[A/N]: Hello everyone!
Today's my birthday, so I'm bringing you all a tiny gift to mark the end of the year! I would like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who has been following the story thus far, those who left their thoughts and those who simply read it at their own pace, the ones who wished me well and the ones who supported me by just being there. I hope this past year has treated you well, and I hope the next is even better.
Happy holidays, and thank you for reading! :)
Turdas, the 15th of Morning Star, 4E202
Didn't sleep very well tonight. Dropped like a log almost as soon as Neloth was done examining me like I was some kind of sick animal. "Checking for signs of Hermaeus Mora's permanent influence", he said. I was too tired to argue.
The nightmares were… I can't say "more vivid", they're always life-like, but this one left an impression. It wasn't much, and most of it is a blur now that I'm awake. I could've sworn I saw Apocrypha, though. And I think I heard some kind of male voice. Wish I could recall the words, but maybe it's for the best that I don't.
Varona made us breakfast and Neloth questioned me all the while. I told him and Serana most of everything I learned, and about where I have to go next. Neloth seemed confused for a moment, and then got very angry. He said he could've sworn he knew about the temple and where it was, but now that he tried to recall it, there was barely anything. He stormed off to his lab to "figure out which one of his defenses failed", as he put it.
Serana and I moved out soon after. While on the way, I asked her about the ring that Mora took from me. She said that she did notice me wearing that ring around my neck a couple of times, but never really thought to ask about it. She forgot it was even there until I pointed it out to her. I don't think that bodes well, given Mora's interest in that ring - especially since I didn't notice the ring either until Mora basically already took it away. Not to mention he considered it valuable enough to be worth a piece of vital information about Miraak…
I suppose it's a good thing he's willing to trade for it, at least. I'll ask Serana if she has any books that she already finished. Doubt they'll get me far, but at least it'll be better than showing up to Mora's doorstep empty-handed like last time.
"You are a child."
"Says the one scared of saying a 'bad word'."
Serana released a deep, exasperated sigh. The current conversation - if it could be called that - began just a few minutes ago, but she was already ready for it to be over and purged from memory. It began when the two of them first turned northward at Saya's direction, beginning their trek up a fairly steep hill. It was then that Saya had accidentally caught a glimpse of Tel Mithryn from afar, and Serana's migraine began as the great and mighty Dragonborn saw it fit to draw her companion's attention to the mushroom tower for the sole purpose of comparing it to a-
"I'm not scared," Serana said coolly. At some point, the already infantile conversation managed to turn into Saya prodding at Serana's speech habits. Much to the vampire's dislike. "I simply find it unnecessary to use such… crude language. I am perfectly able to express myself without it."
"Well, you say that," Saya hummed, leaning to try and look at Serana's face. Serana then saw the impish smirk she wore and was stricken by the immediate urge to roll her eyes. "But it sure seemed like you were struggling to find the words to describe dick tower over there."
The vampire glared at her. "Saya!" She said, her tone sounding almost scandalized. Saya only laughed at her reaction.
"See? That's what I mean." Saya straightened her back again, a smug, self-satisfied grin on her face. Serana huffed and crossed her arms. The Dragonborn saw the reaction and giggled, throwing one arm around Serana's shoulders. "You, my friend, have been deprived of the wonders of the Tamrielic tongue. But worry not!" She lifted her arm, pointing dramatically at the sky. "For I shall be here to teach you aaall about it."
"Blazes, please don't," Serana whined, her shoulders slumping.
Unfortunately for her, however, Saya was committed to the bit. She glanced at her friend, grimacing like she had just bitten into an unripe lemon. "Blazes? Holy shit, sunshine. What is this, a Waughin Jarth novel?" Serana barely had the time to groan before Saya continued, so the question was evidently rhetorical. "No no no, that simply won't do. Worry not, my dearest, you are in good hands. From now on, I shall pass on all my wisdom unto you."
"I do not doubt it," the vampire murmured, rubbing the bridge of her nose. As far as she was concerned, that was a threat. As Saya continued waxing poetic, Serana simply did her best to find something else to think about except for the various implied profanities in her every other sentence. She began looking around idly, looking at the nearby trees, the ground, the path they were following. Occasionally she'd even notice a beetle skitter away from under her foot.
"Fuck." Serana heard right next to her ear and recoiled violently. Then, regaining her composure, she glared at Saya, who was standing next to her with a shit-eating grin.
"…what was the purpose of that, exactly?" Serana asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Just making sure you were listening," Saya snickered. Serana contemplated murder - half jokingly, for now, but only half. The two of them stared at each other silently before they resumed walking. At first, Serana was relieved. She tried quite hard to tune out whatever contrived blubbering Saya was coming up with, but it was still rather pleasant not to hear it anymore. Until, of course, Saya piped up: "Tell you what, I'll stop if you say it once."
Serana half turned, raising a bemused eyebrow. "Dare I ask, say what?"
"'Fuck'," Saya replied and the vampire felt her own face contort in disgust. She turned away immediately and Saya sped up slightly, trying to catch up and look her in the eye. "Oh, come on. I'll even say it with you if it makes you feel better."
"It most certainly will not," Serana said curtly, prompting another giggle from Saya. She tried to look at anything except for the tiny elf's teasing expression, knowing full well it'll only prolong the affair. At this point, she was all but combing through the individual flakes of dust mixed into the ashes to keep herself occupied. Then gradually, her walk began to slow and Saya quickly caught up.
"Let's go, on the count of three, ready?" Saya leaned in, still snickering. "One, two…"
"Saya," Serana cut her off in a serious tone. Saya blinked, looking at the vampire's face and especially her eyes, which were wide open in shock. Serana lifted a hand and pointed somewhere ahead of them. "Look." Saya just stared at her, confused, but reluctantly followed her instruction a few seconds later and looked where she was told.
There, half-buried in the ashes, lay the skeleton of a dead dragon.
"…fuck," Saya muttered under her breath. While Serana stood there in silent shock, Saya approached the skeleton and knelt in front of it. The skull alone was big enough for her to fit in the dragon's mouth and have room to spare. She placed her hand on it and closed her eyes. "Empty," she said after a few seconds.
"Empty? What do you mean?" Serana asked, voice slightly shaking with concern. Saya stood up and dusted herself off.
"The soul is gone. Whatever killed this thing made sure to kill it for good." She turned to look at Serana, not even a hint of the earlier playfulness present in her expression anymore. "We're getting close."
