Serana cursed. Again. Arven had lost count of the number of times she'd done so over the past few hours.
The first time took him by surprise. The second time was humorous. But by now he was simply getting frustrated on her behalf. Looking over at her as she concentrated on her hands, after a few moments of intense silence she cursed once more, flinching and recoiling as a golden glow erupted from her palm.
"Gods damn it," she said, shaking out her hand. With one glove tucked into her belt, Serana had her right hand free as she continually tried to cast restoration magic. She was succeeding, but it wasn't the magic she wanted. Instead of casting magic that could've healed her, she just kept casting more 'traditional' restoration magic. Magic that burned her.
"This is impossible," she muttered to herself, shaking her head in frustration. The two were in a familiar place, walking underneath the night sky as they travelled throughout the evening. The stars were the only source of light illuminating their path, and except for the occasional fox or hare dashing out from a bush, they were alone.
"You sure about that?" Arven asked as he raised a hand, emitting restoration magic from his hand. The magic that Serana was trying so hard to replicate.
She stared at him, a thoroughly unimpressed look on her face.
"You're a real smartass, you know that?" She asked.
"Oh I'm well aware," Arven responded. "Imagine if I was actually smart. I'd be insufferable."
Serana rolled her eyes at him, focusing back on her hand. Instead of restoration magic, she summoned destruction magic. A surge of lightning erupted from her hand, crackling through the air and around her limb. Some of it got dangerously close to Arven.
"That's… not quite right," Arven commented.
"Hilarious," Serana said. "No, it just feels good to do something I'm good at."
Arven shrugged. He couldn't argue with that.
Serana raised her arms above her head, stretching out as lightning continued to crackle from her palm. She was stretching both her muscles and her magicka, letting the magic flare out in a mostly controlled manner. After failing at spellcasting for a few hours she had an itch of sorts that she needed to scratch, with so much magicka building up in her body.
After she scratched that itch, she went right back to practising.
"This is infuriating," she said. "I had this before when you were teaching me."
"You managed a glow, sure. But not healing. That's a pretty big jump," Arven said.
"It shouldn't be though. It should be a lot easier than this," Serana replied. She tried once more. She went through the steps. Pooling the magicka in her hand, summoning a dull, golden glow that emerged from her skin and illuminated her fingers, then she tried to add more power to it. Change it from a powerless glow into actual restorative magic.
Once again, she failed. Shaking out her hand, she looked up to the sky and let out a long groan of frustration.
"This is stupid," she said. "Restoration magic is stupid."
Arven let out a slight laugh, shaking his head at her.
"Oh, what," she asked, turning her head to him as she could feel the judgement emanating from his gaze.
"Nothing," Arven said. "It's just strange seeing you struggle with magic, considering how skilled you are in every other school."
"Well, I am a vampire. This isn't natural for me," she replied.
Arven took a step closer, looking at her hand. "Do it again," he said.
Serana obliged him, casting the magic once more while Arven stared intently. As soon as she mistakenly switched from the dull golden glow to 'normal' restoration magic, Arven had the corner of his lips turn up into a soft, understanding smile while Serana winced from the pain.
"Here, give me your hand," Arven said as he took off one of his gloves and held out a bare hand. Serana reached out, grabbing his hand with her own. As she did, Arven then immediately cast restoration magic in the same manner that Serana was trying to.
He started off with a harmless glow, then transitioned it into proper 'undeath restoration' as slowly as he could, so Serana could study the way that his magicka shifted and changed into the desired end result. She stared at him afterwards, slightly amazed at how he could do it so simply. Unknown to Arven, his control and manipulation of restoration magic was masterful, rivalling Serana's own control over other schools of magic.
"You make it seem so simple," she said. "I can see how you did it, but seeing is one thing. Replicating it myself is another."
Arven furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. Then, coming up with an idea, held Serana's hand and turned her palm up. Then, with his still-covered hand, he conjured a small sphere of restoration magic. It was a similar spell to the one that he used to shield his entire body in a circle of magicka, but when he'd last used that it was living restoration. He'd changed this one to be beneficial to the undead.
Moving the small orb of light, he 'placed' it into Serana's hand. "Hold onto it and try to control it, okay?"
Serana nodded, staring intently on the orb. She had her hand resting in Arven's other hand, and whenever she was just about to lose control Arven would intervene and bring the balance of the magicka back into the right spot. The two of them stood in place for a minute or two before the magicka swirling around in that orb finally seemed to settle into a constant, steady state.
