Chapter XXI: Qahnaarin, Thuri

The eerie, shimmering sensation of a dim light pierced her eyes. Darkness swiftly returned, but it wasn't the same as a moment before. The brightness was still reaching her to some extent, only weakened and dyed red by something stretching over her pupils. Obvious, she thought, my own eyelids. She felt them closed shut, but could not consciously move them. They were quaking, trying to protect her sight. With great effort, she managed to lift them again for a few moments before they fell down again. But before they did, she had seen a dark, violet sky. The Soul Cairn. We're still inside.

She kept her eyes closed, easing the tension in her facial muscles, and feeling her whole body. I've fallen unconscious so many times I might consider myself an expert, she thought, sensing her lips barely forming a smile. It was the fourth time she could remember coming out of a comatose state. Once right after being released from the prison in Dimhollow, after having been put to sleep by Azrael still in the crypt, after having bitten him, and finally in that precise moment. The arrows, the Dragon… She remembered it all quite well, and the clarity on what had occurred calmed her to a degree.

Her left hand crept to where the arrow had struck. Her hand grazed the stone. She could almost recall the precise sensation of the surface of the shaft against her fingertips. Quite a neutral sensation, if not for the association with the fact that she had been wounded. This time, however, there was no arrow sticking out from the wound. Her fingers touched the jagged dip in the armor left by the impact, and that was everything that remained of the wound. She didn't clearly feel any pain, neither the piercing pain of the wound or the duller one of the damaged bones. That went smoothly, she thought, but where am I? She tried to recall something about the sky she had just seen upon opening her eyes, but she already remembered none of the details. I'm flat on my back, she quickly decided, after feeling the stone along her whole body.

'Azrael?' she called aloud, still trying to raise her eyelids. The air rushing from her throat made her aware of the metallic and sweet taste of the blood lingering on her mouth.

Nobody answered in words, but she felt a quick motion behind her. Heard, rather. Scratching, but light. It might have been a boot grazing the ground. However, her intuition quickly told her that wasn't Azrael. Too quick a movement, and too anxious. Azrael never reacted with that energy to anything. Unreactive… The word seemed to float through her mind for a moment, but it was beside the point. Whatever had made that sound, it was something that had moved quickly, and given it had happened just as she had spoken, it was probable that it was someone's response to her words. But if not Azrael's, whose? She brought her right hand to her side and lowered it, searching for solid ground.

'Serana!'

Her arm froze half-way through the movement. From it, the ice gripped her chest. But there was nothing in her mind expect for a confused mixture of various things she could hardly even name. 'Mother?' There were new sounds, but different from the one before them. These were clearer, the sound of a boot sole against the stone. Footsteps. My mother's… How can that even be?

'Serana…'

'Is it really you? I… I can't believe it.'

Before she could do anything, two hands slipped underneath her shoulders and pushed her upwards. She felt her head falling back for a moment, but then found the strength to straighten her neck. Feeling the quick movements, her eyes opened wide, capturing a fading glimpse of the barren, pale wasteland dotted with ruins that extended in front of her. The image waned quickly, because there was only one thing on which her mind could concentrate, and that was trying to convince herself that it was truly her mother that was speaking to her. She hadn't lied when saying that she could not believe it.

'Are you well?' her mother asked. 'You fell.'

What? She recollected everything that could suggest a fall, but she couldn't remember anything. 'I fell? What do you mean?'

Valerica briefly hesitated before answering. 'You were sitting with your back against a barrier. A magical barrier,' she clarified. 'It disappeared, and you fell down on your back.'

'I don't remember. I wasn't conscious yet.' With that more recent riddle out of the way, all her thoughts came back to her in full force. So much questions and so much feelings that there was no way she could find her way through their web alone. She sat down and looked at the Cairn, feeling her mother's hand on her shoulder. 'How did I arrive here?'

'Your companion brought you here.' Her mother's tone took on a hint of frost. 'I saw the Dragon attacking someone on the road here. Minutes after, he arrived here carrying you in his arms. He left you here.'

'Where is he now?'

'First, tell me why you brought him here in the first place.'

A number of different sensation occurred, that seemed to rise up her body. First, her chest tightened lightly. Secondly, her throat clenched. She had drank blood recently, so she was breathing slowly, and that was more noticeable than if not. Lastly, her jaws closed tightly, locking her teeth together and readying for the bite. Her mother's voice was coming from her right, and she turned her head left instinctively. Yes, I felt fear when she talked to me. But I had forgotten the resentment.

'Mother,' she said, and her voice also became colder, 'do you really want to do this? It's been four thousand years since we last saw each other, and all you want to do is tell me off on something? I wouldn't be here if not for him.'

'It was reckless to bring someone else here with you. To let someone know of anything related to you. He calls himself a vampire, but he knows nothing of our struggle. He's a cunning man, he'll use you for his own ends before dispatching you. The barrier's down, so he'll be back shortly. Why should I entrust you back to him when he returns?'

She closed her eyes, trying to contain herself. 'I entrusted myself to him. I'm a grown woman, in case you don't remember. He has done more for me in the brief time that I've known him than you've done in decades.'

The hand holding her right shoulder retracted and moved beside her cheek. Her right side lowered, and her mother's fingers closed on her chin, rotating her head. That's her, she thought, looking at her in the eyes. Her mother's face hadn't changed one bit. Not even the expression. It was tense, caught up in her fear. A fear that she could only express as anger. 'How dare you?' Valerica asked, peering into her eyes. 'I gave up everything I cared about to protect you that fanatic you call a father! Not only you escape your haven and return to him, but you also tell me that I haven't done anything for you?'

'Yes, my father is a fanatic. He's… changed. But he's still my father. And you, a schemer, are still my mother. You're my parents.' The jaws were clenching even more. 'I understand you're more unsentimental than I am, but how can you not understand how that makes me feel?'

'If you'd only open your eyes…' There were blazed of desperation flashing in her mother's eyes. 'The moment your father discovers your role in the prophecy, that he needs your blood, you'll be in terrible danger. He will be prepared to do anything to capture you. Can you still care for someone like that?'

