Chapter 7: Unforeseen
A/N: Welcome back! I've grown quite attached to these characters, and I'm considering expanding this story (with sequels) to explore the main quest and some other additions. As always, feedback is appreciated. Enjoy.
A cool breeze suffused the pine forest of Skyrim's southwest. They had just passed by Falkreath, nicknamed the Graveyard City for its history of multiple battles over the ages; there, the first uprising of the Stormcloaks began the bloody civil war that now tore the country apart, and Falkreath became the final resting place of hundreds of Nords.
The woods were pleasant and quiet, if not a little eerie. Some—mainly superstitious Nords—thought the forest was haunted, that the green-grey sentinels had been tainted by spilt blood. Vafiél didn't believe that nonsense. People were always afraid of things they didn't understand; that had never changed over the millennia. It took more than old trees to scare him.
"I hope we reach the Ancestor Glade soon," Serana said into the silence. "All this travelling is starting to drain me."
"Perhaps you need another long nap," Vafiél offered, amused. "Though maybe not for a few centuries this time."
She rolled her eyes, laughing quietly. "Wouldn't that be nice?" she joked.
Vafiél drew breath to say more but hesitated when he heard footsteps in the snow. He kept Storm firmly in place, but Midnight pranced about anxiously, sensing danger.
"What is that?" Serana whispered, tightening her reins.
Vafiél caught a glimpse of pale figures through the trees, hunched over, waxy skin pulled tight over hard bones. His blood ran cold. What were they doing on the surface?
He stayed very still and prayed Serana wouldn't speak. Vafiél shot her a sideways glance and saw her sitting stiff, watching him in fear, eyes wide.
The Betrayed were upon them. One, a female, made some sort of signal that kept the others back while she approached Vafiél and sniffed him. She almost looked… confused. Tentative, the blind creature took Vafiél's hand and pierced his skin with a sharp nail, just enough to draw a drop of blood. He didn't resist. She sniffed again, then released his hand, backing away. The woman growled something to the others in a strange, guttural language, and the group dispersed into the woods once more.
Vafiél released the breath he'd been holding and rested his head on Storm's tense neck.
"The… The Falmer, they… recognised you," Serana stammered. "Are you okay? Vafiél?"
He straightened up and took a quivering breath. "They were like me, once," Vafiél rasped. "Now look at them." His throat constricted and he fell silent, staring at Storm's dark mane to distract himself. "I'll be fine. Let's go." Before she could say anything else, he urged Storm into a canter and followed the path up the mountain.
The cave they searched for was tucked into the mountainside. Vafiél knew the path continued further up—he'd followed it once and met a fugitive named Angi who treated him nicely enough—but for now, they dismounted, and he led the way into the Ancestor Glade.
Serana caught his wrist and Vafiél turned toward her. "Serana?"
"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, gently, pushing his hood back.
Vafiél averted his gaze. "It's… difficult to see them that way," he admitted, "knowing that some of them were my friends and colleagues." The words were heavy to say.
Her smile was sad. "Come on," Serana murmured, taking his hand and leading him through the short, dark passage. "Let's do this ritual."
For a moment, Vafiél just stood where he was, blinking in surprise. Her arm stretched out when he didn't move. Before she could let go, Vafiél followed her, staying at her side and tentatively lacing their fingers together.
They emerged at the top of a grand, spacious cavern, pausing to drink in the scenery lain out before them: beautiful, ancient trees with pink foliage; burbling springs; waterfalls that drained into small ponds. And scattered throughout the glade, moths. Dozens of them.
"Wow," Serana breathed, shuffling a little closer to him. "Look at this place. No one's been here in centuries. I doubt there's any other place like it in Skyrim. It's… beautiful."
Vafiél glanced at her, smiled to himself, and looked out at the glade again. "It is," he agreed. "If I'd known this existed, I might have chosen to live here."
Serana sighed and moved away, releasing his hand. "Look, down there. I'll bet that's where the Draw Knife is." She pointed to a dais raised above the shallow water in the centre of the glade, its lowermost point. There, the light that drifted through the hole in the cavern's roof collected in a glittering column.
