Auriel's Bow

"Are you ever going to put the rest of that on?"

Desmond scowled. "Eventually."

They had been walking north for several hours, Markarth now far behind them. Desmond was still clad in the scratchy sackcloth shirt and trousers he'd gotten in Cidhna Mine. He had long since abandoned hope that Serana would let him take a nap.

"We can stop for a minute if you want," Serana offered.

"Nah, just... hold," he said, shoving his bag and two Elder Scrolls at her. Serana stumbled a bit, but accepted the weight.

"Sure, I'll just carry all your stuff for you, that's fine."

"Didn't you say you could carry me if you wanted to?" Desmond pointed out, pulling the sackcloth shirt over his head and tossing it on the side of the road. "Speaking of which—"

"Don't even go there."

Desmond snickered, fastening the belt his old fur armor around his waist.

They followed the map to where Desmond had marked it. A cave full of little else but darkness greeted them.

"You sure it's here?" Serana asked warily, peering inside.

"I'm not going back to the double-check with the moths, if that's what you're asking." Desmond pulled a torch off the wall and leading the way in.

"No, I just... I mean, what are we gonna do with it?" Serana crept quietly behind him as they walked into the dark, the torch casting light and shadow on the walls. "We've been chasing this thing for so long, what's it gonna be like to finally have it?"

"We're finally gonna be done with this prophecy and it's gonna be great," Desmond said, raising the torch to see further. The tunnels wound around further than he could see.

"You think the Dawnguard will come with us?"

"To storm the castle?" Desmond took a first, cautious step onto a rickety bridge before waving Serana along behind him. "You make it sound like it'll take convincing."

"It's dangerous—"

"We live for dangerous, are you kidding?"

The bridge creaked and swayed a bit more than was probably safe, but held up until they reached the other side. Desmond raised the torch again, seeing a solid wall and no way around. Below them was a long, long fall.

"There are a lot of vampires in Castle Volkihar," Serana reminded him.

"Yeah, well. We've got lots of crossbows and some trolls," Desmond said, turning back across the bridge. "You've seen 'em, right?"

"Those things Gunmar keeps around in little helmets and stuff?"

"Yeah—"

There was a snapping of rope. Desmond felt his stomach drop as the the bridge fell out from beneath them. He dropped the torch, reaching out for something, anything to grab onto as they fell. Serana was yelling something, he heard the deafening roar of rocks falling and echoing in the cavern. Beneath the noise was the sound of rushing water—

Just as suddenly as the bridge had given out, they were in the water, rushing head over heels along with the tide. Desmond fought to keep his head above the violently surging water, tumbling back under the surface almost as soon as he found a gasp of air. It was impossible to tell where the river was taking them in the darkness and panic of being thrown around the rocky riverbed.

The river tossed them out over a short waterfall into the shallower water of a riverbed. Desmond crashed into a pile of pebbles, tumbling to a halt in the shallows. He choked out water and looked around, drenched and gasping on his hands and knees. "Sera?"

He heard an answering cough. Serana was lying flat on her back on the smooth pebbles that made up the riverbed.

"I'm here," she said, rolling onto her side and pushing herself into a sitting position. "I'm fine. What about you, it looks like you hit something."

"Probably did," Desmond grumbled, checking his bag to make sure he still had everything. Nothing was too badly damaged—it seemed the Elder Scrolls had taken the brunt of the fall, though his left elbow now had a bad gash from a sharp river stone.

Serana ripped off a strip of fabric from her cape, handing it off to him. "Is it bad?"

"Nah, should be all right." Desmond sat down in the water, yanking a potion out of his bag. "Gimme a second."

"Where do you think we are?" Serana asked, sitting back against a boulder and wringing out her hair.

"Hopefully somewhere we can still get to the bow." Desmond poured the potion over the wound and tied the fabric around it. "Otherwise I think we might be sunk."

"Come on. I think I see a way through." Serana stood up, holding her hand out to pull Desmond to his feet. He took it, throwing a ball of light into the air to help them see down the path.

