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ROË

Touching the Sky

Castle Volkihar, main gate

"About Oblivion-damned time you got here," Roë hissed at Serana. "I was starting to think you'd run straight to your father."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Serana snapped back. "Why would I side with him? All he wants to do is – "

"I know," Roë cut her off. "We have to go before he finds out we've left."

Serana crossed her arms and looked at Roë and her two companions. "These are your allies, then? These two?"

"And what of it, Serana?"

"Look at them, Roë," Serana shouted, sweeping a hand out at the two Vampires outside the gates, standing out of earshot at the other end of the bridge. "One's a… a herb-masher who hasn't left the castle in ages, and the other's too burned to even stand upright!"

Garen Marethi had only spent a few hours in the sun pit, and his burns were only superficial, but Fura had been in there for several days now, and she stood hunched over, shivering and hugging herself from the pain, a cloak wrapped around her body and a hood over her face. She looked like a tiny, cloak-wrapped ball of pain.

"Fura'll get better when we find her some live prey, and Garen, well… without Garen we wouldn't have the truth serum, and without the truth serum, we wouldn't have the Scroll, so there's that."

"Just don't like our damn chances," Serana hissed, bringing her face close to Roë.

"Well it's the only chance we've got," she said back. "Or do you want to wait until your father strings you up and slices you open?"

Serana was quiet, looking away, her jaw working. "Forget it," she grunted. "Let's just get this done. Maybe with the Bow, we'll have a semblance of a chance."

"Remember, Serana," Roë said. "He has every reason to let us go and succeed, even if he knows we'll come back to challenge him. After all, we know where the Bow is. He doesn't."

"You don't either," Serana grunted. "I know where it is."

It had taken all her energy to stand up to Serana, to go against the love in her heart, and she had no more left. She could only sigh and lower her head. "Serana, I can't do this anymore. Look. I swear I won't betray you. I need you on my side in this. Please."

Serana looked at her, not concealing her suspicion. "You swear that now, but if push comes to shove, then…"

"Serana. I won't betray you." Her heart tore again when she had to admit, "How could I? With everything you know, how could I?"

Shouldering past Roë, Serana walked across the bridge, telling her, "Oblivion hath no fury like a woman spurned, Roë."

Spurned. Did she have to use that word? Did she want to rub it in? To make it extra painful? Or did she just use it to remind herself that Roë was inferior? That she'd had the luxury, the station, the position to reject her? Than she was better than her? Because people could mask rejection with all sorts of reasons, but in the end, it only had one: she simply wasn't good enough for her.

With a heavy heart, Roë went after Serana.

The walk was silent and miserable. Garen and Fura didn't say a word, just biting their pain. Serana had no pain to bite, but no words to say either. They stuck to the Northern edge of Skyrim, and the howling wind felt like it cut straight through their clothes and skins. After an hour or two, Roë had to support Fura to keep her from collapsing where she walked. The smaller Vampire stank of burned flesh. Another hour later, they arrived at a cave, a good place to take shelter until dawn.

"One thing," Serana bit through clenched teeth. "Everyone sleeps, and everyone keeps their distance from each other. I see one of you coming close, and I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

Roë wanted nothing more than to curl up against Serana, but the warning was very clear. If she was honest with herself, Roë thought that if she and Serana were ever to come to blows, Roë had more than the chops to take her on. With the power of the Vampire Lady, further amplified by the Bloodstone Chalice, very little, save the Daedra Princes and Harkon himself, could stand against her. But that was all moot. She could never hurt Serana anyway.

Hugging her knees and shivering, Fura said the first words she'd said since she'd been out of the sun pit. "Don't be s… stupid," came the words from underneath the hood. "Y… you're the only one who… knows where th… the Bow is."

"She's right," Garen agreed. "Even if we were backstabbing traitors, which we aren't, you'd have little to fear from us now, Lady Serana."

Roë wrapped herself in her cloak, and old and useless human habit since she had no body warmth to retain, and lay down to sleep. "You've heard them. You're safe, Serana. Not just because you're the only one who knows where the Bow is, but also, and more so, because we have no intention of betraying you."

"I'll still be sleeping with one eye open, you'll understand," Serana simply said.

"Do whatever you want." Roë turned her back to her and closed her eyes. It took a while to get to sleep, with Fura's occasional pained whines, but eventually, it was dusk again and they all rose, wrapped themselves in their cloaks again and walked on. When Fura was unable to keep walking, Roë cut her own wrist open with her shortsword and shared some of her energy. Silently, Serana laid three dead rabbits at their feet and walked away again.