With those words, Saya threw on her hood and took the lead. Serana only mustered a nervous nod before going after her.
After we found the first skeleton, it wasn't long until we started seeing them everywhere. Some of them were fully excavated, others - only partially. I counted at least ten. I think I'm beginning to get an inkling of what Mora's vision showed me.
As we kept walking, we started encountering people. None of them responded to anything short of aggression, though Serana stopped me before I could test that. They were all going in the same direction, carrying tools and food and other such. My guess is that it's more of Miraak's drones, so I figured our best bet of finding the temple would be to follow them.
Wherever we end up, I'm keeping Stormblade at the ready.
Saya had heard of Moesring Mountains once or twice before. It was a distant mountain range at the very northern edge of Morrowind that stretched to the isle of Solstheim on the other side of the Northern Sea. Some said it was the final resting place of the legendary Snow Prince of the ancient Falmer, others - that it was the last refuge of the mythical frost giants, led by the monstrous Karstaag. What she had not heard of, however, was the way the mountains curved and layered atop themselves, almost like the walls of a keep, protecting the northern half of Solstheim from the ashes of Red Mountain that compounded at their base.
And neither had she heard of the sprawling valley at the very heart of Solstheim where a black obelisk stretched far into the sky, standing right in the center of a gargantuan temple.
Saya and Serana both stared in pure disbelief when they reached the temple entrance at the top of the hill. Its colosseum-like wall stretched even taller than the monolith at the bottom. Even still, it seemed to go below ground farther than it did up, most of the structure having been buried beneath snow, ash, and dirt over countless generations. As the pair descended down a simple wooden staircase, they saw dozens of people toiling at the temple's restoration - all without a word. No command, no acknowledgment, only the deafening silence and the distant howl of the wind striking against the mountains.
That, and a single desperate voice.
"Yrsa, can you hear me? I'm here to help you, please, you must listen to me!" A blonde, armored Nord woman pleaded to one of the workers, shaking her by the shoulders. The worker in question simply stared past her with blank eyes as though she did not even see the woman in front of her, nor hear any of her words. Eventually tiring of the resistance, Yrsa jerked her shoulder out of her grasp and walked away. "Yrsa!"
"I don't think she can hear you," Saya said as she and Serana approached her, watching Yrsa walk past them with zero reaction to their presence. The other woman immediately reached for her axe, but held off on drawing it when she saw that the pair weren't holding weapons of their own.
"Who are you? What brings you to this place, why are you here?" She asked, looking between the two of them. She sounded a bit different even for a Nord, like she wasn't very used to speaking Tamrielic. After inspecting them for a few moments, she said: "You don't seem to be one of them. For your own sake, I must ask that you leave. This place is not safe."
Saya chuckled at that. Serana, meanwhile, gave a small bow in greeting. "We understand, but that is why we came here," she said. The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, and the vampire gave an awkward smile. "Are you with the Skaal? Your armor is quite remarkable."
She was quiet for a bit before she gave a tense nod. "Yes. I am Frea of the Skaal. I came here to save my people." She crossed her arms, looking off to one of the workers. A flash of sadness crossed her expression. "…or avenge them, should I fail."
"I see." Serana frowned, her tone sympathetic. "My name is Serana, and my friend is Saya." She nodded vaguely in Saya's direction. Frea leaned over and saw the tiny elf curiously inspecting the workers and scribbling something in her journal. "We have come here to investigate the powers that have been affecting the minds of the people from this island. Perhaps you could tell us something about this place?"
Frea's expression finally appeared to soften a bit at Serana's words. She sighed. "I am afraid there's not much to tell. In recent times, a malevolent force has taken control over most of the people of Solstheim. It draws them to the Stones to work on these horrible creations, it makes them forget themselves and those around them. There are very few of us unaffected by the curse. My father Storn, our shaman, protects them in the village, but his power is waning."
Serana hummed, attentively taking in everything that Frea was saying. That the Skaal and Neloth were able to somehow defend themselves from the corrupting magic was somewhat reassuring, even if this protection was not absolute. "You said this force draws them to the stones. We have encountered more of them around the island before. What are they? Are they of your people?"
The Skaal shook her head. "They are sacred to us, but we did not erect them. These stones are much older than any mortal or immortal that walks the earth." Frea led Serana towards the obelisk as she spoke. "The Skaal are keepers of the Stones. They represent the aspects of the world that the All-Maker has created, his gift to us. This is the Tree Stone, one of six on Solstheim." She frowned as she looked at the black monolith, a faint shimmer of leaf green gleaming on its surface. She looked ashamed. "If this foul magic has managed to corrupt the Tree Stone so thoroughly, then I fear for what happened with the others…"
"And what about you?" Frea flinched as Saya suddenly peeked from around the Tree Stone, looking at her with big, curious red eyes. "You talk a lot about your people being corrupted and enslaved, but you seem to be fine."
"Ah… yes, that is true," Frea conceded. She lifted her hand and touched an amulet hanging from her neck - a medallion fashioned from a silvery metal with what looked like beads of ice hanging on the thread at regular intervals. "Like I said, my father is the shaman of our village. When I told him I wished to leave and search for a way to save our people, he fashioned this amulet for me to protect my mind. It does not stifle the whispers altogether, but it makes them easier to bear." She turned to the two of them. "You two may be safe for a short while, but you risk much by coming here. This magic is unlike any I have seen. It wears away at your will, little by little. The longer you stay, the more danger you shall be in."
"Then I guess we'd better take care of it sooner rather than later." Saya put her hands on her hips, looking around. Something that struck her as odd is just how barren the temple seemed to be - aside from just a big circular platform, it seemed to have little else to offer. After a few moments, her gaze finally tripped over something. "Say, is it just me or does that bit on the floor look… off?"
Serana and Frea turned to look where she was pointing. Indeed, there was a section of the floor that seemed almost carved out separately from the rest, with clear lines where it stopped and ended.
"That is the entrance to the temple," Frea said when the pair turned to her. "When I first came here, there were masked men overseeing the construction. When midday came, another came from the temple below to call them down and they followed. The entrance closed behind them. I do not think there's a way to open it from here." There was a brief silence after that, all of them wondering how to go from here.
A couple seconds passed before Saya snapped her fingers in realization. "What if we don't need to?" The other two looked at her with puzzled expressions as Saya walked up to the Tree Stone. She stopped just short of it and then looked back at them. "Hey, Serana? Remember how I teased you earlier?"