"There you go," Arven smiled, looking at Serana's face. The concentration faded away from her gaze as she grasped the magic with a satisfied smirk.
She looked to him, an almost proud look crossing her features. Then, understanding how the spell worked, the orb on her palm went out – snuffed like a light. Arven frowned, thinking she lost it, but a moment later and Serana's entire body erupted with the same magic. Vibrant, chaotic restorative magics burst from Serana in the same way that Isran and Arven had done previously, yet the intensity of this was far greater than anything either of the two men had managed before.
With Serana's immense reserves of magicka, she pushed the spell further and the entire road became illuminated by the spell. Their surroundings were all bathed in the dull golden light, with every shadow retreating back into the void.
Arven could only stare up in awe. Pushing himself as far as he could, there was no way he'd manage a spell on this scale. Not with any regular magic, at least. He even let out a barely audible word of admiration, which caused Serana's smirk to grow even wider before she cancelled the spell, as some wildlife was getting dangerously close and she didn't want them to get caught up and wither away.
"Not bad, right?" She asked.
"Yeah. That's… pretty incredible," Arven breathed back out as his eyes almost immediately acclimatised back to the darkness of the night.
"That's me," Serana replied. "Pretty, and incredible."
"…That's not what I said," Arven clarified. "That's definitely not what I said."
"Hey, they're your words. You can't say it then take it back," Serana said.
"I can when you twist them about," Arven muttered.
Serana ignored that. Instead, she cocked her head to the side, signalling that they should keep moving. So they did, walking side by side down the cobblestone path. It didn't take long for Arven to notice that he was still holding Serana's hand after guiding her spell, and as soon as he realised it he flexed his fingers, as if to remind Serana and pull his hand away.
But she simply gripped his hand even tighter. That prompted a look of curiosity from Arven, his eyes moving to meet hers with a quirked brow. In response she just flashed that brilliant smile and gave his hand a gentler squeeze. One that provided comfort, while also showing her intent that she wasn't planning on letting go.
So Arven relented, exhaling in a manner to act as if he was merely putting up with Serana's antics, hiding how much he'd come to enjoy her stubbornness with these things. As he did, Serana rested her head on his shoulder as they continued to walk towards their next destination.
Sometime later and they were nearing their goal. Their journey had become slightly burdensome, as they had to move through the mountains. Thankfully the note that Arven had wrested from Isran contained some useful information. A location, and a description of a certain ritual. The ritual sounded somewhat farfetched, but the pair didn't have much else to go off.
The location listed was, unfortunately, on the other side of the mountain range running through the centre of Southern Skyrim. There were paths through the mountains, but they were so rugged and difficult to traverse that people rarely bothered. If anything, they seemed more like smuggling routes than anything that would be practical for travelling.
But, when you had inhuman strength and resistance, that became less of an issue.
"I'm surprised that these paths even exist," Arven said.
"If you can call them that," Serana noted. The "path" they were walking on was less of a path, and more of an area where wildlife and the occasional traveller had trampled the vegetation down. The terrain was never flat, and they had to scale walls on occasion that required near inhuman strength.
"I can't imagine anyone ever actually traversing this," Arven said as he pulled himself up a near vertical cliff-face. He turned around to offer a hand to Serana as she followed him. It wasn't something she needed, but she appreciated the gesture.
"You'd have to be desperate. Running from the law, perhaps," Serana guessed as she used Arven's hand to pull herself up. "Although, as crazy as this ritual sounds, being in such an irksome location makes this whole thing slightly more believable."
Arven offered a grunt in response. Eventually they came across an actual dirt path where the terrain levelled out, and after a few more minutes of walking they came to the entrance of a cave.
"Oh look," Arven remarked. "More caves."
"Not a fan?" Serana asked.
"Not really. They're dim, wet, dirty," Arven said as he ducked down to move into the entrance of the cave. "I was hoping that something to do with the scrolls might be a bit more… I don't know the word, elegant?"
"I'm trying to picture you in an elegant setting," Serana said as she watched Arven crouch-walking half bent over. "Perhaps a ball, a member of a court, or a fancy dinner. For some reason, I'm struggling quite a bit."
"Oh, bite me," Arven retorted.
"Already did," Serana said with a smirk.
"I swear you used to feel guilty about that," Arven said as he kept moving forward. "Either that or all these caves are making me go crazy."
"I think you've always been a little crazy, Arven," Serana said with an apologetic tone, teasing him.
"And yet you're the one following the crazy man. What does that say about you?" He replied.
"I'm… too kind for my own good?"
