I've really got to up and finish this stupid thing. Most of this chapter has just been sitting on my computer while I did other things, so I finally completed it. I'm thinking two maybe three more chapters. No more than and we'll call this prequel done. Onward and upward.

"I see you are admiring my grandfather's fine manor."

Sharah stood up abruptly from where she'd been leaning. She hadn't really been admiring the place. More wondering if anyone was living there. The stonework and masonry were sound, but the rest of the building looked a little destitute. "No, I was just looking—"

"It's for sale, you know," the nobleman said quickly. "If you're in the market for a home, I can promise you'd find no better lodging here in Anvil than Benirus manor."

Sharah backed off a little. "Oh, no. I'm sure I couldn't possibly afford a place like this." It was enormous, for one. A large garden out front—lifeless from neglect—, a couple of wings, there was a glass roofed side that looked like some kind of conservatory. She couldn't even see most of the back of the place from here. And that wasn't even taking into account the craftsmanship of the building and whatever was inside. "No, I definitely couldn't afford this sort of place. I don't think I even have…" How much had she stored in her Anvil cache? "…more than five thousand gold within reach anyway."

The nobleman exclaimed, "What a coincidence! That is precisely the amount I was asking for the manor."

"Look, I really don't think—"

He interrupted quickly, "—And that includes the grounds and everything inside. I understand all of the furniture and art is still packed away within. So, what do you say? Would you like to own this most fine and coveted property here in the most beautiful city in the province?"

Damn, it sounded like the deal of a lifetime. But he was pushing it so hard…

Sharah crossed her arms. "What's wrong with it?"

His eyes widened in panic. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong with it. Why would you think there was anything wrong with it? It's a fine property. Just fine. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Sharah didn't budge, his attitude giving her reason to hold firm. "There is no way you would really sell a place like this for five thousand. You could easily get ten times that. So there has to be something wrong with it."

The nobleman hurried to explain. "Well, the place hasn't been used for some time and will require some upkeep. And my family has largely moved to the Imperial City and has no use for the place. Really, we'd just like to have it off our hands. So, what do you say? For such a modest sum you really couldn't find a better deal."

Sharah looked up at the manor. Trying to find a reason to refuse, but also feeling the sudden appeal of having a real house in her possession. The Waterfront shack did not count. And this was more than she ever thought she'd have in her life. She'd come across few interesting things for sale before that she'd hesitated to buy only to come back weeks, even days later and found gone. But he was really pushing the sale.

"I want to see the inside." He looked ready to resist, but Sharah insisted. "I won't buy the place without seeing the inside. For all I know you're selling me a place with giant holes in the floor. I want to see the inside."

He hesitated just a little too long for her liking, but ultimately nodded and led her through the outside gate and up to the porch. Sara kept an eye out as they walked. The gardens were pretty much dead but she'd seen that from the street. Up closer she also saw that most or all of the windows were broken and the shutters were either damaged or missing entirely. He fumbled with the keys before opening the front door for her.

Sharah walked in and was surprised. Oh, it was pretty bad. Dusty, musty, devoid of much living material, very little furniture and the stuff that was there was either broken or covered by cloths. But it was solid. The floors and walls hadn't decayed. There wasn't any sign of animal habitation. And she couldn't smell any dampness, which meant there probably wasn't any mold. From what she could tell, the main difficulty would be cleaning the place up. And filling it. Even the entrance hall looked very empty without any furniture or anything on the walls or floors.

The noble hung back by the door while Sharah explored inside. And the more Sharah wandered the manor, the more she suspected the reason for the low price. She wasn't buying manor so much as the dusky husk of a manor. It was going to take her a while to make this place livable. And a good amount of her own money, too. The place lacked much of anything in the way of furniture. A table here, a cabinet there. She'd have to raid many more ruins to furnish a place this size.