Serana visibly deflated, sighing. If only I could forget. "Yes?"
"Well, this is your chance to get your revenge." The vampire raised a bemused eyebrow as Saya lowered her hood and smiled. "Punch me if I'm not back in a minute or two."
"...what are you-"
"Wait, do not-!"
The words of Serana and Frea became but a distant echo as Saya turned away and placed a hand on the Tree Stone. She figured that if the Stone was what the cultists were here for, then they must've had some sort of protections in place in case anyone tried to tamper with it. Once that happened, someone would be sent to investigate and the door would open to let them out. It seemed like a good plan, if a bit simple.
Saya should've known by now that if something seems simple, it's guaranteed to go wrong.
The moment Saya's hand touched the stone, she felt like she was on the verge of blacking out. She felt a heavy, viscous cold engulf her body and her senses dulled as though she was submerged underwater. Her vision darkened, fading in and out of a blurry void. She heard whispers, voices, a chant of hundreds of tongues speaking in unison. And leading them was a single deep, echoing voice that reverberated in her mind:
"Your eyes once were blinded, now through them do I see.
Your hands once were idle, now through them do I speak."
Saya recoiled, hand pulling back from the Tree Stone like it were hot coals. At once, the whispers faded and her vision cleared. She blinked. "…did it work?" Saya asked, though her tongue still felt sluggish in her own mouth. Then, there came a resounding slap right to the back of her head.
Slowly, Saya turned around and saw a very displeased Serana glaring at her. "This does not make us even," she said in an icy tone. Saya just rubbed the back of her head awkwardly, not sure how to respond. This silent back and forth continued for a few more seconds before Serana sighed, shaking her head. "We will have words about this later."
"You are mad." The pair turned to look at Frea, who was staring at Saya with an expression somewhere between shock, horror, and baffled disgust. "You must be. Did you not listen to anything I told you? What in the world possessed you to do that? Do you wish to lose your mind and-"
"Okay, okay, I got it," Saya groaned, rubbing her temples. Her head felt like it would split open if she heard another loud noise. "Save the lectures, I'm already booked for one of those." She gestured to Serana who immediately elbowed her in response, prompting another groan from Saya.
There were many things that Serana wanted to say in response, but she fortunately had a cool enough head on her shoulders to refrain. She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I suppose we should start looking for a switch of some kind. Are you certain you've looked everywhere?" She turned to Frea, who nodded.
"I am sure of it. If there were any way of entering that temple right now, I would have already done so." Serana frowned at those words, her face growing more troubled by the moment. Thinking about it logically, Serana understood that if security was their primary objective, then the temple could've been a vault in all but name - with no entry or leave unless specifically permitted. But then, what kind of entity would manage such a thing? Was there always someone inside acting as a gatekeeper? She turned towards Saya, who-
…wasn't there. Both Frea and Serana blinked, seeing that the elf that had been with them just a few seconds ago had suddenly disappeared with barely a trace, only a faint whisper hanging in the wind where she stood. Panic set in almost immediately, both of them looking around frantically when the ground beneath their feet began to rumble. Their eyes darted to the section of the floor that stuck out among the others and they watched as it slowly slid back with a tortured sound of stone scratching against stone. Serana immediately conjured an ice spike in her hand while Frea pulled out her axe, both of them readying themselves for whatever would come up from the old ruin.
And then both of them stared, utterly flabbergasted, as they saw Saya's head of red hair poke up from the opening before the Dragonborn herself stepped out, waving them over.
"There was a switch by the door," she explained. It was a bit difficult to navigate through solid stone even with Become Ethereal, but she made quick work of it once she was actually inside. Pointing towards the now open entrance, she asked in a perfectly casual voice: "You two coming?"
By now, Frea was at a complete loss, the poor woman looking back and forth between where Saya was previously and where she was now. She didn't even know where to begin asking questions or if she should just turn around and forget she saw anything. Insanity. It was total insanity. And all the while, Saya was staring at her with an almost childish look of puzzlement, as though she couldn't for the life of her understand what she was freaking out about so much. And in that single wordless moment, as Serana's mouth opened and closed without a single sound, there was only one thing she could think of:
I think I understand the appeal of cursing now.
The temple turned out to be pretty normal once we went in. If you ask me, it looked like just about any other Nordic ruin I've been to. Just a lot less undead, and a lot more people in stupid masks.
Frea didn't tell us much of anything that we haven't already heard or known in some way or another. The temple used to be a place of worship in ancient times, belonging to the dragon-appointed ruler of Solstheim. That ruler being Miraak, of course. Given his plans to betray the dragons, the temple was much larger inside than it normally would be: the place was very obviously built to house living people. There's a lot of living quarters, a couple of dining rooms, and other such. If the pattern holds up, Miraak's own living space should be somewhere in the inner sanctum.
I must say though, I expected more people. Considering that this should be "the" temple of Miraak, you would think that it would also house the bulk of his forces. We've only run into a few guards and the occasional straggler. Mind-controlled or not, I guess they're still people and not just one big hivemind.
Frea chipped in when I asked about the absentees. I thought there might be some kind of secondary base elsewhere, but from what she told me, the bulk of them were indeed here. She had been watching them for a while and noticed that twice a month, their activity would abruptly cease and they would leave the temple almost completely unattended, along with the enslaved workers. During those times, they would go down into the temple and probably hold some kind of meeting.
Frea wanted to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, so she came when the Tree Stone wouldn't have any cultists keeping an eye on it. It seemed like a good plan until we actually decided to go into the temple. Now, chances are we'll end up running into the whole horde sooner or later. Hopefully, we get the drop on them.
"Laas."
The words left Saya's lips as a whisper. She lost count of how many times she'd said them already. Every hallway, every door, every turned corner felt like the previous - stop, turn around, ask Serana if she smells anything, use Aura Whisper, scan surroundings, proceed, repeat until the next stop. Frea seemed a bit apprehensive at first, not understanding exactly what was going on, but she didn't question their methods. They had good reason to be wary.
Those reasons currently lay frozen and half-rotted somewhere in the Windhelm sewers.
Saya's vision lit up and she visibly stiffened. She felt it in advance, a little blemish on her senses that just wouldn't go away, but now it reached an intensity that was almost overwhelming. Three dozen, give or take - that's how many cultists currently sat in the chamber ahead, listening to a single muffled voice of their ringleader whose soul burned behind all others. There was something peculiar about it, something she couldn't quite understand but felt in the way her hairs stood on end. She exhaled.
