Chapter 23:

"Listen," Sabona commanded, crossing his scaly legs over the edge of a wooden chair. "She's not coming. End of discussion."

Beras blinked rapidly in exasperation, looking around as if in search of someone who would back him up in what he was proposing. As soon as he, Sabona, and Alix had explained their plans to Annel, she had insisted that she would be joining them on their trip up to Meridia's temple in Skyrim, and anything that followed that.

"Skyrim is my home!" she had cried. "It's where I came from, where my parents came from, and where everyone within my ancestry has ever come from! I've been longing to go since before I can remember, and I can't just miss out on this chance! Besides, I'm not letting you out of my sight again. I won't let you die on me for a second time."

Without waiting for anyone else to have a say in the matter, Sabona had declared that this would not under any circumstances be happening, though he gave no explanation as to why it should not. Oddly enough, Alix, who was always more reasonable when it came to communication, agreed wholeheartedly with him. She too would remain silent when questioned about her decision.

Beras ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head, desperate for some way of convincing the argonian to allow his friend to come along. He had forgotten how much he had missed her, and being separated from her once again would be more than he could handle.

"She's a strong fighter," he pleaded, leaning forwards to make sure his quiet voice was heard clearly over the popping sounds of the fire. "If anyone can help fight the necromancer, she can. I've never met anyone as skilled with a blade as she."

Sabona waved his hand dismissively, rolling his eyes to indicate how foolish he believed the thought to be. "There's nothing a simple sword can manage against hoards of the undead. She'd simply add fuel to the fire in the form of her own corpse."

Beras leaned in a bit closer, eager to convince the stoic acolyte. "She's smart. She can make decisions quickly and evaluate any sticky situation with ease."

"Bah!" Sabona snorted, leaning away from the shrinking space between them. "That would make her less than redundant. I have that role covered, if you haven't noticed. Besides, she's less educated on the subject than I am, which would only make her an ineffective leader."

Standing, Beras gritted his teeth. "She has potential with magic! I saw her use some sort of frost spell!"

Sneering in disgust, Sabona looked up at him. "I can tell by her disposition that she favors destruction magic, which is my least favorite school. It's crude, and there is little that it can accomplish besides hurting and destroying. There's nothing I can teach her, and if it is frost she prefers, she'll find it rather difficult to face our enemy; zombies and skeletons are largely immune to icy magics."

"She's strong, so she can carry our supplies!"

"Unnecessary. We have horsed to do that."

"She knows her way around Skyrim!"

"Are you daft? Didn't she just say today that she had never been there?"

"She needs to see her homeland, then!"

"That's not my concern."

Wailing in frustration, Beras threw his hands in the air. "I can't go without her!"

Sabona stood up in a rage, somehow towering over Beras, despite being shorter. "Then you will never complete your mission."

Beras grabbed the sides of his head, placing his palms on his temples. "Your mission, not mine!" he shouted, all the pent up emotions of the past weeks finally finding a way out. "I didn't ask for this! I don't have to do anything for your stupid daedra worship, because for all I know, the pair of you are just out of your minds!" Heart racing and face flushing, he dropped to his seat, crossing his arms and legs defiantly.

Sabona sighed, and fell into a similar pose, rubbing his closed eyelids with his fingers. "No," he said quietly. "You didn't ask for this." Removing his hands from his face and staring up at the ceiling, he sighed again. "But neither did we. We just need to do what needs to be done to get through this, and I know you play a roll."

"How?" Beras moaned through gritted teeth. "How do you know? You still haven't explained that to me. You haven't explained why it is me in the first place. You said I was to be the 'Champion of Meridia', but I don't even understand what that makes me."

For a minute, the two of them sat in silence, the crackling fire creating the only noise that penetrated the still air. Beras bit his cheek as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He was done being the one who cried.

"Sabona," a voice finally said, and turning, Beras saw Alix arise from a seat shrouded by darkness. Evidently, she had been there the whole time, listening to their talk. As she approached, the fire glittered in her dark eyes like a torch in the night. "I think it's about time that we told him."

Sabona took a deep breath in, his entire figure shifting as his reptilian lungs filled with air. Then he let it loose in a long, low sigh. "Alright," he finally answered.

Beras narrowed his eyes as he wiped them dry. "Tell- tell me what?"

Alix turned to him, fixing him with her gaze. "The actual prophecy that we were given. The one about you, about the necromancer, and about the Fall of Authority."

Blinking, Beras straightened up in his seat. This was a new one; the Fall of Authority? "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I don't-"

"Quiet," Sabona commanded, silencing him with a flick of the wrist. "Let Alix speak."

Alix cleared her throat, then took a deep breath, closing her eyes in deep concentration.

"When those who live at where water is stored

Take hold of a new prisoner,

And fourteen of those who carry the sword

Are slain by the Isle's winner,

A hero will rise in a daedra's name

To battle an ancient evil,

Which seeks a sinister title to claim,

And takes charge of the upheaval.

With the blade of dawn in his newborn hands,

The champion will face the dead,

And watch as a fate spreads across the lands,

And cry for all those who bled.

Between saving the future and the past,

He'll choose which holds priority,

But face death by the blade of the north's blast,

At the Fall of Authority."

There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke, in which Beras opened his mouth to say something a number of times, but closed it without uttering a word. If telling him the prophecy was supposed to put him at ease, it managed to achieve the exact opposite. All it did was confirm his worst nightmares.

It seemed that he would indeed be put up against a nearly apocalyptic enemy, and by the sound of it, people would die in the process. He would have to choose between two difficult options, as it appeared, only to be killed by "the blade of the north's blast." And this Fall of Authority… whatever it was, it was likely equally, if not more terrible than the other lines.

"Now do you understand?" Sabona said, sitting up in his chair. "Do you see why we can't take that girl with us?"

Beras swallowed the panic that was induced by the prophecy. He could worry about that later. "If you think she's going to die, I think you underestimate her. She's incredibly strong, and even-"

"No." The word was so forceful that it caused Beras to stop mid sentence. "No," Sabona repeated. "That's not why we can't bring her."

Alix took a few steps forwards, then lowered herself into a third seat. "Her life would unquestionably be in danger if she were to come with us. That much should be clear without the prophecy. We can't bring her because of the second to last line; 'But face death by the blade of the north's blast.'"

Beras felt a sickening lurch in his stomach at the realization of it. "You don't mean…"

Alix nodded gravely. "Annel is a Nord of the northern province of Skyrim. And she is a Blade. It is more than likely that she is the very blade of the north that, according to the prophecy, will take your like."

Beras swallowed, his eyes darting around the room as he sifted this new information through in his mind. After a few seconds, he finally calmed down, then smiled. "That's exactly why she can come with us," he said with a surprising amount of confidence and self-assuredness. "Because she isn't the blade of the north from the prophecy; Annel would never kill me."