"Wow," Arven breathed. "Living in a castle for all those years really did mess with your ego, didn't it?" He said.
Serana stared daggers into Arven's back, but she bit her tongue. She knew better than to take the bait. So she diverted back to their earlier topic.
"Well, we could go to the Imperial City. That's rather fancy, from what I've heard," Serana said.
"That's also very far away."
"We've got time."
Arven paused for a moment, almost as if he was considering it. It had been a long time since he was in Cyrodiil, let alone the Imperial City.
"I don't know. It'd feel weird going back there. I've spent so much time in Skyrim that it feels more natural being here now," Arven commented. "Plus, the Dragonborn moving south would cause all sorts of political issues I want no part of. Even after this is resolved, I'm not sure if I ever want to return to that place."
Serana smiled slightly at that response. "Good. I've never been a fan of Cyrodiil, to be honest," she stated.
"Why do I get the feeling there's a strong implication behind what you just said?" Arven asked.
"I wouldn't have a clue, Arven," Serana said with a coy smile.
While the entrance of the cave was dimly lit, there was a surprising amount of vegetation. Instead of stepping on dirt and stones, Arven found that he was pushing aside thick leaves and vines to move through. Not only that, but further ahead was a rather bright light.
Grunting, Arven toyed with the idea of summoning a blade to cut through the greenery. However it started to thin out before long as they continued to descend.
"Are most caves this… lush?" Serana asked. "Besides the one you found me in, and the one where we rescued the priest I can't say I'm too familiar with them.
"Normally not, no," Arven said. "This is definitely a step up from your cave, though."
"It wasn't that bad, was it? Besides the gargoyles," Serana commented.
"You didn't see the half of it. Between the skeletons, vampires and giant spiders, I've got no desire to ever go back to that place."
"Giant… spiders?" Serana asked.
"Yup. Taller than you are," Arven said.
Serana visibly shuddered at the thought. She suddenly became rather grateful that Arven led them out another path than the one he used to find her.
"What, not a fan of spiders?" Arven asked.
"Who is?" Serana said.
"Coming from the woman who likes bats."
"Excuse me? You did not just compare bats to gigantic spiders," Serana said, almost sounding offended.
"I mean, they're both pretty creepy. Bats with their leathery wings, spiders with their… well, everything," Arven stated.
Serana scowled at him from behind, shaking her head. "You're lucky you're so cute," she whispered to herself.
Arven had a quip on the tip of his tongue ready to respond, but found himself lost for words as the narrow passage they were in suddenly opened. The path they were walking in, barely large enough for the two to walk side by side had suddenly opened up into a wide cavern. It was similar in size to the 'fortress' where Dexion was being held, but it was filled with vegetation. Trees, lush greenery and running water dominated the landscape.
Not only that, but light was funnelling in from above, with various holes in the 'ceiling' of the cavern which let moonlight come in to illuminate the area.
Arven found himself standing in place, merely admiring the view. It was shockingly beautiful.
"Oh, wow," Serana breathed as she stood up beside Arven. He felt her shoulder brushing against his own, and a moment later his hand was grasped. But he didn't mind in the slightest.
"It's… beautiful," Serana said.
Arven didn't respond for a moment, merely taking the time to appreciate the view and the beauty of the place. It wasn't until he turned to look at Serana, admiring her side profile as she herself was taking in their scenery that he responded.
"Yeah," he agreed, looking at her. "Beautiful."
After a few more moments they started to descend down, towards a clearing in the centre which seemed to be the focal point of the cavern.
"Look, over there," Serana gestured as they walked. Further down there appeared to be a shrine of some kind. Stones laid out in an obviously ritualistic fashion, along with a pedestal. As they walked, Arven noticed the sounds of wildlife. Not so much game, or larger animals, but butterflies and moths flew through the air with the moonlight reflecting off their wings.
"Why couldn't you be buried in a place like this?" Arven asked.
"I hardly got a choice in the matter," Serana said. "But… it certainly would've been a nice view to wake up to."
"What, and I wasn't?" Arven asked.
"You mean your sword? It wasn't particularly pleasant, no," Serana stated. "Plus, you were wearing that dirty helmet of yours. So it's not like I could see you."
"Fair point," Arven said as he started to approach the central pedestal. Sitting on it, in a rather purposeful manner was a tool of some kind. He carefully reached out, very cognisant of his past with caves and traps, and gently picked it up. It was a simple tool, with two wooden handles that had intricate carvings and a blade that ran perpendicular from one handle to the other.