"There's a priest at the back. A strong one." Saya turned to the two behind her. "It'll be bad news if he gets going. Do you think you can take him out?" Serana nodded without hesitation. Saya nodded back. "Good. Then you take front, I'll follow."
"Wait," Frea interjected and the pair looked at her. She grasped the axe on her belt and lifted it up to show them. It was a gorgeous weapon, if a bit simple. The material was some kind of blue crystalline substance that faintly glowed in the half-darkness of the dungeon. "Allow me. This axe is made of stalhrim, it is the only one of its kind to my knowledge. If it strikes the priest, it will freeze him in place. If not, it will serve as a distraction. Whichever is the outcome, you will have an easier target then."
Serana thought for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Then Frea will go in first to distract the priest and I will finish him off. Saya?" She turned to the Dragonborn, who had just finished donning Hevnoraak's mask. Her red eyes glanced at her through the tiny openings.
"You two set the stage. I'll take care of the audience."
With that ominous finish, the conversation came to an end and the plan was set in motion. Frea pushed the door and a large, cathedral-like chamber opened before them. Wooden pews lined the hall, filled with rows upon rows of robed cultists all listening to the same low, husky voice that spoke from behind a metal mask of the high priest at the far end of the chamber. Unlike the other cultists, his robes were black and entirely unarmored. As far as Frea was concerned, that would be his last mistake.
She lifted her hand and in the blink of an eye, her axe flew to the other side of the chamber. The priest lifted his head just in time to see the weapon embed itself in his shoulder and flash with snow-white magic as frost sprawled from the wound, rapidly encasing the man's body. By the time the rest of the cultists processed what happened, Serana had just sent a single ice spear straight through the man's chest. Saya watched the scene play out in full before quietly stepping around the two women, drawing a deep breath.
"Qeth, Krii."
Her words rumbled like a dull echo cascading across the stone walls. What followed was an ear-splitting sound of splintering wood, flesh and bone being crushed into pulp, and a cacophony of muffled human screams. Even Serana's sharp eyes caught only a tiny glimpse of the stone warping all around them before it sprouted into jagged spikes and massive pillars that shot outward, crushing and impaling anything and anyone in their path. In a single moment, an entire room's worth of cultists were reduced to little more than splatter on the malformed walls.
"That should be everyone," Saya said, rubbing her neck. Her rasp was ever so slightly more noticeable than before. "But keep your guard up. This won't last forever." She pointed to the stone spikes all around them. Even with the naked eye, it could be easily seen that they were gradually crumbling to dust. "Frea. Axe?"
"Huh? Oh, right. Thank you," the Skaal stammered, still rather shaken from the witnessed display. She lifted her hand and called out: "Frjoskal." There was a gleam of magic somewhere behind the clouds of dust. The next moment, Frea's axe came flying back towards her - almost nailing her square in the forehead as the Skaal just barely dodged the weapon.
"Frea!" Serana called out, immediately looking to see if she was safe. Frea was on the ground, holding a hand to her chest as her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She looked behind herself to see Frjoskal embedded into the stone wall behind her and her eyes widened in shock.
Saya, on the other hand, looked straight ahead. A quiet curse fell from her lips. As expected, there stood the dragon priest she just saw get nailed with that same axe not even a minute ago. Neither his clothes nor his body displayed any damage, even the robes she could've sworn she saw tear were as good as new. The priest lifted his gaze and looked back at Saya, humming.
"That Shout you used. Earth Spike, was it?" The priest tilted his head curiously. Saya's grip around Stormblade grew a bit tighter. She didn't like the way he looked at her, almost like a cat staring down a mouse. Her hand was starting to tremble. "Most curious. It is quite unusual to see it wielded by a mortal. I will have to report on this irregularity when you are dead."
The priest lifted the staff in his hand - a beautiful instrument crafted from some kind of dark wood she didn't recognize. A carved serpent-like creature was wrapped around the staff, its pointed scales almost reminiscent of a seeker's tendrils. The resemblance only seemed to intensify as the staff's mouth opened at the priest's direction and a burst of sickly green lightning shot out from it. Hevnoraak's ward shimmered as it absorbed the impact and she closed the distance, preparing for a swift thrust to finish off her opponent.
The priest then lifted his other arm and Saya found herself suddenly stopped in place. She looked down and saw that he had no hand under that sleeve - instead, only a collection of inky tendrils emerged in its place and wrapped around her, holding her up in the air. The priest looked at her for a couple of moments, as though thinking of what to do next, when he saw a flash of magic out of the corner of his eye and moved Saya in front of him. Serana gasped, quickly trying to release the spell but failing, and so the Dragonborn cried out in pain as a partially-formed ice spike sank into her shoulder.
"Damn…!" Frea muttered, finally dislodging her weapon from the wall and joining the fray. With a battlecry, she brought down her axe on the priest's arm and was surprised at how easily Frjoskal cleaved through the flesh. Saya dropped to the floor and quickly stepped around Frea to land another strike on the priest. He lifted his staff in haste, clumsily blocking her first blow but not the second as she took a step forward and plunged her sword into his chest before bringing it out in an upward slash.
The dragon priest stumbled back and Saya was ready to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw the giant, gaping wound splitting the upper half of his body in two. Then, she immediately felt that sigh get stuck in her throat when she realized exactly what she was seeing.
He bled black.
She thought she saw it the first time, but she figured it might've just been the lighting. There was no mistaking it now - the liquid that spilled from the wound was not blood by any stretch of the imagination. Saya stepped back on reflex when she noticed the flesh under his robes undulate and pulse, no skin or bone visible beneath it. In fact, she couldn't even see where the priest's body ended and where the robes began, as though the outside clothing was merely a shell for the formless black mass underneath.
"Ah, this is unfortunate." The dragon priest lifted his head and looked at her. There were no eyes behind the mask. "It is quite difficult to make such an accurate reconstruction, even with willing samples. I suppose I'll have to notify the others that mere replicas are insufficient." Saya watched with horrified eyes as the cut she made grew deeper on its own, the priest's shoulder melting into sludge and dripping onto the floor. With his other arm, he dropped his staff to the ground and took off his mask.
Instead of a head, the only thing staring back at her from beneath the hood was a single massive eye.
