You know who owns what by now.
Now, for a brief interlude!
Be warned: this one is chock-full of violence and horror.

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Interlude 1
A Mouthful of Ashes Beneath The Fire-Choked Sky
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The town crier climbed onto the edge of the covered well, drawing the attention of Mournhold's Market Day shoppers. My eyes drifted up from the latest batch notes on Restoration magic Ellie's brought from her lessons to listen to the news.

"Drevas!" Elenwen nearly whines at my shifting attention; she'd been in the middle of relating the lecture that went with these notes to me, so, yeah, that was a little rude of me, "Pay attention!"

"Sorry, Ellie," I smile at her, making her pretty cheeks color, but then I nod at the Orismer crier, "But look at this, here; Burgz aired out his good robes for today – hey!" Ellie slapped me on the arm! Why are women so violent?

"So what if he's got his good robes on? I took time out of my apprenticeship to go over this with you!"

"Ah, don't pout Ellie-"

"I'm not pouting, Dre!" Damn but she looks cute when she's on the verge of a tantrum, crossing her arms and sticking her lip out like that.

"Ellie," I smile, nudging her with my shoulder, which causes that pout to vanish a little, "Last time he got the good robes out was to make an announcement from the King," her surprised emerald eyes meet my laughing dark reds; I nudge her again, "I'm not gonna ignore you for anything less, you know that."

A perfectly manicured eyebrow rises, my Ellie's Altmer features twitching in amusement, "Not even for a broken Masterwork lock?"

Thankfully, Burgz begins hollering, sparing my life.

"Hear ye, hear ye! By order of His Majesty, King Helseth, and by the order of the august Imperial Council," half the market square rolls its eyes in near-synch at the mention of those big-wigs, "the Morrowind Chapters of the Fighter's Guild and Mage's Guild," Ellie flinches, I move closer to her; official orders to her Guild? "will, one hour from now, begin taking volunteers," she sighs in relief, as do I, "of any able-bodied or minded persons willing to embark on an expedition to the isle of Vvardenfell!"

Cue excited and disbelieving muttering across the square. I'm not too surprised, personally. Red Mountain's been fairly quiet the past five years, so it follows that some big-wigs would want to start an expedition to my people's ruined homeland, no doubt to raid our destroyed cities and steal our ancestral artifacts. Damn Empire.

I'm raising the pages and about ask Ellie if she wants to continue her lecture at the nearby park, but stop at her interested face and Burgz's continuing speech:

"This expedition will be led by several wizards of House Telvanni," oh crap, Ellie looks sold, "and the Grand Champion of the Fighter's Guild, the Hero of Morrowind, the Nerevarine herself!"

Wait, what?! Glimmer-Void's going?! Numbly I realize Ellie's grabbing my arm and bouncing on her feet excitedly; the both of us are huge fans of the Argonian legend that slew Dagoth Ur, the resurrection of Holy Nerevar, the hope of our people!

"Any persons who return successfully from this endeavor will be paid 100 Septims for their service, and be declared Heroes of both the Dunmeri Kingdom and Talos' Great Empire!"

I looked down at Ellie's grinning face; this was the chance to prove herself she'd been waiting for, a chance to impress the Telvanni with her prowess and gain membership, not the first High Elf to do so, but certainly the youngest.

Wellaway, I'd have to go with my wide-eyed lass, if only to make sure she comes back in one piece. Old Master Ged and his missus would have to make do without me for the interim.

I grinned back, "Give me ten minutes to grab my gear and say goodbye to my master?"

Those pretty green eyes light up even further, "You're really coming with?!"

I nod, "Duh, Ellie! Someone's gotta watch out for you!"

Uh-oh, that smirk looks strange, "Back at you, Dre."

I shouldn't have been worried. As kisses go, Ellie can kiss me anytime she wants!

Twenty minutes and a tearful goodbye from Master's missus later, my name was on the books for the expedition, right next to Elenwen's.

