Isle of Solstheim, Tamriel
Year 4E 408, 24th Last Seed, 1145 hours
Darys Othrelas paused to take in the majestic, hundred-feet-tall mushroom. It was surrounded by several smaller ones. Each mushroom had a staircase leading up to its stalk, with a sturdy wooden door at the end.
Darys climbed the stairs to the largest mushroom and opened the door. He found himself inside the stalk, in a tall, vertical tube without any stairs or handholds. But he had been here many times before and knew what he was supposed to do.
He concentrated on the mushroom's magic and reached out with his hand. He felt himself swiftly elevated and gently deposited on a platform some sixty feet above.
The platform served as the entrance to a large room, obviously carved out from the inside of the mushroom cap. Darys looked around, but he couldn't see anyone. Then he heard the voices coming from a small niche in the mushroom wall.
"Master, I really don't think it's a good idea…"
"Nonsense! I know exactly what went wrong when I implanted the heartstone into Ildari. You are in no danger. Well, probably not, but that's why experimental magic is so exciting."
"If you don't mind, master, I'd rather…"
"Oh, don't be a baby. I now know that the connecting soul thread has to be knotted three times, once for the heart, once for the spirit, and once for the body. The knot gives the connection the strength that is the key."
Darys cleared his throat and called out. "Master Neloth? Hello?"
Neloth appeared from the niche, followed by Talvas Fathryon wearing an extremely relieved expression.
"Yes, who interrupts? Ah, it is Darys Othrelas! Do you need anything?"
"As a matter of fact, Master Neloth, I do."
"Well, I'm sorry, but you caught me in the middle of a most important experiment." Neloth's eyes narrowed. "Unless, of course, you may be willing to help me? My assistant –" he waved a deprecating hand at Talvas Fathryon "– has some doubts about possible side effects, even though I explained to him that I will suffer from no ills related to it!"
Darys rolled his eyes at the monumental ego of the man. Actually, he shouldn't complain, he was counting on it to get Neloth to help him.
"I apologize for the interruption, Master Neloth, but there is something I think you will find extremely interesting."
"Hm. I doubt it, but you may tell me and we shall see."
"A few weeks ago, I found a strange token in Bthungthamz. It was a stone disk, about an inch and a half in diameter, with a red, serpentine rune carved into it."
Darys lifted his hand and a large representation of the token appeared between the two mages, slowly rotating.
"We have been researching it as a curiosity, but our interest in it increased dramatically for two reasons. First, we could not find any reference to it in any volume that we had in the Library of the College of Winterhold, which is more than strange. Second, someone recently stole it from the Archmage's quarters."
A red glow appeared in Neloth's eyes. Darys smiled with satisfaction, knowing that the old wizard was just as good as hooked.
Neloth looked at the illusion of the token, slowly rotating still, and lifting his own hand, stopped the rotation so that he could concentrate on the sign.
"This is not a rune. It is a sign, or a mark. But I must confess I haven't the slightest idea of what or whom."
"As I said, we couldn't find –"
"Yes, yes." Neloth waved dismissively. "The College of Winterhold is not really what it used to be, it is coasting now on its past reputation. Just look at who they chose to be Archmage!" Neloth said, looking at Darys down his nose. "But I do admit that their library was always excellent."
Darys sighed. There was no point in being annoyed with the old wizard.
"I talked with Urag gro-Shub and we –"
"Bah, an apprentice talking to an Orc! You doubtlessly had much to say to each other about how to prepare giant's toe soup!"
"No", Darys said, gritting his teeth. "We agreed that if anyone knew anything about this, it would have been the Dwemer."
"Ah, you surprise me! That was actually a useful thought. So you came to me, Tamriel's foremost expert on the Dwemer, with questions?"
"Not exactly. I first went to Avanchnzel to recover this." Darys said, showing the Lexicon.
"The Lexicon of Avanchnzel!" exclaimed Neloth, his eyes burning red with greed. "How –"
"Guess." Darys said dryly. "How can I get the information from here?"
Neloth stood silent for a while, drinking the sight of the coveted cube with his eyes. Then he relaxed, the red glow in his eyes extinguished, and said "In no way that I am familiar with."
Darys' shoulders slumped. "If you don't know…"
Neloth walked over to his desk, sat behind it and looked at Darys. "There may… just may be someone, as distasteful it is for me to admit it."
Darys' head shot up, piercing the mage with his eyes. "Who?"
"Divayth Fyr."
Tel Fyr, Isle of Vvardenfel, Tamriel
Year 4E 408, 19th Hearthfire, 1433 hours
The ashes from Red Mountain covered much of the island where Tel Fyr sat, but around the mushroom tower there was none. Whether it was cleaned after it fell or the influence of the tower's master kept it from accumulating, there was no way to know.
With more apprehension than he would care to admit, Darys walked up the ramp, carved into a sinuous stalk of mushroom, that led to the tower's entrance.
Divayth Fyr was a legend. He was rumored to be more than four thousand years old. His power was immense, his knowledge unbounded. He could rule all of Tamriel if he so desired, but Divayth Fyr was not interested in such trifles. Darys tried to remember everything he knew about him, but most of what he had heard or read was either folk myth or unsubstantiated rumors.
He opened the door and found himself in a large entryway. A Dunmer woman in bonemold armor approached him.
"You are in Onyx Hall, home of Divayth Fyr. I am Beyte Fyr, his… daughter. Have you come to loot the tower?"
Darys was confused. "Loot? I… No, I'm…" he forced himself to snap out of it. "I am looking for Master Fyr. I need to ask him an important question."