Serana felt a strange smile coming to her lips. 'Yes…' she said, almost giggling. 'Of course I can. And aside from that, what did you do? You sealed me away from everything I cared about, from the entire world. You never asked me anything about my opinion, you never informed me of your plan, you never even considered discussing if it was the best course of actions. You expected me to follow blindly. I'm just a pawn. A pawn that will help my father defy the Sun and a pawn that will help you defy my father. Both of you are obsessed with your paths, and even though your ends may be different, the means you have used are the same.' She swallowed the thick saliva that had gathered in her mouth, feeling hot tears forming on the sides of her eyes. 'You know what's interesting? I had my own agenda, too. I wanted us to be a family again. But at this point I don't know if we can ever have that. Maybe we don't deserve that kind of happiness. Maybe it isn't for us. Nevertheless, now we have to stop my father, before he goes too far. And you have to help us.'

'Giving us the Scroll would make for a good start.'

Serana ripped her chin out of her mother's fingers and turned her head abruptly to her left side. When her eyes fixed on the position where the voice had come from, her memories quickly helped form the exact shape out of the darkened figure in front of her. Azrael. The handle of the longsword and the upper limb of the bow stuck out from behind him, and the vaguely round shape suggested he had the hood on. The continuous, wide shape of the lower part of his body signaling the presence of the cloak. It's him. The voice was his, the figure was his. Even the feeling he aroused in her were exactly his.

'You've kept your word,' she heard her mother say from behind her. Her voice went back to cool and composed, as it was when talking to strangers. 'I'm surprised.'

Azrael scoffed, as if amused. He stepped out of the shadows and stood in the diffused, violet light. 'Oligopiste,' he muttered quietly, but his deep voice carried the word.

What? Serana did a quick roundup of every word she knew that sounded similar, but that was new. 'What did you say?'

'It's ancient dunmeri dialect. Man, or woman, of little faith, translating literally.'

Her mother's other hand slid away from her other shoulder upon sensing that she would remain in that seated position without her help. Serana focused on Azrael for a moment longer, trying to reconstruct everything that might have transpired while she was out. He didn't have anything on him that hinted at what he had been doing in the meantime. She searched her memories, looking for something that she had heard and remembered even while she was fainted, but there wasn't anything. Having fed so recently, those stranger vampiric powers were slumbering and impossible to be called upon.

She could nonetheless sense a sort of connection between him and her mother. They are similar, indeed, she told herself, recalling the words they had exchanged just a moment before. Azrael was straightforward to the point of being tactless most of the time, but her mother had lived at the court for a very long while, and even considering that she had remained alone all that time, she couldn't fathom her having lost her clever talk, which seemed so tactful and poisonous at the same time. You've kept your word, she had told him. I'm surprised. It had been very direct, in the way that she would have said something to her or her husband. They have already talked lengthily, and she has decided that she likes him but has to distrust him. Serana remembered that her mother often said that very thing, that she liked someone but didn't trust them. That seemed to be case in point.

'I'll repeat, Valerica,' said Azrael, his voice vibrating but empty of all discernible emotion as usual. 'Give us the Scroll.'

'Your intentions are still unclear to me, Elf, but I see no choice but trust you.' Her eyes were fixed intently into the blackness of the Dunmer's hidden face. Such a long time had gone by without her feeding that it wasn't impossible for her enhanced vision to be powerful enough to see underneath the shadow. 'You have defeated the Keepers, and that proves your strength. Now prove your dedication. My daughter strongly argues that you can be trusted, and even though she gave very mixed signs when you appeared, I have no choice but trust her. '

Serana turned her head sharply around, locking her eyes in her mother's ones. Mixed signs? What are you up to? She could not decipher the tone in which she had said the sentence, because there was a cryptic note to it that was usual in her speech, but seemed to have a different meaning altogether in the present context. If that was your way of telling him something I should have missed… That option could have only been true if there was a substantial bond between the two, however, which seemed improbable. Still, Azrael seemed to have bonded with her father fairly quickly. There was no doubt that when he wanted to, he could present himself in a way that made the others person lower their defenses. Remarkable, considering how inaccessible he is himself.

Her mind, however, had gone on a tangent as if often did. The strange thing was still her mother's tone. She had risen to her feet and stood tall behind her, although not even her moderate height and her enormous pride combined could stand against Azrael's towering presence. Her mother strongly relied on making the other person feel ill at ease, using her surroundings, speech and every means she knew to achieve it. The power game, that once, was completely flipped. He had control. I doubt if she is even considering the possibility of me taking his side in case of a fight, Serana wondered, but unable to find an answer for herself. There was the creeping sensation in her body and the associated thoughts that drew a very clear line. Her mother was her past, while Azrael was her future. It's absurd, she judged, casting the thought away.

'Good,' said Azrael. 'And the Scroll is with you, I presume.'

'Yes,' her mother replied, looking for a moment to her left as if averting her gaze. 'I kept if safe here, in this fortress. I thought nothing in the world could reach me, though it appears I was proven wrong.' She cast a glance in Serana's direction. 'I really wish you had never freed her, and my husband might have succumbed to his madness before being in a position to drag the whole world along with him.'

Serana felt a quiver of anger running across her body. She did a quick check on her body and found it restored enough to be able to stand. She dragged her legs near her and put both hands on the ground. 'You're saying,' she said, 'that you wished me to have remained there?'

'Well,' she said, 'I was hoping that, even if that were to happen, you wouldn't had returned to your father of your own free will. I thought I had made if clear you shouldn't have trusted anyone.'

'Valerica…' Azrael sneered mirthlessly, before Serana could think of something to say. 'Skepticism practiced poorly is the beginning of faith, not its downfall. I have walked on Nirn for half a century and I have learned it. You have been around for eight times that timespan, so I should think you know it too.'

Serana turned towards her mother. A spiteful remark, she predicted, knowing her character all too well. You could not challenge her intellectual abilities and walk out of the room without repercussions. However, her face was tense but molded by a strange kind of surprise. Is she… impressed? She traced back her reasoning, but could find but one thread that led her here. If she was talking merely out of tension and he called her to reason, then she would have that reaction. Nevertheless, it was extremely rare to see that look on her face. A mixture of incredulity and gruesome satisfaction crept into Serana's chest.

