Sun's Height 11, 4E1

(Champion of Cryodiil): Olav's Tap and Tack bedroom

Harrow unlocked the door. Now I was among the enemy. I was seen as another splinter cell in Dagon's massive military machine. But they were wrong in both ways: I was far more than a splinter cell, and working for anyone but Dagon.

I felt practically naked in this robe, but I was so close to the Amulet of Kings. Though it appeared a small and elegant piece of jewelry, it had power beyond that of the entire Imperial Legion. It had the power to fend off this invasion, and return Tamriel to peace.

The "hallway" opened up into a larger area of the cavern, thick beams of light shooting down from the outside world, providing the Mythic Dawn with a sampling of fresh air and sun light they so desperately needed in their world of secrets. Roots hung from the cavern ceiling like tentacles. My anticipation grew.

Harrow proceeded towards another flimsy wooden door. It looked as make-shift as everything else in their shrine, which made their assurance of their own cause almost comical.

Before Harrow could open this door, it was opened from the other side by a fellow acolyte. The fellow acolyte smiled at me as he walked by and, in a deep voice spoke the words "Greet the new day, brother." His gentle, undue confidence wasn't the only way his view of the world around him was distorted.

I didn't return the greeting, I just kept sticking close to Harrow.

Our path became narrow and constricted again.

Other members of the Mythic Dawn were moving through these naturally crafted hallways. It wasn't like Cloud Ruler Temple here; no one seemed to be an individual, and no one seemed capable of much on their own. Each member was just a small unit of force satisfied with demonstrating even a sliver of significance to their cause.

The only intentional differences I could see between the acolytes were the weapons they carried. Some were armed, some were not. Some had daggers, some had clubs.

I was unarmed, so it was already hard to imagine fighting through them all in my condition, but I was still undercover. Surely I could find a way to recover the Amulet without getting detected. I didn't know how soon that would happen, but my mind and body felt crisp and ready for the task.

Harrow turned to enter another opening in the left wall of the cavern. I followed closely, still keeping my manner meek. The cave was expanding again. I could hear speaking in the distance. The words slowly became clear as we advanced.

"Praised be." The Mythic Dawn members, Harrow included, droned in the best unison they could achieve. Their minds were firmly attached to the cause they'd dedicated themselves. That was probably necessary for a cause like this. If they explored their thoughts they'd see just insane their mission was.

Slowly the source of the voices became visible. It became apparent we were standing on a cliff above the room in which the preaching was occurring. Right now, there was a large grouping of Mythic Dawn members below us, gathered infront of an altar where the one distinguished figure in blue robes stood. There was a stone stair case leading down to that area.

"The Dragon throne is empty." 'The Master', a tall and imposing figure, boomed in a powerful and confident voice as he stood at the altar, with a book and dagger nearby, preaching to a large gathering of acolytes below. "We hold the Amulet of Kings." He held the amulet in the air, moving his hand left to right. I noticed there was someone behind him. Another acolyte with a staff. We were heading down the stone steps before I could observe more, or even identify what else I saw behind him. "Praised be to your brothers and sisters." He said, as Harrow and I descended, "Great will be their reward in Paradise."

"Praised be." The cult members droned again, this time in slightly better unison. I quickly chimed in too.

The lower we got, the more mighty the master looked. Now I was truly starting to feel like a member of their cult. Good. It would make my cover all the more convincing.

We stopped beside my 'brothers and sisters', just another face in the crowd. Little did they know, I carried intentions that could end the Oblivion invasion.

"Now hear the words of Lord Dagon:" Camoran said, his powerful voice echoing throughout the cavern. He was oddly captivating. "When I walk the Tamriel again, the faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other mortals for ever. As for the rest: The weak shall be winnowed, the timid shall be cast down, and the mighty shall tremble at my feet and beg for pardon!"

"So sayeth Lord Dagon, praised be."

The Master's mouth formed a subtle smile at the unison and understanding forming within the room. "–your reward, brothers and sisters. The Time of Cleansing draws ni. I go now to Paradise. I will return with Lord Dagon, at the coming of the dawn."

Mankar Camoran turned from the altar. This was it. He would commit ritualistic suicide, and soon the Amulet would be mine. My breaths got shorter. I could feel the excitement brewing within me. I poured over every instant for some indication of exactly what would happen.

