Chapter Fourteen

With a bored sigh, Faralda watched as snow fell down in Winterhold outside the College, flittering in the soft breeze before landing on the ground. Despite it being midday it felt like the middle of the night, a chill running so deep in her bones she often wondered how she ever got the duty of gatekeeper. That was until of course, she remembered that she was the only one that was rarely smooth talked or persuaded to allow those unworthy in, and her scowl alone could scare of the most determined of pretenders.

Chuckling a bit to herself now, Faralda rubbed her hands together as she leaned against a column of chiseled stone, a short wall moving down from it with a partner on the other side of the mouth of the bridge, a roof overtop keeping the altmer from being laden with snow. She gazed about the ruins of Winterhold, wishing someone would arrive that she might send away or let in. At that moment, she spotted four shapes moving with purpose up the road, carrying with them weapons and steel plates of armor.

Warily, Faralda pushed herself off the wall and stepped out into the light snowfall, amber eyes narrowed as she prepared to fend the College off from a group of ruffians. "Hold!" She called out, one hand raised to stop them. They did so, a trio of warriors and what looked like a rouge of some sorts watching her carefully. "The College doesn't allow just anyone inside, only those with magical abilities may enter."

"Actually," said one that was dressed in steel plate armor, brunet hair framing her face. "I know for a fact that you make the occasional exception."

Scowling, Faralda crossed her arms. "And when might that be?"

"When your aid is desperately needed."

"Wait..." She trailed off, looking at the faces before her, recognition flashing across amber eyes. "Lydia, Mjoll?"

A smile grew across the Lioness's face, stepping forward in iron armor and nodding her head. "Hello again Faralda."

"You're not hauling another half-dead Dragonborn behind you are you?" Faralda gave a half chuckle, allowing the closest to a smile she could offer to cross her lips. She'd actually enjoyed Mjoll's letters from Riften, though most of them went directly to the apprentices in the College, there were a few that she would get from time to time. It was a bit distracting at first, and she didn't send word back often, but something about the nord struck her right and while she would never openly admit it, she had a bit of a liking for her.

"Not this time," Mjoll chuckled in response, the other women in her company waiting for her to get them in, shifting feet awkwardly in the snow.

"What brings you here, and in such number?" Faralda asked, her hostility dropped.

"I'm afraid more grim business. Is there anyone in the College knowledgable of supernatural?"

"Lady Mjoll, you are asking a mage, you are aware of that no?" Faralda arched a brow.

Shaking her head, though with a faint embarrassed smile on her face, Mjoll replied, "No I mean, such as werewolves and vampires, ghosts, those sort of supernatural."

The amusement left the altmer's face, and she sighed. "Aye, we do. I'm not certain you'll get much out of her though, or if she'd even see you."

"Who is it? We are in great need to speak with an expert."

Faralda watched her for a moment, and then held up a finger. "I trust you will wait here?" Mjoll gave a nod. "Good, pardon me," she excused herself before she turned and went through the iron gate towards the College.

Mjoll looked at the others around her, curious glances cast at the Lioness. "What?" She asked, a discomfort rising from their inquisitive looks.

"How are you so friendly with the gatekeeper? Last I remember she was a cruel altmer that nearly allowed Yosa'Min to die on her doorstep," Lydia said.

"What?" Vex and Iona asked in unison.

The two looked at the pair behind them, and nodded their heads. "Yosa fell off some ice cliffs when Lydia and I had tracked her down to an area nearby, after Vex told me she was dead, and we had to rush her here to be saved. A mage healer named Colette Marence used her magic to revive her before it was too late."

"Why didn't she ever tell me about this?" Vex asked sharply.

Mjoll gave her a smug look, shrugging in response, "I don't know, why didn't she?" Vex's scowl deepened greatly. She turned to look back at where the gate was opening again with a loud frozen creak. Faralda nodded her head and gestured for them to pass through.