Her mother turned towards her. Now that they were both standing, they were about the same height. 'You might have chosen a wise man yet, Serana,' she said, and now the cryptic expression was shimmering in her eyes and not merely in her words.

That little game she was playing was annoying her. It was one of those things she did to demonstrate her intellectual superiority. 'I didn't choose anyone,' she replied sharply, feeling a sense of bitterness.

Valerica's eyebrows furrowed and her lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. She turned halfway around. 'Didn't you?' she said, tittering ever so slightly. She turned completely, and stepped in the great archway's direction, the one that led deeper into the fortress. 'Come on, both of you.'

Serana waited a little while still before forging onwards. She wanted to stay at some distance from her for a while. Yes, I have only just seen her again after all that time, but that is what I feel like doing. She obviously found it strange, but she trusted her gut. There was nothing more that they should say to each other, for the time being. Well, she certainly hasn't anything to say. She has been stuck in this place since I was sealed away. Now that she was far enough, she took a step forward, looking around. The great walls of the fortress where she had taken refuge were darker than the Castle's ones, and slightly opaque. The archway led to something that looked akin to an inner courtyard. The Cairn, despite everything, bore a striking similarity to the outer world.

She had just taken a couple of steps when she caught Azrael's shape on her left with the corner of her eyes. She turned in his direction, seeing that he had lengthened his long strides even further to reach her. The concept alone is strange, she thought, reflecting briefly on it. He made an effort to come close to me. It wasn't the first time it had happened and she knew it wasn't just for the sake of it that he had done that, but it was still humane in some way. He has been somewhat more humane since last night.

'How are you feeling?' he asked, in barely more than a whisper. He probably didn't wish Valerica to hear him clearly.

That's sweet of you, she thought with a sting of irony. Again, he was asking if what he had done hadn't resulted in any harm and wasn't asking out of pleasure. 'I am well,' she said, beaming faintly his way. In spite of all the irony, she felt truly grateful. He had saved her life. 'I couldn't thank you then, I might as well do that now.' A lonely thought crossed her mind, and brought a sense of fear. 'Did…' she hesitated, and took a deep breath before continuing. 'Did my mother tell you the rest of the Prophecy? The Daughter of Coldharbour and the rest?'

'She did. Not voluntarily, however. I had to deceive her.'

That explains a lot… she thought. She called him a cunning man. Her mother was proud of her ability to see through practically anyone, and she had apparently failed to see through him. On the other hand, Azrael had probably revealed his deceit as soon as it was unnecessary to carry it further. That had created the atmosphere of distrust, since there was a precedent in which one of the two had lied to the other, but also that strange bond. Upon the reveal of the deception, and following the outburst that had mother had probably had, both of them had set the score to zero. They had recognized one another as logical, utilitarian, the-end-justifies-the-means people, and that had induced a sense of respect. My mother probably warned me of him because she didn't think I was able to withstand his manipulation. And she's right, I wasn't, but somehow I have lived through it.

There was something else preying on her mind, however. 'Azrael… When we were out of Dimhollow Crypt, you came very close to understanding the secret yourself, but I refused to give you the final piece. I know I could have done it later, but I didn't. Well, I…'

'Are you asking me if I'm angry with you?'

She couldn't keep her eyes on him for longer, and so she moved them briefly away, gazing at the sky, before coming back to him. She nodded, sensing a clench in her throat that would have made it difficult to talk.

Azrael turned his head forwards, in the general direction of her mother, but his movement had been slow. He wasn't looking into any physical place, but rather inside his own mind. 'No,' he said. 'I do think that it wasn't the best course of action, since I would have probably reassessed something if I had known. I understand why you did that, however.'

That was a heavy weight off her chest. She suspected of having kept it there for a time while also repressing the very thought of asking him in fear it would have broken the fragile bond that was seemingly building between them. In that, I am probably superior to him. The Dunmer noticed all sorts of patterns, regularities and sometimes had a semblance of a sixth sense that bordered on premonition or clairvoyance. He abstracted everything into ideas and concepts and played around with them. But you can't conceptualize a connection, can you? He probably had his ways of guessing, but they were bound to be in some way inferior. This once, I'm sure. The most likely way he had was of abstracting his own state and what he could guess of hers and combine the knowledge. But there was now a problem. The knowledge he had was abstract. It took effort to apply it anew to reality. I understand everything without moving an inch from reality.

She could definitely feel the bond between them. It is the strangest thing that in dealing with someone for whom cold reason and hard rationality are very high in his values, the connection should be this irrational. And that was something she considered true, because there was very little that rationally could draw them together. They were very different people, with different priorities, and all they had in common was a goal. That's superficial, though, she thought. There were probably a lot more similarities that she failed to see. But regardless, something else was linking them. The path, she thought, remembering Elisif's metaphor. She had probably peaked into his world just enough for him to start feeling comfortable with her presence. He was now weaving the threads of his world around her, so that the outside world could do her no harm.

She also did her part in that mutual connection. Ever since the night that had just gone by, out on the Castle's entrance, the sense of fear that she had towards him had progressively faded. She was under the impression that she had finally seen the monster that was hiding inside Azrael, awake and alive in all its ghastly might. But once she had seen it, she had gradually become acquainted to it. The beast snapped his jaws, but never at her. Monsters are simple, they either like you or they don't. Now it was very clear who Azrael really was. He was a monster, who had built a dungeon of frost to keep the beast in check. She had ceased to fear the monster, and now his coldness was visible for what it really was: his natural way of treating himself. And now she felt something, something stronger than her, that pulled her closer to that ravenous monstrosity, that vicious fiend. There is something immensely enticing about that darkness. She repeated the words silently, because they weren't all hers. Elisif had used them before her. She had seen it, too. A monster. The never-ending darkness that sleeps within him.

She felt a sharp noise coming from her side. Azrael, she thought, because there was nothing beside her that could have made that sound. Her eyes darted to the source, which she had already hypothesized before even seeing it. The sword. The Dunmer had grabbed the sword and had drawn it a few inches upwards, ready to bring it by his side. But what happened? He had stopped, and was looking in front of him. She didn't remember any other sounds, but she had fed recently. The powers which had helped her before now were unreachable.