Atmosphere was like the temperature, well below freezing point, but the rabbits and Roë's blood had given Fura at least a little bit of strength back, and she was able to walk unassisted for the entire travel, until they came to a rock face and Serana told them this was the place.

"I'm not going to say 'but it's just a rock face', because I'm sure there's a secret entrance somewhere, but…"

Serana ignored her, facing the sheer rock, and muttered something incomprehensible.

They all stood waiting for a few seconds, before a low rumbling sounded and part of the rock face descended into the floor, revealing a doorway into a subterranean tunnel.

"This isn't just a hole in the ground," Serana told the others, without turning around. "Mind your manners here, and let me do the talking."

Roë rolled her eyes behind Serana's back.

They descended into the cavern, some needing a little more help than others, but apart from small frostbite spiders that didn't present much of a threat, they encountered nothing. The cavern went deeper and deeper down, until even their vampiric sight had trouble penetrating the darkness. Just as Roë thought of suggesting they might light a torch in spite of Fura's and Garen's newfound fear of fire (and her own), there was light all the way down, a small pinprick that grew larger and larger as they came closer.

"What is…" Roë began.

"Shh. I said I'd do the talking. Be quiet."

Roë shut up, setting her jaw.

They descended in silence and at the bottom of the cave, they found an arch where the light came from. Passing under it, they saw a strange altar with a kneeling statue in front of it, on its knees, its hands held up to the ceiling.

Wait, not a statue… Roë could see the body breathing, ever so slightly. It was a mer with an Elvish build, clad in strange white, almost translucent armour. His frizzy hair was the same, so white it looked almost transparent.

Serana came to stand behind him and cleared her throat.

Slowly, the arms came down, and then, with a laboured grunt, the mer got to one knee. Pulling himself to his feet, he slowly turned. He was indeed Elven, but not like any Roë had ever seen. Too pale to be Bosmer, too short to be Altmer. His facial features were sharply chiselled, even more so than Dunmer, making him look like he was sculpted from icy stone.

"It has… been a while," the man croaked, steadying himself on the altar. It was a knee-high foundation, with in the middle a shining golden statue on a pedestal. The shape on top looked like a whirling sun. She knew the symbol, but…

"I'd wager quite a few years," Serana said back.

The mer chuckled. "Indeed, although time progresses… differently here. My name is Knight-Paladin Gelebor, and this… is the chantry of Auri-El."

Auri-El? The Sun God? Roë had heard of him, but she didn't know there were still chantries dedicated to him. All the people on Tamriel now worshipped his more modern denomination, Akatosh, instead.

"Knight-Paladin Gelebor, I am Serana of Coldharbour, and this is Roë, Fura and Garen. We are here for… well, you know why we're here."

"Indeed," the white-haired mer said with a nod.

Serana had told everyone to shut up and let her do the talking, but Roë was no longer her servant, her bodyguard, her lap dog. "Can I…? Umm, you look Elven, but not like any mer I've ever seen."

Serana's eyes flashed, furious, but the mer chuckled. "No, I wager I don't. I see the Bosmer are still well represented on Nirn," he nudged his chin at Garen Marethi, "and Dunmer, but my kind… there are only two of us left. You know of our corrupted, feral kin, though." His face turned disgusted. "The Falmer."

Garen Marethi stepped forward. "Then you are… the original Falmer?"

"The Snow Elves?" Roë asked. "The world thinks you were extinct hundreds of years ago, even before the Dwemer. How…?"

He chuckled again. "The world is correct. Our race is extinct, though two of us still remain. For all intents and purposes, the noble race of Falmer ended long ago. Destroyed by our foul, twisted descendants."

"Yes," Serana said, trying to sound patient. "This is all fascinating, but… the Bow?"

"The Bow," the mer echoed with a nod, laboriously sitting down on the pedestal's base. "Indeed."

"I've got a feeling," Fura said quietly, in her nasal voice and strange (slightly Breton?) dialect, "that this other remaining Snow Elf's going to be involved in this somehow."

A wheezing, coughing laugh came from the Snow Elf. "You would be correct. The other remaining Snow Elf, Arch-Curate Vyrthur, is my brother. He was corrupted by the Falmer during their final attack, which left only us alive as the remaining Snow Elves. After the attack… his behaviour changed. He turned away from Auri-El and became… I'm not sure what, but he always stands in one place, watching, waiting. And while I grew old, he has not aged a day, or he hadn't last time I saw him."