Together, they made their way down several flights of stairs toward the dais. Vafiél caught Serana when she slipped on dried leaves and kept a hand at her back until they made it all the way down.
On the dais sat a strange rock formation, rounded at the top with a hole in the centre in which floated the Draw Knife. Vafiél took it cautiously and held it in both hands. "I guess this is what Dexion was talking about," he said.
"Well, we got the knife. Now all we need to do is gather the bark from one of those Canticle Trees." Serana glanced around. "They must be the ones with pink leaves."
"I think so," Vafiél agreed. He went over to the nearby Canticle Tree and removed a slab of the bark. It had a pleasant, sweet smell.
"Hope the moths like that bark as much as Dexion said they would," Serana commented with a grin.
"Great." Vafiél neared one of the small swarms of Ancestor Moths and they instantly gathered around him, flitting around the bark and flapping around him happily. "I hate this," he decided instantly, sneezing into his elbow.
Serana laughed, genuine and carefree. "They seem quite taken to you!" she remarked. "Couldn't hurt to gather more, I suppose."
"Hopefully not many more," Vafiél rasped, blinking his watery eyes. He'd barely taken two paces when more of the moths flocked to him.
"Unless I'm seeing things, you're starting to… glimmer," Serana told him.
"Oh, lovely." Vafiél squinted at her through the cloud of moths around him. "There's so many!"
"Woah! You're really glowing!" Serana exclaimed. "And look at the column of light. It's so bright. I think that might have been what we were waiting for. Let's see if we can read the Scrolls, now."
Vafiél slowly made his way into the column of light. Serana handed him the Elder Scroll that belonged to her mother and he held it in both hands, taking a deep breath. "Here we go," he muttered to himself, pulling the contents of the Scroll out.
His vision flashed with bright blue symbols and the world seemed to shift uncomfortably around him. As he read each Elder Scroll, a map formed before him, pinpointing a location that resounded in his mind. Darkfall Cave… Auriel's Bow is in Darkfall Cave. Wait… The Chantry! Vafiél almost dropped the moths seemed to be lending him strength; he was sure he would've fainted without them. Vafiél put the last Scroll down and closed his eyes as his vision went white. He had a terrible headache and anxiety rattled his spine.
"Vafiél, are you okay?" Serana asked, drawing close to him as the moths flitted away. "Almost thought I lost you, there. You spaced out."
"I'm… fine. I think," he replied, blinking to clear his vision.
"I never trusted those damned Scrolls," she muttered, smoothing down his cloak. "Who knows what those things could have done to you? Just look at Dexion." Serana met his gaze. "What about Auriel's Bow? Do you know where we can find it?"
"Yes… Yes, I do," Vafiél said slowly, then with growing confidence. "The Scrolls showed me its location. It's in a place called Darkfall Cave, part of the Chantry." Dizziness made everything hazy again and he closed his eyes.
"Hey, stay with me," Serana said hastily, holding his shoulders. "Here, sit down."
He let her guide him to the floor. Vafiél rubbed his temples with a groan, then blinked open his eyes and met her worried gaze. He tried for a smile. "I'm alright," Vafiél managed, quiet.
"You'd better be, or Dexion and I are going to have some words," Serana murmured. The protectiveness in her voice warmed him.
Vafiél glanced back when he heard a grating growl a short distance away and saw a gargoyle with its summoner close behind. Alarm shot through him. "Look out," he said quickly. "Vampires!" He tried to stand but Serana shook her head.
"Stay here," she told him firmly. "Let me take care of them."
He watched tensely as Serana engaged in battle with the two vampires and their thralls. Thanks to their studies, she dispatched the gargoyle quickly, and had no trouble with the thralls. It was the master vampire that gave her difficulty. They went back and forth, attacking and dodging, until Vafiél had enough and shot an ice spear at him to catch him by surprise so Serana could finish him off.