The raspy groaning of trolls echoed around them over the sound of the water. Desmond readied his crossbow, squinting in the dark to make them out.

"Can you shoot on that arm?" Serana asked.

"S'fine," he said, taking a shot. A troll roared as another one turned around. "I'm not left-handed."

Serana threw a bolt of ice to dispatch of the other troll, allowing them to move along. Desmond's little ball of light only seemed to encourage the darkness, barely having any effect on their ability to see in the cave. The cave finally let up and gave them a light, under which they saw an elf at a shrine.

"You know him?" Desmond whispered.

"Why would I?"

"Come forward," said a deep, calming voice. "You have nothing to fear here."

Desmond put up his crossbow and advanced into the lighter part of the cavern. He was certainly an elf, but not like any elves Desmond had ever seen. He was tall and impossibly pale, wearing unfamiliar armor and smiling politely.

"I am Knight-Paladin Gelebor," said the elf. "Welcome to the Great Chantry of Auri-El."

Gelebor cast a spell. A bright ray of sunshine came from above, shining on a white stone structure that came up from the ground.

"So this is Snow Elf magic. Incredible," Serana breathed, watching the shrine rise.

"This structure is known as a wayshrine," Gelebor told them. "They were used for meditation and for transport when the Chantry was a place of enlightenment. Prelates of these shrines were charged with teaching the mantras of Auri-El to our initiates."

Desmond peered inside. It was a smallish structure no bigger than a storage shed, with only a stone basin of water housed inside. As he watched, the wall opposite the wayshrine's arched opening became transparent, leading into a dark passage.

"What's that basin in the center signify?" Serana asked.

"Once the initiate completed his mantras, he'd dip a ceremonial ewer in the basin at the wayshrine's center, and proceed to the next wayshrine," Gelebor said, producing an ornate silver pitcher from within the wayshrine.

"So these initiates had to lug around a heavy pitcher of water. Marvelous. How long would they have to do that?"

"Well, once the initiate's enlightenment was complete, he'd bring the ewer to the Chantry's inner sanctum. Pouring the contents of the ewer into the sacred basin of the sanctum would allow him to enter for an audience with the arch-curate himself."

Serana pulled a face as Desmond took the ewer from Gelebor. "All that just to end up dumping it out? Makes no sense to me."

"It's symbolic," Gelebor sighed. "I don't expect you to understand."

"So let's get this straight." Serana eyed the ewer Desmond now carried, not at all convinced of its usefulness. "We need to do all that nonsense so we can get into the temple, so we can kill your brother and claim Auriel's Bow?"

"I know how it all sounds." Gelebor rubbed the back of his neck, resigned. "But if there was another way, I'd have done it long ago. The only way to get to my brother is to follow in the initiate's footsteps and travel from wayshrine to wayshrine, just as they did. The first lay at the end of Darkfall Passage, a cavern that represents the absence of enlightenment."

"That explains a lot," Desmond said. "How many more are there?"

"There are five in total, spread far apart across the Chantry."

Desmond cringed. "Five? These caves must be massive."

"Caves?" Gelebor shook his head. "Oh, no. The Chantry encompasses far more than a few caves, as you'll soon discover."

Desmond looked helplessly at Serana. The end of their journey was suddenly looking a lot farther away. "So... I need to fill this at each wayshrine," Desmond clarified.

"Correct. Once you've located a wayshrine, there will be a spectral prelate tending to it. They'll allow you to draw water from the shrine's basin as if you've been enlightened."

"Great. Let's be off, then," Desmond said, nodding to Serana. She followed him into the wayshrine.

"May Auri-El watch over you," Gelebor wished them as they passed through the transparent wall. On the other side was a dark cave, somehow darker even than the one that had led them to Gelebor.

"That... wasn't as unpleasant as I thought it would be," Serana said warily. "Kind of soothing, actually. I feel a little bit warmer, now."

"Good."

Desmond tossed up another ball of light, squinting at what was either the distance or a wall. It seemed impossible... but then, words like impossible were beginning to hold less and less meaning.