The next morning, at eight bells sharpish, the three hundred and forty members of the expedition set out for Vvardenfell in six boats, donated by the Imperial Legion. Dressed in standard-issue chitin armor, with my lockpicks and my Master's old steel mace, I felt ready for anything. After all, nothing had come off the island since the Red Year, except ashes from the volcano; odds were good we'd only find a few daedra and guar, hopefully a group of survivors, and return with riches to the praise of Mournhold.

And the Nerevarine, blessed Champion of Holy Azura, would be with us!

What could go wrong?

. . . . .
Seven Weeks Later
An Abandoned 6th House Redoubt, The Ashlands
Ten Miles from Vvardenfell's Western Coast
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The knife in my hand felt heavy, but I didn't hesitate; couldn't hesitate. I'd die if I hesitated.

Like Heimdeir. Like Vos. Like my friend from the Redoran Guard, Aleks. Like poor Viserys. Gods, there's so few of us left.

The Nord I'm crouched next to gurgles horrifically, the wound in his chest suddenly spouting black ichor, limbs spasming terribly, eyes begging me for a swift death. I oblige him, stabbing him in the head, twist the blade, giving him what peace I can.

A soft sob drifts to my ears. Ellie's voice. I ignore it, glancing at R'siiri, the only other remaining pathfinder on this damned expedition; her ash-stained face is sorrowful, yet slightly thankful that I was faster than her. Happy that she won't have more blood staining her paws.

I can't bring myself to hate her for it. Even now that we're all going to die in this horrible place.

She takes the canvas blanket and drapes it over the third-to-last Nords who came with us, a battlemage from Winterhold, and the latest victim of another Ash Horror ambush.

Stopping her briefly, I remove what weapons and items I can find on the man, who doesn't look much older than me; an enchanted glass knife and a couple spellbooks, along with a journal.

"Get away from him, grave-robber!" growls the second-to-last Nord, a warrior named Aegnir, who's been trying to comfort Melessi Battle-Born, the only remaining Nord, an Alchemist, who's been a sobbing wreck since the ambush, her uncle and mentor ripped in half at the waist right in front of her, "A Nord should go to the Gods with his weapons-!"

R'siiri hissed at the ice-brain, "The Gods won't give a shit if he shows up naked, so long he rreturrns to them! Besides, he doesn't need weapons now."

Thank Boethiah she spoke up; call me a grave-robber… when the only reason you came here, you FUCKING OUTLANDER, was to ravage the remains of my ancestors.

Presently, Wizard Neloth's last remaining apprentice, Solan, returns from setting up a barrier at the cavern's entrance, no worse than when he left five minutes ago. Rather than report, the boy just stares blankly at his Master, who is suitably and understandably distracted.

The only other person of rank is idle: the last of the Redoran Guards who came with us, Minka, is staring vacantly at her Captain's sword, held in her limp hands. A new recruit, barely a month under her belt before volunteering for this shit; were it not for her occasional shudder, I'd have thought her dead. What a way to start her career, seeing her entire company, even her brave Captain, ripped to shreds one by one by the horrors populating these accursed wastes.

Biting back on my hate, despair and shame, I snarl, "Well, Solan?!" the boy, barely even my age, jerks and stares at me, "The barrier? Did they fucking follow us?"

"N-no, sera, the barrier's fine… they fled after… well, after." He slumps against the wall and slides down it; none of us make a sound, not even a sigh of relief.

We knew better than to expect a long break from this waking nightmare.

\|/

I'd seen pictures of Dremora, in texts Ellie smuggled out of the Guild to show me, and on the boat to prepare for what I might face on Vvardenfell. The Telvanni used them as guards, sometimes.

The thing before us was no Dremora; once, perhaps, but not anymore.

The smell of rot hung heavy on the air as the thing lunged at one of the Telvanni wizards, the woman not even getting a chance to scream before it raked her chest with snot-green claws. It left her writhing in the dust and lunged at the vanguard with a bowel-loosening scream.