As they approached, she pointed to a chest nearby. "The archmage only requests that you leave your weaponry here." Shrugging in agreement, the four women placed their varying weapons in the chest, Mjoll's having to lean against it while the pair of shields were placed besides it as well. Vex was the only one to slip everything inside. "Head to the Arcanaeum it's at the top of the center building, right past the statue," she instructed. "You're looking for a dunmer mage by the name of Siulon, should be the only one up there, the apprentices should be holding private studies in their rooms about now." Mjoll could have sworn that was a familiar name, though she couldn't quite place it either.

They nodded their heads in thanks, and started across the winding bridge, moving past pools of mana that shimmered with blue to where a gate with an eye awaited them. The College looked as beautiful as Mjoll had remembered it, the courtyard growing pine trees and snowberries that were laden with frost and a statue of their first archmage, Shalidor, holding out their hands to the sky as a pool of mana below raced towards the sky. The craftsmanship of the stonework was breath taking despite the obvious wear it had suffered over the years, archways and towers standing true against the test of time.

Walking through the gate and into the courtyard, they started to make their way around to the main building directly across from them when they heard a rather loud, "Mjoll?" come from across the way, and suddenly the sound of footsteps in concert raced through the snow and the nord was tackled into a snowbank. Vex snickered venomously as the nord struggled to get free, a dunmer girl clutching her tightly and laughing loudly. A khajiit and nord man stood nearby, smiles bright across their faces.

"Who are these young mages?" Vex asked, finding the image of the mighty Lioness buried in a drift of snow quite amusing. Mjoll pushed the girl off herself, face flush with embarrassment but she seemed rather happy as well.

"Onmund," introduced the reddish brunet mage, holding a hand out to Vex who simply arched a brow. He lowered it, cringing a bit, and then spotted a brunet among the group that he recognized in an instant. Blushing, he scratched the back of his head nervously, "Oh and you brought Lydia!" His voice pitched a bit.

Lydia's eyes widened a bit at the response, and Iona frowned ever so faintly. "Hello Onmund," Lydia greeted in return, smiling in an overtly friendly manner that didn't seem to quite register with the young man. "How have you been? I haven't seen any of you in quite some time."

"Well, Onmund and J'zargo have been training quite hard," the khajiit said with a proud purr, "though J'zargo is still the better mage." Onmund jabbed him a bit in the side, the bearded khajiit hissing faintly in return. "What, J'zargo cannot let beautiful Lydia know who makes the better wizard? Surely Onmund is fooling himself to think he stands a chance against the powerful J'zargo!"

Though the words were spoken in a hushed, hissing tone, they hadn't escaped the housecarls. Lydia tensed nervously while Iona's eyes were steadily narrowing into slits. "What about you Brelyna?" Lydia asked to the dunmer who was helping the snowy nord to her feet, trying her best to forget what she'd overheard.

The dunmer girl gave a sheepish look to the Whiterun housecarl. "Oh well, I've been a bit distracted from my usual studies," she admitted. Lydia arched a brow, but nothing more was given. "So what even brings you here? You didn't mention anything about coming up here in your last letter Mjoll."

"My name's Iona, by the way," suddenly said the redhead with obvious annoyance, the group of friends taken aback that they had forgotten to ask her name and apologies were granted all around. "And the imperial is Vex. Obviously you lot know our friends here well."

Lydia spoke up, "These apprentices might not have helped save Yosa'Min, but they were rather hospitable during our stay."

"I see," Iona replied, glaring at the nord mage who shifted his feet nervously in the snow.

There was a moment of silence before Mjoll cleared her throat. "We're looking for a bit of help," she said, "Yosa'Min is in trouble."

"Again?" J'zargo asked, pale blue orbs widening. "Does Dragonborn always go off and get into trouble mages must bail her out of?"

Mjoll laughed a bit. "I'm afraid so, and yes, we came here hoping that there would be a mage that could help us." They each brightened. "We need an expert on vampires."

Instantly they deflated, and then Brelyna shuddered. "That means you'll have to talk with Scars," said Onmund, uncharacteristically sour. "Word of advice, don't ask about them."

"Why not?" Vex said flatly, "she extra sensitive or something?"