He picked it up, inspecting it, looking at it from every angle. Then he merely ended up with it resting in his hands, arms extended slightly to his front. Grasping it tight, Arven turned to Serana.
"Now what?" He said, shrugging slightly.
Serana bit her lip, supressing a laugh. "You're an idiot." She mumbled to herself. She pulled out the note that they took from Isran and read over it once more. She had memorised the contents, but it was more of a show for Arven.
"Now you take the draw knife, that's what you're holding, and carefully remove the bark of the surrounding trees. Then, the glade will allow you to read the scrolls," Serana stated. "Or more specifically, the "Ancestors will guide the way".
"I like to think of myself as an optimist," Arven said, purposefully ignoring the playful scoff that came from Serana. "But this seems idiotic."
"We don't have a choice, do we?" Serana replied with a shrug.
Arven let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. "I suppose not. But, what do you think they mean by ancestors?"
"I have no idea. Ghosts, maybe?" Serana asked.
"It wouldn't surprise me. I tend to attract the undead, somehow," Arven said.
"Oh, you poor thing," Serana smirked with one hand resting on a hip.
Walking over to a nearby tree he held the draw knife to the bark, and ever so gently scraped off some of it. The piece he cut off was barely as large as his finger.
"I think you'll need more than that," Serana said.
Arven sighed. "I feel like a spriggan is going to jump out and attack me at any second," he said before holding the draw blade up again. Carving off a bigger piece of bark, he sat there and waited. And waited. Nothing seemed to happen.
"More?" Arven asked, but Serana looked as dumbfounded as he did.
"Maybe? It just said use the knife, and you'll be able to read the scroll."
"So, should I try it?" Arven asked. As he spoke, he noticed a rather large moth had come down to rest on his arm. The pattern on its wings was unique, and in a way mesmerising. Then, a second later and another moth had come to rest on his other arm.
"I wonder how you even read them. Is it text? Symbols?" Serana pondered.
"Symbols, mainly. You don't really read the scroll. It sort of… imprints the information onto you. At least it did with me," Arven explained.
Serana turned to him, dumb founded for a moment. Of course she had never seen the inside of a scroll, the same as the vast majority of the world. It was too dangerous, not to mention rare to simply have one.
"I had forgotten that you've done this before. How did you do it last time without getting injured?" Serana asked.
Arven shook his head. "I didn't really read it. There was a wound in time created by the same Elder Scroll. By reading it in the same location, I was able to see the past."
Serana blinked at him a few times. It was rare for her to not be able to understand something at all.
Arven raised his hands. "Hey, I don't get it. People just tell me to do stuff and I do it."
"Hmm. Well, we need information, not… whatever the scroll did for you last time." As she spoke, she raised a hand, gently shooing away some more moths that had started to fly around the pair. Even more had landed on Arven, with some now resting on his helmet.
"Maybe more bark?" Arven asked. He started to walk over to another tree, but stopped halfway. There was almost a swarm of moths surrounding him now. Not so much that he couldn't see, but they were obstructing his path.
"Okay, this is ridiculous. Is there a Daedric Prince of Moths I've offended somehow?" He sighed.
Serana paused, studying the moths. They weren't just flying in any random pattern. They were swarming around Arven, with some breaking off towards the centre before returning to him. They were flying with a purpose, a single mind trying to guide him somewhere. She'd heard of something like this before, but it had been so long since she'd studied such things that it didn't come to her at first.
"Ancestor Moths," Serana whispered.
Arven blinked at her. "I don't think moths worship their ancestors in the same way Nords do, Serana," he said.
Serana rolled her eyes. "I swear you say these things to get on my nerves," she remarked with a smirk. Arven's grin confirmed that fact. "No, they're called ancestor moths I believe. "The Ancestors will guide the way."
"I'm meant to follow moths?" Arven asked. "You can't be serious."
"I think you are, yes. There's actually a cult. 'Moth Priests', remember?" Serana said.
As soon as he heard 'moth priest' it all clicked in Arven's head. He cursed himself slightly for not thinking of it earlier. "You know, I knew that they were called Moth Priests, but I never questioned why," he said. Looking around, he admired the moths swirling around him now, trying to spur him forward. "I guess it's a pretty fitting name."
Turning to the direction in which they were prompting him, Arven followed the moths. They continued 'pushing' him forward until he was standing on a pedestal of sorts. Looking straight up, he could see the sky of Skyrim through one of the holes in the ceiling of the cavern. As the moths flew around him they picked up in speed, cascading faster and faster.