Pus-yellow magic burst from her body, her very soul screaming in bloodcurdling agony as we all shot arrows and spells at the seven-foot-tall black-red-green abomination, claws like a Hunger and mouth like a grinning Ogrim, as it ran at us, eviscerating a Redoran soldier and one of Glimmer-Void's men before it was finally torn to pieces in a hail of spell-fire and sharp blades.

Then its first victim shifted, and became some hideous nightmare creature, weaving tendrils sprouting from her back and rotten milk dripping from her suddenly engorged breasts, it rose above us on spindly spider-like limbs that exploded from the wizard's arms and legs, eyes opening at the joints, a gaping maw splitting open across the belly, from which a fell voice ushered forth with a blast of corrupted air.

"OFFER ME YOUR SOULS! FEED ME! WORSHIP ME!" it shrieked in a voice that caused madness in those of weak willpower; Viserys, a brave Imperial mercenary I'd played cards with just hours ago, who taught me how to swing a blade right, gutted himself without hesitation, dragging his innards out with mad giggles, offering the entrails up to the horror before us. He wasn't the only one, ten others that I could see taking their own lives in similarly gruesome ways.

I felt a vessel pop in my sinuses as I screamed in rage and fear, "FOR THE ANCESTORS! PRAISE BOETHIAH!" loosing arrow after desperate arrow into the volleys peppering the beast, war-cries of every faith and Province drowning my voice out in the miasma of battle, destructive spells filling the chamber as the Nerevarine lunged to the fore with a scream of righteous fury, the glittering light of the Bitter Mercy in her claws a beacon of hope in the terrible dark of Sadrith Mora's catacombs.

The abomination killed twelve more of us before it finally died.

\|/

A ragged, wet coughing came from Ellie's direction, making everyone go still and silent; even the quietly sobbing Melessi stops her incessant weeping with a choked gasp.

I still don't look. Don't want to see it. Seeing what's going on over there would make it real.

Instead, I check my gear; each boot holds a knife, a bandolier holding even more of the pointy objects on my chest, the lightning mace I pulled from the Dwemer city, arrows on my back, an ebony bow I found in Dagon Fel's ruins. I finger the shafts, counting; twenty-six.

Looking over the ten corpses and the other gear R'siiri was sorting out, I realized I'd need to be more conservative with my bow. Once my arrows were gone, there'd only be a Dwemer mace and what few spells I knew between me and certain death.

By all rights, I shouldn't be alive… It should be me, over there, getting my wounds seen to, dying in this dark and bitter place.

Not… not her.

Not Glimmer-Void.

\|/

The broken lock finally pops open, making me chuckle and R'siiri let out a purr of pleasure, almost drowned out by the pickaxes trying to break through the floor of Molag Mar, the diggers trying to reach the buried vaults. If I didn't know any better, I'd think the pretty Khajiiti she was interested.

Not that I was interested in the furry young woman; I loved Ellie, who was dealing with a small scrape not far from where I was crouched, having spent the last twenty minutes unlocking the temple's broken door. No way was I about to celebrate this small victory any more than knocking fists with my fellow locksmith and pathfinder. Might share a drink with her later, though, have her meet Ellie, just so there's no confusion…

"Well done," a gravelly, lizard-y voice comes from right behind us.

We both look up to see Glimmer-Void, the Nerevarine, her blue scarf pulled down to reveal white grinning teeth and ebon-gold scales, gleaming blue eyes warming me. Artificer ebony plate shone in the low light of the fort, the Spear of Bitter Mercy glittering on her back, the combination providing hope and bravery to all who laid eyes on the Great Horator, the Champion of Morrowind.

Or that was just my faith talking. I pulled up and quipped nonchalantly while putting away my picks and probes, "Ah, t'ain't nothing, Muthsera. The locks around Mournhold are tougher than this one."