"More like she takes every chance she can to remind foolish apprentices the dangers of magic," said J'zargo with a curl, lips pulled back in a light snarl. "She told J'zargo that if he were not careful, he would end up like her but without any fur at all. J'zargo told her that she was being an idiot and left it at that."

Suddenly Mjoll was laughing, "Sounds like you and her would get along quite nicely Vex." That earned a heavy scowl. "Can you show us the way?" She then asked the apprentices.

"I can," Onmund hopped up to the task, flashing Lydia a smile before he started off towards the hall. The brunet blushed, and followed after with Iona lingering with a hint of a frown on her lips before following. Onmund hummed to himself as he led them into the grand halls and then up a stairwell, nearly going to the top until he waved for them to stop. "Here we are, the Arcanaeum," he waved about to the beautiful library, bookcases filled with tomes of all sorts lining elegant stone walls. There was a greenish hue from the glass as sunlight burst through, lighting the place in a manner that none could deny was lovely.

There was the same orc librarian behind a desk as there had been a half year ago. thumbing through a book with slow methodical purpose, white beard nearly brushing the paper. Aside from him, there was one other person on the floor, a dunmer off in a corner with a book in front of her on a end table. As they came over, Onmund waiting around for a moment before crossing to a part of the library to peruse, they realized she was running a hand slowly along every line of text in the boot, lips muttering as she worked.

"-the deep, no, dead, rose fro-m the- swamp? No, that can't be swamp. Graves, right," she was muttering as they came over.

"Excuse me, Siulon?" Iona piped up.

The dunmer ignored them, continuing to read, finger touching every character as she spoke, "and swa-armed the vill-age."

"Look, this is kinda important so if you could just stop for a minute," Vex said, rolling her eyes in the process, "we'd really appreciate it."

Pausing, the mage straightened up and sighed. "Do you know how many pages are in this book?" She suddenly asked, a mature sound to her voice as she looked at the wall in front of her. "Five hundred and thirty seven. Five hundred and thirty seven I fully intend on reading, and I am only on page one hundred and twelve, which is not an easy task mind you so go away."

"Reading isn't that hard if you're smart," replied Vex.

It was then that the dunmer turned to them and they were all shocked into silence. Ashen skin was marred by a series of scars of varying size and length that crawled up from her neck to cover the whole of the left of her face, stopping only at the nose and above the brow. Dark red warpaint that surrounded her eyes swept outwards to the sides of her face with a slight elegant curve, bisecting her lip also. Her hair was a hue or two brighter than her face paint, shaved on the scarred side of her face and the rest pulled over to the right, going no longer than her eyes. All of them were staring, politely or not, at milky white orbs that were staring blankly at them.

"You're... I know who you are," Mjoll said after a long moment of silence.

"Do you?" Siulon drawled.

"I think so," the Lioness replied, and then shook it away, deciding it best not to bring it up. "Perhaps not."

"Perhaps not."

"Look, we hear you're an expert on vampires," Lydia cut in.

Siulon smirked a bit. "Live long enough and you can call yourself an expert on most anything."

Lydia shrugged before continuing. "Would you be willing to impart some of that knowledge on us?"

"Such as?"

Iona spoke up then, daring to ask the question that had been burning in all their hearts. "Is there a cure?"

There was silence in the Arcanaeum, the dunmer's expression sullen as she looked through them. "Who is it?"

"Excuse me?"

"A friend? A lover? A sibling perhaps?"

"A bit of all of the above," Vex said, arms crossed as they waited for the answer.

The dunmer sighed. "I see, well that makes this difficult then." They waited in long silence for the dunmer to say or do anything, but she didn't, instead choosing to gaze blankly at them.

"Well?" Pressed Vex, glaring at the dunmer who suddenly turned to face her a bit more.

"How long?"

Iona stepped a bit between the blind mage and the imperial thief. "We're not sure, about a week I suppose."

"A week? And you know she survived her change?"

Iona nodded at first, and then gave an awkward response with embarrassment, "We saw her, with glowing eyes and fangs and her skin was paled and sickly looking."