"Alright," Roë said, "So what do you want us to do?"

"He holds the Bow," Gelebor explained, as though it was obvious. "It must be taken from him, for he intends to use it for… dark ends. Of that I am certain."

"It doesn't matter what he wants to use it for," Serana said flatly. "If we don't get a hold on it, it'll be used to end Auriel's influence on this world forever. It will black out the sun, forever."

The mer lowered his head, his age-drawn face filled with resignation. "It is as I feared then. You must travel to Auriel's Chapel and retrieve the Bow. I know not what has possessed my brother if not the Falmer taint, but he must be stopped. Please, complete the path of the Initiates, to receive Auri-El's blessing, and return to me. I will transport you to – "

"Path of the Initiates?" Serana asked. "That sounds like it'll take a lot of work. And a lot of time, which we don't have."

"I'm afraid this is how it must be." He pointed to a vase-shaped pitcher of shining gold, which stood on the far end of the pedestal. "You must travel to the five wayshrines of Auri-El, and dip the pitcher in the basin of each. As the Initiates have done."

Serana blinked. "So these Initiates had to lug around a heavy pitcher of water? How long? How far are those wayshrines? What's the point of carrying around a heavy ewer full of water all this time?"

"Well," the mer explained, "Once the Initiate's enlightenment was complete, he'd bring the ewer to the Chantry's Inner Sanctum. Pouring the water into the sacred basin of the Sanctum would allow him to enter for an audience with the Arch-Curate himself."

With an incredulous laugh, Serana said, "All this just to end up dumping it out? Makes no sense to me."

For wanting to do the talking, Serana sure was being undiplomatic to say the least.

"It's symbolic," the Knight-Paladin grunted. "I don't expect you to understand."

"So let's get this straight," Serana said, crossing her arms. "We need to do all this nonsense to get into the temple, so we can kill your brother and claim Auriel's Bow?"

Still sitting on the pedestal, the aged mer nodded gravely. "If you fail, the consequences could be tragic. You must have the blessing of – "

They didn't have time for this. If this snow eater could transport them to where his brother was, then by the Daedra, he had better transport them. "Look," Roë said, out of patience, "We need Auriel's Bow, and we need it now. We don't have the time to go traipsing all the way across Nirn for a few pints of spring water. There are others seeking the Bow, and if they reach it before we do, then you, me, everyone on this world is in big trouble." Especially Serana. Roë hadn't forgotten what Harkon would do to her. She thought about it every single minute. "We have to get into the Sanctum now."

"But…" the Snow Elf protested. "The risks... Without the blessing of Auri-El – "

"Auriel will see what we're trying to do here. He'll be more than happy to see us reclaim the Bow," Serana interrupted. She apparently had no objections to Roë talking now. "Transport us to the Chapel already. This whole path of the Initiates thing stinks of unnecessary time-wasting to make this whole thing last longer."

"Sure does," Fura agreed. "This is what they call 'padding'."

He sat there, thinking.

"Gelebor," Serana insisted. "We really don't have time for this. Auriel will understand."

"Very well," he conceded at last, with a long, ragged sigh. "I will transport you to the Chapel." He went to his feet and grabbed Serana by her short cape. "But you must succeed. If my brother should prevail – "

"We will," Serana said. "We're not pushovers, trust me."

"Fura, you're too injured for this. Garen, watch over her," Roë commanded, "Wait here for us. We'll take care of this Arch-Curate fellow." Roë could see the suspicion in Serana's eyes, but all it did was anger her. She could never hurt Serana and she wished the damn woman would just accept that already. "Go on, Gelebor. Send us to the Chapel."

Gelebor spread his arms, then raised them above his head, and a bright yellow light enveloped Roë and Serana. "Don't be alarmed, you'll have a strange sensation, but it's only displacement. You might feel a little…"

The rest of his words were inaudible as Roë and Serana felt as if they were on a cart that hit a pothole. The next moment, they were somewhere else.

"… bump?" Roë finished Gelebor's sentence.

"Mm," Serana only answered.

The place they were in was an ice cold natural cavern, long and high, with mer-made structures here and there, thick hexagonal columns that held up the ceiling, jutting stalagmites protruding diagonally upwards from both of the sides, making them feel like they were standing in the maw of a great beast… and in front of them, forming a silent throng that was placed and hewn so it looked like they were advancing on the far end of the cave, were ice statues, the poses more lifelike than any Roë had ever seen. They must have been made by a master sculptor.

