Chapter 3: The Assassin and the Mage

"So when you reached Dragonsreach, you met with Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. What was he like?"

"He was a well-respected man who put his land and people before the war. You could trust him with your life if you were a citizen in his lands. He sort of supported both ideals from those that fought the war, but he likely didn't like anyone on either side. I considered him an ally, since I did not wish to join the war on either side at the time."

"Some say that he helped you capture a dragon in the keep like Olaf One-Eye in the days of old."

"He did, but we need to start at the beginning before jumping into the end. We don't to spoil a good story now, do we?"

As the doors to Dragonsreach opened, Zacharius could feel a tinge of excitement in his stomach. He had never visited a Jarl's throne room before. In the Imperial City, there had been a Council chamber where the elected officials gathered for their meetings, but it didn't feel the same due to the corruption of certain officials. Most of them were Altmer, but he had no proof about them being connected to the Thalmor. He never got to visit the Counts and Countesses in Cyrrodil, either. Many of them still descended from those that aided the Champion of Cyrrodil stop the Oblivion Crisis two-hundred years ago.

I wonder if my family actually was related to the Champion. Zacharius wondered. It was said that Zacharius's father had an ancestor who had been an Imperial. The legend spoke of an Imperial man by the name of Caleb Secus that escaped prison with the Amulet of Kings, found the Septim heir, closed multitudes of Oblivion gates single-handedly, and defeated Mankar Cameron in his Paradise to reclaim the amulet again. Whether or not Caleb was his ancestor, he still revered the man as much as he did Talos. Caleb had overcome many obstacles and comfronted many trials to place a mark on his legend. Zacharius hoped to leave a similar imprint on the course of history.

He climbed up the steps to see the Jarl arguing with his steward about important matters revolved around politics.

"What would you have me do? Nothing?!" The Jarl barked at his steward.

"My Lord, I do not think we should make hasty decisions! I-"

"Who's this, then?" Jarl Blugruuf interrupted, looking at the young man in iron armor approaching his throne.

Irileth, the Jarl's housecarl, pulled out a sword of steel and approached Zacharius. "What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

Zacharius pushed the tip of the sword away from his face. "I have information regarding the dragon attack at Helgen, along with a request from Riverwood to send troops to protect the town."

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in. You better talk to the Jarl personally. I expect he wants to hear this."

Zacharius walked up to the Jarl as Irileth put her sword away and stood aside. The Jarl looked at Zacharius with intent eyes.

"So, you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

"Yes. My view of it wasn't the best seat in the house, but it was enough to see it completely. It destroyed Helgen when Ulfric Stormcloak and his men were prepared to be executed. The dragon had flown somewhere in this direction the last I had seen it."

"By Ysmir, the reports were right! I should've known Ulfric would get mixed up in this. And what do you mean when you say your view of the dragon wasn't the best seat in the house, exactly?"

"Let's just say the Imperials seem to hold a few soldiers that think any Nord serves Ulfric Stormcloak and we'll leave it at that."

"So you were a criminal?"

"Only in their eyes. I was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. The only criminal things I've ever done are believing in something that was banned and being a troublemaker when I was a boy."

Balgruuf hummed, turning back towards his steward. "What do you say now, Proventius? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls against a dragon?!"

"My Lord," Irileth spoke. "we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger. If a dragon is on the loose-"

"The Jarl of Falkreath will take that as a provocation!" Proventius interrupted. "He'll assume we plan on joining Ulfric's side and attack him. We shouldn't-"

"Enough!" Balgruuf yelled. "I will not stand by idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detatchment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl." Irileth bowed and headed out of the keep.

"If you'll excuse me." Proventius spoke, annoyed his council was ignored. "I'll return to my duties."

"That would be best." Jarl Balgruuf nodded as Proventius walked away. Balgruff then faced Zacharius. "You've done Whiterun a service. You sought me out on your own initiative, and I won't forget it. There is another matter your particular talents might be of use for."

"Whatever you require, I am at your disposal." Zacharius bowed.