She turned her eyes where Azrael's ones were directed. The first thing that caught her attention was her mother, who was looking in the exact same way. She too had her hand close to her dagger. Where are they looking at? she wondered, thinking that it might have helped in determining what was happening. They were both looking upwards, to the sky. Something akin to a flash of light blazed into her mind. The Dragon…

A strong sound reached her ears. A tremor shook the ground, and the vibration were strong. A fixed whistle filled her ears, as it had done before, but it was less important. This once she had something more definite to pay attention to. A dark outline in the sky, that seemed to get bigger and bigger each second before she could try and guess how large it actually was.

'It's Durnehviir…' her mother whispered. 'He's here. Defend yourself!'

A whine came from her side immediately after, almost overlapping with her mother's words. Azrael had drawn his sword. The Dragon's black frame was become bigger and more defined. It waved its wings with strength, and the lilac light shone through his tattered wings. He said he had crashed against the archway… She half-closed her eyes, thinking. 'Azrael,' she called him, stepping towards him, 'did you not say that he had fallen to the ground?'

'Two options.' His voice was somewhat absent, since he was focusing intently on the Dragon. 'Either he survived the crash and flew away to lick his wounds, or there is something more sinister at work that keeps him alive or even brings him back to life every time he is defeated.' After that, she saw him stiffen for a moment, and his sword-arm stopped halfway through a movement. 'That's how he came here…' he whispered.

She wasn't following. When he stopped like that, he had often reached a new conclusion from the analysis of knowledge he already had. 'What do you mean?'

'Later,' he said, finishing the movement with the hand holding the sword. 'Now focus. The Dragon will target either you or your mother first.'

That was the reasoning he had been following all that time, in parallel with what she was asking. He was probably observing the trajectory of the Dragon's flight to try and identify his intentions. Still, how did he understand that? 'Why me or my mother?'

He extended his left leg away from her and shifted the weight on it, casting one last glance in her direction. 'Focus, I said.' He turned his head around, and fixed his gaze on the Dragon.

Fine… she thought, recollecting her thoughts and trying to think somewhat clearly even amidst all the tension. There wasn't much time left to think, but that shouldn't have prevented her from using it. He's going to come for me or my mother, she repeated silently, using it to guide her senses towards relevant information. Her mother was a few feet in front of her, wielding a globe of crimson light in one hand and looking up towards the monster. She's exposed, Serana thought, seeing how much further away she was from the two of them. Looking up at the Dragon, she guessed she had less than five seconds. And even then, she didn't know what he was going to do.

The vampiric instincts awakened faintly. The beating of her heart seemed to become stronger and lose regularity, while a flush of heat filled her whole body. Her senses sharpened, but not even close to the degree that they had done the time before. It had been a very short timespan since she had last drank blood, and there wasn't any strong bloodthirst that came along with the awakening of the body, which was weaker itself. The instincts and the gruesome thoughts didn't take over her mind, and she was still well aware of her tension and though process. Her eyesight was pulsing, but it wasn't taking on the bloody red shades that it often did.

Good, I've got but moments… The strain she felt was incredible. The reflex that she had upon thinking that she had only moments to think and enact something was to freeze and mindlessly hope for the best. Give in… It's so easy, and free of any pain. However, in spite of how safe is seemed, it really wasn't safe. Freeze, a voice in the back of her mind told her. She resisted, bringing all the strength of her desperation in her mind and trying to make it work. Freeze. But she would not. A flood of energy was surging through her body, so much that it could have been used to truly make her stay still. No, never. She looked at Azrael with the corner of her eye. He stood straight, in a defensive stance, with his gaze fixed on the threat. The strength of his concentration seemed to irradiate from him. For once, like him. Calm.

Moments, not much more. The Dragon was swooping down. That's what he's doing. He was going to scratch the ground with the claws. Her mother would have probably been able to avoid some of the impact, but not the claws themselves. She might have been quick, but she wasn't in a position to save herself at this point. It's too late for her, unless I help her. Still, the chances of her getting hurt were very high. Too high to make her completely comfortable. It was her intuition telling her that. She wasn't able to exactly predict the trajectory of the hit as Azrael probably could. After having seen him fight multiple times, she had understood that he managed to calculate where the blows would land while they were still in mid-air and react accordingly. She wasn't able to do that, but she could guess the final result.

The Dragon had moved and had extended his claws downwards. Her mother was trying to get out of the way with a leap, but she wouldn't have made it. The Dragon would have gone to his right to follow her past her defensive movement. She had to do the counter-intuitive thing and push her back in the original path of the monster, hoping that he would predict her mother's own movements but not her own.

She knew what to do, and regardless, the time to think was over. The huge shape of the Dragon darkened most of the sky in front of them, and he had spread his frayed wings wide open to control the descent. He was indeed turning to catch Valerica upon her landing. Serana bolted ahead, arriving slightly after the Dragon to the right place. The dense shade of the monster descended over her. She threw an arm around her mother's waist and raised her feet from the ground, pushing Valerica along with her. A scream reached her ears, of pain and anger, not fear; she temporarily didn't pay attention to it, looking at the ground on which they were going to land. Her mother touched the ground first with her shoulder, while she brought her forearm forward to avid falling on her face.

She hit the barren earth. No dust raised from the sterile dirt of the Cairn.

Once the movement had stopped, she could quickly put everything in its place, because she wasn't sure of everything that happened. The Dragon hit my mother, she decided, and the scream was hers. It was obvious from the voice. There was no time to waste in that moment. The shadow of the Dragon had moved away from them, which meant that he had flied away and wouldn't be able to recommence an attack for a while. We have to do something. Her mother couldn't fight any longer, if only because it was best she didn't take another hit.

She put her hands on the ground, pushed, stood to her feet and turned around, making out Azrael's shape in between the violet shades. 'Azrael!' she called out. 'I'm bringing my mother to safety. I'll be back in a moment!' She skipped breaths, and her heart was still beating irregularly.

Azrael moved the blade by his side and moved his head in her direction. 'No,' he answered. 'Hide. Leave the Dragon to me.'

'No, I want to help. I won't run away now.'

Azrael turned towards her completely. His eyes were blazing, and their lights could be easily made out under his hood. When he fought, they always lit up. 'Please,' he said, deeply.

