The next day dawned bright and clear. I was one of the first to rise. After my quick meal of bread and cheese, I loaded myself up with my equipment – I took a set of poisons and lockpicks I'd hidden in one of the chest's bottoms and a short-sword on a whim – and set out. I decided to go cross country, as the roads would have taken me back to the Imperial City and through Skingrad before reaching Kvatch. It would be a bit of a hard trek because of it, but Shadowmere was well rested and it would cut a day and a half off my travel. I left Chorrol in high spirits.

The way was mostly uneventful. The residents of Hackdirt were even more unpleasant than usual, I fended off a trio of bandits near Fort Dirich, and it rained unceasingly from the noon hour until the fourth, but other than that it was mostly silence and my thoughts. Fortunately, by the time I hit the road just below the switchback trail that lead up to Kvatch that evening my equipment and I had dried out, but it was a dark evening with heavy clouds and the rumble of thunder not far off, and I didn't hold out much hope for staying dry for much longer. As I approached the city, I noticed what looked like smoke rising from where the city should have been (I could not see it for the trees), and frowned. It could have been just low-lying cloud, but…

I rounded a corner in the switchback trail, and the sight of a refugee camp met my eyes. A few tents were set up, and people rushed anxiously to and fro or sat morosely staring at the ground, shock and grief on their faces. I dismounted and stared, frowning, as I approached on foot, Shadowmere behind me. What in Oblivion has happened here?

"Come on! Run while there's still time!" An Altmer male appeared among the refugees, pulling on clothing and making a general ruckus. "The Guard still holds the road, but it's only a matter of time before they're overwhelmed!" The people around him didn't seem to take notice.

"What's going on?" I said as I approached. "What's happened here?"

The Altmer stared at me with wide eyes, his mouth falling a little agape.

"Gods' blood," he said. "You don't know, do you? Daedra overran Kvatch last night! There were glowing portals outside the walls! Gates to Oblivion itself!" His voice, which had been steadily rising in volume and terror, suddenly dropped. His eyes flitted about as if he could still see whatever nightmare was tormenting him. "There was a huge creature, something out of a nightmare… came right over the walls blasting fire. They swarmed around it, killing…" He trailed off, covering his face with golden hands as a choked sob escaped him. Daedra? Oblivion gates? What in all the…?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, start over again. Are you saying daedra attacked the city?" In a terrifying way, it made sense. Close shut the jaws of Oblivion. If this was the threat Emperor Uriel had foreseen…

"Go and see for yourself," the Altmer spat, lifting his head from his hands. "Kvatch is a smoking ruin! We're all that's left, do you understand me? Everyone else is dead!" That couldn't be. Martin was supposed to be here. If he wasn't with the refugees…

I looked the Altmer hard in the eye.

"If you escaped there could be others," I said. "How did you do it?" He seemed to deflate right before me.

"It was… It was Savlian Matius. Some of the other guards helped some of us escape. They cut their way out, right through the city gates. Savlian says they can hold the road. No, no… I don't believe him." He shook his head viciously to add to his statement. "Nothing can stop them. If you'd seen it, you'd know…" He glanced back over his shoulder, trembling. His voice began to rise in volume again. "I'm getting out of here before it's too late! They'll be here any minute, I'm telling you. Run while you still can!" He slipped around me then, still raving to the air.

"Stick to the roads!" I shouted after him, but I wasn't sure if he heard me. I could travel the back country without much worry, but I also had the skills to defend myself. Poor sod. Turning back to the encampment, I made my way in. I hadn't gone far when a voice stopped me.

"You're going the wrong way, Wood Elf."

I paused in my step, and looked to my right to see a weary, middle-aged Redguard staring solemnly at me.

"You don't want to go that way," he said, noting my direction. "There's nothing left, just like Hirtel said."

"Hirtel's the Altmer?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't matter. I need to find somebody."

The Redguard sighed.

"Right now, we all need to find somebody," he said. He gestured at the camp. "Late at night, while we were all asleep, a door to Oblivion opened. Daedra came out and set fire to the town. Many people died, but some got out alive. As far as I know, this is everyone. It's a pretty pathetic slice of what used to be Kvatch's population."

"Did an Imperial named Martin make it out with you?" I asked. The Redguard frowned.

"If you mean the priest," he answered slowly, "I don't think he made it out of the city. Very few of us did." Unease crept into my heart at his words, but I forced it down and ignored it. "Savlian Matius may know more. He's in charge of the city guard that's defending the camp."