The moonlight reflected off their wings. Some of it shone in Arven's eyes, and he found himself blinking to try and focus. But he simply couldn't. His vision started to blur, and whenever he kept them open bright lights were flickering in and out of his sight. Everything in the background started to shimmer, distort. His eyes were filled with light and it was overwhelming.
Seeing him almost disoriented, Serana wanted to step up but she stopped herself. More moths had come down, and they had almost formed a barrier. "Are you okay in there, Arven?"
"I… yeah, I think so. I just can't see properly," he said. "The moths are doing something to my vision."
Grabbing the scroll on his back, Arven held it out before himself. While the rest of his vision was distorting past the point of being useful, the Elder Scroll was perfectly clear. "Well… here goes nothing."
Serana found herself fighting the urge to step forward and warn Arven. Elder Scrolls were dangerous, and she knew the risks that someone took to read them. But they both understood that. And if anyone could do it, she knew that it would be him.
Holding the scroll before him, Arven took a deep breath. "I really hope this isn't as bad as last time," his whispered to himself before he opened it.
The fabric on the Elder Scroll was alien. Unintelligible. It shifted on the page, twisting about, writhing in a way that made his brain hurt. It made him confused, irritable, angry. He found himself trying to make sense of what he saw, but he couldn't. And the longer he looked at it, the harder he found it to look away.
However, parts of the paper started to shift. It shimmered, and the moths surrounding him flew even faster. They refracted the light off their wings, their bodies. The light shone through the paper, and somehow forced the unintelligible writing to conform to their will. Arven didn't see words, or meaning, but an outline of something.
A map.
After a few long, painful seconds, the map didn't progress anymore. But he knew what he needed. Closing the scroll, he hooked it onto his back in one move and extended a hand out to Serana, his head and eyes staying forward, locked onto the image of the map that was being burnt into his sight.
She paused for a moment before understanding. Holding out another Elder Scroll for him, the near impenetrable wall of moths gave way, a passage forming where Arven could grab the scroll. He read it, and it added to the first. The map started to become whole, and he knew where he was looking. It was as if he was soaring on the clouds miles up in the sky, looking down on the province of Skyrim.
After taking the final scroll every piece meshed together. His vision had been overtaken by the map as if it was imprinted on his eyes. All he could see was the location of Auriel's Bow, and that fact was now burned into his brain. Along with a name.
As quickly as they had come to him, the moths started to leave. They flew off, and Arven found his eyes going black momentarily. He fell to one knee, blinking rapidly as his vision wavered and slowly started to come back, with the ground before him seeming like a pinprick of light a mile away.
When the moths had left Serana was immediately at his side, hands on his shoulders. "Hey, Arven. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Arven said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly blinking as light started to fill his eyes once more. It took a moment, but he could eventually see. He turned to Serana, offering her a smile to soothe the worried look on her face.
"I'm all good, thank you," he said as he went to stand up.
"That didn't look pleasant," Serana said.
"It didn't feel pleasant either," Arven said. "But it worked."
Serana's eyes lit up. "You know where the bow is?"
"Yeah. I saw it, and I know the name. Darkfall Cave," he said.
Serana frowned slightly. "I don't think I've ever heard of that. It doesn't sound familiar, at least."
"I guess that just makes it a good place to hide something," Arven said. He blinked a few more times, still trying to adjust his eyesight. "It just had to be another cave, though."
"Perhaps all the best things are hidden away in caves?" Serana pondered.
Arven looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "Really?" He asked with a smirk. "I know where it is, though. It shouldn't be too hard to get to."
"Well, that's a relief. I honestly wasn't-" Serana cut herself off, her head darting back towards the entrance of the cave. She heard something. Footsteps, followed by a loud crack of a branch as someone, or something stepped on it. As soon as she looked, her expression darkened within an instant.
Standing near the opening of the cave a band of ragged, worn-down bandits were staring down at Arven and Serana. They had hate in their eyes. Not only that, but hunger. A deep, desperate hunger that addled the brain and defied all reason. A hunger that was all too obvious in their red eyes.
Serana cursed under her breath, standing to both feet which prompted Arven to do the same. He looked in the direction she was facing and caught on rather quickly.
"Seriously?" He breathed. "More of them?"
"I don't know these ones, though. They aren't members of the court." Serana muttered back before she called out. "Who are you?"
The vampires looked confused. There was a surprising amount. Arven counted seven, all standing next to the other. They were different races. A Bosmer, an Imperial. A couple of Nords as well. The others had hoods on, and he couldn't make out their features enough to tell, but they weren't elves. But they all looked terrible. Skinny and gaunt, their faces hollow.