All the statues looked like they were converging on the end of the corridor, where, elevated above a short rise of steps, stood a throne. Another mer sat on it, slouched with his legs crossed, slowly opening his eyes, as if he'd been deep in thought until his sanctuary was invaded.

"Arch-Curate Vyrthur?" Serana called out.

The mer stirred, sitting up straight. He looked far less impeded by age than his brother, moving with little effort or pain. "Finally you approach, Daughter of Coldharbour. You've kept me waiting."

Serana blinked. "Y… you were expecting me?"

He rose, chuckling mirthlessly. "Not you specifically, but a Daughter of Coldharbour any Daughter of Coldharbour."

Serana and Roë approached the throne, with Roë's eyes constantly being drawn to the statues of gangly, ugly creatures with pointy ears, weapons drawn, looking like they would converge on the throne and the person on it, and tear it apart if given life.

"Impressive, aren't they?" Vyrthur asked, and Roë knew the question was intended for her. "Worry not, they are quite harmless."

"I don't know," Roë muttered. "Experience and stories have told me that statues always become animated sooner or later."

"Not these," he said, striding down the stairs like a king surveying his kingdom. "And statues? I think not. This is all that remains of the Falmer who nearly drove our race to extinction. Frozen until the end of times."

Wait, these were people? Or at least living, sentient things? Roë looked closely at the statue next to her and saw that, indeed, it wasn't an ice sculpture, but a monstrous humanoid encased in a thin layer of ice.

"Their internal organs remain fresh and alive in their prison of ice. They will all go equally mad as the aeons pass, praying for the forgiving release of death. A fitting punishment for genocide, wouldn't you agree?"

Roë felt her stomach turn. How long had these creatures suffered here? Years? Centuries? No matter what they'd done, this was a truly horrendous fate, terrible beyond imagining. Even trying to imagine the horror of what she saw felt like it would drive her mad. She saw the same revulsion on Serana's face.

"We've come for the Bow," Serana simply said. It was indeed best to shift the topic of conversation to something less gruesome. She held out her hand. "Give it to us, Vyrthur."

"Oh I know why you're here," he chuckled, walking around his little kingdom, parading almost. "But I'm not giving you anything. It's almost comical how you think you're here because you want to be."

What the… what was this all of a sudden? It had sounded like he'd been expecting them from the start, and that had been strange in itself, but it was just getting more and more weird.

"I am here because I want to be, Vyrthur," Serana said, unperturbed. "You may have been a powerful priest, but I was here even before you were born. Now give us the Bow. I'm not going to ask again."

His demeanour shifted, going from gleeful to indignant. "How dare you. I was the Arch-Curate of Auri-El, girl! I had the ears of a god!" he bit at her, circling her like a wolf did his prey.

Serana sounded unimpressed. "Yes, yes, until the Falmer, the Betrayed, corrupted you. We've heard your story from your brother."

Another shift, back to gloating. He laughed, "Gelebor and the others are easily manipulated fools. You think the Betrayed corrupted me? Look into my eyes, Daughter of Coldharbour. You know what I am."

Reluctantly, Serana stared in his eyes. Roë's hand went to her shortsword, ready to draw it and intervene if necessary, but Vyrthur merely met her gaze and let her come to the realization he wanted her to have.

"Y… you're a Vampire?"

"You recognize your own kind, do you?"

Daedra damn it, she was right. Now that she knew what he was, Roë saw it too, the illusion falling away and his blazing, bright red eyes clearly visible. But if he was a Vampire… then none of this made sense. And also… "But if you were infected with Vampirism, then surely Auriel must have protected you?" she asked, not understanding. Auriel was the sun god, he'd do whatever it took to help his Arch-Curate if he was infected by the illness that was anathema to his portfolio. And for Auriel, it would be very little effort indeed.

"The moment I was infected by one of my Initiates," Vyrthur said, angry, but not at Roë or Serana, "Auri-El turned his back on me. He saw my infection as betrayal, as weakness, or simply as unclean, I don't know. But he cast me out, banishing me from his sight. My powers, my station, my life, all gone. And so I swore I'd have my revenge, no matter the cost."

Serana chortled, crossing her arms. "You want to take revenge… on a god?"