I nodded.

"Where can I find him?"

"He'll be at the barricade at the top of the road. He's still trying to hold what's left of the Guard together." I didn't like that statement. My skills often outmatched those who served in the city guard, but that did not mean they were helpless civilians by any means. To hear that it was down to remnants...

"Thank you," I said, and I stepped away. As I moved through the tiny tents I kept an eye out for any potential Martins just in case the Redguard was wrong, but there wasn't a single Imperial male of the appropriate age in the entire camp. I pressed onward.

Although a storm had been brewing when I arrived, as I climbed up from the camp, I began to realize that it wasn't a storm of any natural make. Lightning danced with sudden frequency across the dark, unnatural red sky, and thunder rumbled in its wake. I tried not to think about implications of such a sky. It's possible the Dragonfires protected us from a threat only the emperor could perceive. As I neared the top of the trail and the city, the sound of steel and magicka filled the air, and I hastened forward, drawing my bow. I rounded the last corner, and was met with a scene I'd never before imagined in my wildest nightmares.

A gate to Oblivion, a great, seething, fiery portal to the immortal world, waited beyond the wooden barricade the Guard had erected, and from its hungry maw a wave of daedra poured. I stared, overwhelmed by the sheer terrifying awesomeness of it all. The nearest soldier, bareheaded but for a bandana wound about his forehead, saw me.

"Stand back, civilian! This is no place for you," he shouted, breaking me from my enthrallment. "Get back to the encampment at once!" He didn't have a chance to say more, as he was abruptly engaged by a hissing, spitting creature that vaulted over the barricade that had been put up. I drew and arrow and buried it in the creature's neck, and then into the chest of the next one about to vault over. The soldier turned and slew another one about to flank another of the guard, and then bashed in the face of yet another about to mount the barricade. I turned my bow to those beyond the barricade, and slew two more before they reached him. The other soldiers swarmed around a small, hunched, scaly-hided creature with a bony frill covering its neck beyond the barricade. It charged a soldier and threw him six feet with a head butt before it was overwhelmed. One of the soldiers went to the downed one and helped him rise and limp back behind the barricade. The others filed back, a pair of them guarding their retreat, and resumed their defensive positions. I jogged over.

"What happened here?" I shouted as I approached. The bareheaded soldier turned and scowled at me.

"We lost the damned city, that's what happened!" he answered. The disgust and rage in his voice was clearly audible, although it didn't seem to be directed at anyone or anything in particular. "It was too much, too fast," he said, looking over at the city. "We were overwhelmed – couldn't even get everyone out. There are still people trapped in there. Some made it into the Chapel, but others were just run down in the streets. The Count and his men are still holed up in the castle, and now we can't even get back into the city to help them with that damned Oblivion gate blocking the way!" He threw his arm out at the Oblivion gate, snorting in disgust.

"So what's your plan?" I asked, keeping an eye on the fiery Oblivion gate. I didn't like fire that wasn't controlled by me. Not since... well, it didn't matter. It was in my way, and damned if I was going to let it stop me from getting to Martin, should he still be alive in the city. As immodest as I liked to act about my martial skills, I didn't think I could handle whatever was in the city and what was likely to come out of the Oblivion gate. A look of fierce determination grew on the soldier's face at my question.

"Our plan? To do the only thing we can do," he replied. "We'll try to hold our ground, that's what. If we can't hold this barricade, those beasts could march right down and overrun the encampment. I have to try and protect the few civilians that are left. It's all I can do now."

I nodded in grim approval.

"I'm looking for a man named Savlian Matius," I told him. "Do you know where he is?"

He drew himself up.

"I am Savlian Matius. What do you want?"

"I need to know if an Imperial named Martin escaped the city." I didn't think it likely, but I had to check. He frowned.

"Martin? You mean the priest? Last I saw him, he was leading a group towards the Chapel of Akatosh. If he's lucky, he's trapped there with the rest of them, safe for the moment at least. If he's not…" He trailed off, and I tried not to think about the alternative. Tamriel, not just Kvatch, was in for the fight of its life if he was dead.

"Scamps!" an Altmer guard shouted, alerting us, and we turned to see another wave of the hissing daedra appear from out of the gate.

It was a quick battle, fortunately. The scamps were swift, but didn't have the hardiness of the atronochs and dremora I'd seen conjurors summon before. We stood, catching our breath, after we defeated the wave, watching the gate.