He took a deep breath and leaned against the stone where they'd found the Draw Knife, legs folded off to the side. Serana hastened back to him and sat on her knees just in front of him. "Vafiél, stay awake," she said, holding his face in her cool hands.
"I'm not going to die," he mumbled, meeting her gaze. "I'm just… tired. Reading the Scrolls took everything I had."
She sighed and stroked his cheek. "You've risked so much already. We should wait until you feel better before going to Darkfall Cave."
Groggy and unable to resist, he leaned into her touch, placing a hand over hers. "Thank you, Serana," he whispered, briefly closing his eyes. He felt rather than saw her shuffle closer and press closer to him; Vafiél quietly drew his arms around her, lacing his fingers together over her waist.
She said something to him as he drifted off, something quiet and hesitant, but he didn't make sense of it before he fell asleep.
Two dragons, three bandits, and four days later, the entrance to Darkfall Cave loomed before them. He'd called Durnehviir from the Soul Cairn twice, and the dragon trumpeted gleefully overhead. Vafiél stopped at the cave's mouth and took a quivering breath.
"I find it hard to believe this was a place of worship," Serana said, looking up at him.
"Darkfall Cave represented the absence of enlightenment, the start of the pilgrims' journey," he explained, heavy with sorrow. Eleana had been afraid, yet so determined, steadfast in her devotion to Auriel. She'd been a priestess for seven years before the Prelates allowed her to undertake the long, arduous pilgrimage to the Inner Sanctum.
He shook the memories away and took a deep breath, entering the cave.
A short tunnel from the entrance led to a small cavern, where the path skirted a pond fed by a narrow trickling waterfall.
"This waterfall is small, but I can hear rushing water," Serana commented.
"So can I. There must be a river somewhere ahead," Vafiél agreed.
They passed by spiderwebs and egg sacs until they emerged into a cavern. An old, rickety wooden bridge connected the rocky outcropping they stood on to the one on the far side, and a long way beneath them, a furious river rushed along.
"I don't like the look of this," said Serana, nervously.
"Stay here," Vafiél told her. "I'll go and see if there's anything on the other side."
"Be careful," she implored him, sounding reluctant to allow it. "I don't think anyone would survive that fall."
"I will be." Vafiél took a breath and skimmed across the bridge as lightly as he could. It creaked, but it held. On the other side he found nothing but rocks and ore. "It's a dead-end," he called to Serana.
"What? It can't be. A secret path, maybe?" She started to cross the bridge.
A snap made Vafiél's heart drop. The bridge had broken. "Serana!" he cried, but he was too late to catch her. Her sudden scream echoed discordantly. Without a second's thought he plunged after her.
The river tore at him, knocking him against the uneven rocky ground. Vafiél fought to resurface and gasped for breath, only to be dragged back down and thrashed against the riverbed. He caught a glimpse of Serana and tried to reach her, but before he could comprehend what was happening, the river spat them over a cliff and into empty space. Serana screamed again. It was cut off abruptly when they plummeted into deep water, the river sending them hurtling forward. Vafiél tried to surface and find Serana, only to be dragged under by the merciless current. A knock to his head made everything blur. He was half-aware he'd swallowed water and couldn't breathe.
Just when he thought it would never end, they were thrown from a small waterfall onto the rocky ground. Vafiél forced himself onto his side and regurgitated the river water, coughing and spluttering and gasping for air. "Serana," he croaked. "Serana, where are you?"
A groan of pain sounded to his right. He dragged himself over to Serana and made her sit up. He hit her back in an upwards motion with the bottom of his palm and she vomited the water she'd swallowed, shivering.
Serana clung to him desperately. Her short hair was plastered down and she seemed to be in shock, not even aware she was whimpering softly with each exhale, which was unlike her. Vafiél cradled her to his chest and sat with her while they got their breath back.
"Serana," he rasped after a few minutes. "Are you alright?"
"I think so," she said hoarsely. At least she wasn't whimpering anymore.
"I thought I'd lost you," Vafiél exhaled, meeting her gaze. The fear hadn't completely abated.
"I'm okay. We're okay." Serana placed a hand at the side of his face and touched her forehead to his, their soft and shallow breaths mingling.