Practically on reflex, Saya lifted her hand and conjured a fireball almost point-blank. The next moment, whatever was left of the creature's body was blasted into black splatter around the walls. She conjured another. And another. By the time the fifth explosion went off, there was practically nothing left to burn and her ears were ringing from the explosions she created.
"Saya?" She felt a hand touch her shoulder and recoiled. When her eyes focused, she realized it was Serana looking back at her. "You can stop, he's already dead. Is everything alright?"
Saya blinked. When she looked ahead of herself, she saw the one-armed corpse of a single masked man scorched beyond recognition.
Serana and Frea have been giving me the look ever since we passed that communion room. Neither of them saw it, not the way I did. Frea said she just saw me get lifted up with some invisible magic and she ran in to chop off the priest's arm. He was practically dead on his feet. And then I…
I think that not leaving the Black Book with Neloth might've been a mistake.
We haven't run into a single cultist after that altar-looking room. Not a living one, anyway. There's the occasional draugr, but they're few and far between. I don't think the cultists were normally allowed here, if the amount of dust and cobwebs is anything to go by. It was almost a little unsettling how barren everything was.
Then we saw the bones. I knew Miraak had to be at least a little bit of a narcissist to found an entire cult around himself, but to use dragon bones for decoration? That's an entirely different level. Almost nothing went unused - claws, wings, spines, skulls, horns… At one point, we passed by a wall where there was a full skeleton cut in two halves and embedded into the wall like some kind of mock-relief. Something I noticed though, I don't think I've seen a single depiction of Miraak himself. I wonder what are the chances that the Dragon Cult destroyed them. I doubt they would've been happy to see their revered masters turned into benches, stools, and candleholders.
Makes for good fear tactics, though. Damn near shat myself when I saw an entire dragon suspended from the ceiling like it was swooping down on us.
Saya didn't notice the exact moment where she started paying more attention to her own thoughts than to her surroundings. They blended together, those featureless dark rooms and claustrophobic corridors. Door after door after door, she barely had to keep an eye out for anything but the occasional trap, and even those eventually stopped appearing. However, Stormblade never left her hand. Just in case. Not when she felt so strangely, uncomfortably exposed.
Saya glanced behind her shoulder. She could've sworn the shadows were darker in the corner of her vision than they were head-on. Every time, she was proven wrong. Every time, she kept looking in case she wasn't. Something was wrong here, in this temple. Neither Serana nor Frea said it outright but she could see the discomfort in the way they walked. They made conversation quite often, talking about nothing in particular if only to pass the time or to point out their observations. Saya tuned them out around the same time she started wondering if she was hearing whispers.
"Saya?" Ah, speak of the devil. Saya lifted her hand and saw Serana standing right beside her. She was looking at her expectantly, though a hint of worry did sneak into her expression after noticing Saya's thousand yard stare. "Should we stop? You don't look too well."
Saya shook her head. "'m fine," she muttered, giving no further clarification. After her last explanation about a sludge man with an eyeball for a head was received with a very concerned look and an offer to check Saya for a fever, she wasn't too keen on voicing her thoughts. Especially ones featuring little eyeballs staring holes in her back from every other corner. "Let's just get this over with." Serana's eyes lingered on her friend for a few moments before she complied, pushing another door open with a tortured creak.
Immediately, Saya's ears perked up as she noticed the familiar outline of a word wall at the far end of the chamber. It was rather large, though not quite the cathedral from before, and possessed a high enough ceiling to fit a skeletal dragon positioned to look as though it were perched atop the wall, staring the three of them down as they entered. The only other piece of furniture in the entire chamber was a single open coffin right in the middle of the room, standing on a slightly elevated platform.
"Well, this is… something," Frea muttered as she looked around. The only light source in the room were the glowing globules of magic that circled Saya and Serana, so it took her a moment to notice that the coffin was not iron but ebony. She grimaced. "How vain can a mortal be to make themselves a coffin of godsblood?"
Serana smiled sheepishly, not sure how to respond. Instead of continuing the conversation, her eyes turned to Saya. From the moment they entered the chamber, the tiny elf made a beeline for the wall in the back and had been standing there almost motionlessly, eyes completely fixed upon the hieroglyphics carved into it. Serana approached her cautiously, leaning in and asking: "Did you find something interesting?"
Saya didn't answer for a couple of seconds, mumbling something incoherent under her breath. Then, she spoke a little louder: "I'm trying to figure out a word here. It's like… Pride? Kah. No, not 'kah'… Qah? 'Armor'?" Saya lifted her eyes, giving the whole thing a scan before reading it out loud: "'This stone marks the resting place of Miraak, champion of man and kin to dragons, who wielded their voice as his weapon and their scales as armor'. Assuming I got everything right, at least."
"Champion of man?" Frea scoffed. She stood up and approached the two of them, looking at the word wall. "This must have been placed here by one of his worshippers, if not Miraak himself. Every tale my father told me painted him as an arrogant tyrant. Some even turned to the dragons as an escape from his cruelty – that is how the Guardian must have learned of his betrayal."
There was a brief bout of silence as the three of them all processed the information before Serana finally spoke up. "So… this is it, then? A dead end?" She asked nobody in particular. In the meantime, Saya knelt in front of the word wall and trailed her fingers across the writing, as though taking it in. She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out before rising to her feet.
"Tempting, but we still haven't found whatever was causing that mind-fuckery outside." Saya pointed up towards the ceiling. Then she stepped back down towards the coffin, crouching down next to it. Predictably, it had some writing on it as well: "'Forbidden knowledge is the weapon of masters. He who wields it shall find no door unopened.'"
"Is that a code of some kind?" Serana asked her, receiving only a thoughtful hum in response. Something about the way it was phrased struck Saya as odd, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Finally, an idea crossed her mind. "Say, did any of the draugr on the way here use Thu'um?" Saya lifted her eyes, glancing between Serana and Frea. The Skaal looked back at her quizzically while Serana thought for a moment before confidently shaking her head. Saya then looked back at the writing with suspicious eyes. "You two might want to step back a bit."
The two of them exchanged a glance but complied, stepping down from the raised platform as Saya cracked her fingers. She had to agree with Frea, Miraak was definitely an arrogant fuck from what little she had heard of him. But as she stared at the gilded coffin, she couldn't help but wonder: would a man so prideful he'd challenge the gods really expect to die?