That was until Sharah got down into the basement. It was extensive and the whole space was stacked floor to ceiling with furniture that the upstairs lacked. And she was back to wondering about the low price. Without the noble around, Sharah chanced opening a couple of the crates that were stacked against the wall: silver candlesticks and dishware. There were some carefully stored paintings in one, fine tapestries in another, rugs, wall hangings, antiques. Even a fraction of this stuff could sell for five thousand. And he was offering it all up with the house. It looked like the deal of a lifetime. So what was the catch? Her suspicion was up. There had to be a catch.

Sharah returned to the door, from which the noble hadn't budged. He was eyeing the inside uneasily but slapped on an eager face when he saw her. "So what do you think? Ready to buy?"

Sharah walked up to him and crossed her arms. "Alright, what's wrong with it?"

His eyes widened and he said hurriedly, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"You're selling this manor dirt cheap. Why?"

The nobleman took a couple steps away from the doorway, straightening his coat. "As I mentioned, my family is moving from the area and this is really our only loose end. I'm anxious to have it off my hands. So, do you wish to purchase the manor? I do have other business to see to."

Sharah looked back into the manor thoughtfully. This was the deal of a lifetime. Good enough that it was too good. There had to be something wrong with it. It was out of use, but the place was solid and had a lot of potential. And for this price, Sharah believed the effort to restore everything would be worthwhile. And even if there was a problem with it, whatever the defect was, she could probably handle it. Maybe the snooty nobles would lift their noses at it, but Sharah was a working woman. She could and would put in the effort to make this place a home. And what a home it would be.

She looked over at the noble. "I'll take it."

XXX

"BENIRUS!" The noble bolted upright at his table in the Brina Cross Inn. The pleased look on his face fled before the fury of the Wolf woman who was coming at him full force and enraged. "You fetcher! You thrice-damned, treacherous, little coward. How dare you?!" He tried to get up and bolt, but she was faster and more willing to get physical. Sharah grabbed him by the collar and heaved him around to smack against the wall and held him there. "You blackguard! You thought you could get away with this? You thought if you got out of town fast enough that I wouldn't be able to find you? Is that it?"

Lord Benirus stuttered, "I-I'm sure I d-don't know what you're—"

Sharah knocked his head against the wall. "Don't you dare give me that. You sold me a cursed manor you two faced snake!"

He tried to shrug with only some success, "Well…I supposed I should have told you—"

"Suppose?!"

"—but I had to get out of Anvil. I have other business and there are some very important people is expecting me in the Imperial City—"

"Oh, no," Sharah interrupted, "You're going nowhere except back to Anvil and that house."

The noble paled several shades. "No, I can't go in there. You bought the manor. It's your problem now."

Sharah glared at him, keeping a firm grip on his fine shirt and letting a growl reverberate low in her throat. "I am called Wolf for a reason, Benirus. Would you care to see my teeth?" He swallowed hard. "Now you are coming back to Anvil willingly, or I'll knock you out and put you over my horse. But you are returning to that manor where you will help me break that curse. You're taking care of your family's business here whether you like it or not. Your only option right now is whether you go back awake or unconscious. So, which is going to be?"

XXX

"Have you got that open yet?" Sharah demanded. Those puddles of ectoplasm were being absorbed by the stones of the floor and the ghosts would soon be coming out of the walls again.

Benirus was hunkered down against the wall, searching the surface for some means of opening the stone. But there seemed to be nothing, despite intricately carved patterns on the wall. "No. I don't know how. I'm no mage. I have no idea what to do."

"Well figure something out fast. Those ghosts are going to be back any minute." Damn, she hated the undead. And the fact that these ghosts were bound to the house and getting spewed back out as fast as she killed them was really getting on her nerves.

Benirus jumped as the skeletal hand on the ground twitched. The damn thing was giving her the creeps, clawing along the floor and now scratching at the wall as if it wanted to be on the other side. And all without any living mind or flesh or tendon to guide it. But better it be next to the pansy noble than her. The puddles of ectoplasm were entirely gone now and the forms of the sectors were beginning to pull out of the walls. There was only so long she could keep doing this.

"Get that door open," she growled, taking up a ready pose in preparation.

"I'm trying!" he insisted, digging at the walls with his fingernails almost desperately as the moans started to echo toward them.