"Did you see anything else?" Siulon seemed genuinely interested in their plight.

"There was..." Lydia said, "A monster with her. Massive, green with wings and immense power. It seemed rather intelligent too, and was able to raise a man from the grave."

The dunmer stiffened with alarm, and she abruptly got to her feet, moving past them and calling out across the Arcanaeum, "Urag! Can you please bring me those tomes?" She called to where the orc blinked up from where he had been cataloguing more books.

"The ones over paranormals?"

"Aye, that one," she replied, turning and sitting back down. The four watched the orc climb down from a ladder, and walk down without any hesitation to where a small bookshelf in the more center of the grand library stood. He bent down, grumbling a bit, and then walked over with four books in his hands, placing them in front of the dunmer on the table.

"First to last, left to right," he said, informing her of just which ones were in front of her, and then glared at the four. "Treat them well, aye?" Ordered Urag gro-Shub, snorting for extra effect, and then walking back to the ladder.

Siulon simply nodded, fingers running across the wood table before she found it, and then pushed the second book closer to them. "Page thirty," she instructed, not caring who picked it up. Warily, Mjoll did, and flipped through the musty pages, yellowed from age and use. As she turned to the page, the dunmer spoke again. "Start with the top passage, read it."

Clearing her throat before she did, Mjoll began to speak. There were many words on the page she was only loosely familiar with, but she could handle that with ease. The part that suddenly had the nord feeling anxious in front of so many others, was just how long the passage was. "Should one contract the affliction most commonly known simply as 'Vampirism' instead of its many other names, they will undergo numerous transformations that will substantially alter the afflicted. These changes include physical, psychological, temperamental, and one's sense of morality. Dependent on which particular strand of the disease has been contracted, the alterations may be subtle, or more discernible."

She took a breath, tongue like sandpaper as they all listened in. "The more notable changes are those that morph the afflicted into a highly skilled predator. The teeth, the canines in particular, grow sharper and resemble fangs and can be aptly called such. These fangs are used to draw blood from the vampire's victims, the source of a vampire's power. The fingernails also become more bestial in nature, and most claws are capable of maiming the victim beyond recognition. The musculature of the vampire can be classified as anywhere between lean to toned, as those afflicted with Sanguine Vampiris are tremendously powerful, capable of overwhelming even the most seasoned of warriors."

Mjoll glanced around. "Anyone want to take over?"

There were heads shaking all around and she scowled at them before continuing. "The skin of a vampire can be identified due to its parlor, though some have been reported to appear darker such as in redguards and bretons, though this is more likely just the result of a pre-existing condition. The body appears more gaunt, with the facial structure becoming more pronounced especially in the cheeks and eye sockets, with the nose becoming more often though not always bat-like, a condition more often found in males, and with lips becoming more pursed and on occasion depending on the clan of origin and the gender split. The eyes will have enhanced vision, in nocturnal settings in particular, and the color will range across hues of orange and red. The orange color is more often found in the more 'royal' clans of vampires while red is a commoner color."

"Why are we reading this?" Vex asked.

"Why am I reading this," Mjoll corrected, having never read such words aloud before, and shoved the book to Lydia.

"Because it will help, now continue," Siulon said with a hint of annoyance.

Sighing, the brunet read on. "The vampire, while powerful as it may be, is particularly vulnerable in the first few days post-metamorphosis. Vampires are constantly at threat from the sun, some only being discomforted while others are burned to death, and the new body of a fledgling can be vaporized in moments. Until the fangs are strong enough to feed, the vampire is at serious risk of termination. The urges of bloodlust in concert with new found ability, often cause mental changes that remove the previous entity in possession of the body." She frowned with confusion, looking at the blind dunmer who was unaware of the gesture.

Slowly, Lydia began to speak, "After the first taste of blood, the psychological changes truly begin, as this is the point in which the fledgling has accepted their new found life and begin to embrace the shadowy world."

"Yosa was outside," Iona suddenly said with horror, cutting into the less, "in the daylight." Terrified silence filled the air until Siulon urged someone to continue reading.