"Bex," Saya said, and she couldn't contain her smile when the floor in front of her began to shift. The round platform under the coffin slowly slid back towards the word wall, fitting its semicircle shape like a glove. A few seconds passed before it fully moved away, and Saya felt an unnatural chill as a spiral staircase revealed itself, leading further down into the temple. However hard she looked, she couldn't see the bottom.
"Wait," Frea said as she approached Saya from behind. She had a serious expression on her face. "There is a darkness that lurks there, I can feel it upon me. We must go with caution if we do not wish our minds to be affected as well."
Saya paused. If she focused on it, if she forgot about her surroundings for just a tiny moment and let her mind drift, she could still feel the shivers running across her skin. The whispers tingling at the tips of her ears, trying to worm their way into her skull. Out of the corner of her vision, every shadow seemed full of prying eyes, all set upon her. She nodded.
"Hasn't worked so far. Not going to start now," she said and took the first step. With each one that followed, her words weighed heavier on her mind. The sensation was palpable by now, pressing down on her temples the way water presses down a person on the verge of drowning. She felt nauseous. Maybe it was just the stairs. She hoped she could blame the stairs.
The three of them walked in nigh-absolute silence. None of them said anything when the empty barren walls grew wider, and when statues shaped like fish heads began to protrude from therein, following them with blank eyes. Eventually, they reached a door at the very bottom of the staircase - a simple wooden door without a lock and a single handle. Saya took a breath to steady herself before she finally entered the room.
They found themselves in a somewhat cramped study with a domed ceiling. Lining the circular walls were numerous bookshelves, all of them long empty. In the center of the room remained a single stone lectern, positioned right against a statue depicting a grotesque, vaguely aquatic creature with numerous eyes. Atop the lectern lay a large tome with a featureless black cover.
"This is it," Saya said as soon as she set foot into the chamber. Her eyes lingered on the statue for a moment, dispelling that nagging little voice of paranoia in her head before she approached the book and laid a hand on the cover. It felt warm "This must be what Mora was talking about. The Black Book that Miraak used to obtain his power." She looked over at Serana, who seemed to be unsure if she should be happy or not.
Frea, on the other hand, looked positively appalled. She stomped over towards Saya and took Frjoskal off her belt before she pointed it at her. "Step away from that. Right now," she growled. Saya's eyes narrowed, her hand not moving from the book. Frea's grip tightened around her axe. "I will not repeat myself. That book… no, that thing - it is pure evil. If you do not leave it alone right now, then All-Maker be my witness…"
"You could certainly try," Saya chuckled sardonically, and then slid the pack off her shoulders. Frea's eyes widened in horror as she took out another Black Book and showed it to her. Saya rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look. You see all of that shit around the temple, the masks, and you're going to tell me you didn't expect to see one of Mora's books down here? Some guardians you Skaal are."
"Saya, please…" Serana put a hand on the Dragonborn's shoulder and then turned to Frea, who seemed two shades paler than she was before. She spoke in a gentle tone, trying to soothe the visibly agitated woman. "Frea, there is no need for this. We told you we are here to help, just like you." Serana reached out and carefully put a hand on Frea's axe, lowering it.
Frea pursed her lips, looking between the two of them with a certain bitterness in her eyes. She sighed, lowering Frjoskal. "You do not understand. The Skaal are not wary of Herma-Mora out of mere superstition. Please, think about this." She stepped towards Saya, who regarded her with complete silence. "You read that other book, have you not? Why would Herma-Mora guide you here if it is his own power that corrupted the Stones? That book must be destroyed, it is the only way!"
"Have you tried it?" Saya asked her immediately. Frea blinked. "Destroying the book. If you Skaal have been here for so long, have you tried destroying these books before? What happened then?"
Frea's brows furrowed. "…I do not know, but-"
"Then I'll tell you what happened," Saya interjected. Once again, she lifted the tome she had already read. "Serana and I found this in a tomb under Raven Rock. It hasn't been anywhere near the Earth Stone for days. Do you think anything changed?" Frea did not reply, though the change in her expression did not escape Saya's attention. "I'll tell you what happens if you destroy this book. Tear it to pieces, burn it, dump the ashes into the sea. You know what you will achieve?" Saya walked up to her, tapping her chestpiece with the book's binding. "You'll only get Mora pissed off, and this thing will just appear somewhere else. Maybe it'll take a week, maybe a year, maybe a couple of hours. And you'll be right back at square one."
Frea's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as she struggled to come up with a reply. She couldn't deny what Saya was saying. She had asked her father before why the Skaal never simply destroyed any signs of evil they discovered, why they bothered to purify them. Never once did she get a straight answer. Frea shook her head and took Saya's wrist, pushing back the hand with the Black Book in it. "He is using you. You must know that."
"I know," Saya replied jovially, stepping back to her pack and putting the tome away. "And he knows I'm using him, too. Miraak is his champion, there's no getting near him except through Mora. And if he says that this book right here will lead me to him, then I think that's a chance worth taking."
"Wait." At that point, Serana stepped in. Saya turned to her and saw the confusion in the vampire's eyes. "Are you reading the book right here? Are we not bringing it to Neloth?"
Saya raised an eyebrow. "Why? So he can sit there with an important look and act all disappointed when I don't come back a raving lunatic?" She chuckled. Then, seeing Serana's frown, Saya's expression softened. "I know that this is dangerous, sunshine. Honest. But you saw what's going on up there. And the things I saw…" She paused, then shook her head before she turned to Frea. "You said it yourself. The more time passes, the more danger we're all in. If I can read this book and learn even a little bit about how to stop all this, then I'm willing to risk it. All I ask is that you keep an eye on me. Alright?"
Serana pursed her lips, contemplating her words for a few seconds before she stepped close to Saya and hugged her. "Just… be careful, won't you?" She whispered. Saya's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected gesture, but she murmured a quiet 'Mhm' in response. Then, the two of them turned to Frea, who still looked undecided.
Frea stared at both of them with an icy look, and then let out a heavy sigh. "…do what you will," she grunted, walking around the two of them. She needed to clear her head, and whatever that door at the back was - it would make a good enough distraction. The pair watched her leave wordlessly, slamming the door behind herself.
"Well… here goes nothing, then." Saya lifted the Black Book off its pedestal. It was a visibly larger tome than the one she'd found at Bloodskal Barrow, and heavier as well. She stared at the cover with a measure of hesitation before she looked up at Serana. "I'll be back soon, okay?"