Vafiél laughed despite himself, almost sounding insane. "You scared me," he rasped.
"I scared me too," Serana admitted, echoing his giddy laughter hoarsely. "Are you alright?"
"Don't worry, I'm fine. I… hit my head, I think. Nothing serious," Vafiél murmured. Her glowing amber eyes stirred his proud dragon soul and made him feel incredibly mortal, despite his noble birth.
Suddenly she jerked away, scrambling to her feet and leaving him in shock. "Spiders!" Serana warned him, calling on her necromancy and destruction magic.
Vafiél forced himself upright, swaying slightly—that bump to his head may have been more than he thought—and reached for the magic in his veins, tapped the source, only to find it… empty. Witbane, he realised. Lovely. I have a disease. Vafiél strafed to position himself. "Serana, get back," he told her. She took one look at him, must have seen his glowing eyes, and quickly moved out of the way. He took a breath as the frostbite spiders neared, let the Words swim in his mind, and Shouted—"Yol Toor Shul!"—his Thu'um a raging inferno that incinerated the spiders. The air shimmered with heat.
"You really are a dragon inside," Serana remarked, quietly, as she approached. "You breathe fire."
Vafiél laughed hoarsely and swallowed. That Shout always dried his throat. "Keen observation," he said, amused. "Let's keep moving."
They followed the trickling water through the spiders' nest. The place was crawling with them, much to Vafiél's distaste.
"I hate these things," Serana muttered disdainfully as they picked their way around the dead spiders.
Vafiél hummed agreement. "This truly is a dark place."
After climbing a hill, the light of a fire made him squint. Vafiél raised a hand to shield his eyes and grimaced when the smell of death and decay met him.
Serana uttered a wordless sound of pity. "These people, they were…"
Torn apart. Vafiél put on a pair of leather gloves and crouched by the remains of a woman, her stomach ripped open, her viscera missing. He found a note beside her and read its contents. It detailed the deceased woman's despair at her mortal injuries and a warning message for her sister, hastily scrawled and bloodstained. Trolls had done this, she wrote. He left the note on the ground and straightened up, placing his examination gloves back in their pouch.
"Be on your guard," Vafiél said to Serana. "There are trolls ahead."
"First spiders, now trolls? Were the priests trying to kill the pilgrims?" Serana shook her head.
"I doubt they were here at the time," Vafiél told her, quietly. "I expect this place looked vastly different all those years ago."
She met his gaze curiously. "You've never been this way? But you said that this led to the Vale."
"This is one way in. The other was sealed off by the Betrayed when they attacked," Vafiél murmured. "Let's move."
"Right behind you."
They continued down a slope and into a dark, watery cavern. Glowing mushrooms grew on the walls. The growls and grunts of trolls echoed from further in; Serana grimaced when she realised these were the ones who had killed the two women. She and Vafiél dispatched them—she with magic and he with his Voice—and moved toward the end of the cavern, which was illuminated by light from the outside world.
Architecture made of smooth white stone rose before them in the form of broken pillars and a pedestal, on top of which sat a sun statue. In the centre of the crumbling pillars sat a dome topped with the same statue. Before the shrine stood a pale elf, face upturned in prayer.
Vafiél met the man's gaze from a few lengths away and Serana saw tears of elation prick his eyes. "Gelebor!" he cried with unrestrained joy, racing forward to embrace him.
Shock engulfed the stranger. "Vafiél? Is it truly you? I cannot believe my eyes," breathed the man as they collided in a firm embrace. Gelebor held him at arm's length to get a proper look at him and smiled, pure and relieved. "I believed you dead all these years."
Serana couldn't help but smile too, delighted on Vafiél's behalf. Centuries of isolation, thinking all the Snow Elves in Skyrim were dead, and Gelebor had been here the whole time, safe and well. She could only imagine how Vafiél must be feeling.
"I'm so glad you're alright," Vafiél said, laughing despite his streaming eyes.
"By the grace of Auri-El," Gelebor murmured. Meeting Serana's gaze, he added, "Come forward. You have nothing to fear here."