Then, I noticed a fiery glow from behind the altar, accompanied by a noise similar to that of an Oblivion gate. What was going on? I looked at Harrow, but he continued to beam with a kind of mellow pride at the elevated stone platform, his face now coated with the orange glow. He seemed frustratingly unphased by the bizarre occurrence. I shifted my head to see what was happening. There was a fiery ball hovering behind the altar, now closing up. Mankar Camoran was gone.

The moment was disorienting. What had happened? Mankar Camoran was gone, but it didn't look like suicide. Had Mankar Camoran...truly gone to such a place?

Was there was some threatening significance behind the booming voice and ominous words I'd once assumed to be superficial?

I knew I'd never looked at the Mythic Dawn the same way again. Now it felt like I was fighting an entirely new enemy...in an entirely new world.

And the Amulet of Kings? He had been holding it. He had taken it to...Paradise. Now nothing of my previous plans had any value. My weapons and money were in Harrow's possession, and the Amulet of Kings in Mankar's.

Harrow spoke to the woman still standing at the altar from afar "We have a new brother who wishes to bind himself to the service of Lord Dagon." No. Now it felt like a nightmare. It all seemed to be happening too fast. My confidence had been washed away.

"Advance, initiate." The distant female voice called. Had I been the one who had truly been deceived? Was everything I'd anticipated here a naive heroic fantasy?

I turned to my left, looking at the faces of the acolytes in an entirely new light. I no longer saw foolishness and fanaticism in them. I saw a frightening power and deep understanding behind their eyes.

I began walking on the stone-tile floor towards the altar. But now my mind was blank. I wasn't thinking about how to get my hand on the Amulet of Kings because I had no idea how I could. I was stuck playing the role as a Mythic Dawn agent. Now I could only feel horribly discouraged, with no hope to cling to, just dull pain.

I noticed two Mythic Dawn guards holding an Argonian, each grabbing one his arms. He wore only a loin cloth, and his expression was solemn, his stride limp, as if he'd submitted to some sort of grim fate. He was climbing the stairs to the altar several seconds before me.

As I approached the steps, I started to feel sick. I hadn't pieced it all together yet, but none of it seemed good. My breathing seemed to becoming less and less natural as I ascended.

I watched them lay the submissive Argonian down on a stone bed. He was on his side, his eyes closed, and his body stagnant except for some subtle signs of breath. Right now, with my plans crushed, I wondered if I should do the same: accept I'd been defeated by the enemy.

I looked towards the altar where Mankar Camoran had been standing, where he had teleported himself to a world I practically scoffed at the existence of. The woman who'd order my advance was now walking towards me. Now I was the focus of their attention. I was nearly nothing compared to the power against me, I realized. They were ignorant to my original intentions, and to my panic, and yet it didn't matter. Escape seemed impossible.

"You have come to dedicate your life to Lord Dagon's service." She said, smiling "This pact must be sealed with 'red drink', the blood of Lord Dagon's enemies. Take up the dagger and offer Lord Dagon the sacrificial red-drink as a pledge of your own life's blood, which shall be His in the end." She pointed over to the altar, where a thick book and shining dagger lay. I looked back the Argonian prisoner, who was still lying on the bed, two guards poised firmly behind him. At once I knew what they wanted from me. I'd gone from a master saboteur, to a pawn of the enemy, being order to carry out their twisted crimes.

I began slowly walking towards the altar. My cover seemed to be the only thing standing between me and death.

I was walking slowly, my muscles pushing me both ways at once. Murder seemed unthinkable, but did I really have choice? Already the internal debate made me feel ready to gag. I hated them for putting me through this. I truly did feel defeated by them, for the first time. Before this, I'd only known bitter-sweet success, but now I was utterly defeated.

The dagger was now within reach. It was a beautiful weapon: shiney, sharp, and crafted with intricate patterns, but I was expected to use it for an ugly purpose. To stab it through the helpless prisoner. I had killed plenty of people already, but they were the enemy, and they were threats, so murder seemed like a whole new world.

I knew this moment was trying every component of my mind. There had to be some way to reason the right solution to this. I just needed a place to start.

I turned towards the stone bed, the situation itself still progressing faster than the thoughts I needed to find a way around it. I was trapped in the moment, it seemed.

I arrived at the stone bed. The prisoner closed his eyes tighter, crushing his eyelids against each other. He had become weak and helpless. My dagger was at bare, and I could imagine all too well how he'd feel when my the cold metal was stabbed into his sensitive neck. The dagger was too small to cleave his spine with. There was no quick way to end his life that could give this incident a comforting afterthought. I tried to sift through the situation for some reasons to weigh against each other. If I kill him, I'll keep my cover. If I let him live, I'll have an ally during my escape. The first reason hadn't come to me as intuitively, though, and it took a bit of time for my mind to get comfortable with the idea. I needed a third. The woman behind me noticed my hesitation.