"They're probably just sending scamps to keep us occupied while they comb the city for survivors," said the Altmer who'd shouted out the attack. He clutched a wounded arm, and I motioned him to me, reaching to place a hand on the wound and channel through it what healing magicka I knew. "They know we're too few to need anything more."

"Don't talk like that, Merandil," Savlian replied. He sheathed his sword and turned to me. "And you," he said to me. "You'd best get back to the encampment. There's no telling when more of them will come out of that infernal Oblivion gate."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't want my help?" I asked dryly. His eyes widened in surprise. The incredulity on his face was almost amusing.

"You want to help? You're kidding, right?"

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly, and gave Merandil the good-to-go, retrieving my hand.

"I have to find the priest," I said. "I may be good with a bow, but taking on the whole of Oblivion seems just a touch beyond my abilities." I flashed smile and then sobered. "Those daedra will keep pouring out if the Gate remains open, and I can't chance his death to a threat I can destroy. If you say closing the Gate is possible, then that's what I will do." I spoke bravely, but it would have been a lie to say that part of me wasn't terrified at the thought of entering the conflagration that was the Oblivion gate. Savlian Matius was quite for a moment, thinking. Presently he met my gaze.

"If you're serious, maybe I can put you to use," he said. "But this is most likely a one way trip. Are you sure?"

I nodded.

"I'll do whatever I can," I assured him. He looked thoughtful again.

"I don't know how to close the Gate," he said. "But it must be possible because the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial siege." He gestured at the ground beyond the barricade with a mailed hand. "You can see the marks on the ground where they were, with the Great Gate right in the middle. I sent men into the Gate to see if they could find a way to shut it – they haven't come back. If you can get in there, find out what happened to them. If they're alive, help them finish the job. If not, see what you can do on your own. The best I can say is 'good luck'. If you make it back alive, we'll be waiting for you." I nodded again, letting my breath out through my nose in a sigh as I gave myself a quick, motivational, internal speech before turning to face the Oblivion gate. Behind me, I heard Savlian shift his weight. "It's a brave thing you're doing," he said quietly, and I glanced back over my shoulder with a wry smile.

"Just don't die before I get back," I said, and he responded with a grim smile. I faced the Oblivion Gate once more, and with slow steps I approached it, caution and wariness taut in my every limb. My bow was ready in my hand. As I neared, the heat of the flames washed over my face, and I unwilling flinched away from the fiery fingers that snapped and reached for me. Fire was the one thing I could never train myself to brave fearlessly. With a calming breath, I inched forward my trembling fingers and touched the roiling, red surface, snatching them back immediately. After ascertaining that the tips were indeed unburnt and that pain was not forthcoming, I reached forward again, letting my hand play for a moment in the red tongues of flame. When nothing I happened, I took a breath and I stepped through before I could have second thoughts. Fire flashed by my eyes, a roaring filled my ears, and a rushing feeling enveloped me. I felt like I was crossing miles in seconds. Then, suddenly, the ground was solid, and I almost sprawled forward on my face with the stillness of it. Catching myself, I looked around, disoriented, and swallowed uncomfortably.

It was hot. The air was sweltering, and if rocks could sweat I was sure that the reddish sentinels surrounding me would have been doing so. Beneath my feet a cracked, stone path lead a winding road around a corner hidden by a rock wall, and, ahead of me, in the distance, two tall, horned towers loomed against the red sky. There were human skulls spiked on slim poles several yards in front of me, and between them, a blackened, twisted corpse of some unrecognizable soldier. It reminded me of a body the Dark Brotherhood had left behind in an old, abandoned farmhouse. I banished the thought.

I had gone only a few steps when the sound of battle reached my ears, and, as I hastened around the corner, a lone soldier came into view, besieged by a pair of scamps. I rushed down to him, nocking an arrow as I did so. He mustn't have realized I was there at first, for he kept moving in my line of sight, but after the first scamp fell to my arrow he looked up, noted me, and refrained from getting in my way. Another scamp joined the first two after a moment, but was swiftly defeated. I jogged up to the soldier after all were dead.

"Thank the Nine!" he said as I neared. "I never thought I'd see another friendly face." Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, his hair was matted with blood and dirt, and his eyes flicked around, wide and unable to settle on any one spot for any reasonable period. He was utterly terrified, and looked like he had been so for some time. "The others," he continued, desperate and hopeless. "Taken… they were taken to the tower!"