None of them responded to Serana's question.
"What did he offer you?" Serana asked. She didn't seem threatened in the slightest. More, annoyed.
"Shut it bitch," one of the vampires yelled out as they stepped forward.
Arven clenched his fist at his side, but Serana merely scoffed. "Money? Power? Or just a feast? Did he tell you what happened to the last vampires he sent our way?" No answer came from any of the vampires, so Serana decided to demonstrate.
Holding an arm out to one side she amassed a pool of magicka. Then, aiming it at a rather large rock sitting a dozen or so meters away, she fired a bolt of lightning. The sound that echoed around the cavern was loud enough to disorient Arven for a split second, and when he looked at her target, it had been disintegrated. In such a casual motion she had summoned enough destructive power to obliterate a person, and she didn't even need to take a breath.
Any sane person would've run, but the vampires stood their ground.
"They're mad," Arven said.
"No. They just don't have a choice. They either kill us, or father kills them," Serana spat. She seemed almost remorseful, and Arven couldn't help pitying the vampires. Just a little bit.
"They can't run?" Arven asked.
"They wouldn't, their pride won't let them," Serana responded, keeping her words short as she stared them all down.
"And what if they did? Would they survive?" Arven asked.
Serana was confused, looking to Arven for a second. But she remembered what he did back at the keep. The way he made vampire hunters, men and women who stare down some of the most frightening creatures around, cower and flee before him.
"No," Serana said. "Father's influence reaches far. They'd be dead before the end of the month."
Arven exhaled, his chest deflating ever so slightly.
"I'm tired of killing, Serana," he whispered.
Serana stepped forward, more magicka pooling in her hands. "You don't have to take part in his, Arven. This is my family's doing. Just rest."
But Arven shook his head, stepping up to her side. He summoned a longbow in his left hand, and a second later he had shadowy tendrils running up his right forearm, ready to be summoned into arrows at a moment's notice.
"No, that's not fair on you. We're in this together, I'm not about to stand back and make you fight on my behalf," Arven said.
Serana didn't respond, but she looked to him and nodded. Turning back to their ambushers, they each heard the primal, guttural growl of hunger and hate from the vampires as they started sprinting down towards them.
Each one was on the edge of being feral. Starving. And Harkon was no doubt using that against them. That made them very, very dangerous.
Unfortunately for them, Serana was one of the most dangerous vampires in all of Skyrim. Possibly rivalling her father in strength. But she wasn't the one they should be worrying about. By far, the most dangerous person in that cavern was Arven.
Seeing the way that their vampirism overtook their senses caused a conflict to stir in his stomach. There was disgust at how they were giving in, yet he knew that struggle now. And without knowing how they ended up like this, he found himself pitying them ever so slightly. Yet, above all he still hated that thirst within their eyes, that thirst which overwhelmed them and turned them into beasts.
And he refused to succumb to such a fate himself. So, as the vampires charged at him, some with daggers and others summoning destruction magic in open hands, he inhaled deeply. He felt that familiar stirring deep within his soul, and he decided to let them out. Just for a little bit.
Exhaling softly, he whispered a shout.
"Fiik Lo Sah".
As Arven took two steps back, a mirror image of him sprinted forward. Although it was undoubtedly not real, as the copy's body was ethereal and shimmered it served as a powerful distraction. Especially when it was charging at you with swords drawn.
Even Serana paused for a second, and several vampires charging down either aimed their spells at the phantom, or readied their blades to fight. Each one made a mistake.
As two vampires moved to engage the phantom Arven drew his bow. It was the same ethereal bow he used for dragons, but considering his current physiology it was no harder to draw than a shortbow. Just as a vampire swung at the phantom he'd summoned, a large arrow pierced directly through their head and ended up burying itself into stone, with only the fletching remaining visible. The vampire instantly fell to the floor, lifeless. Their partner, who was readying to attack the phantom looked down at the real Arven and cursed, trying to duck to the side as another arrow was just about to come flying their way.
They succeeded, rolling to the side before scrambling to their feet. But as soon as they did they were struck in the chest by lightning and Serana's attack sent them flying, slamming into a stone wall with a sickening thud.
The rest of the vampires panicked, but they had no choice. They all sprinted down towards their target. One of them summoned ice magics to the best of their ability, causing a torrent of hail to fall directly in front of Arven and Serana to try and blind them. When they emerged each one was bearing fangs. One had even picked up the body of a fallen vampire, using it as a shield to attempt to block an incoming arrow or blast.