Vafiél backed away a few steps and wiped his eyes, gathering his composure.
Serana approached them and met the stranger's gaze, looking from him to Vafiél and back again. They were both Snow Elves, but she noted that Vafiél's features were softer, more… appealing.
"I am Knight-Paladin Gelebor. Welcome to the Great Chantry of Auri-El," Gelebor said formally. He was a touch taller than Vafiél, with a sharp, angular face and short white hair upswept toward his crown. He wore white armour engraved with golden filigree.
"You're a Snow Elf," Serana said, touched with wonder. "You two know each other?"
"Indeed," said Gelebor, glancing at Vafiél with a fond expression. "I served at the Chantry when Eleana ascended. It was a sight to behold. And of course, I came to know Vafiél when he found safety in the Chantry." He paused. "But, Vafiél… That was a very long time ago. Auri-El has preserved my life, but you… you were not devout."
"Life is full of strange ironies," Vafiél told him with a wry smile. "I am Dragonborn, and my soul belongs to Auriel. In fact, I have spoken with him directly more than once."
Gelebor's eyes widened. "An irony indeed. Even the most enlightened of us do not see such privileges… Ah, but I forget myself. It is not kinship that has brought you here. You seek Auriel's Bow."
"Yes," said Serana, relieved to be back on track. "Do you have it?"
"I can help you acquire it, but first, I require your assistance," Gelebor told them, as Vafiél moved to stand at Serana's side. "I need you to kill Arch-Curate Vyrthur, my brother."
"Vyrthur is alive?" Vafiél asked, sounding surprised.
"Yes. I don't understand what he's become, but… he's no longer the brother I once knew," Gelebor murmured, forlorn. "It was the Betrayed. They did something to him. I just don't understand why Auri-El would allow this to happen."
"What did they do?" Serana asked, frowning.
"As I'm sure Vafiél has told you, they swept into the Chantry without warning and began killing everyone." Gelebor sighed. "The Chantry was a place of peaceful worship. I led a small group of paladins that protected the Vale, but we were no match for the Betrayed's sheer numbers. They slaughtered everyone and stormed the Inner Sanctum, where I believe they corrupted Vyrthur."
"Are you certain he's alive?" Vafiél asked.
Gelebor nodded seriously. "He's alive. I've seen him. But something is… wrong. He never looks as though he's in pain or under duress. He just stands there, and… watches, as though waiting."
"I suppose you can't get to the Inner Sanctum," Serana said, leaning her weight to one side.
"Leaving the wayshrines unguarded would be violating my sacred duty as a Knight-Paladin of Auri-El. And an assault on the Betrayed guarding the Inner Sanctum would only end with my death," Gelebor explained.
Serana tilted her head. "Wayshrine?"
"Yes. Let me show you." Gelebor approached the dome structure and raised a hand that glowed with magic akin to sunlight. He made a motion, and the sun statue pulsed with that same light. The dome rose as the wayshrine's roof, while the structure itself had six walls—five blind arches and one arched entryway.
"Since the way to the Inner Sanctum has been destroyed by the Betrayed, the only way to get to my brother is by following in the Initiates' footsteps and traveling from wayshrine to wayshrine, just as they did," Gelebor told them. "There are five in total, spread far apart across the Chantry. But before I send you on your way, you'll need the Initiate's Ewer."
Vafiél took the ornamental pitcher from Gelebor. "I fill this at each wayshrine?"
"Yes. Once you've located a wayshrine, there will be a spectral Prelate tending to it. They will allow you to draw the waters from the shrine's basin as if you've been enlightened."
"So let's get this straight," said Serana, folding her arms. "We need to do all that nonsense to get into the temple so that we can kill your brother and claim Auriel's Bow?"
Gelebor inclined his head. "I know how it all sounds, but if there was another way, I'd have done it long ago. It's the only way, I'm afraid."
Vafiél's expression became wistful. "I'm loath to leave you here, after all this time," he admitted.