"Come. Let us speak with Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter about these dragons and... rumors of dragons." Balgruuf stood up and led Zacharius to a room next to the Jarl's courtroom. A Nord in blue mage robes was mixing ingredients at an alchemy table. Zacharius himself knew some alchemy tricks, but sometimes it was just tiresome carrying all of the successful and not-so-successful potions and poisons around the Imperial City, so he sold most of them to the alchemists in the market district.

"So this is the court wizard." Zacharius commented. "Nice choice in clothing."

"Farengar, I found someone who can help your dragon project. Go ahead and fill him in on the details."

Farengar turned around and faced the two men. "So the Jarl thinks that you can help me with my research. Oh, yes. He must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me."

"You want me to fetch something? What's the catch?"

"Well, when I say fetch, I mean delve into an ancient crypt to look for an ancient stone tablet which may or may not be there."

Zacharius grumbled. "Okay. What am I fetching and where is it at?"

"Straight to the point, eh? Leave the more tedious details to your betters, no? The artifact you are meant to find is a Dragonstone, said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. It's at a crypt called Bleak Falls Barrow, near a miserable town a few miles south from here. I'm sure the locals can point you in the right direction."

"I know where to go." Zacharius nodded before looking at the enchanting table. "So this an enchanting table?"

"Oh yes. I didn't realize you had a hand in magic."

"I mostly dabbled in restoration and a bit of destruction magic. I never had a chance to check out the enchanting tables in Cyrrodil before I left. How do I use it?"

"Simply place an enchanted object on the table to learn its properties. The item is destroyed in the process. To create an enchanted item, simply use an unenchanted item and a filled soul gem to enchant with whatever effect you want the item to have."

Zacharius took the mage robes in his bag out. He couldn't sell it to Alvor and he didn't think about visiting the general goods store having nothing else on him, so he held onto it. He placed the robes on the table and watched as the item disintegrated. He did the same to the hood.

"Very good. Now let me show you how to enchant items." Farengar took a silver ring and a small soul gem that glittered with the soul of an animal off of his desk. "Take these items and use them to enchant with one of those effects. Choose wisely, however. This is my only freebie I'm offering."

Zacharius took the items and brought them over the table. Using the enchanter he selected the magicka regeneration enchantment and used the soul gem to bind the enchantment to the ring. It glowed blue and pulsed with the enchantment.

"Very good. Not bad for a first time enchanter. Any weapons that are enchanted need to be refilled with soul gems, but armor and clothing enchantments last forever. Keep the ring as a reminder of the basics and how they can get you far."

"Thank you. It's a nice ring." But it's a rookie's ring, honestly. Zacharius slipped the ring onto his gloved finger.

"If you need materials for any more enchanting or want to learn any new spells, I have books and soul gems available for sale."

"I'm a bit light on coin right now, but perhaps later. Thank you." Zacharius exited the keep and headed for Riverwood again, not expecting what would happen at Bleak Falls Barrow.

At the time of Zacharius's departure, a Dunmer in Windhelm was walking away from the local market with his groceries in hand. He needed a dinner that was fulfilling and his last job catching bear pelts for the smith went well enough that he had been rewarded with enough coin to feed himself fresh food for a month. The man was still trying to convince him to join Ulfric Stormcloak and his army to make a name for his people, but he just couldn't join at the moment. He needed proof that Ulfric wouldn't shoot him in the back just for being a dark elf.

Of course, no one of this era knew who he was anymore.

Scarlai had kept his past from the other dark elves as much as he could, seeing as his past didn't matter anymore. Not after his ten-year expedition to Akavir and the Thalmor slaughtering the secret order he had joined after fulfilling Azura's prophecy. Sure, he had been a hero to the Dunmer more than two-hundred years ago, but that was long before he went into hiding. That event had changed him beyond reason, and it revealed a magic even older than the forming of Nirn.

And that magic was weighing heavily on him.

He could hear the hearts of every person in Windhelm beating; their blood calling to him in enchanting rhythms, begging to be used to crush every person that would stand in his way. It had been nearly a hundred and fifty years since he had last used his powers, and he thought he could hold out. But the urge to just see blood was growing much stronger now; perhaps from the war the Nords are fighting. He needed to distract himself from their beating hearts.