"You will find him in the Hall of Fyr. A word of warning – if you go to the Corprusarium, remember not to harm the inmates."
"Um… thanks, I guess."
Darys climbed to the next level, where a door led to the Hall of Fyr. Inside he found himself again in a vertical tube.
Damn Telvanni mages and their mushrooms, he thought.
He reached out with his hand, found the magic and used it to elevate himself to the mushroom's cap.
Divayth Fyr was standing in front of a small table littered with books, scrolls and rare Dwemer artifacts. He was covered in Daedric armor but carried no weapon. He lifted his head from the item he was studying and looked at the newcomer.
"Dovakhiin – Dragonborn. It is good to see you. Please join me and tell me what you wish from me."
His voice was melodious, soft, but powerful. He had red eyes, like all Dunmer, but there was a depth to them that left Darys almost mesmerized. Darys shook his head, trying to clear the effect Fyr's eyes had on him, and spoke.
"You know who I am?"
"Of course. The dragon blood cannot be hidden from me. Nor can a doom such as yours. Now, you said you needed to peruse of my wisdom?"
Darys looked around but found no place to sit down. His confusion mounted, until finally he forced himself to ignore his surroundings and get to the point. "Master Fyr, thank you for seeing me. I will start the story from the beginning."
He then proceeded to recount to Divayth Fyr all that transpired – his accidental find of a strange mark or sign, its theft, his search for the Lexicon in Avanchzel, finishing with Neloth's recommendation.
"Can you show me this mark?"
"Yes, Master Fyr" said Darys, repeating the simple spell he had cast for Neloth. The representation of the token slowly rotated, the serpentine mark on it glowing a malevolent red.
Divayth Fyr leaned closer to study the token. Finally he touched it and it disappeared, the enchantment dispelled.
"I know what this is. But your trip to Avanchnzel was not wasted, for I do not give away wisdom for free."
Darys understood immediately what the ancient wizard was talking about. He took out the Lexicon and offered it to Divayth.
Divayth Fyr took the Lexicon, turned and placed it on the table, together with many other Dwemer objects. He turned back to Darys and spoke.
"The token you have shown me is called the Mark of Scath. It is a sign of a powerful demon – akin to a Daedric prince – that resides in another plane. I do not know much about him, save that he and his ilk are representations of Chaos, Change and Destruction. This demon – Trigon – is one of the most powerful of his kind."
"Just like the Daedra, then?"
Divayth frowned. "No. While the Daedra in some cases may be considered to be 'evil', they are not inherently so. Daedra have their own purposes, which are beyond the ken of mortals, and therefore it is difficult, and often dangerous, to classify them as 'good' or 'evil'. Demons, however, are most definitely 'evil'. They are much closer to mortals in that aspect. But you are not here for a lecture on comparative extraplanar morality."
"Indeed. But what could the stealing of a symbol of one of their mightiest mean? How did this symbol get to Mundus in the first place?
"How it got here is not really a mystery. All the planes constantly jostle and collide with each other, though we do not have the senses to feel it. In these collisions, sometimes small pieces of one fall into the other. In this specific case, because of the nature of the plane and the nature of the demon that rules over the plane, the token you found was inscribed with the Mark of Scath".
Darys was puzzled. "Do you mean that this mark appeared on the disk as a way of saying 'Property of Trigon'?"
"You are putting it quite crudely, but accurately. Trigon is said to be extremely possessive. He is also always looking to increase his influence."
Darys frowned. "I see. I wonder why someone would like to steal it …"
Divayth Fyr gave him a sly smile. "Oh, but I thought that was obvious. You see, pieces of planes always retain a connection to their origins, no matter where they end up."
Darys' blue-grey skin went ashen. "But that means that whoever stole it is preparing to invite this being, this Trigon, into Mundus?"
"Your assessment is correct, but beyond what I told you and what you just deduced, I am afraid I cannot help you any further."
Darys felt defeated. He learned much, but what he learned only opened an avalanche of new questions.
"Thank you for your help, Master Fyr. I will return to the College now and see if we can divinate something."
"Two things before you go. There is someone that can help you, if there is a possibility that this being will try to manifest itself on Mundus. You must go to the shrine of Azura and commune with her. The shrine on Vvardenfell has been destroyed, but I hear that there is a shrine in Skyrim, close to the College."
"That is so. And the second thing?"
"The second thing is that time may be of the essence. Stand still while I teleport you there."
Shrine of Azura, province of Skyrim, Tamriel
Year 4E 408, 19th Hearthfire, 1810 hours
Darys placed his hands at the altar and looked at the enormous statue of Azura towering over him.
Welcome back, my champion. I was expecting you.
"Lady Azura, I come with a request."
I know. I shall help you. We shall all help you.
"All?" Darys was puzzled.
Be still and listen. The being that you learned about – Trigon – has managed to touch Mehrunes Dagon. Both were looking for the same thing. Both found what they wanted. Now they plot together. Their wish for domination is as one. Dagon will invade the world that Trigon wanted to rule, and Trigon will manifest on Mundus to become its overlord.
"Mehrunes Dagon? The Daedric Prince of Destruction?"
Aye. Destruction, Change, Revolution, Energy, and Ambition. They will exchange realms, for no magic of this realm can harm Trigon, and no craft of the other realm can withstand Mehrunes Dagon. That is their plan.
"But then… Can anything be done? Can the Aedra help?"
A slow rumbling shook the mountain, starting several avalanches.
Bah! Aedra! Even if they ever wake up from their slumber, they will be helpless. They are bound to the Bones of the Earth. Trigon is not.
"But there must be something we can do!"
There is. Now cease your interference and listen to what you must do.