When I awake, I see nothing but darkness. I realize that I am blindfolded. I try to move, but I am bound. I try to scream, but I am gagged. I panic and squirm around, causing my restraints to rattle.
"You're finally awake, mortal," I hear a low growl. "We can finally begin." I feel a sharp object lightly run up my bare leg. "You're mind is strong," he growls as the sharp object runs across my back and around my shoulder, " but like all mortals, your body is weak." No, I don't want this.
The sharp object reaches my chest and stops. Pressure is applied and I wince. I fail to cry out, but to no avail. Make it stop.
"Sheogorath cannot break you," he growls. "But I certainly can."
"Molag Bal! Get your claws off that girl!" I hear someone yell. Sheogorath, is that you?
"She is mine, Sheogorath!" Molag Bal growls loudly. "I always get the Twisted Metal winner! You and all the Princes know that!" Am I a mere trophy to this guy or something?
"I claimed her soul in the beginning, Molag!" Sheogorath shouts. "You know she belongs to me!" I belong to nobody!
"As soon as she's out of your protection, Sheogorath," Molag Bal roars angrily, "she's as good as mine!" I then smell smoke and all goes quiet. Is it over?
My restraints and blindfold are removed and Sheogorath tosses a thin black cloak over me. It looks as if I'm in an dark, decrepit bedroom. He glares at me and huffs angrily. I look back at him in confusion and fear. "What did I do?" I ask.
"You're complaining didn't help any," Sheogorath huffs.
"Complaining?" I echo inquisitively.
Sheogorath shakes his head. "You have forgotten that I can still hear your thoughts," he sighs. "You're just lucky Molag didn't know what you were thinking." He then takes me by the arm and leads me outside to a gloomy, dark courtyard where a glowing blue doorway appears. We go through and we're back in the forest clearing.
Sheogorath quickly let go of my arm and I tumble to the ground. I get up and dust myself off, then ask him, "What was that place?"
The doorway disappears and Sheogorath tells me, "Coldharbour."
"Cold-what?" I ask, confused.
Sheogorath walks over to a table that's appeared out of nowhere. I guess I should get used to the sudden change of surroundings around here. "Molag Bal's plane of Oblivion, Coldharbour," Sheogorath explains, "is a sort of mirror to the planet Nirn. Except the mirror is filthy and disgusting." He motions for me to sit down and adds, "Will you allow me to explain everything today without another outburst?" I nod and sit quietly.
Sheogorath hands me a mug of mead and begins to explain, "All the Princes knew of other worlds beyond Nirn, the planet where most of our influence resides. But since none of us were known elsewhere, our influence was practically nonexistent." He pauses and asks me, "Do you know how far the planet Nirn is from your Earth?"
Looking down at my drink, I quietly answer, "No, sir."
Sheogorath laughs, "Sir? How quaint." He proceeds, "There is a satellite far from it's home planet of Earth that beams photos back to it. It's camera has quite a range, but Nirn is still too far away to be seen. If I am correct, Nirn is about eight times the distance that satellite can see." Eight times? Wow.
"Wow, indeed," Sheogorath says in response to my thought. He then continues to explain, "To my surprise, the Daedric Prince of Wishes, Clavicus Vile was the first to reach out to Earth. He saw that someone had a death wish and he happily obliged. Took him a good number of years to finally finish the deal. Shame the man's daughter went down with him."
"Wait, who is this man?" I ask, looking up from my plate.
Sheogorath answers, "His name was Johnny Sparks." He smiles smugly and takes a sip from his mug, then adds, "But you know him better as Calypso." That's what he meant by my need to survive like he did.
"Not quite, Ashlynn," Sheogorath says in response to my thought. "What he was referring to was what came after." He pours himself another mug and proceeds explaining, "The reason it took so long for Mr. Sparks' wish to finally come to fruition was because Clavicus had to prepare a special place in his Plane just for him. As soon as Mr. Sparks' had his wish granted, he was forced to participate in his own demolition derby of running from a Dremora for all eternity. Thing is, Mr. Sparks out ran the Dremora and beat Clavicus at his own game." I never knew about this.
"Nobody did, Ashlynn," Sheogorath responds to my thought again. "But because Mr. Sparks beat the Dremora, he was given a new chance at life," he takes a sip from his mug. "It was revealed that Clavicus began to enjoy demolition derbies, but hated how most who participated lived. He gave a little bit of his power to Mr. Sparks and, in turn, had him run a new demolition derby where the last one left alive gets one wish. Anything their heart desired."
"And the other participants lose their souls to him," I say. "I know that part. Calypso made it clear."
"No, Mr. Sparks doesn't get their souls," Sheogorath says. "Clavicus does. Or at least did."
"What changed?" I ask.
"The other Daedric Princes caught on to Clavicus Vile's schemes," Sheogorath answers. "And we wanted in on it. He was reluctant at first, but none of us let up and eventually he gave in. So now every year, all the Princes get together and choose which participant's soul they want. Most of us play by the rules and stick with the one soul we chose, but not all." Molag Bal.
"Yes, Ashlynn," Sheogorath says. "Molag always want the winner. He is the Daedric Prince of Domination and even though he didn't know what happened to you the night you had your wish granted, he still knew what you really wanted. He thinks because of that you will be his ultimate prize." There is short pause and Sheogorath adds, "To him, you are just an object to claim as a mere trophy. But to me," he lets out a long sigh. "To me, the mind is the best thing anyone can have."
I sit there in silence and let everything I learned sink in. I finally speak up and ask, "If you're already in my head, what more do you want of me? Why am I still here?"
"I'm not fully inside your head. I can only read your thoughts and plants seeds through your mortal senses. It's up to you to have them grow," he answers. "But if you allow me in, I can nurture them for with little effort from you." There's a pause. "I may be a madman myself," he sighs and hands me a mug of mead, "but even madness can bring clarity. Just let me in and I can show you. Only then will you be free to go."