Sharah spat a curse, "Divines and Daedra!" She dropped Chillrend at her feet and whipped out her dagger. Grabbing the noble's hand she slashed the palm quickly and slammed it against the wall. He shrieked and wiggled as the blood flowed down the wall. Then the liquid began to flow unnaturally, no longer groundward but into the wall, filling in the thread thin patterns in the stone. Benirus gaped and gagged. Behind them, Sharah heard the ghosts let out a wail and collapse into pools of ectoplasm while the manor shuddered. So the house really was blood bound to the Benirus family line. Lucky guess on her part.

She let the noble wrench himself away. The blood on the wall was completely gone, draining into the patterns in the stone. Then the patterns began to glow and there was a ringing like bells. Particular collections of lines lit up, creating glowing symbols that reminded Sharah a little of the Mages Guild. The glow of the circles and symbols drained toward the center, weaving into the mortar between the stones and creating a meandering line straight up and down. Then that line broke apart and the wall parted, the wall crumbling backwards into an archway, changing the wall into a doorway and revealing the room beyond.

Sharah was astounded. She'd never seen magic like this. Behind her, she heard some scrambling. Probably Benirus making a run for it now that the way was open and the ghosts were gone. Sharah let him go. She didn't think she really needed him now. He'd probably just get in the way. But if she did, Sharah could hunt him down again later.

The skeleton hand was on the move again. Without the stone to block its way, the hand clasped and clawed and crawled through the doorway and into the next room. Sharah retrieved Chillrend and crept into the revealed room. This was one of those rare times when she would probably feel better having Umbra on her person. But the possessed Daedric longsword was upstairs in the grand bedchamber where she'd left it when the ghosts had woken her and driven her out the other day. She'd just have to hope her shortsword was enough.

In the chamber, the hand continued its crawl past a set of shelves with embalming tools on it, past the scattered remains of skeletons, long dry and dusty, candles burned into puddles of wax, the symbols that had lit up on the door scattered across the walls. The place looked like something between a laboratory, a crypt and a chapel. And at the center of the room, an altar with an ancient corpse resting on it. And the corpse was missing a hand.

The skeletal appendage crept along the floor and clawed its way to the base of the stone altar, straining upward but unable to climb the distance. Sharah inched forward. This whole place felt wrong. Every hair on her neck standing straight up when the skeleton spoke. "Who enters my resting place?" it rasped with a ragged breath.

Sharah just about jumped out of her shoes and throttled Chillrend's hilt. "One who would see this house released from its curse."

There was a pause before the corpse spoke again. "Then your coming is a blessing. For my binding here is as much a curse upon me as upon this house. I am what remains of Lorgren Benirus. My past deeds have left my soul bound to this place. Deeds which I have come to regret after all these years."

Lorgren Benirus. The last real owner of this house. And that living noble's grandfather. He was still…here. Not alive, but not exactly the traditional sort of undead either. Sharah remembered the journal she had found while clearing out the office upstairs. Before she'd been attacked by the ghosts. "You practiced necromancy."

Another ragged breath was taken. "Yes. I discovered a necromantic tome of spells. Spells I used to enslave the spirits of the dead. Spirits that are bound to the manor with me. It lies there upon the table. I had hoped to prolong my own life. But before I could complete the ritual, the Mages Guild raided my home and interrupted my work!" His tone had grown in intensity, but it mellowed quickly. "The result was as you see now. Bound to my body and this place, even after death, unable to move. And with the loss of my hand I had not the strength to break what held me or even to move on. And so I was cursed to linger on in solitude."

Divines and Daedra, he'd been in here for at least fifty years. Maybe longer. Sort of stuck in his dead body. And stuck in this room. Just existing here, in a shell of his body, staring at these walls…for fifty years. Wow. She couldn't imagine what that would do to someone's mind.

"But that solitude has given me time to think. And regret. Now I only wish to be made whole again and make my final peace with the Nine." Sharah felt herself being observed. "I had hoped one of my own blood would seek me out…"

Sharah tried not to appear unfeeling. "Your grandson was here. But the cursed house…I think it was a bit more than he could handle."