Serana nodded, trying to smile. "It's a promise."
Saya smiled back, nodded. "Okay. It's a promise." After those words, Serana took a few steps back and Saya finally opened the book, beginning to read the title: 'Waking Dreams of A Starless Sky', by Bilius Felcrex. She turned the page.
The eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see the faint insight drawn by the overwhelming question, as only the True Enquiry shapes the edge of thought. The rest is vulgar fiction, attempts to impose order on the consensus mantlings of an uncaring godhead…
[The following page is blank.]
Saya came to her senses already in Apocrypha. She stood atop a platform that looked like a six-petaled flower, drifting gently across the black ocean all around her. She stepped off, barely registering her surroundings as the disorienting passages snaked around themselves, rendering distinction between basic directions all but moot. No daedra crossed her path - or at least, none cared to engage her as she followed the trail and a gate opened in front of her.
She found herself on a small clearing just before another vast stretch of black waters. In the distance, she saw root-like patterns emerge from the water, sprouting from the submerged trunk of a titanic tree that loomed on the horizon. Its branches entwined with the very sky above her, each one subdividing into smaller and smaller protrusions that sprawled like capillaries across the abyssal backdrop of sickly green and starless black.
Then, it was as though she got snapped awake when she saw three men standing in the middle of the platform in front of her. All of them wore robes, none of them like the other in pattern or color, yet the way their fabric pulsed in unison made her stomach turn. They were speaking about something, two of the men facing roughly in her direction - at a glance, she could see that their masks were almost identical to the one Zahkriisos possessed. The last man had his back turned to her, and even looking at him made something tingle uncomfortably inside her chest.
"...the last of the pylons will come along in due time. The shaman cannot resist for much longer. Once he gives in, the rest of the village shall follow," one of the priests spoke. His mask was a cold silver, lightly shimmering with pale magic not unlike the color of his teal robes. The other priest to whom he was reporting nodded contemplatively.
"Proceed as planned, then. And what of the Earth Stone?" The man's tone was calm and authoritative, emanating a menacing aura that gave Saya goosebumps even from a distance. Still, his voice invoked a faint sense of familiarity. Where could she have heard it before?
"It holds strong, though the construction is far behind the other shrines. Once the Wind Stone is fully secured, I will reassign men to expedite the process." Saya listened to the conversation with unbridled curiosity. Pylons? The shaman? Were they talking about the Skaal village?
She was about to reach for her journal and start writing down notes when she realized the third priest was staring directly at her.
"It appears we have a visitor," he said. It was not until after his words that Saya realized she couldn't move. She didn't even feel the paralysis spell grasp her until it was already too late to try and resist. Then, as soon as it came, she felt the spell release and she fell to her knees, struggling to make her muscles listen.
"Hm?" The senior priest finally turned around, and Saya raised her eyes just in time to see him approach. She could see now that his mask was nothing like the others, or any of the ones she had seen before. It looked like a fusion of a seeker and a dragon, a flowing shape with four tusk-like tentacles protruding from the lower half of the mask while the upper half pulled back into two pairs of draconic horns, blending seamlessly with the priest's black hood. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and Saya felt like her own skin didn't feel right anymore.
That was when he drew breath and calmly said: "Gol, Hah, Dov."
Saya's vision went white. The next moment, it felt as though her brain was leaking out of her skull. Her chest seized up, unable to draw breath nor release it as though her nose was filled with molten lead. All she could feel was torturous, all-consuming pain, like a thousand needles pierced every inch of her skin and were immediately ripped out in the crudest fashion possible, pulling out her nerves and twisting them into knots just to tear them apart and make her taste and feel static. She couldn't even hear her own agonized shrieks over how loud her ears were ringing.
And then she blinked, and it was all gone in an instant. She was right back where she was, shaking eyes transfixed on the golden-masked man staring at her intently.
The suffocating silence hung for what felt like an eternity before the priest crouched in front of her. She felt nauseous when he placed a hand on her head and looked her in the eye, humming. Then, she could've sworn she heard him smile under his mask as he spoke: "Ah. I see now." He let go of her, standing up once again and turning to the silver-masked priest behind him. "Dukaan, restrain her."
Through teary eyes and blurred vision, Saya saw Dukaan nod. "As you command, my lord." He turned to her and lifted his hand, and Saya felt a sharp ache run through her legs and hands. Her arms were pulled back and to the sides as pillars of ice rose from the floor, encasing her wrists and forearms. She tried to move her legs and found them in a similar position, completely immobilized in an icy shell that froze her to the floor.
The man in the golden mask waited for the process to finish before nodding with approval. "You two are dismissed. Return to your duties. I shall see to our guest." Both of the other priests gave a small bow and turned around, each one going towards a pedestal not unlike the one she saw in the temple. She caught just a split glimpse of them opening what appeared to be Black Books before the voice beside her thundered once more: "Gol, Hah, Dov."
Again, Saya's whole being surged with pain. It felt like her mind was being crushed and pried apart at the same time, like a piece of clay that refused to give. She felt cold sweat rolling down her face, and her jaw hurt from how she clenched her teeth. Then, just like last time, the pain suddenly subsided and she released a breath she was involuntarily holding, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
"Now, what do we have here?" Saya lifted her head and saw the man pacing around her, his hands behind his back. He seemed fascinated, perhaps even amused at her reaction. Once again, he stopped to look into her eyes, a low chuckle escaping his mouth. "No effect, but not without reaction either. Most curious."
Saya's head was spinning as she struggled to focus her vision. "I'm going to go out on a limb," she wheezed, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, "and guess that you're Miraak?"
Miraak seemed amused at the comment, straightening his back once again. "And you are Hermaeus Mora's newest pet," he answered, not without a hint of venom in his words. She took it as a 'yes'. "The Last Dragonborn. Quite the hefty title, is it not? Gol, Hah, Dov."
Once again, Saya struggled against her restraints as pain surged within her. It was a bit like blacking out, only instead of forgetfulness it was a flash of burning agony that threatened to crack her skull open like a chestnut. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound hurt," she muttered, and Miraak allowed himself another chuckle.
"Oh, no, not in the slightest." He stepped back, walking counter-clockwise around her. He was inspecting her with a curious eye, no doubt taking mental notes as he did. Saya knew she would, if she were in his place. "I entertained no illusions of unwavering loyalty between Hermaeus Mora and myself - he's a fickle master, you know. It was only a matter of time until one of us outlived his usefulness to the other."