"It's not as difficult as you think," Vyrthur snapped, holding up a finger. "Auri-El himself was beyond my reach, but not his influence on this world. It took me a long time, a lot of rituals, a lot of pleas to dark entities, but now that you're here, I have all I need."

"What exactly are you talking about?" Roë asked, dreading the answer. "What do you need?"

"I already have Auri-El's own weapon, his Bow. All I require now is the blood of a Vampire. But not just any Vampire."

Serana and Roë realized it at the same time. "Wait…" Serana stammered. "The blood of… It was you? Auriel's Bow? You created the Prophecy?"

"Indeed," he said triumphantly. "The prophecy that lacks a single vital ingredient. The blood of one of the first of our kind, the rape trophies of Molag Bal. The blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour."

"You were waiting? All this time?" Serana breathed. "For me to come along?"

"Now do you understand why you're not here by your will, but mine? All I needed to do was spread rumour of the prophecy. A whisper here, a buried tome there. All set in motion ages upon ages ago, to grow and become first tale, then legend, then prophecy. Even the Elder Scrolls recognized its power."

"This is… this is insane," Roë could only say. If what he said was true, he had been plotting this for… not centuries, but millennia. He could even be older than Serana, and she had spent many years in stasis. She thought they'd simply give an old elven priest a good beating and grab the bow from his bloody fingers, but their opponent would be much more than that.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm happy with my blood where it is," Serana said, fearless. "I intend on keeping it. You may be ancient, but let's see if your blood is actually powerful instead of just old."

"I will wring the blood from your lifeless corpse, rape-slave," Vyrthur snarled, his hands hooking into claws. "I have made sacrifices to powers you cannot even imagine. And I will destroy you both."

He raised his hands, and the ground shook, massive chunks of ice breaking off the stalactites, flying past their heads to converge on one point, swirling in the air, twisting and spinning around each other, forming strange connections between them, like wispy threads of energy, until they settled on the shape of a hulking, humanoid monstrosity, twice as tall as a human.

"Frost Atronach," Serana rapped as the thing advanced on them. "But not just any Atronach. This one is more than a lifeless automaton."

Roë drew her shortsword, as if that would be any help, and awaited the attack. This thing made the ground shake when it walked, and Roë had no doubt that a stomp or smash could flatten them into pulp, and she didn't think even Serana could survive that.

"Keep it busy," Serana ordered. "I'll take care of Vyrthur."

Great, she got to tangle with the massive, head-squashing monstrosity. She saw Serana rush the Atronach, dodging a sweep of its ice-fist, and then diving right through between its legs, then disappearing as she went for the summoner.

She better kill Vyrthur quick, because against this thing, all Roë could do was dodge, and she knew damn well that sooner or later, the creature would get her. Her shortsword felt puny and useless, but perhaps… perhaps the links where the Atronach's icy blocks were held together, maybe they could be severed somehow.

The creature had reached her now, the hateful red pinpricks in its icy eye sockets confirming that this wasn't just some Atronach. Something possessed it, some power, some entity, that Vyrthur had done dark dealings with. She didn't know what Vyrthur had promised it, but she knew she never would. And it didn't matter.

With a low roar, the Atronach brought a massive ice foot up, meaning to stomp her flat. The attack was heavily telegraphed, however, and Roë side-stepped the stomp with ease, even though it made the ground shake so hard she had to focus on keeping her balance instead of being able to counter-attack right away.

The golem swung a massive ice fist her way, but she ducked under it and thrust her shortsword forward, finding a spot between two ice blocks near its side. She let her blade go in to the hilt, and then wrenched. The thing roared, rearing up in pain as Roë wrung one of the ice blocks the size of her head free, sending it falling to the cold ground, chips of ice flying off it as it came down.

An ice fist immediately came down in retaliation, and Roë had to leap to the side to avoid getting pulped. She made a roll and came straight to her feet again, because every moment she spent on the ground was one in which the Atronach could stomp her flat.

Again the leg came up, but the Atronach's size made it slow, and Roë leapt out of the way, the tremors not catching her unaware this time, and she launched herself upward, grabbing hold of the thing's arm. With a backhanded swing, the Atronach tried to squash her against the cave wall, but Roë was faster, stabbing the thing's arm and snapping the ice blocks off as the threads of energy tore.