"I see," the skeleton rasped. "Then you shall be my savior. Please, rejoin my hand to my body. Once whole, the binding shall be broken, and I will be free to pass into the next life."

Sharah looked down at the hand that was still clawing at the side of the altar and couldn't help the shudder that ran through her. This felt wrong. And not just because the severed grasping skeletal hand was unnatural. But the standing altar was like an insurmountable mountain between body and hand. They were so close, but there was no way either could reach the other. But something else about this felt wrong to her.

Lorgren Benirus noticed her hesitation and made a final plea. "I beg you, make me whole. So long as I remain to suffer, so to do the souls I enslaved in life."

For all her distaste in the undead, if there was a chance that that was true then she couldn't just leave all these souls the way they were. Maybe Lorgren Benirus deserved his punishment for the things he'd done, but those poor souls he'd ensnared were innocent of such wrongdoing. So she swallowed and stepped forward. She didn't even have her gauntlets on, which meant she actually had to touch the thing. Oh, this was going to suck. As quickly as she could, Sharah pinched the base of the hand's wrist and lifted it gingerly up to the table and set it bone to bone against the end of Lorgren's empty arm. The instant she let go, Sharah jumped back and rubbed her fingers vigorously against her trouser leg. Damn, she hated dead bodies.

There was a snap as the bones reconnected themselves and Lorgren Benirus let out a sigh of relief. Then the corpse's head snapped sideways to look at her. "It never fails to amuse me how easy mortals are to manipulate."

Before she could react, Sharah was flung backwards with such force that she went flying through the door, landing hard in the basement beyond. She scrambled up to see Lorgren's corpse rising off the altar, laughing. "I suppose I should thank you. Because of you, my spell is complete. No longer am I some broken waste of a spirit, but an all powerful lich at last!"

Damn, damn, damn! What had she done? Sharah couldn't take on a lich. She turned and bolted through the basement as fast as her legs could carry her. She had to get out of here. Get help. Find someone. Warn everyone! Lorgren's laughter followed after. The whole house was alive. The floor beneath her feet, the walls around her, the ceiling above. And there were screams of the trapped soul now lamenting the full return of their slave master.

Sharah got up out of the basement to see upstairs as bad as the basement. The shutters that still hung were snapping against the windows, small items were flying everywhere, the very floors and walls seemed to be warping and bowing. And instinct told her the doors out of here would be sealed shut. Lorgren's laughter echoed through the entire house. "For your service, I will give you a proper place among my undead army."

Sharah though desperately. If that lich got her, she was worse than dead. She couldn't battle that kind of foe. She didn't have the kind of power to win this fight.

An idea sparked in her mind. She just hoped it was more powerful than a mortal man turned lich. If she could just reach it.

Sharah leapt for the stairway, praying Lorgren wasn't directly behind her. She took the stairs three at a time and ran down the upstairs hall. Lorgren hadn't bothered to seal the inside doors yet. It gave her a chance. Sharah reached the master bedroom and dove for the pack she'd left here the other night, snatching free the black crystal blade from where it was lashed. "Umbra, I hope you're hungry," she whispered. Stupid comment. This blade was always hungry. With Sharah's hand on the hilt and her intent to use it, the blade roared to life in response. Sharah hadn't really used this on an opponent before. And monsters didn't count. But if there was anything stronger than a lich it was a daedric, soul-stealing blade with an insatiable appetite and a bad attitude.

Sharah gripped the hilt tight and turned toward the door. He was coming. She could feel it in the air. The house, flexing and howling. Lorgren drifted into the room, feet not even touching the floor. "Your foolishness knows no bounds. You think to fight me? No weapon can kill me!"

Sharah growled, "I think it will kill you properly." Provided she could actually get this blade into him.

Lorgren laughed and unleashed a wave of lightening at her. Sharah didn't have time to dodge and the blast struck her dead on. She expected to be writhing on the ground, but the blow was minor. Even Lorgren seemed surprised to see her still standing. And on her finger, the Ring of the Vipereye warmed and glowed, drinking in much of the lich's magic strike. Sharah grinned like an idiot. 'Thank you, Narina!' Sharah took advantage of his surprise and dashed across the room before he had a chance to attack again, driving Umbra into the corpse.

