As soon as we opened the secret door, I could tell something was different. Warmth, like that from a hearth or fire, washed over us and beckoned us to continue inward. A sickly sweet smell filled my nostrils and churned my stomach. It smelled like incense and blood.

I look to Vorstag, my coconspirator. I try to push down the thoughts about what happened earlier. My conflicting feelings were trivial compared to the mission. I couldn't afford to get sidetracked by personal thoughts about love and like, not when we were about to walk into a tough battle with an innocent man's life hanging on the line. Vorstag must have been thinking the same thing, for, though he seemed to regard me coolly, he nodded, reassuring our plan and urging us to move forward.

And so the three of us headed inside.

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until my body gasps for air. The smell was unbearable. Tombs always smelled like rotten flesh, but this, this was something different. It was a magnified, rotten stench that tried to fill my entire being. I gag. It was revolting.

No. It wasn't a stench that was trying to claim my mind. It was Namira.

The Daedric Prince of Repulsion. The Mistress of Decay.

Her presence was lingering here. The feast had already begun.

As we descended down towards the hall, I notice newly splattered blood on the walls. Decorative, ritual candles are lit by the stains, keeping the blood sickly warm and vibrant red. I wondered if some of it was Vorstag's and mine. I hope it is. If they killed anyone it's all our fault. Our entire crusade was for naught.

"I don't like this…" Verulus mumbles behind us, hand reaching for a small, iron dagger. It quivered in his hand and I doubt he had the power, or gumption, to even use it. If everything went according to plan, he wouldn't have to.

"When are we arriving at the place that needs cleansed?" He whispers nervously.

Voices suddenly reach our ears. They were merry and full of spirit. Like drunken guests at a dinner party. I shudder. "I think we're already here. Verulus, stay close to Vorstag and I, and if I say run, run."

"What?" He asks, a little too loudly, quickly following my hastening footsteps. "What's going on here?!" I do my best to ignore his baffled expression. I am done playing games with these cannibals. It was time for them to die.

We entered the dining hall. The room is filled with a smoky incense and reeks of flora and rotting flesh. I count six people in the room, some seated at the table dining on suspicious meats, others walking about socializing. Not too big of a number, but not a small one either. It will all depend on their skills versus mine. I reach for my blade and begin to concentrate my rage into a flame in my hand.

"Saber," Vorstag says suddenly, grabbing my shoulder to stop me from starting the impending battle. "These people, they're from Markarth."

"What did you expect?" A soft, airy voice cooes behind us.

Eola. That makes seven.

We turn to her, and I try my best to hide the fear, hate, and murder in my eyes. I clench my jaw, too disgusted to even speak. I want to spit on her face, slash out her throat, and dismember her limbs. I want her to feel the pain she caused countless numbers of people all to satisfy her erotic desires and daedric prince.

"That's the meat vender," Vorstag says quietly, staring in horror at the cannibal. "We just…talked with him the other day. I buy meat from him all the time." His face was ghastly white and began to grow a greenish tinge.

"Yes," Eola says with a small smile, waving at the meat vender from across the room. "He doesn't sell human flesh at the market though, or least that's what he says. I'm sure you also then recognize Lisbet—"

"The Trading Compnay shop owner…"

"—and Banning."

"The dog breeder." Vorstag nearly whispers. "He always joked he fed his dogs bandit flesh."

"The two elves," Eola continues, not caring to notice Vorstag's repulsion, "Are our necromancer friends from Sunderstone Gorge. They made this trip all the way from Falkreath…after all it is a big event. Then there is Sigar, our cannibalistic hermit. He's been a member for as long as I can remember."

As if on cue, the rag clad man jumps from his seat, spilling a goblet of suspicious red liquid. "The main course!" He bellows, a toothy smile on his face. The other's stop their idle chatter and turn to our party.

"Ah, yes!" Eola says, loud enough for all to hear. "I almost forgot…"

"Who—who are you!?" Verulus pipes. I had almost forgotten about him.

For some reason, I had only been listening to Eola's words. They had been so comforting, so understanding. I shake my head, confused. I look to Vorstag. He still has his abhorred expression, as if he were still processing this news. I want to slap him, to wake him out of whatever trance he's in. It's not like these people were his friends. If anything, he should be relieved we rooted out daedric worshipers in his home.

"Priest of Arkay," Eola says calmly, "I'm your friend."

I nudge Vorstag. We needed to act now while the cannibals least expected it. But he was still unresponsive. It was like he was under a trance.

"You're my…friend…" Verulus replies slowly, then with sudden understanding, like he knew who his would be predator was. What was going on here? We needed to attack before the situation got out of control. I couldn't do this by myself.

"Yes. I'm your friend," Eola says with mock sincerity. "And I've invited you to dinner." The other guests erupt in sadistic laughter, clinking their goblets and licking their lips.

Verulus turns to me, a small smile on his face and vague look in his eyes. "I've been invited to dinner, Saber," he sings dreamily, "No one has ever invited me to dinner before."

"Verulus," I hiss at him, panic rising. "Now would be a good time to run. Remember what I said? Get out of here!"