"Calm down, guardsman," I said, putting up my bow and taking him by the shoulders. I forced him to look into my eyes, which was a feat, seeing as I was two hand spans shorter than he. "It's all right. What's going on?" He swallowed, and appraised the danger over each of my shoulders before answering.

"Captain Matius sent us in to try and close the gate. We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off. I managed to escape, but the others are strewn across that bridge." I remembered the blackened corpse and grimaced. "They took Menien off to the big tower. You've got to save him! I'm getting out of here!" Even through his armour, I felt him tense under my hands, and he seemed to lean toward the Oblivion gate leading to our world. If I pushed him, this man would break, I was sure. His sanity might have already been lost to the horrors of the daedric realm as it was.

"Fine," I said, withdrawing my hands. "Captain Matius needs your help."

Hope and disbelief coloured the soldier's expression.

"The Captain is still holding the barricade? I figured I was the last one alive." The relief that flooded through his face was palpable. A shaky, small smile even appeared on his lips. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll try to get out of here and let the Captain know what's going on." I nodded, and he sheathed his blade, moving past me with almost fanatical exuberance at his new-found half-freedom. I watched him go, stepping a little down the path to ensure I saw him exit. It would have been unbearably tragic if one the scamps got him now. He deserved the respite, or at least the opportunity to die in his own realm of existence. Poor sod.

As I turned back to the realm before me and readied my bow, I thought briefly on the idea of dying in my own country, in my own realm. I supposed technically I was from Valenwood, but so much of my life had been spent in Cyrodiil that it was more accurate to call me a citizen of that province than the other. Would I mind dying outside of Valenwood? Outside of Cyrodiil? A little maybe, but certainly much less than that soldier. I didn't have a family, didn't have a home, unless you counted the empty hall I rarely frequented or the ownerless beds present in every guildhall, and that was that. I pressed deeper into Oblivion.

I saw many daedra as I passed through the realm: scamps, the hunched creatures that had thrown the soldier several feet back at the gate, a large, two-legged, lumbering beast that looked somewhat like the alligators that sometimes swam in the waters near Leyawiin, and even a woman-like creature whose hips and legs were replaced by a bloated, black spider's body. I had no names for most of these daedra, but I avoided them surreptitiously, taking great pains to evade their detection. I didn't know their capabilities, but I had seen before what conjurers could summon out of Oblivion. Most of it could kill me if it took me by surprise. Yet despite this, I found myself slowly growing accustomed to the realm. After one got used to the smothering heat, the boiling, cracked stones, the thundering, red sky and the sentient plants, Oblivion wasn't really that bad of a place. The threat of the daedra – perhaps because they were confident no outsider would breach their defences – was present but avoidable, and, although the bodies strung up everywhere were gruesome, they couldn't hurt you. I had been trained to accept danger without qualm, to move within shadows and strike from secrecy, and I supposed my childhood only added to my conditioning. One wasn't raised in the Dark Brotherhood without carrying away some sort of scar or psychological defence against horrors and death.

I was close to the first tower, the door to it being just across a short expanse of open space.. I peered out from behind the rock where I was resting, searching for enemies and wishing I had water to ease my parched throat. Satisfied that the way was clear, I clutched my bow tighter and hoisted myself over the rock. I landed silently, and dashed across the space. Nothing attacked me. I pressed a hand against the red, daedric symbol on the door, and, despite the door's heavy look, it opened easily under my hand.

Inside, the tower was dark. The only source of light came from the fiery pillar that swirled about itself in the middle of the room. It looked to be made of the same material as the surface of the Oblivion Gate, and I wondered briefly if there was some connection there. Calling upon my magicka, I cast the simple detect life spell I knew and was rewarded by the purple glow of two scamps. As silently as I had ever done, I drew my bow and quickly fired two arrows in succession, killing them both with one strike each. After another quick glance about the room and ascertaining that it was empty, I made my way to the small, stone door to my left. I was about to exit when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I turned just in time to see lightning flash out of the darkness. It hit me in the chest and threw me against the door, arcing between my limbs and throughout my body as I screamed, muscles spasming. The magicka ran its course, and I collapsed to the ground, gathering myself just in time to throw myself to the side as a dremora appeared out of the gloom of the tower, crying a daedric battle cry and his mace descending to strike. It hit the ground to close for comfort, and I had to roll out of the way as he made a quick swing at my prone form. I came up on my knees, brought my bow up, drew an arrow, and shot the dremora in the stomach. It punched through his armour and he staggered from the force of it. I shot him in the throat while he recovered. He swayed, and then crumpled to the ground with a gurgle. I let out a breath and stood, wincing at the lingering pain from the dremora's spell, before moving to him and recovering my arrows. My swordsmanship might be pathetic, but Modryn had never criticized my talent for archery.