Serana turned around and slid her hands under her mother's armpits. She tugged upwards, feeling that she was helping her as much as she could. She had yet to see the severity of the wound, but whatever the case it didn't seem to be causing too much pain. She was also very strong-willed, which had to be taken into account. When she had made her stand, she grabbed her arm and threw it across her own shoulders. 'We have to move,' she whispered.

'I know,' she groaned. 'Just point me in the right way.' She was keeping her head down, and she wasn't looking where she would be going.

Serana wondered whether the bitter tone in her voice was only because of the wound or also the frustration of having to be helped by someone. And for once, she thought, quickening her pace and looking for a suitable place to rest, her independent streak doesn't match Azrael's one. However, there was one detail in what he had told her. He had not told her, 'Do as I say,' he had said, 'Please.' I don't think I've ever heard him say that, and surely not in a situation like this. She found the place where she would head towards. An alcove in the otherwise straight wall that surrounded the courtyard. Or a bone yard, more accurately.

She walked onwards, casting glances at her mother. She could see a sliver of the wound. Or wounds, more accurately, since there were two large cuts that ran along her body from the upper abdomen to the upper chest. One had was near her waist and drew upwards, the other one was roughly between her breasts. The armor had been greatly damaged, but Serana couldn't guess the severity of the wound. The sure thing was that very little blood was flowing. If she hasn't fed in four thousand years, I'd be surprised if there is any left, actually.

She listened to the noises, which were her only indications of how the battle was going. There were strong, gust-like sounds that permeated the air. The Dragon's still flapping his wings, she thought, which in turn means he hasn't landed yet. The sounds were close, though. Very close. He wasn't far, and the frequency of the beats was quite high. That could mean… She considered every possibility for a moment, but she couldn't find anything. If he was landing, he would have opened his wings to slow down. He's certainly going to fight, but to do that he'd need to get closer.

There was a stronger, dull sound. She bent a little to the left, because a tremor strong enough to make her lose her balance had ran through the ground. Of course. He was landing. He was beating his wings stronger to descend on the ground more slowly. She didn't know whether he had landed and was going after Azrael of the two of them. She glanced at the alcove, and it wasn't far. I need to keep my ears open. If she as much as heard the hint of a grumbling sound, she would have to be prepared to dodge the inevitable stream of flames that would come out of the Dragon's maws.

'Ni Fen Krif,' Azrael said.

'Piraak nid Miiraad,' growled the Dragon.

There was a low rumbling. Serana felt all her muscles freezing and stiffening, but something told her it wasn't the anything she should worry about. That sound, albeit similar, had very little to do with the specific growling the Dragon had made when breathing fire before. The sound was followed the a sharper one, the one of the monster's teeth closing and grinding against one another. He tried to bite him. A chilling fear immediately took hold of her. Did he kill him? She turned abruptly to the other side, her eyes searching for one thing and one thing only. When she saw that Azrael was alive and intact and a few meters away from the Dragon, she breathed easier for a moment. She returned to her objective. They were close to the alcove.

Her mother groaned and tugged the arm she had over her shoulders. 'What in the Mace of Soul's name are you doing?' she said. 'Leave me here and go help him!'

'No, mother.' In between Azrael and her mother, two utter skeptics, she almost felt that her blind faith made her look naive. However, none of the two could understand the degree of conviction it yielded. 'We're not to intervene in that fight. Somehow, we're better letting it unfold is it should.'

Surprisingly enough, her mother didn't reply. Probably because of the pain, but it was remarkable nonetheless. They had reached the alcove, and Serana bent her knees and turned around, slowly depositing her mother's body down on the ground. Once again, she proved very collaborative and aided her whatever motion she suggested. She's always been strong, and this eternity of solitude can only have tempered her even further. When she had sat her against the inner wall of the nook did she decide to turn back and look at the fight.

She quickly assessed the situation. The Dragon was very keen on killing Azrael, but the latter wasn't so ready to attack the other. Now that she could take a better look at the Dragon, she saw that it wasn't only his wings that were tattered. His scales were scarred and filled with scabs of rotten bone. He had horns on his head, but some were broken and deformed as if consumed by rot. The wings, usually membranous in other Dragons, were thinned to the point of tearing in some parts. His whole figure resembled the Cairn better than many other things they had seen could. I wonder how long he's been here. It was quite easy to guess from his appearance that it had been a long while. There was nothing about that Dragon in particular that could suggest why Azrael seemed so reluctant to attack. If I know him, he could have already struck a number of times already, but he hasn't.

There was something going on. They had talked to each other, but she had no idea of what they had said. It's Azrael, isn't it? He could read their language, speak their language, understand it and he communicated with Dragons, even. And he, who had no regret in killing anyone, was now showing signs of reluctance in attacking one of those beasts. Alongside the consuming curiosity, there was something else coming to the surface in her mind. Something hot, annoying. Indignation. He always scolds me for not telling him what I know, but then he's the one with the most secrets, isn't he? All that was quieted quickly by the immediacy of the events, but she felt it all quite clearly. Although, she thought right before the battle grabbed her full attention once more, he did forgive me for not telling him about the prophecy.

Azrael twirled his sword around both sides, just once, making a hissing noise. He was looking in the eyes of the Dragon. There's some game going on. He wasn't only reluctant, but he was deceiving the monster. He's faking defenselessness. But when someone did that, it was to unleash his most powerful weapon at the right time. And which one's yours? The Dragon had now stopped advancing, and was staring at his adversary in return.

'Hi Fent Ag,' grumbled the Dragon, abruptly spreading his wings. He waved both with strength, grazing the ground as they finished their movement.

Serana brought one hand in front of her eyes and turned her head to the side to cover herself from the strong gust. She glimpsed at Azrael, who stumbled back himself a few feet. The Dragon had risen in the air, and was now a few feet above the terrain. He pounded his wings against, rising even higher and sending another flurry their way. This time around, however, Azrael did something different. He let the air hit him on the chest, and he backpedaled again, but this time he was with his face directly straight towards the Dragon.

'Joor Zah Frul!'