Desmond kept the ewer as level as he could, swearing under his breath as they left the fourth wayshrine. Venturing around the massive, snowy canyon the wayshrines were scattered across had taken the better part of the day—dusk was rapidly approaching as they walked over a frozen lake towards the last wayshrine.

"We're getting close," Serana said, preempting his thoughts about how long this was taking.

"Yeah. Hopefully this is really the last thing we have to do," he muttered.

"Hey, does this ice feel a little... thin to you?"

Desmond scuffed his toe on the ice. It cracked a bit, but held their weight. "Nah, it's fine. Hey—!" He ran across the lake to a snowy island in its center, where a wall of scratchy writing stood. Lodging the pitcher of water firmly in a pile of snow, he pulled out a spare scrap of paper and a stick of charcoal.

"Why do you write these things down?" Serana asked, annoyed.

"Martin collects 'em." Desmond copied the writing as best he could, hoping it was at least correct enough for Martin to fix later. "We're still finding walls, they're all over—"

Crack. Serana jumped forward off the ice and onto the island, looking nervously over her shoulder. "Can you hurry up? I don't want to have to swim all the way back."

"Yeah, hang on—"

There was a great snapping noise as the ice broke, two dragons bursting up from the depths. Serana yelled, stumbling backwards into the snow as one of them flew up from the water near the island. "DESMOND—"

"They're just dragons—"

"There's two of them!"

Desmond dropped his paper and charcoal, seizing his crossbow and backing against the wall. "Hit fast!"

Serana hurled a spear of ice into the air, grazing the darker of the two dragons as it flew past. Desmond aimed and fired, piercing the dragon through its wing. Its flight faltered and it crashed into the lake, splashing back into the water and destroying a solid patch of ice.

Its lighter sibling roared at them, fire spewing down from above and melting even more of the lake. Serana retaliated with a burst of her own flames, scorching the scales on its neck. "How many dragons have you seen?" she yelled over the chaos.

"Er..." Desmond held his breath, aiming for the darker dragon as it came up for air. He fired, narrowly missing the dragon's eye as the bolt embedded itself in its snout. "Lots, but underwater dragons is new—"

The darker dragon crawled onto the island, snapping its jaws. Serana buried her dagger in the dragon's head, blasting it with a stream of fire. "Get the other one!" she shouted at him, conjuring another bolt of ice.

Desmond turned his attention to the lighter of the two, aiming for a wing or neck as it soared overhead. He fired as quickly as he could, sending it spiraling down into the lake as well. A burst of flames flew uncomfortably close as Serana threw her ice bolt into her dragon's skull.

"See? Easy," Desmond said, tracking where the remaining dragon had gone. It had to be swimming, there was no way it was already dead. Beneath the choppy water and the pieces of ice that remained, it was hard to see.

The dragon popped out of the ice without warning, blindsiding them from the side of the island. Serana turned a stream of flames on it full-force, Desmond firing a bolt straight through its neck. The dragon came howling back to the ground, crashing into the island. Desmond and Serana scrambled back against the wall, Desmond seizing the ewer of water out of the dragon's path.

"You all right?" he asked, setting the water back in the snow and crouching down to get a better look at the lighter dragon.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Serana said.

Desmond wrenched a scale off of the lighter dragon's body. "Want it?" he asked, tossing it to Serana. She caught it, bewildered.

"What do I do with it?"

Desmond shrugged, yanking another scale off the other dragon for himself. "Start a collection of dragon scales? I normally sell the ones I take."

"Really? Do they sell for a lot?" Serana turned the scale over in her hands, looking at it in the light.

"Not as much as you'd think. Probably because we sell a lot of them." Desmond returned to the wall to pick up the ewer and his copy of the wall's writing. He kept the ewer level, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and looking for a path back to shore as the two dragons went up in flames. He jumped onto one of the larger sheets of ice, trusting it to hold his weight. "Come on, this one's safe."