Serana pooled up more magicka than before in response, holding both hands together as she prepared to fend them all off, but had to stop herself as soon as she saw Arven rush out in front of her. She barely caught the sound of more words before she found that she wasn't needed in this fight at all.
"Su Grah Dun!"
The bow in his hand had twisted into a long, wicked blade, and within mere seconds Arven had cut his way through the crowd. The first vampire carrying their 'companion' tossed the corpse at Arven and held out their hand, readying to explode the corpse and mar the field with gore and blood. They were just too slow.
Arven side-stepped the corpse and leaped towards them, seeing the shock on their face before he separated their head from their shoulders in one swift, efficient strike. Behind that vampire two more charged at him, each carrying a dull, rusted blade of some kind. He parried them both as his sword moved with an inhuman speed, feeling as if a surge of wind was swirling around him and pushing his blade forward faster than he'd be able to under his own power.
As Serana watched, it seemed as if a child picking up their sword for the first time had been forced to fight a seasoned warrior. Each vampire was slain no less than a second after they were within range of Arven's sword. While the Arven she had met many weeks ago, back in the cave was one that gave her pause, this one was entirely different.
She could've beaten Arven back then, if she had to. But now? In melee combat at least, she wouldn't stand a chance. As soon as she realised it was over, Arven was walking back towards her. He had dismissed his sword, and had a look of sorrow mixed with disgust on his face.
"That… what was that?" She asked.
Arven looked to her, curious. "What do you mean?"
"You weren't that fast before," she said. "Not even close. Not when you fought Garan."
"Oh, right." Arven turned back, looking at the seven corpses now scattered around the glade. He felt a hint of shame. The glade was so beautiful, yet now it had been stained with a waste of life and blood smeared across the grass and rocks on the path.
"I don't know who those people were, but they were suffering. They seemed borderline rabid. I just wanted to put them down as quickly as I could," Arven said.
Serana looked to him, not interrupting but her eyes were telling him that he hadn't answered her question.
"I'm starting to get used to the souls within me. Every day, I've made an effort to let them breathe just for a moment. Extending it longer and longer each time, feeling the way they change me," Arven exhaled as he spoke. It was still uncomfortable for him to speak about, but it was much easier than before.
"It helps, surprisingly. It calms me down and gives me something to focus on if I'm feeling jittery, anxious. Hungry. It feels like they're talking to me, as crazy as that sounds. Dozens of souls writhing about in my body," Arven continued.
"When I first turned, I was worried they'd try and 'take over'. Being petrified of this thing that tried to kill me, then all of a sudden I could hear it inside of me. There was no escape, and I locked them all away. But, I'm getting control over it. Slowly, but…" Arven trailed off, looking at his palm before he clenched a fist.
"I'm surprised. Normally I can tell when you're thinking about them, your body reacts in such a noticeable way," Serana responded. It was painfully obvious when they first met, the thought of a dragon was enough to make Arven stiffen and have his heart rate rise through the roof.
Arven had half a smile come to the edge of his mouth.
"I feel like I've been approaching this the wrong way, all this time. I need to understand them. They're never going away, and I can use this," he said, his fist clenching tighter as he felt the power surging in his arm. The unnatural, inhuman strength. "I just wish I could talk to one."
"What do you mean?" Serana asked.
"A dragon. There's one dragon I've talked to, but they're different. They're… they've overcome their nature, and now they simply speak like a scholar. Trying to give me life lessons, but they've changed from how they were. Not to mention, they live in the most arduous of places to reach. I need to know how they used to think. How these dragons I've conquered think, and what they want from me," Arven explained.
He had been thinking on this for a while, but he kept his thoughts to himself. It was a bad habit the warrior had. Not to mention, he found those thoughts to be pointless, as aside from Paarthurnax there wasn't another dragon he could talk to.
"Well," Serana started, unsure if she should continue her line of thought. "What if there was a way to talk to one?"
Arven turned to her, frowning. "What do you mean? There's only one other dragon I know, but I tricked him and forced him to betray Alduin. I could summon him, but I doubt he'd come. And if he did, he'd likely want to fight," Arven said. His experience with Odahviing was rather unpleasant. After tricking the dragon and capturing him, the dragon claimed that Arven didn't have the soul of a Dovah, and stated that if the two were ever to meet again, that he'd force a battle between them. One which, according to the dragon, Arven would lose.
"Not to mention, back then I wasn't afraid to let him know what I thought of his kind," Arven muttered under his breath.
"There's another, Arven. The one you fought back in the Soul Cairn," she said.