She fell down with the chunks of ice that made up its arm and dodged another retaliatory foot stomp, but just barely. This was getting hairy. Shifting to Vampire Lady form would be pointless as she was a smaller target in her human form, and the Vampire Lady form could presumably be crushed just as dead as her human shape. The thing had no living energies to use her greatest powers on anyway.

Another swing, this one a fist coming down right where she'd stood only moments ago. The thing's backhanded sweep caught her by surprise, the blow striking her straight in the torso. She could feel her ribs break in excruciating pain as she was lifted off her feet, thrown through the air, and deposited against a frozen Falmer a few metres further. The ice snapped and broke, and the unfortunate creature shattered into body parts, granted the release of death it had been begging for centuries long.

Roë skidded over the ground on her side, smearing Falmer guts as she went, and came to an abrupt stop against the cave wall.

Groaning at her broken ribs and the pain shooting through her torso, knowing the injuries would have easily killed a normal human, she stabbed her shortsword into the icy floor and supporting herself on it, struggled to her feet. No sooner had she regained her footing, swaying from the pain, than the Atronach came barrelling toward her, swinging its remaining arm to crush her with a deadly lunge. Roë threw herself flat again and the fist went over her, shattering another Falmer into bits.

She rolled out of the way of the feet thundering over her, and stabbed her shortsword at the thing's hip joint with both fists, ignoring the crunching of her broken ribs, catching it between two ice blocks the Atronach tearing its own leg off as it tried to come to a stop. With another roar, it toppled, almost crushing Roë's legs under it.

She didn't give it the chance to renew its attacks, rolling over to the back of its head, ignoring the horrible pain as her broken ribs splintered, and rammed the blade right between the head and neck block, twisting it as hard as she could. The Atronach howled and tried to snatch her, bending its massive ice arm behind its back, but before it could get a hold of her, Roë wrenched her shortsword with all her might, and the Atronach's head flew off with a crunch-pop.

The thing's arm fell down, the ice blocks detaching and tumbling over the rest of its body, the entire thing falling apart with the magicka holding it together now gone.

Holding her ribcage with one hand, Roë lurched to her feet, then staggered off towards Serana, although her presence did not appear to be necessary. Serana had Vyrthur up by his throat, even though her noble garb was streaked with blood and torn in several places. Vyrthur himself had been transfixed with ice spikes, one through his gut, the other through his calf.

"Well," Serana growled with the exertion. "You got to draw my blood. Shame you won't get to use it."

And with that, she hurled Vyrthur through the air, sending him flying towards one of the jutting, frozen spikes of stone, the pure force of Serana's throw hard enough to impale him on it, the stone spike bursting through his chest in a shower of blood. He gurgled and kicked on the stalagmite, his hands flailing wildly about, then grabbing hold of the spike, pulling desperately at the immovable stone. The blood ran out of him in a grotesque, putrid waterfall, almost black and stinking like pure rot. The deals he had made to his mysterious powers must have taken a terrible toll on him, and would continue to do so after his death.

Serana clearly thought the same, saying, "I think his true suffering has only begun."

"His problem," Roë simply said back. "Let's get that Bow and get out of here."

Thinking aloud, Serana muttered, "I don't suppose his blood is drinkable…"

"I wouldn't try it. We'll find another way to heal. Are you badly hurt?"

"No," Serana only said. "Some gashes, nothing that won't heal."

Ask me if I'm alright. Please ask me if I'm alright.

"The Bow's right there, next to the throne." Serana walked up to it. "Pretty sure it's this one. Mostly because it's the only bow around." She picked it up and turned it over in her hands, a white and gold longbow of clearly Elven design, with intricate carvings in the whitewood and exceptional smithing in the gold. It gave off a pale yellow light.

"Good," Roë grunted, hunched over and hugging herself, the tip of her shortsword dragging over the ground. "Now how do we get out of here?"

"No idea," Serana muttered, looking around and stroking her chin.

"While you look," Roë said, turning around, "I've got something I've got to do."

She left Serana where she was and dragged herself to the frozen Falmer. Despite the pain in her cracked ribs, she struck true and hard, whacking the head off every statue in the chapel. Nothing deserved to be doomed to such unspeakable horror. The neck stumps of the Falmer she beheaded still had dark red, steaming blood bubbling up. This was just gruesome beyond comprehension. She tried to imagine spending centuries trapped in one's own body and wished she hadn't.

Another frozen Falmer head fell, and another, all of them spewing fresh, warm blood. Finally the ghastly work was done, and all the Falmer statues were headless.