The room beyond the stone door led into a hallway that sloped up to the next level of the tower. There was a scamp and another dremora there, but, with the deep shadows prevalent in the tower, I was able to sneak by them with ease. The shock spell from my previous fight still ached in my bones. I didn't feel like trying to force my way through the tower. Beyond them was a door that led me to a spiralling walkway that circled the fiery column I'd seen on the first floor. My detect life spell revealed several creatures on the ramps above me, and I swallowed back my apprehension as I watched their purple forms slink across the floors. I was getting tired and beginning to understand why the soldier I'd met was such a wreck. There was no rest in Oblivion, no cessation of danger. Even I was more at home in the most treacherous of places in Tamriel. I climbed the walkway as high as it would take me, and entered the only door available.

It was another sloped hallway. The door at the end of it was locked. I tried to open it with one of my lockpicks, but the little tool turned to cinders as I inserted it into the lock and burnt my fingertips. I straightened, searching for another route, and found the only option to be a door situated on the other side of the room. It led outside, across a narrow, stone bridge ornamented by the red tipped spikes I saw everywhere in the realm. Through the entrance on the opposite side I entered into a smaller tower with the same walkway that curved around the edge of the building as I had seen in the first. I hiked up to the top, wary for danger, and was startled to hear a distinctly human voice.

"Hey, over here! In the cage! Over here!" I turned to see a bare-chested man in cruel looking, blood spattered cage. His knuckles were white against the bars. "Quickly, quickly! There's no time!" he said frantically as I approached. I began to search for a way to free him. "You must get to the top of the large tower," he told me. "The Sigil Keep, they call it. That's what keeps the Oblivion Gate open! Find the Sigil Stone. Remove it, and the Gate will close! Hurry! The Keeper has the key – you must get the key!" I frowned as he spoke, unable to find any way to open the bars.

"Where is this keeper?" I asked, but I didn't need to.

"You should not be here, mortal," a daedric voice rasped at me. I whirled around to face the owner, a particularly large and unpleasant dremora equipped with a heavy mace and armour. I reached for my sword; my bow would do little for me in these close quarters. "Your blood is forfeit," he growled as I unsheathed it. "Your flesh, mine!"

"Look out!" the prisoner cried, and then the dremora was upon me. Our weapons crashed in a clang of steel. I struggled to fend off his superior weight and strength, but he was too powerful, and I ended up pinned against the cage, the life slowly crushing out of me. I tried to gasp out a few words to the prisoner – Menien, the man the first soldier had mentioned, I realized as stars burst before my eyes – but most of it was cut off as the dremora grinned and threw his weight against me. I think I heard something crack. I gasped. Menien must have heard what little I said, however, for he reached through the bars and grabbed my dagger, then sunk it deep into the unprotected flesh of the dremora's knee. The dremora reeled back, and, with a strength I thought had long failed me, I threw myself against him and pushed him over the edge of the railing. He gave a gurgling cry and flailed, catching me in the arm with his mace, and then tumbled down the centre of the tower, landing on the spiked platform several floors down with a sickening, squelching crunch. I hissed in pain and turned away, limping over to Menien.

The man was in a bad state. I collapsed by his cage, my pain ridden vision focusing on the shallow cut across the inside of three of his fingers. My dagger had been poisoned, as it often was. He must have cut himself with it when the dremora jerked back, and the antidote I usually carried had been destroyed in one of my previous battles. He met my eyes, and gave the faint laugh of one who can't quite believe he's dying.

"Look at me," I gasped, reaching through the bars to grab his arm. "Don't look around, look at me."

"Find the Sigil Stone," he murmured slowly through blueing lips, his gaze on mine. "If you take it they can't attack Kvatch anymore. Promise me." His eyes widened as he spoke – with pain or passion I could not tell. "Promise me!"

"I promise," I said as I watched the life drain from his face. He sighed, grimaced, and then lied still. Slowly I lifted my hand from his arm, and slowly I closed the unseeing eyes. I was still for a moment as the solemnity of the moment overtook me, and then I put my back to the cage with a groan of pain and set about healing my injuries. When that was finished, I rose and headed back down the ramp. I didn't look back at the body.