"We will see each other again soon enough. Do not despair, Vafiél." The paladin clasped Vafiél's shoulder to reassure him. "May the light of Auri-El illuminate your darkest hour," said Gelebor, softly, smoothing Vafiél's hair.
With a sad smile, Vafiél turned to Serana. "I suppose we should go," he murmured.
"Alright. Come on," she said gently, entering the wayshrine. When Vafiél glanced over his shoulder at Gelebor, who had resumed prayer before the shrine to Auriel, she reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. "He'll be fine. We need to go, Vafiél," Serana whispered.
He met her gaze with a small nod and followed her through the portal.
The passage was eerily silent when they emerged, and darker than a moonless night but for the glowing flora. "Oh, look at these plants," Serana remarked, trying to cheer up Vafiél. She went over to the glowing pink blossoms, only for them to retract away and throw them into pitch dark. She glanced back and only just made out Vafiél's shape. Had they not been holding hands she would've lost him.
"Must be shy," he murmured in reference to the flowers… or creatures. Whatever they were. "Don't let go, okay?"
"I won't if you won't." She slowly walked forward at his side, using what little light the glowing mushrooms on the walls and the odd pink beings provided to find a way through.
Still, several minutes later, the only sound to be heard was the dripping of water into tiny puddles on the ground. Serana's own unease was mirrored in Vafiél.
"Something is wrong," he whispered. "I expected… something. Chaurus? Bears? Trolls? I… I don't know."
"You're right." Serana bit her lip. Mounds of chaurus eggs dotted the sides of the walls, but there were none of the giant insects to be seen.
"I can't help feeling like we're walking into a trap," Vafiél told her, barely audible.
They emerged into a large cavern full of Falmer huts and their holes. Serana looked around and spotted one of the Falmer lurking in the darkness with a bow. Before she could warn Vafiél, the archer loosed an arrow that lodged in his chest. Vafiél sputtered for breath, shuddered, and collapsed.
"Vafiél!" Serana instantly crouched over him. His heart was barely beating. A small breath passed his lips and he seemed to faint. "No, no, no…"
The hidden Falmer skulked toward her and spoke to each other in their guttural language of growls and clicks. One of them, a man with a two-pronged staff and a large helmet of hardened chaurus chitin, began to inspect Vafiél, turning his head this way and that.
"Hey! Don't touch him!" Serana protested, swatting the Falmer's hands aside. The Falmer growled and two of its underlings dragged her back a little, restraining her arms but never hurting her. Without Serana's interference, the man continued examining Vafiél, though to what end, she couldn't work out. The Falmer removed Vafiél's undershirt and ran calloused fingertips across his pale skin, following ridges of scars that split the lean musculature. It was then she remembered their blindness, and the man's actions started making sense.
Her instinct was to look away and preserve Vafiél's dignity, but she didn't. The Falmer shaman made a thoughtful sound as he skimmed his hands over Vafiél's collarbones, up his face to his high cheekbones and pointed ears. She saw the same hesitant recognition as the Falmer on the surface had to Vafiél, the same wariness and… longing. But now she also saw fear when the shaman spoke to the gathering of Falmer around him.
Two of the warriors picked Vafiél up. Serana remembered herself and stood up, trying to follow but not exactly succeeding. "Wait! Please, don't hurt him," she called. The shaman glanced over his shoulder at her. "You can't understand me." The realisation stung. A brief order from the shaman made her captors lightly pull her along, and she followed, if for no other reason than to prevent the Falmer from mistreating her. They'd been kind enough. Why give them a reason not to be?
They took her to a hut on the opposite side of the encampment to where they'd taken Vafiél. She sat with her head in her hands and wracked her brain for answers, considering everything she knew. The Betrayed assaulted the Chantry and overran the Snow Elves. They got to the Inner Sanctum and corrupted Vyrthur. Vyrthur sits around all day, waiting for something.
There's a connection somewhere, I'm sure of it. But what is it? Serana looked through the thick bars blocking the entrance to the hut but couldn't glean anything from what little she saw.
And so she sat, imprisoned and alone.