"I think she's a little spy." Scarlai caught a Nord saying. He turned his attention to see a Dunmer woman he recognized as Suvaris Atheron being accused by that racist Nord Rolff Stone-Fist. His friend nodded in agreement.

"That's preposterous!" Suvaris argued. "We're not spies and we're not taking part in your war because it's not our fight."

"Maybe I'll pay a little visit tonight, spy. We have ways of making you talk."

Scarlai was so disgusted by the ignorant bastard he grabbed a small pebble from the ground and chucked it at his face, grabbing the man's attention.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to respect women, Stone-Fist?"

"That was a mistake, gray-face!" Rolff yelled, turning red in anger.

"Yeah, well I'm ready to see blood, too. However, I think we can easily solve this problem in a legitimate and may I say 'Nord-like' custom." Scarlai reached into his bag and pulled out his coin purse. "One hundred septim brawl. Winner gets the hundred from their opponent, but let's up the scales. You win, I'll pay you a hundred a month to keep you out of the gray quarter. I win, you stay out of it permanently."

Rolff looked at his friend, who seemed to nod his approval. "All right, gray-face. One hundred septims. You better meet those monthly payments after this is done." Rolff handed his purse of one hundred septims to his friend and raised his fists.

Scarlai tossed his purse to the other man before raising his fists. "And you better keep your word when this is over, milk-drinker."

"You've got a death wish, elf?" He swung a fist at the Dunmer, who simply blocked the weak punch.

"I've been wishing I was dead for a hundred and fifty years. No challenger has been good enough, however, to grant the end I seek." Scarlai threw his fist and struck the Nord hard in the jaw. His opponent became enraged and threw stronger punches at him, spurring on the old warrior. "Even for a brawl, you're finally showing potential. But with age comes experience."

Rolff hit Scarlai in the forehead, but the old warrior simply struck harder with every swing. He had lived for two-hundred and thirty-three years and had loads of hand-to-hand experience just punching risen skeletons (some he even raised himself). Eventually, the young Nord was knocked to the ground and beaten. Scarlai walked up to the other Nord and took the coin purses back.

"That wasn't a fair swing!" Rolff complained as he rose back up.

"And I figured a Nord would've learned the first rule about a fight. No brawl, no duel, no battle or war is ever fought fairly. Be thankful, however, that an unfair swing is all you got because I've killed people with my bare fists before. You're not worth killing, Stone-Fist." He slipped the coin purses into his bag and began to walk away, keeping his eyes on Rolff a moment longer. "Stay out of the Gray Quarter."

"You better watch your back, gray-face!" Rolff threatened.

"Greater men and mer have said that to me. All of them are dead." Scarlai headed back to the Gray Quarter with a smile on his face, but stopped when he saw another familiar Dunmer talking to a human child. Quickly pulling on the red fabric of his shirt to try and air out some of his sweat with the cold air, he walked over to see what they were talking about.

"Is it true what they're saying?" Grimvar Cruel-Sea asked. "Is Aventus Aretino really trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Grimvar... Always with the nonsense." Idesa Sadri commented. "No, no, of course not. Those are just tales."

"Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play. He lives right there. I'll go ahead and knock on his door."

"No, child! Wait! That child, that house... They are cursed!"

"Ha! So it is true! Aventus Aretino is trying to have someone killed!"

"All right, child. I won't deny it. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path that can lead only to ruin. Now enough. We will not speak of this any longer. I am the only friend you need."

Scarlai watched as Idesa and Grimvar walked past him, and he eyed the Aretino residence. Looking around to see if any guards were watching, he walked up to the house, slipped a lockpick out of his leather bracer, and picked the lock on the door. He slipped in quick as the wind and quiet as the grave.

"Die, Grelod! Die!" He heard a child yell as he closed the door. "Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, send your child unto me. For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

So the rumors are true about this kid. Scarlai thought. He had been sure, however, that the Dark Brotherhood had died out after their nest had been rooted out in Cheydinhal by the Penitus Oculatus years ago. Perhaps I can use this to my advantage.

Scarlai still craved blood. Killing for a little boy didn't sound as bad as killing the boy himself.

He quietly approached behind him and waited for the child to take notice. When Aventus saw the large shadow creep over him, he turned and faced the man; his facial expression not one of fear but of excitement.