"When you're done being charitable," Serana called out from the other side of the Chapel, "I think I've found how to get out." She stood holding a lever, worked into the stone wall behind the throne.

"So pull it then," Roë grunted, too quiet for anyone but those with vampiric hearing to understand.

Serana did so, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the Chapel shuddered and the wall on Roë's side sunk into the ground, the metres-thick stone making way to show a tunnel.

She whirled around to see the surprised faces of Garen Marethi and Fura Bloodmouth looking at them. Gelebor looked far less flat-footed.

"What is…" Garen Marethi stammered. "It was… he was behind this very wall all along?" He stood looking with his jaw slack. "So the only thing standing between you for centuries…?"

"… Was this stone wall, yes," Gelebor admitted. "I was not only here to guide you. I was also… a jailer of sorts." The golden sun-statue glowed bright behind him. "The restoration of this wayshrine means that Vyrthur must be dead and the Betrayed have no more power over him."

Serana walked past Roë, held up the Bow and said, "Well, you're right about the being dead part, but the 'Betrayed' never had any control over him."

Gelebor blinked, "Wh… what? What are you talking about?"

"It was the other way around," Roë grunted through her pained ribs. "He was the one controlling them. Your brother was a Vampire."

"Lady Roë," Fura asked, concerned. "Are you in pain?"

"It's alright, I'll be fine." The one who'd had to ask, hadn't.

Gelebor held a hand in front of his mouth, thinking. "I see. That would explain much. And… somehow, deep inside, it brings me joy that the Betrayed weren't to blame for what happened here. Or at least, not principally."

"How would that possibly bring you joy?" Fura asked, still hugging her cloak.

"Because," Gelebor explained, "That means there might still be hope for my kind. Perhaps they could…" his eyes lit up and settled on the golden sun statue, "Perhaps they could one day shed their hatred and learn to believe in Auri-El again. They might one day return to the light." He sighed, contented. "It's been a long time since I felt that way and it's been long overdue. My thanks, to all of you."

"That's alright," Serana said with a shrug. "We came for the Bow, all the rest was gravy."

His enthusiasm tempered somewhat by Serana's aloof response. "Yes, yes of course. I cannot think of a worthier champion to wield it than you," He gave her a short bow, "the one who restored Auri-El's Chantry. Do not be concerned about arrows. Auri-El will give the Bow arrows of light when it is drawn against the creatures of darkness."

Yes, of course, Gelebor, by all means just forget about what Roë had done.

"So then," Serana thought out loud, turning the Bow over in her hands. "This entire Tyranny of the Sun prophecy was the work of Vyrthur, trying to take revenge on Auriel for turning his back on him when he was turned into a Vampire." She chuckled. "How ironic then that we are now the ones to wield it."

"Yes," Gelebor admitted, lowering his head. "How ironic indeed. I know that you too are Vampires. But Auri-El would not have allowed you to wield his Bow if you did not have its blessing. It would seem our God is truly desperate, choosing the lesser of two evils."

"Blood doesn't make someone evil," Roë snapped. "It what we do with the curse we've been given that determines who we are." She noticed Serana giving her a disapproving look from the corner of her eye, but she didn't care. "There is one last thing we require from you."

"Certainly," Gelebor said gravely. "I am your humble servant."

"Hold out your arm."

He blinked. "I… I do not…"

"Hold out your arm."

His breathing sped up and he became visibly nervous. "You wish to… take my blood?"

"Just a little bit," Roë assured him. "Fura here is in terrible pain, your blood is old and powerful. She won't need much."

"But… won't this…?"

"No," Serana said, clearly unhappy about the whole thing. "Feeding doesn't cause infection."

"Very… very well." He closed his eyes and held out his arm. Roë nudged her head at Fura, who gingerly closed in, then snapped her jaw shut over his wrist, between the armour and his gauntlet. Her eyes closed, she drank a few greedy gulps, then stopped, pulling back. She was more disciplined than Roë could ever hope to be.

Dizzy, Gelebor sat down on the pedestal swaying from side to side with his eyes closed.

"That's enough of that," Serana scolded. "Leave him be now."

"Feeling better?" Roë asked Fura.

"Significantly so."

Her skin was still a patchwork of burns, but they had reduced in size and depth somewhat. She had half a mind to take some of Gelebor's blood too, but the risk of killing was too high. Serana would definitely leave her behind if she killed right in front of her. At best.

Still frowning, Serana said. "Let's go. I have a father to kill."