Saya only half-listened to Miraak as he spoke. Internally, she was all but screaming at herself not to panic, which unfortunately only made her want to panic more. As he circled around her, she noticed the pedestals that the others used - though the priests themselves were gone, their books seemed to have remained. Her mind drifted to her backpack. If she could just slip out of these bindings, could she read her own Black Book and escape?
"You took your time answering my invitation. I had almost hoped to hear of Alduin's death by the time you arrived." She heard him say from behind her, though she didn't have it in her to turn her head that far. For better or worse, she didn't have to - Miraak himself pulled her head back, looking into her eyes once more. "I am disappointed. Gol, Hah, Dov." He released her just as her body contorted again, trying to fight off the debilitating sensation that his voice sent through her. "I suppose I shall have to deal with him myself, once I am returned."
"You're welcome to him," Saya spat to the side, trying not to vomit. Whatever Shout he was using, she felt in her bones that it was bad news. She was banking on Become Ethereal earlier, but now she got the feeling that even that might not be enough. Whirlwind Sprint, maybe? "You know, a little octopus told me he was yours to deal with in the first place."
Miraak spared her an amused glance. "True enough. I suppose both of us know a thing or two about turning our backs on destiny." He finally circled back around her, and Saya felt her blood run cold when she realized he was holding her Black Book in his hand. Miraak smirked under his mask at her reaction. "It played in your favor, you know. My men would have had much less trouble finding you had you simply answered the Greybeards' summons a mere day or two earlier. It would have spared me the trouble of having to direct them to Ustengrav."
Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Saya laughed nervously, trying not to let her panic show as her thoughts jumbled in her head. Once again, her eyes darted to the lecterns behind Miraak. All else failed, maybe she could rush to one of those and hide somewhere in Apocrypha? "My bad," she said, turning to Miraak. "I'll try to make it easier to assassinate me next time, then."
"Assassinate?" Miraak paused for a moment, looking at her quizzically before he erupted into laughter. He had a deep, off-putting laugh, the kind that made your hairs stand on end with the way it reverberated inside your ears. "Four men is hardly an assassination. I like to think of it more as… a cordial greeting. From one Dragonborn to another. Gol, Hah, Dov."
Saya's throat was starting to grow hoarse from her own screams. It was difficult enough to think as it was, but every time she heard this Shout was like a pair of metal tongs getting stuck in her brain, scrambling it like eggs in a cracked bowl. She coughed, tasting bile on her tongue. Frankly, it was a miracle she hadn't thrown up yet. "Bit late for the kinship card, don't you think?" She looked up at him, a weary smirk on her face. "But you do have a point there."
Miraak stopped in his tracks a few steps away from her, regarding her with a cold stare. It was the kind of look one would give a misbehaving dog, mirth mixed with a slight tinge of irritation. He was starting to tire of her responses and it showed - but that was exactly what she wanted. If she could just break his routine for a couple of seconds, buy herself an extra moment to catch her breath, that would be all she needed. Or so she hoped, at least.
"You were right to compare us, I'll give you that. You know why?" She met his gaze, looking at him with tired eyes. She had to do something to throw him off his game, to distract him, to strike a nerve. "It's because for all your bravado, you're still just as much of a mess as I am. Sure, I don't have a cult's worth of lackeys to play god with, but that's really all the difference there is, isn't it?"
Miraak's grip around the Black Book grew just a little tighter.
"You got told you're special one day and your world got flipped ass over tit, so you ran. And where I turned around, you kept running, and now look where that got you. A puppet theater and the prettiest cage under the sun."
He turned around and took a step towards her.
"So, how's that leash feel? You like your collar?"
He stopped in front of her, drawing a breath.
"Cause if I were you, I'm not sure I wuld."
Miraak flinched at her words. As soon as the breath left her lips, she slipped out of her icy restraints and reappeared behind him, running at full sprint towards the nearest pedestal. Her hand had almost touched the book's cover when she suddenly felt something cold and slippery wrap around her neck and lift her off the ground. She tried desperately to grab onto it kicking and grunting as the breath left her lungs when she got thrown to the floor and landed with all the grace of a rag doll.
When her eyes focused, she caught only the faintest glimpse of a black tendril retract into the shape of a claw-like sword Miraak was holding in his hand. He stomped over to her, planting his hand on the back of her head and slamming her face-first into the floor. She didn't even have the energy to grunt from the pain, let alone to fight back when Miraak grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head.
"I will admit, when I first saw you, it didn't even cross my mind that you could have been Dragonborn. I changed my mind." Miraak's tone of voice was perfectly even, the same cold calmness as he spoke with when she was writhing in pain moments ago. Only a hint of annoyance slipped through his speech when he noticed Saya's unfocused eyes, tittering on the verge of unconsciousness. "Your arrogance suits them perfectly. Gol, Hah, Dov."
Immediately, her eyes shot open. Another shrill scream broke from her aching throat as she struggled and thrashed against his hold. He barely flinched even as she hit him, clawing at his arm and at her own temples to make the pain stop. Miraak was completely unfazed, continuing to speak as he watched her with an uncaring gaze.
"Between you and them, the only difference is age. That age gives them the wisdom to know their place." He let go of her, letting her drop limply to the floor. He watched as she struggled to lift herself up, only barely picking her own body up off the ground. Then, a dull ache came from the side as he kicked her and she rolled over onto her back. She drew a single shaky breath before he planted his boot down square in the middle of her chest, leaning down to look her in the eye.
"I have been stuck here for five thousand years, with all the time and knowledge in the world at my fingertips. You are but a stumbling child, parroting words it is barely able to comprehend. You cannot even conceive of the power I wield." As he spoke, Saya felt her ribs crack under his weight. She had no strength in her hands to fight him, no breath in her lungs to answer. Her vision was staring to blacken, her heartbeat filling her ears.
And then, Miraak lifted his foot and Saya instinctively drew a sharp breath before erupting into a violent cough. He watched her for a few seconds before he knelt down in front of her and spoke.
"However, there is one thing that surprised me. That peculiar immunity of yours… it is unprecedented. It could become a problem if not taken care of. Fortunately, I am a patient man." Saya felt his hand touch her chin, lifting it up to make her look him in the eye. It was only then that she noticed something peculiar about them. "Now, let us see if your will or your mind breaks first."
His eyes were completely black.
"Gol. Hah. Dov."