It was nearing noon when I opened my eyes.
Damn it. I had slept in late again.
I leaned up, slipping on my blindfold before getting out of bed.
The Reaping was in less than an hour. Alastair would not be pleased if I was late. And neither would he.
I washed my face, and sighed. Today was not a good day for me, and I hated going to ritual meetings when I was having a bad day.
Dressing in my usual clothes, which consisted of a black and red set of armored robes, dull gold horned gloves and boots that were simple, but were efficient and protective. Unlike the others, I was a Priestess, so I didn't don the dragon-skull mask that most of the others did.
Instead, I wore my blindfold, and that had nothing to do with the Cult.
My eyes were naturally blind, but I had the ability to see other things instead.
Quickly walking out of my room, having washed my extremely short black hair, I slip out an amulet adorned with symbol of the Cult, I uttered a few words into it, and promptly disappeared in a flash of green, leaving behind nothing.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I breathed, the dusty air of the Temple greeting me.
The majority of the Temple of Miraak was collapsed, and we only ever really used the Great Hall in our meetings.
"Ah…Dani…I had begun to wonder if you had lost your way." Alastair, the leader of our Cult, greeted me. He was middle-aged, had black hair combed back, and wore a long set of trench coat-like robes, and gloves and boots that looked similar to mine. He had these unique glowing golden eyes, signifying his intense connection to Lord Miraak.
"My apologies, Grandmaster. I slept in. Allow me to take my place so we may proceed with the ritual." I bowed in apologetic prose and took my place as he nodded.
"…Welcome, my friends…it has been a year since we last have seen each other, and the time has now come for the Ritual of Hunger. Our Lord Miraak requires a soul, and he shall speak to us directly." Alastair announced slowly and deliberately, and I took the opportunity to glance at my fellow cultists.
Thirty of us, not including Alastair and I. Our numbers have grown.
All were dressed in the Cult robes, and their masks prevented anyone from seeing what was behind them…except for me and Alastair. My eyes could see right through the mask and allowed me to see their faces.
On the other hand, in front of Alastair a stone sacrificial altar was placed. On this altar was a young woman, barely twenty or so, completely naked, and entirely helpless. I realized that I hadn't listened to most of the speech Alastair was giving.
"…In exchange for the soul of a virgin, our Lord Miraak will speak to us and give us the salvation we need. Allow us to begin!" He finished, and I stepped forward at his cue, knowing what to do from years of experience.
Approaching the altar, I began chanting.
"Only in vokun do we see the krosis of life, and that only in our morokei Lord do we find salvation…" I slid out a long black knife with a curved blade, my fellow cultists joining me in the chanting.
"Allow us to sacrifice this human, so that our lord may take nakriin on the blasphemers!" I continued, holding the knife over her.
Her expression was one of terror and fright.
"NAKRIIN! KROSIS! VOKUN! MOROKEI!" The chant heightened in volume, echoing throughout the room.
"Morokei krosis…" I whispered, plunging the knife into her breast and immediately killing her.
The room fell silent, the echoes dying down, and I opened my eyes.
White energy was flowing out of her body, and towards the end of the altar.
"…Another soul…you have served me well, Alastair." Lord Miraak, although in a incorporeal and ghost-like form, stood before us as he absorbed the sacrificed girl's soul. Garbed in armored robes, dark blue and gold, with golden shoulderplates, rigid gloves and boots, and finally his Mask. Golden, concealing his face and with the cloak concealing his body, it was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship that no smith or craft could hope to replicate today.
Even ethereal, his presence was…staggering.
"Yes, my lord…I am pleased to serve." Alastair answered, bowing deeply.
"…However…your purpose has long passed. The Blood Moon is nigh. Surely you know of the Necromancer that is plaguing Spira right now, do you not?" Miraak suddenly changed tone, and approached Alastair.
"Y-Yes, my lord, we have heard rumors of this Necromancer." He answered shakily, shivering under Miraak's presence.
"Yet you have done nothing about it? Undead have risen, the town of Kilika has fallen! My source of power in Apocrypha weakens because of this!" Miraak spoke, and although his tone was calm and the same deep metallic-echoed voice as before, fury edged every word. I gasped silently as objects in the room began floating, even my own knife sliding from the sheath and floating in front of me.
"You are unworthy of leading my Cult, Alastair Crescent Sinclair…I have returned, and although weakened, I am the Dragonborn! I am the First Chosen of CHAOS! I AM MIRAAK!" In a unbridled rage, he gripped the old man's throat and lifted him several feet off the ground, despite his ghost-like ethereal form.
"M-My lord…! P-Please have m-mercy!" Alastair begged pathetically for his life, but Miraak ignored his pleas for forgiveness.
"I am finished with you, you weak human. Your soul, among with billions of others, will be the ark that sustains me!" A sickening crunching sound was heard, and I steadied my breath as even my blind eyes saw the very soul of Alastair, our former leader, being ripped from his body and absorbed by Miraak.