"You've come at last! I knew you would!"

Scarlai looked at the ground and saw the skeleton, human flesh, and candles all around. The child still held the dagger in his hand. If that kid had drawn his blood from even the tiniest of cuts, then it would've been enough for Scarlai to destroy the boy. But Scarlai pushed those thoughts aside for a moment. "Is everything all right, young blood?"

"It worked! I knew you would come! I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the... the things. And now you're here! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

"Right..." Scarlai played along. "The Dark Brotherhood."

"Exactly! I prayed, and then you came, and now you'll accept my contract!"

"What is this contract that you want done?"

"My mother, she... she died. I... I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that stupid orphanage in Riften, Honorhall! The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind, but she isn't kind at all! She's terrible to all of us! So I came home and performed the Black Sacrament, and now you're here, and you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

Scarlai couldn't help but smile a little darkly. He always had some weird obsession with protecting children since he went into hiding a hundred and fifty years ago. "Grelod's crimes should not go unpunished, for sure. I will return when the deed is done. I hope you have some form of compensation for when this is finished."

"Don't worry, assassin! I have something that could fetch you a fair price. An heirloom of my family's that was worth quite a bit. If you don't want it, you could sell it for a nice profit. I'll wait for your return here! I'm so excited that Grelod's going to get what she deserves!"

Scarlai left for his home immediately after that, putting his groceries away and scavenging his leather hunting armor from his chest of belongings. As he pulled his red shirt off, he looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the scars that covered his chest and arms. Some came from his time fighting in Morrowind and others from his initiation into the Blood Dragons. The one scar he reached for on his chest was the sword that nearly killed him had it not missed his heart. It was the only true way to kill a mage of his kind.

The painful memories of the Thalmor's eradication of the order came back to him. He was the last of his kind, strengthened by the blood of the fallen and first called by the blood of a God. It was truly a dreadful existence to lose everything and still walk upon Nirn, but it was an experience Scarlai could live with.

When he finished slipping on his armor, he went to the loose floorboards and pulled out his pride and joy. A white cloth wrapped around two medium-sized objects was placed on the ground and untied to reveal two ebony swords. Scarlai had them updated to their current state and they were the only objects he had not sold when he left Morrowind. He took one of them and pulled it out of its sheath, admiring the sleek, black metal that had not been affected by time ever since he hid them from the guard. They might be suspicious if they saw him walk out with those blades on his belt, but he didn't much care about that anymore.

When he was all set, he grabbed his bow and arrows in case the guards felt like asking if he was going hunting and departed for the carriage to Riften to find Grelod the Kind and put her out of her misery.

At the same time as these events, an Altmer wearing mage robes had reached Winterhold. Stryger Myron was one-hundred and ninety-eight years old and still attempting to learn everything he could about magic. He was still considered young by high-elf standards, so it was understandable as to why he sought to master more of the arcane arts. Of course, he also practiced swordplay and archery to use in a duel or a hunt, but even then they had been conjuration spells that bound weapons from the planes of Oblivion in his hands.

His real gift had been restoration.

It was perhaps the one class he truly excelled at. He could heal even the most critical wounds on another person as well as he could for himself. It was a great gift he had been born with, but there was more to it than he would ever care to admit. It was the real reason why he still studied magic. It was not so he could trap souls into gems or revive the dead or even destroy an entire kingdom. It was so he could understand his gift more.

He stopped walking through the ruined hold when he reached the bridge to the entrance to the college.

Stryger knew that many of the locals that still lived in the hold had blamed the college for the destruction of the entire city, but he believed it was a different matter. The city might not have sunk into the sea but rather teleported. Where the city is now he doesn't know, but he planned on studying that once he obtained a ring of warmth and a necklace of waterbreathing.

"Okay, Stryger." He spoke to himself. "Time to meet with more intelligent mages to learn more about yourself."

Another elf was guarding the entrance, but Stryger was prepared to show he was not a threat. When the woman gave him the strange look, she was prepared to give him the lecture of how the college protects itself from those who threaten it, but Stryger raised his hand in a friendly manner.