"What's happening?" Serana had backed against the wall again rather than following Desmond off the snowy little island.

"Oh, ah. Relax, it's fine—"

"It's fine, they're on fire—"

Streams of magic still rose up from the skeletons. It was a familiar sight, one that usually came with cheers or gasps if there were other people around. On the rare occasion that this was a city's first dragon slaying, Desmond would usually try to redirect attention while Martin took in the dragon soul. But Martin was not around.

"What's—!"

Today, they came to him. It felt simultaneously like a tickle and a warm breeze, pleasantly invigorating but entirely foreign.

"Are you ok?" Serana asked, hopping from patch to patch of floating ice and ducking out of the way of the stream of magic. "What happened? Who's that?"

"Wha...?" Desmond turned around, seeing the transparent image of a tall man in robes and an eerie bone mask standing on the shore behind him. The man raised a hand—was it thanks, farewell, or something else?—and flickered out of sight. "I... don't think I know," he admitted, confused. "What happened?"

Serana shrugged, mystified. "They went..." She drew a path in the air from the skeletons towards Desmond. "And then..." The path continued, back towards the shore. "I think you were in the way."

Desmond shrugged as well, jumping to another patch of ice on the way to shore. "Guess so. Come on, we've still got one more wayshrine to find."

After another long trek through densely populated Falmer territory, they came to the final wayshrine. Not far behind was the Inner Sanctum Gelebor had told them about, an austere, white stone structure that struck a sharp contrast to the brilliant colors of dusk.

"That has to be the place," Serana said, slightly breathless from the hike. "I've never seen a building like that before. It looks like some kind of temple."

"That'd make sense, I guess."

They walked up the stone steps and through an arch, coming upon a tall statue of what appeared to be an elven man holding up the sun.

"This is a statue to Auriel," Serana told him. "But it's using the older signs of his power. This temple must be ancient... the bow has to be in here."

"This is Auriel?" Desmond asked, confused. "But I thought—"

"He's got a lot of forms."

"Right." Desmond took the steps two at a time, up to a basin near the doorway. "Don't forget, we have to kill Vyrthur too."

"I know. Let's just... get this all over with and get the bow."

Desmond poured out the ewer into the basin, watching it drain into channels in the ground. The water fed into another of Auri-El's sun symbols, calling down a stream of light that unlocked the door to the temple.

"That was kinda cool."

"Was it worth the work?" Serana asked.

"Nah." Desmond led the way inside, instantly feeling a chill. The temple was coated in a layer of frost, even featuring frozen Falmer dotting the interior.

"I wonder how long they've been frozen like this." Serana reached up to one of the frozen Falmer who was holding a potion, gently touching it. The Falmer rocked and clattered on its feet, as if it were a statue. "And I thought the Soul Cairn was creepy."

Desmond pried the potion bottle out of the Falmer's hand, examining it. "This looks pretty old—"

The Falmer burst to life, screeching at them. Serana lashed out first, throwing a burst of flames into the Falmer's face. It howled and swung a sword at them as Desmond fumbled for his dagger. He knocked over another of the frozen Falmer; it crashed to the ground and shattered to pieces. Serana slashed with her dagger and sent the Falmer to the ground, impaling it with a well-placed ice spear.

"Don't touch," Desmond said, kicking aside a frozen Falmer hand. "Let's go."

Aside from the frozen Falmer and a few frozen chauruses, the Sanctum was empty. They wandered freely through its halls, finding their way into icy caves.

"Where do you think it is?" Serana asked.

"The bow?"

"Mmhm."

"Probably with Vyrthur," Desmond said.

"Where do you think he is?"

"Somewhere unpleasant." Desmond hopped down off a snow bank, looking ahead into the next chamber. Frozen Falmer and chauruses lined the room, leading up to a throne surrounded by icy spikes shooting up from the ground. Sitting on the throne was another Snow Elf, undeniably the one they were after. "See?"

"Did you really come here expecting to claim Auriel's Bow?" Vyrthur asked coldly. "You've done exactly as I predicted, and brought your fetching companion to me."