Arven frowned, his eyes narrowing. "That dragon should be dead. I don't remember much, but I remember slaying the damn thing," he said in a harsh tone.
"He came back after you passed out. It seems he's cursed to live there forever," Serana said.
"You're serious? How did you survive?" Arven asked, disbelief on his face?
"He didn't want to fight. He wanted to talk, funnily enough," Serana responded. "In fact, he helped me. He carried us back to the entrance to the Soul Cairn."
"You've got to be joking," Arven said. Everything about this seemed ridiculous to him. He knew dragons were normally immortal, but he killed it. It shouldn't have been able to come back, but to come back and help Serana save him? "Seriously, please tell me you're joking. That's all kinds of wrong."
Serana just shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. He said he wished to speak to the first person to ever defeat him. Maybe he's your best bet."
Arven quietened. It was a good opportunity, that was for sure. However, his desire to talk with a dragon had become very real in a rather short amount of time, and he was having doubts.
Turning back to the carnage of their battle earlier, he shook his head slightly. "We need to clean this up first." It was getting harder to ignore. Even though they were vampires, he could still smell their blood.
"That's a good idea. A place like this is so serene, I feel bad for fighting here," Serana said, not pushing the earlier subject any further. The two then wordlessly gathered the corpses. It wasn't clean work, and Arven felt strange offering a burial of sorts for vampires. But he didn't want to leave the glade stained like this.
After gathering the corpses, Arven pulled back his hood.
"You might want to step back a bit, Serana," he said as he opened his mouth and inhaled. He felt the stirring within himself once more, and he held it there just for a moment. The pressure built up within his diaphragm, and he felt their strength being funnelled into his shout once more.
"Yol!"
A burst of intensely hot fire erupted from his mouth, encasing the corpses within seconds. They all caught alight, but the flames were so hot that they disintegrated after a mere second. Only ash remained, and that ash slowly started to be swept away by the light breeze running through the area.
Serana watched, once again amazed at the strength Arven had. While it was a simple shout, it sounded more draconic than before. It was nowhere near as strong as his shout in the Soul Cairn, but even with that one word the fire felt more intense than when he had shouted back in front of her old home.
Arven turned back to face her. "Shall we get going then?" He asked.
Serana looked away, taking in the beauty of the cavern once more. Her hood had been forced back during their battle, and her long, gorgeous hair was gently blowing behind her figure. She admired the beauty of the glade, and felt a rather strong desire to cultivate something like this of her own. On a smaller scale, of course, but she wanted to create something beautiful.
"I suppose you have rubbed off on me somewhat, mother," she muttered beneath her breath. Then she turned to Arven, flashing him a gentle smile. A smile that only grew as she saw Arven's pupils dilate, and his expression change when he was once again stunned by that smile which was reserved for him. A privilege he would never take for granted.
The two walked out of the glade, taking their time. A few moths circled around the pair once more as they walked towards the exit, but by the time they emerged into the night air they had left them behind.
"So, where to next?" Serana asked. "Off to that cave?"
"Yeah, but we'll pass by home first. I'm running low on supplies," Arven said, obvious referring to the blood he carried on his belt.
"Works for me, I could use a comfortable bed," Serana said.
"Is the guest bed really any good? It sort of came with the furniture, and Lydia isn't the type to complain," Arven asked.
"Who said I'd be sleeping there?" Serana replied, looking at Arven with a childish smirk.
Arven looked back at her, his eyes showing no emotion before he shook his head slightly. "I'm not responding to that," he muttered. "But, there's something I have to do first," Arven said.
Serana looked to him, raising a brow. "What's that?"
"Something I'd really rather not do," he replied.
It took a few minutes for Arven to reach an appropriate spot, but slightly further down the mountain he found an opening. It was still secluded, but there was enough room for what he had in mind. Any further up the mountain and this wouldn't have worked.
Standing out in the opening, Serana was behind him in the tree line. She sat on a rock, watching him intently, prepared for anything that might happen. Yet she was horribly curious herself.
Arven wasn't sure how he knew the dragon's name, they didn't exactly exchange pleasantries. But whenever he fought a dragon, he came to know who they were.
Inhaling deeply, Arven looked to the sky. Then, letting those fires burn within him once more, he shouted into the void.
"DURNEHVIIR!"
Hello again! It's been quite a while. Sorry for the long hiatus (I feel like I say this too much), I had to take a break due to work over the last six months. But now I'm back, and I've gotten back into writing! If you're still here with me then thank you very much, and as always I hope you've enjoyed the chapter.