However, something happened nobody had expected. With earthquakes that would panic towns and level cities, the entire temple began shaking, the earth itself agonized as the temple's former master returned to life, his imprisonment in Apocrypha, or the Farplane, ended finally for the first time in eons.
The last thing my old friend and leader saw, was the ethereal form of Lord Miraak become corporeal, our master free and powerful once again.
"Such a pathetic little creature…blinded by his own self-importance. Far from worthy to lead my Cult." Miraak spoke, and turned to us.
At almost eight feet tall, he towered over us and exuded confidence and power.
"Who…is next in line to lead?" The minute he asked, every single cult member stepped back, except for me.
I looked up, and I shuddered. Even through my blindness, I could see his sheer power like a sun in the darkness, painful to even gaze upon.
"I…I am, my lord." I regained composure, and I reclaimed my floating dagger.
"Dani…ah…the Lorekeeper, yes…I have watched you for a long time. Bonaar, yes…alok, kiir. You have much ahkriin…your hevno nature impressive….your bahlok for bah awing even to me. Perhaps my cult is not as krent as I expected." He studied me, pacing around me steadily and calmly, as I kept my composure with difficulty.
"Y-Yes, sahrot sah. The Nahgahdinok, I know who you speak of. The one humans call the Necromancer. Maar consumes the land, as do the vokul energies of this shalo vulom." I answered steadily, thinking back to my studies.
"Ah…I am much impressed. You have studied the dovahgolz, the legendary stone upon which the dovah language is written. Alastair beyns the teachings, choosing dukaan over the bah that the Nahgahdinok has earned. You will aak my cult, and become the Al of this Nahgahdinok. The dilon will remain dead, as they should. Find the golz of the feykro." He proclaimed admirably, and gave me a strange round stone. Black and noticeably darkened with shadow energy, the faint glow of red energy made the orb flash every few seconds.
"What is this golz?" I asked curiously.
"It is a Heartstone. Seek the Feykro Golz. The Tree Stone, as the humans call it. Place the Heartstone within it, and our daal will begin." He answered, and turned to the altar. Holding out his hand, the altar cracked, throwing the sacrifice's body aside, as well as Alastair's.
"What will the Heartstone do?" I asked again.
"All who draal at the Golz will find their will krent…their mind forfeit to me. Their sense of geinmaar will be lost. They will serve me, and their first task will be to rebuild my fallen temple! This kruziik throne of mine will be my throne as I conquer this barbaric world and bring it to the order it once knew! DOVAH! This sacrifice of sos allows you to RISE once more! Bring an oblaan to this pathetic human monarchy over this world, and qahnaar this Nahgahdinok! RISE, ZAHRAHMIIK!" He explained to me, and began chanting.
To my shock, the very ground cracked, and an enormous skeletal dragon burst through the altar and floor. Everyone but Miraak staggered from the shockwave.
Before our eyes, Miraak took the soul of this dragon and returned it to him. The skeleton began regaining skin, and then scales, until finally a giant winged reptile towered over us.
Unlike most legendary dragons, Zahrahmiik was more serpentine in appearance, with black, smooth scales, and more fish-like fins on his back. He possessed no crest on his head, being smooth like a snake, and had a severe but powerful underbite that was accented by two enormous fangs protruding from it. In the legends, Miraak tamed Zahrahmiik to be his personal mount and messenger, and the dragon was famed for never having been killed in combat, unlike most of his compatriots. When Miraak was on the verge of death, he absorbed the soul of his faithful companion to ensure his survival, the bones of the dragon being buried in his temple, until the day in which his master would rise once again.
"Morokei lord Miraak! You have risen, as have I!" The dragon marveled at his resurrection, and I almost fainted. So it was true. Dragons had been capable of speech.
"Yes, Zahrahmiik, we have returned. Eons have passed, but we have returned. Allow my new cult leader and Lorekeeper to give you all you need on the situation." Miraak responded businesslike, and the dragon turned his attention to me. I removed my blindfold, and with a single glance the dragon knew everything that he needed to know.
"Evgir unslaad…season unending…I see. My lord, I have assessed the situation, and we are more than capable of ending the Nahgahdinok to an end." He turned his head towards Miraak again.
"I know. However, this Cult is small. I require followers, and that requires attention. It is time that the Cult of Miraak returns to Spira, and I know just how to catch their attention." Miraak nodded, and rose his hand towards the ceiling.
It cracked open, revealing the daylight to this ancient room, as Miraak then mounted Zahrahmiik.
"Rebuild my Temple! Regain our former glory and sheer power! Nobody will stand in my way as I rise to my destiny!" He called out to me forcibly, drawing a black and greenish sword with tentacles writhing all over it, and Zahrahmiik took off into the sky. I looked at my fellow cult members silently for a moment. I broke the silence with two sentences.
"You heard Lord Miraak. Get to work."