Serana jumped down behind Desmond. "Wait. Is he talking about me?" she asked quietly.

Desmond shrugged. "Probably, you're prettier than me."

"Which, I'm sorry to say, means your usefulness is at an end," Vyrthur went on, undaunted.

Desmond scowled as the Falmer and chauruses began bursting to life. He seized his crossbow and fired at any still-frozen creatures he saw, the better for later on. "Sera—"

"I've got him!" Serana made a mad dash for the throne, where the arch-curate sat, unfazed. Vyrthur threw out a hand as if brushing off a fly, and another set of Falmer burst from their icy confines to seize Serana.

"An impressive display, but a wasted effort," Vyrthur said. "You delay nothing but your own deaths!"

Desmond abandoned his crossbow in favor of his dagger, variously slicing and punching at the Falmer who surrounded him. Serana cleared a path with a hail of fireballs, melting the ice on the ground into puddles and setting fire to some half-dozen Falmer. Casting a look over his shoulder, Desmond saw that Vyrthur had begun to glow. The walls shook and gave an unpleasant creak.

"Watch out!" Serana yelled. "He's pulling down the ceiling!"

"This has gone on long enough!" Vyrthur shouted, conjuring a frost atronach and sending it into the fray. Serana sent a blast of flames at it, backing against the wall. Desmond yanked a crossbow bolt from his quiver and jammed it into a Falmer who was trying to claw out his eyes.

"Your life ends here, Vyrthur!" Serana hollered, finally melting the atronach with a last-ditch fireball.

Vyrthur, seething, hurled more magic at the walls of the temple. "No! I won't let you ruin centuries of preparations!"

"Surrender now and give us the bow!"

"Death first!"

A piece of the ceiling fell down, crashing into the center of the room and taking several Falmer with it. Desmond sprinted out of the way of a falling column, the building crumbling to dust around them. The ceiling came down around them, knocking him to the ground.

As the dust settled, Desmond saw stars winking in the sky above—had the whole temple collapsed? He sat up, disoriented as Serana knelt before him.

"Are you all right?" she asked, extending a hand.

"Yeah..."

"Come on, we can do this. I know we can." She pulled him up, her hair and clothes dusty and frostbitten. "He's up on the balcony. Come on!"

Still reeling, Desmond followed as Serana sprinted up a set of stairs to the balcony overlooking the statue of Auriel. He pulled a bolt from his quiver, loading his crossbow while keeping his eyes on Vyrthur. The elf was exhausted, powerless and cornered, and certainly knew it.

"It's over, Vyrthur!" Serana hollered. "Give us the bow!"

"How dare you!" Vyrthur was backed against the stone railing, glaring at them as they advanced on him. "I was the arch-curate of Auri-El, girl. I had the ears of a god!"

"Until the Betrayed corrupted you," Serana finished, "Yes, yes, we've heard this sad story."

"Gelebor and his kind are easily manipulated fools!" Vyrthur spat. "Look into my eyes, Serana. You tell me what I am!"

Desmond squinted into the dark, just barely making out a faint red glow around Vyrthur's eyes. Serana's stance faltered a bit.

"You're a vampire? But Auriel should have protected you—"

"The moment I was infected by one of my own initiates, Auri-El turned his back on me." Vyrthur's seething glare flicked between the two of them. "I swore I'd have my revenge, no matter what the cost!"

"You want to take revenge on a god?"

"Auri-el himself may have been beyond my reach, but his influence on our world wasn't. All I needed was the blood of a vampire and his own weapon, Auriel's Bow."

Serana shook her head, simultaneously angry and confused. "The blood of a vampire... Auriel's Bow... It was you? You created that prophecy?"

"A prophecy that lacked a single, final ingredient." Vyrthur produced a dagger, staring Serana down. "The blood of a pure vampire. The blood of a daughter of Coldharbour."

Vyrthur made a move towards her, Desmond raised his crossbow to fire. Serana seized Vyrthur around the neck and lifted him off the ground, her face contorted with rage.