She couldn't see for a moment. The light blinded her eyes, but she didn't move them away. She desperately wanted to see what had happened, although that was denied to her for a short while. I've already heard that sound, haven't I? The memory reconstructed quickly, and the feeling of remembered pain aided her. Yes, when I was wounded. He screamed those words and… She blinked three times in a row, very quickly, wanting to see but still incapable to. And then the Dragon fell down, demolishing the archway. That's what happened. That's the weapon he was keeping hidden.

Her vision cleared gradually, but as soon as she was able to make out the Dragon's outlines she understood what had happened. The monster was falling back on the ground. She braced herself, and rightly so, for the tremor that shook the earth when the massive body of the Dragon landed almost threw her off balance. Her vision blurred and for a moment she felt like she was drowning, but it ended very quickly. Behind her, Valerica hissed angrily. When she managed to stabilize, the monster was on the ground and Azrael was nimbly dashing towards it. He's probably thinking that it was way too easy. He had his sword firmly in hand and his posture already hinted at the strike he was planning.

The Dragon was still encircled in a strange light blue, opaque aura. He seemed to have been sapped of all its strength, although the frantic movements of the tail suggested otherwise. He roared, but there was so much fear in that sound that Serana sensed some of the fear that was gripping her fade away. He's weak. He tried to raise his head, but Azrael was already close. The blade move quickly, disappearing from view for a split second. There was a cutting sound before it reappeared.

The Dunmer leapt forward, to the side of the Dragon's head. Serana saw his left hand moving to his right side and towards the handle of the blade, the fingers closing in on the grip and bringing it further back. Where is he aiming? The eye, of course. He thrust the blade forward, and the edge seemed to spark with deep purple flashes of lightning before disappearing into the soft surface of the monster's pupil.

The Dragon's scream was of intense pain now, and Serana felt it ripping her very flesh from her bones. She felt how much he was suffering on her own skin. He continued to shriek, at intervals, not able to sustain one long sound because of the immense pain. She noticed that Azrael was shifting the blade, moving it in all directions inside the eye. Clever. He's destroying the insides of his head this way. She felt slightly torn. On one hand she wanted him to continue, but on the other was almost inclined to ask him to stop that torture. Although it isn't torture. He's killing him. More inconsequential pieces of information were gathering. He understands, reads and speaks their language, but he seems also proficient at killing them. She didn't know how and why those two things went together.

The screams slowly quieted down, and the movements of the Dragon became gradually less frantic. Among his cries, there was one sound that he kept repeating. 'Dovahkin…' The tail stopped moving and the wings were almost motionless. She heard a prolonged, repulsive sound that made her turn towards Azrael again. He had pulled the blade out of the Dragon's eye. She noticed that when he had done that, the body had stopped moving. The Dunmer took two steps away from the carcass, keeping the sword by his side. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Serana had become aware of her breathes again, which were quite heavy. When the monster had stopped moving, the tension had largely subsided. But it seems it's not over, is it? Azrael was still there, motionless. He's probably waiting for something. There was no way he was just commemorating the fallen monster. He had seemed to have some reservation towards killing it, but he wasn't one to spend time on a dead enemy. Besides, it seems he had already done it. So why this one? It was an allegedly special Dragon, but there was something that didn't fit.

Her eyes caught something happening on the side, on the Dragon's carcass, and she looked. What in the… She blinked and looked harder, because she was hardly able to comprehend what was happening. The scales of the Dragon were shimmering. They were losing thickness, as if evaporating. There was also a strong purple light illumining them. They're different things, however. Where does the light come from?

'I was wondering how jealous you were of your guardian,' screamed Azrael.

She didn't understand. She looked at him, and noticed he was looking upwards. Something in her mind put together that he was looking in the exact spot where the bright purple light illumining the Dragon's corpse might have come from. She looked upwards, and there was a large, lozenge-shaped crystal hovering high above the carcass. What in… She felt her jaw trembling. 'Mother…' she whispered, 'do you know what that is?'

'It's an Ideal Master, Serana,' she answered, and despite her collected tone the surprise could still be clearly heard.

'Listen to me,' Azrael continued. 'You can't intimidate me. I will get out of this place either with or without your consensus. Likewise, I could take your servant's soul if I wanted. I suggest we strike a bargain.'

There was something alike a tremor coming from the crystal. I wonder if we should take that as a yes, or if they are speaking just to Azrael without us being able to hear it. The Ideal Master had no clear form, in the end, so it was unlikely that it could even replicate a voice. It was even more unlikely that he would do it when he could just communicate through thought.

'I will relinquish your servant's soul for this one time, in exchange for two things.' Whatever that tremor had meant, whether it had been just that or he had heard their voices, he seemed to have understood the meaning perfectly. 'First, you will free the woman you know as Valerica. She will be able to come and go from this place as she pleases without you trying to stop her. Second, I would like a brief moment with your servant. Just to talk.'

Another tremor came from the crystal. Serana saw Azrael stepping back further still from the Dragon's carcass. There was little doubt that he was referring to him when talking about their servant. She felt her mind storming with so many questions that she had a hard time focusing on what she was seeing, even if the surprise was so great. Her mother, just behind her, was dead silent.

'We have a deal,' Azrael said.

The scales of the Dragon ceased shimmering. The vapor that had seemed to rise from the for that time was reabsorbed inside the solid confines of its mass. The violet light, in turn, became stronger and brighter. Serana again felt the need to turn away, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She wanted to see. The bright increased in size and intensity, and even Azrael had covered his eyes on the sidelines. The carcass trembled, shaken as if by strong gusts, before disappearing in a flash of light. What… She blinked, but the monster was simply gone. Her eyes darted above, but the crystal was gone too.

'Serana,' Azrael said, without turning. He was looking towards the door that led out of the bone yard. 'Take the Scroll and join me outside when you're ready.'

'I will,' she said. Her voice almost faded as she finished the sentence. For some reason, she had gone through a moment when the underlying feeling of attraction towards him had surged. She couldn't help but look at him as he slid his blade back between his shoulders and strode towards the door with long and silent steps. There seemed to be an infinite grace in his movements.

The spell was broken as he disappeared from view.