"You must slay the sacrifice to bind yourself fully to Lord Dagon." She commanded "Lord Dagon thirsts for blood!" I wanted to push her away, outraged at the way misfortune after misfortune was piling unto me. Of course, I fought the urge.

I went back to the logic I'd built up: both letting him live and murdering him would give me an advantage, but the first ensured two could make it out of the shrine alive.

This Argonian wouldn't be the next Baurus. My cover ended now.

I jabbed my elbow backwards into the soft stomach behind me, and grabbed the arm of the Argonian, abruptly yanked him to his feel him to his feet. "Run!" I shouted.

I swung around to stab the mythic dawn agent I'd elbowed, ruthlessly taking advantage of the moment, unleashing only a small piece of seemingly endless stores of force that had come upon me. Then I shoved her away, destructive passions making their way out of me.

I knew I couldn't waste a second. The situation encased me in danger, yet I needed to leave here with some I didn't arrive with. I ran towards the altar. That sacred book must have some use for us. I pushed every piece of force I could from my legs, almost leaping with each step. I knew every second counted. No matter what I did, death would be only inches away, or within my entirely.

I grabbed the book on the altar with my left hand, hearing the crowd gasp, and then launched myself into the air from altar, hoping to jump over the crowd.

As my feet left the cold stone, however, my stupidity registered with me. I felt faint with panic as I realized what would happen. From this height, I would not be able to land on my feet, but nor would I be able to soar far enough to get out the range of the fury of the six acolytes below.

The faint panic was replaced with a tragic sinking feeling. Thoughts of death rushed through me head. Thoughts of how long it would take the blades to react when I didn't come back. Thoughts of the what would become of the Empire without the Amulet. Thoughts of what the last moment would feel like. It was too late to avoid now, and that crushed all hope.

Gravity punished me for my defiance as I landed. My legs immediately gave way, causing various parts of my body to hit the stone tiles painfully. Light-headed with panic, I attempted to get up, maybe prove myself wrong when I was so sure I would die. Before I could fully stand, however, I felt a brutally heavy strike to my back. My breath was knocked out of me, and I knew it had been of horrible consequence to my body even when I couldn't see the damage.

"Lord Dagon will welcome your soul in Oblivion!" A voice very close behind me cried out. No! What had driven me to make such a foolish mistake? Now the prisoner and I would die alike at the hands of the Mythic Dawn.

And was that where my soul would truly go? Oblivion? Mankar Camoran had made his way to his Paradise.

My only hope was that this wasn't real. I had to believe this wasn't real.

Suddenly, I could feel my surroundings begin to fade, and my connection with the shrine begin to loosen. Every sensation began waning. There was a moment of light and fluffy bliss. My spirits were lifted as I realized it was a dream. But I wasn't yet awake either. I was somewhere in between, somehow.

The motherly voice called to me again "Allow death to take its course. It is necessary in order for us to rebuild. Only three of my followers must remain. Then we may begin anew, growing through your enlightenment."

(Fights-up-close): Bravil

I hugged the covers tighter. For some reason I felt so cold, but no matter how tightly I wrapped myself it wouldn't go away. In warm and humid Bravil, on Sun's Height itself, I felt so cold.

I looked up at the ceiling, and for the first time wondered who, if anyone really was watching me. I no longer could feel the constant embrace of Sithis and the Night Mother ever since I thought about betraying the Dark Brotherhood. I had never realized how much their presence meant to me until now.

I wanted to pray, just to sooth the pain in me so I could get some sleep, but I knew I should get used to not having them in me.

I knew I needed sleep. I knew that with all that was happening, I needed the utmost mental acuity to stay level headed, but every time I closed my eyes to enter my own little Void, it just got me thinking about the real one. Would I really meet my family there again, or was everything we were taught truly a lie? Right now, the crushing truth was that I had no family. The sanctuary was dead, I no longer directly contacted anyone.

Then my thoughts ventured into ground they had never entered before. I began thinking about my true parents. I had never seen a scale on their body, nor been told anything about them. What might they have looked like? Were they thinking about me too at this moment? Or was Goes-in-heavy right? Were they murdered trying to keep me from all this?