"You were waiting all this time for someone with my blood to come along. Well, too bad for you. I intend on keeping it," she snarled at him. "Let's see if your blood has any power to it!"

Vyrthur kicked away from her, his dagger still at the ready. Desmond fired a bolt into Vyrthur's neck, sending the elf sailing over the side of the railing and down to the stone floor below. Serana peered over the edge, still angry.

"You ok?" Desmond asked, coming to the balcony to look over as well. Vyrthur lay splayed on the ground, his arm laying at an uncomfortably skewed angle.

"Yeah." Serana blew a lock of hair out of her face. "Let's find the bow."

They turned around to see a wayshrine rising up from the courtyard. Gelebor stood inside, looking mildly pleased.

"So, the deed has been done."

Desmond nodded, shouldering his crossbow. "Yup. How'd you know?"

Gelebor held out his hands, indicating the wayshrine. "The restoration of this wayshrine means that Vyrthur must be dead, and that the Betrayed no longer have control over him."

Serana shook her head. "It wasn't the Betrayed."

"What?" Gelebor's little smile vanished. "What are you talking about?"

"He was a vampire," Desmond explained. "He controlled them."

"A vampire? I see." Gelebor crossed his arms, processing this. "That would explain much. Deep inside, it brings me joy that the Betrayed weren't to blame for what happened here."

"Why?"

"Because that means there's still hope that they might one day shed their hatred and one day learn to believe in Auri-El again. It's been a long time since I felt that way, and it's been long overdue." A truer, more peaceful smile graced Gelebor's tired old face. "My thanks to both of you."

"You're welcome."

Gelebor turned back to the wayshrine, where a pedestal stood waiting. "You risked everything to get Auri-El's bow and in return, you've restored the Chantry. I can't think of a more deserving champion to carry it than you."

A brilliant gold bow hovered just over the pedestal. Desmond approached it cautiously, uncertain of what to do. He took it down and held it reverently, amazed. Serana stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

"It's... not as shiny as I was expecting. Still, it's beautiful," she said.

Desmond stared down at the bow, a weight suddenly dropping into his stomach.

"...What's with the face?" Serana asked.

He turned and looked up at her, horrified. "I don't know how to shoot a bow."

Serana stared at him for a long moment before speaking again. "Are you kidding?"

"No, I never learned—"

"You can't shoot a bow, we came all this way and the greatest man the Dawnguard has to offer can't even shoot a bow—"

"Why do you think I use crossbows, normal bows and I never got along—"

"You have to be joking, I didn't come all this way to—"

"Is there a problem?" Gelebor had peeked into the wayshrine and was watching them bicker.

Desmond quickly shook his head. "No, sir."

Gelebor held out a quiver of a handful of bright, shining arrows. "Make good use of them."

Desmond took the arrows as he and Serana left the wayshrine, making their way back across the Chantry.

"I can't believe you—"

"Why don't you take it?" Desmond suggested, offering her the bow.

Serana threw up her hands, backing away from it. "No! I don't want that thing!"

Desmond grumbled angrily, staring down at the bow. "We came this far, we can't just give up."

"No one said we should."

"So... what comes now?" Desmond asked, plucking the string of the bow. It twanged in the silence of the night, over their footsteps in the snow.

"I think we both know." Serana kept her eyes front, leading the way back. "It's time to face my father. If we don't, he'll keep chasing us for the rest of our lives."

"If we confront him... Sera, he'll have to die," Desmond pointed out gently. "This isn't a negotiation anymore, he has to die."

"I've been thinking about this for a long time. It's... It's not easy," she admitted. "But I don't think we have much of a choice. No, this has to end here and now."

"Then let's face him together."

She shook her head. "No. If we head back to the castle and kick the front door in, we're going to be knee-deep in his friends. Let's head back to Isran and let him see what we've got first. I'm willing to bet he'll lend us a sword or two."

"Or a bow?"

Serana rolled her eyes. "God's blood, I hope this works."