"Da, this one agrrrees." R'siiri playfully tapped my left pauldron with a paw, grinning. "Comparred to Chorrrol, these locks arrre easy 'pickings' even forrr young R'siirrri, let alone talented Masterrr Drrrevas."

Gods damn, did she have to purr my name like that?! In front of Glimmer-Void no less?!

The Argonian legend laughs briefly before remarking playfully, "Oh, don't look so embarrassed, young Dunmer. Why," she paused to push the temple doors open, letting the priests and their guards move carefully past us to investigate the ruins before continuing to quip right back at me, "were I fifty years younger and working closely with a strapping young lad like you, I'd be purring just as much as little R'siiri here, if not louder, haha!"

Poor R'siiri ducks her head, throwing her hood over her face to hide the furious blush she's no doubt sporting; hells, my face feels hot enough to fry an egg on!

Oh, and Ellie's giving me a questioning look; I shake my head and roll my eyes, showing that the whole deal isn't serious.

Glimmer-Void saw, however, and looked like she was about to rib me again-

Rrrrumbl-HSSSSSSS!

"MIASMA! GET BACK!"

"EEEEEYAAHHHH-KKKKKK!"

The diggers in the middle of the floor broke through into the vaults, releasing a black wave of rot that killed three of their number before the mages could raise enough shields to funnel the deadly miasma out the shattered dome above us.

"BY THE NINE, what in the hells, Dunmer?!" the Imperial Legate roars at the Redoran Captain while the rest of us slowly relax, "You said this place wasn't trapped!"

I tune out the resultant dick-waving argument and gesture at my fellow pathfinder, indicating we should do our job and check for further traps; R'siiri nods sharply, face grim, and pulls up her scented scarf, drawing her crossbow. I do the same, except all I have is my recurve bow, which I've only ever used for hunting in the lands around Mournhold.

Still, better something than nothing. Don't want to end up like Vos and Heimdeir, the men who took care of my basic training, ripped apart by the Ash Horrors that met us at our landing site and holed our boats, their guts strewn about the beach.

I swallow my fear and anxiety, and shuffle forward.

While the stupid argument gets more heated, necessitating Glimmer-Void's shouting for order, I take point and carefully edge up to the hole, the digger's corpses surrounded by regurgitated blood.

"Drevas!" Ellie calls; I tilt my head in her direction to show I'm listening, "It's some kind of lung-eating blight! Be careful!"

'Like you need to tell me that,' I think grumpily, shuffling right up to the edge and looking down; too dark. I hold out my hand to R'siiri and rasp, "Torch."

She hands me one after a couple seconds. I drop it down into the dark as the rest of the expedition edges closer-

-I feel my gorge rise at the sight of hundreds of corpses. My kinsmen. Young and old, babes at their dead mother's breasts, guard's armor black and runny with death and rot.

They sought a redoubt, stuffed cloth into the entryways to keep the ash from the volcano and Vivec's destruction out, but they lit fires. They wanted light, and when the magicka potions ran out…

An entire town, suffocated in the dark, entombing themselves in exchange for a little light.

I wept for the sight of it. I wasn't the only one. Some of the expedition had family here. The Nerevarine was silent in her grief.

Both R'siiri and Ellie stayed in my tent that night. But no one slept, Vaermina mocking us by denying entry into her realm.

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"I… I can't…" Ellie choked out in despair and exhaustion; my gaze swept over to her, having nothing else to look at.

Glimmer-Void lay between her and Neloth, both mages' hands, covered in flickering golden light, hovering over the diagonal valley in her armor. The Champion's breathing was raspy and irregular, blue blood trickling steadily from the corner of her mouth. Bitter Mercy lay at her feet, even that glorious weapon's shine doing nothing to dissolve the boulder in my stomach.

'We're going to die.'

Neloth's brow furrowed, sweat dripping down his face while he snarled, "Solan! Another magicka potion!"