"Your friend looks tired." Eola says, staring directly at me. Her eyes are wide, wider than natural. The blue and green irises are deep and memorizing. I nod. Verulus did look tired. He'd had a long day. He'd been attacked by Forsworn, drug across the Reach, and lied to by a pretty girl and her mercenary.

Lied to…

I snap out of it.

This is a trap. Eola has some sort of power to persuade those who look into her eyes.

And she had Vorstag and Verulus under her control.

"Why don't you lie down and rest, while we get the meal ready?" Eola says warmly to the priest, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him away.

"STOP!"

The words are out of my mouth before I even have time to think.

No. There's no more time to think. No more time to plan. I need to act now or Verulus will be killed.

Eola stops abruptly and all the cannibals seated at the table turn to me. Some have genuine surprise on their faces, while others hesitantly place their hands on their swords. Eola turns her head to the side and whispers something into Verulus's ear. The priest continues walking, and, with a sickening gulp, I realize he's heading toward the weird alter with the spike chain.

Eola turns to me slowly, her face downcast and a dark smile playing on her lips. "Sabrielle," she says, her voice gaining a haughty air. "Do check your manners. Our feast is about to begin."

"No," I reply, pulling out a sword and lighting my hand with white flames. I make a note not to look into her eyes. "I'm done playing your games. All of you," I look toward the crowd, "Will face the punishment of death for your crimes!"

The cannibals begin to chatter nervously, and some stand, pulling out their own blades, but the mad man remains seated and laughs loudly. I ignore him. It wasn't my problem they regarded me as a joke, but I would soon be theirs.

None of them, however, made a move. They are waiting to see what Eola does.

I twirl the blade nervously in my hand. "Vorstag, now would be a good time to snap out of it." I say loudly to my rigid partner. I have no idea what powers she has over him, but from the look on his face it was not pleasant. Desperately, I worry about my predicament. I can't take all these people on my own and ensure both my frozen partner's and Verulus's safety.

But if I knew anything about Eola, it was she enjoyed hearing her own voice.

"Eola," I say turning to the slightly swaying, petite woman, careful not to look into her eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why all these lies and deceit? Why are you a cannibal?" I glance at Vorstag to see if he reacts to my words. I remember how I snapped out of the trance by thinking about the mission. Maybe if Vorstag hears similar words he'd snap out of it too.

"You're a fool." Eola says slowly, stepping lightly towards me as if she had all the time in the world. "You think I couldn't smell your deceit, taste your betrayal? But you must wonder why I've let you live, why I let you play my game, yes?"

I hesitate to answer. Something is off about her. Well, besides being a sociopathic cannibal. I look back at Vorstag and growl, "Anytime now, please."

"You're an interesting soul," she continues stopping at the bottom of the short flight of stairs. "Forsworn heritage, trying your best to outrun all your sins. You may have forgotten your crimes, but I remember. I remember every human that tastes another."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" I nearly scream, apprehension rising. My flames flare higher and I feel my sword arm ache to slice off her sardonic, dirty blonde head.

"I knew that when you walked into the Hall of the Dead you were special…"

"What has Namira ever done for you?" I yell, brandishing my blade. This bitch was trying to mess with my mind. The Forsworn were wretched barbarians, yes, but we never ate other people. We used their bodies as sacrifices and then gave them to the hagravens. Nothing more. Our goal wasn't to kill for pleasure, but to drive the invaders out.

I heave in disgust. I cannot believe I just realigned myself with the Forsworn, no matter how brief. I glare bitterly at the cultists around the room. They will pay for their crimes. No matter what, I will ensure this daedric shrine falls.

"Mortal." Eola replies, her voice slothful and sultry. "I am Namira!"

I stare in horror as the body of Eola crumples to the ground. Insects poor from her ghastly mouth and scatter all around. They scuttle by my feet and the other cannibals and for a moment we all panic in disgust. Then, as quickly as they appeared, the vile bugs disappear within the cave's cracks in crevices.

"KILL," Namira's slow voice bellows, "THE DISSENTERS!"

I watch in alarm as the cannibals come to and begin to charge at me and my useless partner. Survival instincts kicking in, I fire my long awaited flame blast, hesitating only a moment to make sure the entranced priest is out of harm's way. Several cannibals fly back and cry in pain from the burns, but the two necromancers must have anticipated the move for they blocked it with identical wards.

I literally have seconds before they attacked again. "Vorstag!" I yelled, turning to the stupid nord. "SNAP OUT OF IT!" I slap his face, hard, making his entire head turn from the blow. My hand smarts and a red welt appears on his pale cheek. But he still doesn't wake. His stare is vague as ever. I can only imagine the horrors Namira is playing in his mind.

I glance back towards the enemies, who are regrouping themselves. The common folk angrily brandish knives, but they are too cowardly to come near me again. The necromancers, however, are walking my way, wards up and hexes forming.

"Vorstag," I frantically plead, "I can't protect all of us! Wake up!"

Then a crazy idea hits me. It's a longshot, but I have no time to consider it.

"Souls in the oblivion…" I grumble.

I grab his dumb, vague face…

…and I kiss him.