Umbra screamed in her mind, and Sharah felt it begin to feed on the lich's spirit. Sharah didn't bother to try to keep control but set Umbra loose. And the blade responded. So did Lorgren. He felt the spiritual draw and lurched backwards. Sharah pursued, striking again and giving Umbra a fresh taste. Lorgren realized his danger, uncertain what he was facing and attempted to achieve distance. But Sharah leapt forward and buried Umbra deep in his chest. Lorgren screamed as Umbra drank deeply of its favorite sustenance. It drew the lich's spirit like poison from a wound, sucking Lorgren's soul from the very house to which he had bound his immortal self. Sharah kept the blade firmly embedded as the house seemed to be pulled inward toward this center. At last the rushing ceased and the lich's skeleton slid of the blade and crumpled to the floor. Both the house and the body lay still and empty.

It was over. Thank the Nine! And anyone else who had hand in it. Sharah let go of Umbra and let it clatter to the floor. The blade didn't seem interested in pursuing her for control this time. Probably because this was the first proper 'meal' she'd given it in all the time it had been on her person. And what a meal. An entire haunted house worth of lich-soul. Hopefully that would appease it for a little while.

Sharah sat back against the baseboard of the bed. There was a warm tickle down her arm. A wound trickling blood. When had that happened? It wasn't too bad. She'd heal it in a minute once she got her breath back. Barely a scratch compared to what could have happened.

The blood ran down her arm and she saw a few drops fall to the floor—and soak into the stone like it was cloth and vanished. Sharah scrambled to her feet. What in Oblivion? Was the house still cursed? She waited, expecting ghosts to come flooding out of the walls again. But nothing. Just quiet. No, not complete quiet. The house was…breathing. No, that wasn't right. It was a house. It didn't breath. But it was the building's equivalent. It…lived. It wasn't just stone and mortar it was alive somehow. And waiting for something. Maybe.

Sharah stood wondering for a little while, expecting something to happen. The 'living' house had far greater patience. She walked slowly across the room. Then down the hallway. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. The house felt like it was waiting on her, but not like it was watching her as it had before. The awareness without Lorgren's ill intent.

For whatever reason, Sharah's feet carried her downstairs before long and back to that door of stones in the wall. Lorgren had closed it before coming after her and the wall looked like a wall again. Sharah looked at it for a while, then reached out to touch the thread thin lines written in the rock. It felt warm to the touch. Again, as though the stone was actually alive somehow. But nothing else happened. She wondered…

Sharah took out the dagger that was on her hip and ran a shallow cut across her hand, then pressed it to the wall. Just like with the living Benirus noble, the blood flowed down and then flowed into the lines. The blood became a glow, the glow became symbols, then the symbols ran like water to that line down the center and the door in the wall opened once again to reveal the resting chamber behind.

Umbra hadn't just sucked up Lorgren's soul, it had sucked his soul from the house. All of it. Even the blood-binding of the Benirus line to the manor. But whatever enchantment the lich had put in place didn't break now that he was gone was still there, just left empty. And at the first opportunity, the house had blood-bound itself to another…her. Just like that. A few drops on the 'living' stone and it had a new master. Good thing there hadn't been a lot of other people bleeding here.

But this was definitely…weird. Still, maybe it wasn't so bad. Something to get used to, for certain. But she was going to be living here. This was going to be home and maybe a binding like this would be a benefit. Only time would tell. At least there weren't any ghosts in the wall anymore, so that was something. Although the use of this room would depend on how often she had to cut her hand. Sharah leaned against the archway of the door, feeling the house's awareness around her. This was going to take some getting used to.

I do wish Sharah had more time to spend at the manor. But the Ra Gada Urge kind of ruins her chances of chilling out at the house. I do love that place though. Really awesome. Perfect retirement location. I think I'd fight a lich for that kind of deal. You know, if I had a soul stealing sword and could conjure fireballs.