"W-we have none left, Master, not after… after Sheogorath," the poor lad shudders, sounding like he was going to cry; hells, the rest of us looked close to it ourselves. The unspeakable awfulness of that place hadn't been given time to settle in our minds before these fresh horrors were added.

"Your fault."

My eyes whipped over to the speaker, Minka, glaring at me with the utmost hate, gripping her Captain's sword in her Bonemold-covered hands like a lifeline; a biting retort rose to my lips-

"Quiet," even dying, the Nerevarine's voice was strong and commanding, "Don't… don't blame him…" she coughed twice and finished, despite Neloth's urging to preserve her strength, "…or… yourself, for my b-being a reckless, o-old lizard."

'But she's right,' I thought bitterly, hating myself, 'It's my fault.'

\|/

"FUCKING RUN!"

My mace shattered another of the Ash Spawn, lightning bursting where the hammer made contact with its head.

We were nearly surrounded, the only way out in the direction of a jagged crack in the rocks to the south, not fifty yards away.

In this ash storm, full of enemies, our only chance at safety may as well have been in Hammerfell.

Aleks' sword whipped through a screaming Ash Horror, one of the lesser bastards, before we scrambled after the rest of the party, their flanks protected by the Redoran remnants and Ellie on one side, Glimmer-Void and Neloth on the other. "When we get back, I'm staying in the Cornerclub for a month, Dre! Feel like joining me?"

I don't respond at first, busy flinging a lightning bolt into another Horror, "I'll send you a postcard from Cyrodiil! I'll be," pause, dodge another fireball, lightning again, "getting as far from this blighted place as possible!"

He pauses to grin at me, "Aye, might just- HKK!"

A black, dripping tendril pierces his body from left to right, going through his heart and both lungs, missing my face by inches as I fall on my arse with a cry of terror.

Another Arcane Abomination. Like Sadrith Mora. Like Sheogorad.

Aleks' corpse gets lifted up to one of the spindly creature's mouths, bones and armor shattering loudly over the hissing winds as nightmarish teeth crunch down on one of my oldest friend's body. It vanishes to wherever the beast's gullet is located and the horror turns its many eyes to me.

I jerk away, terrified. The action saved my life, another tendril whipping right through the space my head had just occupied.

Spells would only feed it. We discovered that in the blighted ruins of Dagon Fel. Scrambling to my feet as screams of terror and death fill my ears and mind, I whip a throwing dagger at the beast.

It blocks it almost lazily. I flee, weaving side to side in an attempt to throw its aim off.

I'm nearly to the crack when a glancing blow catches me in the thigh. I know it's glancing because I don't immediately die or get sliced open; my armor just cracks from the impact and I'm sent tumbling through the air.

Ground – fiery sky – Ellie's screaming – ground again – sky – ow!

I land on my back, stars glittering in my vision, exhausted from the constant fighting, but I have to get up! I promised Master Ged and his missus I'd come home safe! That I'd bring Ellie home safe!

I HAVE TO SURVIVE!

Drawing another dagger, I raise my head to glare at the fiend, getting a good look at it; the legs are spindly, as are the four whipping tendrils sprouting from a bulbous, pulsing sphere at the top of its eggplant-shaped body; through a break in the ash storm, I see that parts of that bloated, eye-and-grinning-mouth-covered body look like Dunmer faces, contorted in pain and terror.

Aleks' face is among them.

Its mouths grin, drooling black ichor, three tendrils lashing towards me.

I roll out of the way, flinging a dagger into one of its eyes with a rage-filled scream, "DIE IN THE VOID, DEMON!"

It screeches in frustration, like a rusty nail over glass; blood roaring in my ears, drowning out all other sound, I'm about to fling another dagger-

-it kicks ash in my face, covering the lenses of my chitin helm. I leap back instinctually, the air parting in the wake of another whipping tendril, wiping the thick volcanic dirt from my vision as I do so.