"After their first successful hunt, there is no way to reverse the change," Lydia's voice started to tremble, and she pushed the tome away.

Vex took it from her at that point, starting where the nord had ended. "Within one month of the initiation of the metamorphosis, the subject will become near completely a new being entirely. The morality of the vampire rarely resembles that of the mortal's. The afflicted's mind becomes plagued with ambition and perverse senses of conquest. Often the fledgling acts like a subservient to the sire if it has remained, a loyal or scheming addition to the elder vampire's clan. Infecting mortals to increase the size of the clan is common, however there are those that exercise forms of selection and elite class, turning only those that fit certain criteria. The fledgling will often either serve or scheme to take control of the clan or some high rank within, or leave entirely and found their own."

"The new vampire may perhaps even..." Vex struggled to continue, amber eyes narrowed as she tried to keep the emotion off her face. "May perhaps even seek out those it once knew... and... feed upon them, turning them to create a predisposed clan of loyal followers."

The imperial placed the book down on the table, closing it softly as her hands shook. The nords' gazes dropped to the cobblestone floor. Siulon waited a few moments, letting them soak in what had been read. "You're all in terrible danger, and anyone else you come into contact with," she said.

"Yosa would never do that though, she would never turn against us," defended Iona.

Siulon shrugged, "Perhaps Yosa might not have, but, this is no longer the Yosa you know. This, vampire, as she is now, is a monstrous creature of an entirely different design. It is said that vampires were created by Molag Bal simply to spite the Aedra and the cycle of life and death." The dunmer rose to her feet. "Her existence is a defiance of ancient powers and beings."

Vex scowled but before she could give a sharp word of rebuke, the Lioness stepped forward and slammed a hand on the table. "We're not giving up on her, no matter what your damn books say, so if that what you were trying to do then you've failed miserably." Vex blinked at her with shock, and then nodded her head firmly. "So why did you have us read that?"

"Because I needed you to realize what you're asking. You want to cure your friend, an admirable prospect I assure you, but it is fraught with doom," Siulon said, "Many people have come to me seeking these answers, and often they never return or I hear tale of their demise. If you still want to pursue this, then I will grant you the knowledge you require, and my hands shall be clean of your deaths should they come."

Waving a hand, Mjoll rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever you have to tell yourself to get some sleep. Now tell us how to save her."

The dunmer took in a deep breath, and then nodded her head. "All right, if it'll save someone then I suppose it's worth it." The group brightened a bit. "Go to Morthal, and seek out a man named Falion. He and I have worked together, and his finds on the curing of vampires have yielded more satisfactory results. Be careful, the area is becoming a den for those vermin by the day."

They shared glances, a bit annoyed perhaps that they had just been there, but were silent as the dunmer continued to speak. "I'd also suggest looking on the coast, more so to the west. I've heard tale of more people suffering from vampirism in the area, so it would stand to reason that she might have gone there."

Nodding their heads, the four women looked amongst themselves to assure they were all on the same page. "Thank you Siulon," Lydia said with a smile.

"Of course," she replied, "I do enjoy helping from time to time. Just, remember what you've read. This friend of yours, she more than likely will be a different person when next you see her. If you see her. I've tried hunting a vampire before, if they don't want to be found it's highly likely they won't be."

Mjoll gave a soft smile. "Yosa'Min isn't like most people."

Something akin to recognition crossed the blind mer's face, and she just shrugged. "Don't bet all your lives on a person who is no more," she warned, "be ready to have to put her down."

"The book said she has a month," Mjoll replied, "and it's already been perhaps a week. So, that gives us three weeks to find her before these changes become irreversible." The others nodded. "So, until then, until it has been a month, Yosa'Min is the same woman." The nord stared at the dunmer who blankly looked back, and then gave another shrug.

"That's assuming once you find her, she hasn't done something already that would accelerate the process Or if she'll even recognize you."

"We will," Mjoll said without hesitation, "She will."

AN: Thanks for reading!