Her feelings faded quietly, and she had a clear mind the moment after they had vanished. She had sensed everything clearly, and there wasn't any lingering confusion. She turned towards her mother, who had risen to her feet in the time being. Look at the things she managed to put in here, Serana thought, noticing that the alcove was in fact a small laboratory. There was an alchemy set beside the wall and a lot of different plants. The most abundant was the eerie husk that she had seen growing everywhere in the Cairn. Valerica had reached for one of the walls and was leaning on it to remain standing.

'How bad is the wound, mother?' she asked.

'I'm fine,' she said. 'I will have to stay here until whatever you prove successful, either way. It will have time to heal and I will have time to repair the armor.' She was heading towards a big chest in the back of the alcove. 'I don't doubt the Ideal Masters will keep their word, so I may indeed be safe for some time. However, I'm only safe as long as you carry out your mission.'

Serana looked at the chest and decided that it was long enough to contain an Elder Scroll. There was no lock, despite it looking quite elaborate. Valerica slid her hands under the cover and opened the box, revealing the unmistakable roll that could only be an Elder Scroll. The paper was bright and spotless in spite of the years spent in the Soul Cairn and everything else it had gone through. Nothing else could maintain that air of perfection after so much time.

'I truly detest parting with it,' her mother said. Serana smiled weakly, thinking that she hadn't been able to repress that last judgment. 'I can only think what your father would be able to do if he gets his hands on this. But enough about him,' she said. She put a hand on the sort of stone desk that stuck out of the back of the alcove and turned towards Serana. 'Tell me how you got here.'

'Well, I remembered the words you had told me when you left and after spending some time discarding every solution that I could come up with I asked Azrael. He figured it out in less than a few seconds. He also commented that he liked you already because he thought the two of you were similar, to a degree.'

'Yes, we're quite alike,' her mother conceded. 'You know how much I loathe making judgments out of impressions and not facts, but I cannot deny that there is something I like about him. He's probably right in considering himself someone after my own spirit.' Her gaze turned more piercing, as if intently scanning for her daughter's reactions. 'What is he like?'

Serana smirked faintly. 'Intelligent, strong, curious, focused, insane, cold… Quite distant, overall. There have been several times when he was hurtful, but overall I like being with him. He makes me feel safe, and…' She looked for the right word.

'Alive,' said Valerica simply. 'Don't be surprised, it's the exact way your father made me feel in the beginning. There is some solace in the fact that, were he to go mad, he wouldn't become a fanatic but merely a languid dreamer caught in his own deliriums.'

'How do you know?' It was quite an accurate description. As she had noted all the way back in their journey back from Dimhollow, there were moments when he seemed to cleave every contact he had with reality and just allow himself to daydream. Daydreaming. He had said so himself.

Her mother gave a weak, clever smirk in return. 'I just know it.' She turned around, grabbing the Scroll with both hands, but it was clear she was going to say something else and that she had rather make a pause before saying it. Despite being a generally no-nonsense person, sometimes she couldn't help but be dramatic. 'The same way I know that he reciprocates your affection, to a degree.'

Serana felt her face flushing with heat. Why did this had to happen just a few hours past feeding? Her cheeks had probably taken on the faintest reddish tint that could give away her feelings. 'I know,' she said, 'although I often have a hard time seeing it. It sounds… impossible, but he seems to purposefully flee from the things he grows affectionate towards,' she said slowly, trying to put in one thought everything that suspected.

Valerica shrugged. 'There are people who do that, yes. Give him some space and the time to close that gap by himself, and he will.'

'How can you be so sure?'

Valerica's composed expression seemed to slowly but radically melt into one that expressed all the warmth she had inside and that she insisted on hiding. The skin on her cheekbones wasn't tense, for once, and nothing in her posture was stiff. She slowly walked forward, towards her, holding the Scroll in her left hand. When she came near her, she raised her right and softly caressed her daughter's cheek. 'Oh, Serana,' she said slowly. 'By some miracle you have neither my nor your father's pride. But don't let your meekness distort your vision. Someone like him requires someone he could trust, that could stay by his side with no envy or resentment and with sincere regard for his unappreciated capabilities. That's you, my daughter. It could very well be you.' Her smile turned somewhat mischievous. 'And all the men I've ever known also appreciate if a woman is beautiful. And that's you too. On this there are no such things as doubts to be had.'

Serana chuckled at that last part, but she hadn't paid much attention to it. Her mind had been swept away by what had come beforehand. She could not reconcile what others said of her to what she felt inside, because from that vantage point she saw things of herself that others could not. She couldn't fathom how anyone else could think so well of her, when things she considered rotten were flowing into her mind. They'll all love me until they see what's really inside me. That was the recurrent thought. Her actions might have told a story, but her thoughts told another one entirely. And she didn't want anyone seeing into the latter, although she also longed for someone that could see it without judging her. You're tired of swinging, aren't you? Azrael had said. Yes, she was tired.

Immediate proof of her doubts were the things she was thinking in that very moment. She was overwhelmed by her mother's compliment, and in part because it came from her. She felt a feeling of true joy, but that was tempered by a myriad of other things, things that she would have rather not felt and that made her feel bad. They were wrong things, wrong thoughts. She felt resentment. Now? Did you really have to wait until now to tell that to me, didn't you, mother? The lightness and happiness for what had happened mixed with all the confusion and anger for how it had happened. And above that confused sea of good and bad, she observed and prayed with all her strength that nobody would ever manage to see what she was thinking.

Every vampire carries a monster inside. No matter how far one runs, the bestial core of instincts doesn't detach from it. It keeps one awake, it keeps him or her alive, but at what cost? The very concept of a good vampire is the idea of a fool. There was no good in being such a creature, and yet she desperately wanted to be one. She acted like she was, but she wasn't. She felt as if she was deceiving the whole world, but what else could she do? Show her true nature, and do evil in the process? Which one was the lesser evil? So far, deceiving the world seemed the answer, if anything because it was the thing that made her suffer less between the two. But no matter what happened, she had never felt like the woman her mother had just described to her. But she's not blind. She was confused.

She woke up from her reasoning when she felt something being put in her hand. Her eyes moved down, crossing her mother's gaze for a moment and then falling on the Scroll. The handle of the white roll was in her hand, where Valerica had put it. She closed her palm on it and brought her other hand to grab the other side. Well, this one goes where the original one was. She waited for her mother's hand to move away and then brought the Scroll to her back, placing it where the other one had stay for all the time of her concealment.