"Fool boy! Get away!" the Redoran soldiers move forward to aid me with the beast, all four of them… all that's left of the company of eighty-five we set out with.

Glimmer-Void moves forward as well, slicing through the lesser creatures swarming around us with unnatural ease, protecting the rest of the expedition; Ellie and Neloth are dragging the wounded into the redoubt. There's so few of us uninjured, now, and the Ash Blight would infect any open wounds, turning the victims into more Horrors, to say nothing of what it does to powerful mages.

R'siiri lets out a yowl of defiance and loosed a bolt at the Abomination, holding her crossbow one-handed, dragging the last Legionnaire toward the redoubt with the other hand, the man's guts trailing in the ash from where they're spilling out of his split-open belly and Gods, will I ever be able to look Master in the eye after all this?

But first, important things: another Redoran soldier dies, his head sliced off when he gets too close to the damn thing; moving into the center of the thing's vision, I try to distract it so the soldiers can put the filthy thing down.

It worked on Sheogorad, though we lost most of the expedition in that horrible, unspeakable place. It might work here.

Another knife lands solidly in a bleeding red eye, milky white ichor spraying as the demon roars with anger at the ants chipping away at it.

I scream at the thing, drawing a boot dagger, trying to goad it into focusing on me to give the Captain and his remaining men a chance, "C'mon you fuck-ugly, blighted, slovenly FETCHER! C'mon then!"

Its eyes all turn to look at me, pinning me in place, freezing my muscles with an unnatural will; almost casually, it tears two of the soldiers open, including the Captain, their innards spraying over the ash.

It speaks, polluting the air with a taste like curdled milk, "YouUU wILL Die heeeREE and FUeL the ReTURn of HOUSE DAGOTH."

My blood runs cold, all hope leaving me. The tendril rips through the air, aiming at my body-

CHINNNNG!

-and ricochets off Bitter Mercy, the legendary spear vibrating from the blow. The Nerevarine's body is cloaked in starlight, her ebony mail shining like a white flame of purity in the blighted dark of this living nightmare, her voice a divine conglomeration of hundreds of people, men and women, echoing across the wastes in her roared challenge:

"WE DESTROYED YOU ONCE, DAGOTH UR, CLEANSED YOUR TAINT FROM MUNDUS, AND WE SHALL RETURN YOU TO THE ABYSS ONCE MORE!"

"NEREVAR!" the monster howls in such hate and rage that the sound becomes a physical force, knocking me and the last Redoran, who's recovered her Captain's Daedric claymore, onto our backs.

But Glimmer-Void stands firm, unshaken and unafraid before the truth of the horrors we've faced since coming to Vvardenfell. Hope gleams in my heart again; she killed him once before, she can do it again!

The tendrils whip down, trailing black ruin-

Bitter Mercy shines like ten thousand stars-

\|/

"Boy…" rasps Glimmer-Void, no longer able to lift her head, "…come h-here."

My legs feel like lead as I stumble in her direction, trying not to look at the corpses littering the floor and the hollow eyes of my companions; Ellie lets out another defeated sob, trying to find magic to heal our savior, despite being spent.

"Oh, stop it girl," Glimmer-Void knocks my best friend and love's hands away, "I am… already dead. Save your strength."

And then R'siiri is there, silent as a shadow, leading a sobbing Ellie a little further away. Neloth glares hard at me while I kneel at the hero's right side.

The Argonian coughs a few times, gathering her strength, then grabs my hand; I lift it, thinking she's seeking comfort or what have you, but she somehow musters the strength to break my grip and grab the side of my head, pulling me close so our eyes meet.

There are no tears in Glimmer-Void's eyes, only fire, and it shows in her voice when she speaks, "Some… some will say you were reckless… others will say this was your fault… do not listen, Drevas of Mournhold. This e-expedition was my idea… and you are very brave, to not flinch in the face of death."

Another round of hacking coughs interrupts her, Neloth shunting more magic into her body, trying to keep her alive for another few minutes; once she'd mastered herself, the powerful woman waved Neloth away. He took a break, and she met my eyes again.

