still fastened shut, with his brow furrowed. "He said he would come back soon."
For a moment, he considered disobeying his father's command and venturing out to find him. Seht would forgive him, he was certain; after a thorough chastisement, of course. But just as he stepped towards the door, he felt a change – as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and dissipated in the air just above him. The floor no longer pulsed, and he could feel no tar-heartbeat in the walls.
The energy had vanished.
"Vennu, it's gone!" he exclaimed to his fabricant. "Father must be finished. He'll come soon. I should clean up my books—"
A click interrupted him, and then a loud, terrible thundering that made him start. Aem'uvus snapped to the door, and saw that large, steel bars had slid out from holes he had never seen before, sealing it – and himself – in place.
"What…?"
He drew closer to the door. When he touched the bars, he felt a tremble of magicka; an enchantment, one that he had never studied before. His father's work, that much he was certain of. It held his distinct flares, the flourishes of a master. But Aem'uvus had never seen him implement them, and he could not tell their purpose.
Another crash sounded elsewhere; a distant noise, felt more than heard. His muscles tightened, and his fingers stilled. Danger lurked in the halls of the Cogitum. He sensed it, and it was a terrible, chilling sense, entirely foreign to that small child who crouched beside his door.
He scrambled from the entrance. The faint comfort of his father's enchantment receded, and he felt, even in the familiar walls of his nursery, that he was on the cusp of some foul evil. If he were at Sotha Sil's side, he would feel no fear. Indeed, he had never felt it before. But the architect was not there, and, briefly, he felt as though he would never be again.
But just as the thought crossed his mind, he noticed that the stars appeared brighter overhead. The soft sparkles had strengthened, and as he craned his neck Aem'uvus saw that one in particular seemed to guide them. It drifted to and fro, touching each of its brothers, setting them almost aflame.
"Vennu," he murmured as he stared, "what's happening?"
That's odd. Have I jumbled the list up somehow? Or did Lord Seht write this out of order? I mean, so far all of the memories have been listed chronologically, but this one – it's from before, when Aem'uvus was a baby.
Oh! Perhaps it's the star he saw – the glowing one? This is all so surreal. It's as if I'm truly looking through U-vee's eyes, or the eyes of Lord Seht. I've had to remind myself I wasn't there for any of this. But these memories are just so vivid, it feels as though I'm right in that room.
I'll write up this next star, then start cooking dinner. It's a bit disorientating to watch these for so long.
Star Twelve:
Sotha Sil cradled his swaddled son, while above them memories of soft lullabies carried him to sleep.
He had fed him, cleaned him, whispered wisdom into his slender ears; and for another cycle, Aem'uvus was sated. But Seht found himself, even as the child drifted, looking ahead to when he would wake. There was yet more he had to teach him. More he desired to impart. To instil his son with the secrets he had acquired, and the principles that dictated his life.
"Ah, my small one," he murmured, "how the world seems to slumber with you."
He was heavier; no longer a newborn. A comfortable weight in his arms, the architect found that he wished for more time. He wished for him to remain that small for a while longer, and stave off the hardships he foresaw in their future. But that was not in his power. Instead, he kissed Aem'uvus' forehead softly, and held him so that he could gaze upon his face.
"There will come a time when you will be without me," he told him, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "It may be confusing at first. Even frightening. Trust in yourself, my little lord. You will overcome that which seems insurmountable. And know that I shall be proud. No matter how you rise to the occasion."
The child's breath evened, and Sotha Sil smiled as Aem'uvus left the waking world for his dreams.