She raised her gaze to meet her mother's. 'Thank you,' she said. 'We will come back for you.'

Valerica smiled broadly. Serana couldn't remember her smiling like that. 'I know. I'll be waiting for you.' She glanced at the archway that led out of the bone yard. 'Your companion is probably waiting for you. Go, my daughter. I love you.'

Serana looked at her, surprised that she didn't have trouble recognizing that seemingly caring person in front of her. She didn't remember her mother having been like that ever. Something has changed. I guess I knew that this affection was in her all along, but it's still new. Her mouth was closed shut, and it required all of her strength to open it. 'I love you too, mother.' And then she turned around, unable to bear whatever would have happened after.

Upon closer inspection, she was probably more confused than she usually felt, but she didn't feel as frustrated by it. She was fine with being confused. She walked towards the exit of the yard, away from her mother, and the world seemed to be imperceivably brighter. The violet hues of the Soul Cairn were a little less intimidating, and at the same time she thought the she could see everything more clearly. Well, it could partly be because I know that we'll be out of here shortly. But the details of the Cairn were momentary, and the feeling of lightness she felt was something unrelated to the place.

It's not only that everything seems clearer, she reasoned. It's also that I'm looking around more. When she had arrived in that place before, she was absorbed by all of her thoughts. I didn't even notice the Dragon coming. Now it was different. There was something that made her feel serene about that attention she managed to direct outwards, despite the fact that whatever she could look at was quite gruesome. The ground was littered with bones and white dust, and some larger piles of skeletons were amassed across the area, half covered and mixed with the barren terrain. She looked at the four walls that enclosed the place. I wonder why this place is built like a fortress. The Ideal Masters had shaped their land rather strangely.

Also, remembering of the Ideal Masters, she realized that the perfect memory of that purple crystal coming down from the sky wasn't going anywhere. It was merely waiting to be looked upon in greater detail. She had seen those crystals float around the place when they had come in, but she had never imagined that they could be something so significant. And are those the Ideal Masters, or are those merely vessels of their power? Nevertheless, one had come to reclaim their servant. Yes, to reclaim him. Because Azrael was doing something. She remembered the beginning of the fight, when he had frozen briefly and had murmured to himself. That's how he got in, he had said, or something similar. He must have understood something then. And he played around Daedric entities. He was stealing their servant from them. You need to have quite a high opinion of yourself if you feel worthy of cornering god-like entities.

On that point, she was irremediably stuck. How did he do that? What was even happening? There had been a sort of hidden struggle between the two of them. Both seemed to be able and inclined to take the Dragon for themselves. All she had to go on, however, was the visible part of the process. If the Ideal Master was the one projecting that violet light onto the Dragon's carcass, than it was Azrael who was causing the scales to shimmer and almost vaporize into smoke. But again, how? Another thing that was added to the mystery. Knows, reads and speaks the language of the Dragons; is knowledgeable or even an expert in killing them, and in capable of doing something to them after they die. That amount of information couldn't lead her to a solution, but it could suggest a flaw in the questions she was asking. It doesn't seem to be a problem on the lines of what he can do, but rather of who he is.

A word emerged from her memory upon running through all the data a second time. Dragonborn. It was how the people in Dragon Bridge had called him, or had implied him to be. She had no confirmation that this Dragonborn they had spoken of was Azrael, but the chances of the two not being the same person were slim. The description that librarian made was very precise. It was Azrael. Dragonborn… She remembered the book she had left on the table in that very bookshop, "Legends of the Dragonborn". If only I had read that instead of something else… Maybe some things would be clearer. She had never inquired further, because after Dimhollow she had hardly had any occasions to bring it up. Except when he uses their magic, but I've almost become used to it. She had seen him using a wide array of those invocations.

A voice, which was getting louder distracted her from her thoughts. I had just celebrated my clarity, and I've been lost in thought again. She stiffened when she heard the voice that was speaking. The language was hers, she could understand it too, but the timbre, the sound and almost everything else about it was completely unnatural. It's the Dragon isn't it? She raised her eyes, and her sight confirmed her assumption. And I just went on about the strange thing he has done. And here he is, she said to herself, seeing Azrael leaning against a pillar with his eyes fixed in the ones of the Dragon. Talking amicably with the monster he has just slain.

'But they Lo… Deceived me.' The monster was perched on a broken tower, with his large wings resting on the ground and the thick neck protruding forward. The scales were a bit whiter than she had assumed. The color of bone. 'They asked to guard her until her demise. But she was no Joor.'

'Ni Fun Viir,' said Azrael. 'They didn't tell you she was immortal, did they?'

'Vahzah. I only wish to return to Tamriel. Through countless souls, news of your triumph against the World Eater has reached even this place, Dovahkin. Krosis, ni Mindok. I couldn't know it was you.'

'Vaat Orin Lot. I wish to make my promise even greater. Once my mission has been completed, I will come back to you, Durnehviir, and I will free you. Zu'u, Jun. All the Dovah are under my protection, and this holds true for you.'

The Dragon lowered his head to the ground, breaking the contact with Azrael's eyes. 'Qahnaarin, Thuri.' He recollected his wings on his back. 'Alduin mahlaan'.

Azrael pushed with his shoulders against the column and stood straight on his feet. 'Alduin mahlaan.'

The Dragon spread his wings in an abrupt movement. Serana braced herself, but the gusts must have flied parallel to his wings and not towards them. With a powerful beat of the membranous extensions, the monster rose from the dilapidated building. His neck curved to the left, where he clearly intended to head.

Serana stepped forward, almost to Azrael's side. 'Will you tell me what happened?'

'Expect so,' he answered, following the Dragon as it disappeared behind the high walls. 'But after we get out of here.'

A/N: The Ideal Masters appearing as a crystal occurred to me from something back in TES II:Daggerfall. If I remember correctly, you do speak with an Ideal Master in game and it appears as one of the life-sapping crystal seen around the Soul Cairn.

And for anyone wondering: "Oligopiste" is ancient greek, not dunmeri dialect.