"Hello. My name is Stryger Myron. I am looking for admission into the college to unravel the mysteries of Aetherius, as well as master my particular talents in magic."

The woman dropped her guard for a second before changing her tone. "Unraveling the mysteries of Aetherius sounds like a noble goal. Many believe it to be the plane where all magic resides. The College could offer that to you, but what can you offer to the College? I propose a test of your talents."

"Test away. I am very skilled in certain elements of magic."

"Many mages know how to heal themselves, but those even more skilled know how to heal others. I would like for you to cast a healing hands spell on me."

"Simple enough." Stryger brought the restorative energies around his hands, sending streams of magic upon the elf woman who protected the college.

"Well done. That was perhaps one of the most rejuvenating spells I have ever felt. You are free to enter the College. Follow me." The woman led Stryger along the bridge, stopping at certain places to light wells that emmitted a large stream of blue light. Stryger sometimes looked over the sides of the bridge that bent this way and that, and every time he had that fear of falling. He didn't know enough magic to make himself fly yet.

When they reached the entrance he saw a Breton woman arguing with who could only be a Thalmor executive. Stryger himself had a burning hatred for the Thalmor for destroying his village when he was eighteen years old. Summerset Isle was the first to feel the Thalmor's wrath as they either conquered or integrated the ruling cities for their favor, and Stryger's whole family was lost to their ambitions as they set the village ablaze. Taking what belongings and coin he had left over, he set out to master the arcane arts as well as his gift, hoping to avoid the Thalmor at every step.

Until today.

The Thalmor representative seemed to have lost the argument and entered the College, no doubt pissed off that not everyone obeys him just because he commands it. Stryger couldn't help but smile at that fact. It's about time the Thalmor realize that they aren't always in charge.

The woman that had argued with him approached Stryger now. She appeared to be a stern woman just from looking at her, but she didn't seem to hate Stryger just from her facial expression.

"I am Mirabelle Ervine, Master Wizard at the College of Winterhold. I see you are another potential student, yes? Welcome to the College of Winterhold."

"It's an honor to be among those of the college." Stryger nodded, smiling. "I've heard a lot about this place and I thought it might help me expand my knowledge and continue training in my talents to magic."

"Allow me to give you a tour of the College, as well as show you to where you'll be staying while you are here. Afterwards, you may join the other students in the main hall. I am sure Tolfdir is putting them through their first lesson."

Stryger let Mirabelle lead the way, barely holding in his excitement over how much of an honor it was to be at the College of Winterhold.

And perhaps he can finally understand his gift.

"You say that both the Arch-Mage and the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood were part of your team and that they had special magic. Why is it you haven't mentioned what it is they could do?"

"Because, Torygg, I want to save that for the moments they had recorded it in their journal. There were witnesses towards their particular talents when they had used it. All I will say is that Stryger had a wonderful gift, and Scarlai's is much darker."

"Speaking of Scarlai," Ronan added. "when you brought him up from his journal, he stated something about his past. What did he do before his supposed expedition to Akavir?"

"Again, that will be for later. Now, at the time I had departed for Bleak Falls Barrow, Akira and Stryger were going through their little initiations into their respected groups. But as all five of us were drawn closer to the fabrics of destiny, a sinister individual was preparing to track me down. History today knows him as the Thalmor Inquisitor."

*Inside an interrogation cell within the Imperial City, Jennette Morrigan sat at a wooden table waiting for a member of the Thalmor to walk through the door and begin asking the same questions. Already four other members had tried to prod her mind for answers, and despite being close to fifty, she was still a strong Nord woman and would not give in to the demands of the Thalmor. The last one had threatened to torture her husband to get answers out of her, but Willhem was dug in to the Imperial Legion enough to hold diplomatic immunity.

The door opened and a hooded Altmer entered. He looked a bit younger than the rest of the elves that had questioned her, but just as sinister. His look was stern and strands of his blonde hair could be seen slipping out from the front of the hood. His eyes were cold and calculating as they scanned her.

"Obviously from that look, you know that your men have failed to move me." Jennette spoke with confidence.

"My employers are desperate to find your son and the secrets he stole from the Empire."

"You mean the prophecy you killed my father for, Inquisitor?"

The Inquisitor merely stopped moving before he turned around and faced her with no emotion.

"The prophecy my son has taken was always meant for my family. It was why the Elder Scrolls showed it to my father. The moth priests of old knew it would happen themselves, but they did not have the map that my son now carries with him. An ancient evil has come back to exact vengeance. Alduin, the World-Eater."

"Tell me about Alduin."

Jennette looked at him quietly with a serious look on her face. "He is the child of Akotash that waged war against my people before the First Era. He was defeated atop the Throat of the World, but he returns now as Skyrim wages war. And you would let that war continue as he begins to bring the world to its end."

"We can defeat anything that would dare destroy the Empire. We crushed the Empire before, and we can end these dragons as well."

"You can't stop Alduin without the Dragonborn."

"The Dragonborn is a legend. If they existed, they ended with the Septim bloodline two-hundred years ago, where the supposed Champion of Cyrrodil aided in stopping Mehrunes Dagon from conquering the world."

"You obviously try to slander history for your own benefit. You know that Caleb Secus stopped the Oblivion Crisis and saved Tamriel."

"The individuals in High Rock and Summerset Isle did not know. And when they began to worship us for our 'accomplishments' in saving their homes, we did what was necessary to ensure stability within the Empire."

Jennette raised an eyebrow. "So the rumors are true, then? You're a puppet for the Thalmor?"

"I am no more a puppet than Talos being a god."

"Again look to Caleb Secus as he used the power of the Ninth Divine to battle Umaril the Unfeathered in his plane of Oblivion."

"There is no proof towards that inclaimation."

"Then go ask your brother elves that served him when he battled Umaril."

The Inquisitor was growing impatient, but he let go of the anger building up inside him. Nords would never give up their worship of Talos, and arguing about it was only going to make him do something drastic. Instead, he went back to the subject he was meant to be talking about.

"Tell me about the prophecy, then. How many individuals are mentioned? Five, maybe?"

Jennette was caught off guard. "What are you after? The rest of the Thalmor merely asked about where my son is, but you... You're something else."

"Your father talked in his sleep about the five individuals in his notes. No doubt you already know how I know, but you were not as broken up over your father's death than most other people. In fact, the day after he died your son was seen at your estate and left immediately the next day. You held the secrets your father kept from the Emperor and gave them to your son. His worshipping of Talos was only over-looked because of you and your husband's status in the Legion and the Court, but witholding vital information from the Empire and having your son disappear with that information is enough to place you and your husband in prison if not a public execution."

"The prophecy has always been connected to this family. It is why Zacharius left Cyrrodil for his home land, Skyrim. And you will not be able to stop him when he unites the other four behind him."

"This will be the last time I ask. Tell me where your son is and what the prophecy says. If you do, you and your husband will be spared, along with your other two children. Only your eldest will be responsible if he returns to Cyrrodil."

"My son is not coming back to Cyrrodil." Jennette shook her head. "You've ruined this place he once called home. He has headed to Skyrim to find his destiny. He believes he is to unite the five, but he does not realize he is the Nord described in the prophecy. He will lead a group with a Breton that holds a fire in her soul, an Imperial with a lot of luck, an Altmer with a gift, and a Dunmer with a dark secret that saved this world before you tainted his heart with hatred and drove him into exile. Do not underestimate them, Inquisitor. But most of all, do not underestimate my son."

The Inquisitor merely nodded before he left, sending two guards in to escort Jennette Morrigan out of the building.*

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it took a bit longer to write this chapter. Complications arose during the writing process, but I got it out. So Happy New Year, everyone! Let's hope 2014 gives me plenty of time to write for my stories. Now before you ask questions, Caleb Secus is a placeholder for the Champion of Cyrrodil from TESIV: Oblivion (my first Elder Scrolls game I played) that I figured would work for the story. As for Scarlai's hidden past, all I will say is it is connected to the third game, Morrowind, so if you played that game (unlike myself) you already must know who he is. His strange power will be revealed somewhere within the next few chapters as he joins the Dark Brotherhood.

Next time will mainly focus on Stryger's and Akira's first meetings with the members of the respected groups they wish to join. Any questions or comments can be left in the reviews and PMs.