"That recklessness would kill lesser fools… but you have something those fools don't have… luck, boy. It's not… b-bravery… that makes a Champion, or a Hero. We're the lucky ones," Glimmer-Void takes a few wet breaths and continues, voice becoming weaker with each rasped word, "…but they will still curse you. Tell them what the beast said, and tell it true; and once you have told… the story of this place… you will earn this sacrifice… through deeds, and your life in service."

"To whom?" I whisper, thinking of Divayth Fyr, her mentor; I didn't much want to work for the Telvanni, but this was the Nerevarine asking!

But she grins, "Not… whom… but what." So saying, the Argonian hisses weakly at Ellie, "You. Altmer girl. There's… a red key, on a leather cord a-about my… neck… fetch it for me…" Ellie hastens to obey, Neloth shunting a bit more magic into Glimmer-Void, the other members of the cave coming closer, the Argonian whispering weakly, "… I… I'd get it myself, but I… I no longer have the strength…"

Once Ellie retrieved the key, my oldest and dearest friend pressed it into my hands before propping Glimmer-Void's head in her lap, "Ah, thank ye, lass," she let out a single cough, then addressed me again, "First, when ye get back, boy, have this Telvanni fuck-wit introduce ye to Divayth," Neloth's lips pinched at that, but she kept talking, "If he don't, I'll come back from the… Vales of Twilight, and put me boot up his arse…" she took a few more ragged breaths and continued, "Once you meet Old Fyr, ask 'im about the Last Dwarf, and what the mad codger told me… before his end.

"Then…" she dissolved into a series of ragged, powerful coughs; I shunted what Restoration magic I could muster into her, Neloth doing the same with a grunt of exertion. Our combined efforts seemed to stabilize her, but she still remained silent for a moment, gathering her wits.

Then she whispered, "Keep yer bloody tits in, Azura, I'll be up in a second," Glimmer-Void blew out a breath and continued, "Second… follow the road for six leagues, heading due west of Mournhold, then head southwest-by-west for another league, into the forest; there's… a dead tree. Check… the north-facing knothole," she pulled me closer, looking intently into my eyes, her furiously whispered words only for my ears, "The key in the box… read the book… then… hide it again, where only you can find it. Understand?"

I nodded, feeling tears prickling at the edges of my eyes; her gaze was becoming unfocused, so I shunted a little more magic into her. Neloth took the hint and kept up a weak but steady stream of magicka…

As the Nerevarine hissed at me, her voice becoming high, weak and desperate, "You will serve… all your long life… Drevas of Mournhold… You will serve no nation, no… no king…. No flag shall you carry… You serve Tamriel… You serve Nirn… The same oath… I swore to my father… I bequeath t-to you… S-So that… the Skywatch's vigil, doesn't end…" she seems to look through me more than at me when she asks, "Will you swear?"

Not hesitating, I answer, "Yes." Whether one hundred or a thousand years might pass, I'd still say yes.

There, beneath the Ashlands, Glimmer-Void took a raspy breath, and hissed with her last strength, voice sure and even, "Neloth, the ring on my left pointer. Collect it." He did, unstrapping her gauntlet to get at it.

The Ring of the Wind.

Then, she jerked my head, to make sure I was paying attention, and spoke the oath, "Be without fear… in the face of your enemies… be brave and upright in the eyes of the Gods… speak the truth, always, even if it leads to your death… safeguard the helpless, do no wrong… that is your Oath, Knight of the Skywatch."

My heart is cold in my chest as the Ring is pressed into my free hand.

Then Glimmer-Void's hand shifts, tearing the tip of my ear away; I wince, grabbing at the appendage…

But the Nerevarine's grinning; I see now, the jagged chunk taken out of the fin on the left side of her head. "And that is so you never forget it…" she trails off, breathing hard, eyes becoming clouded and unfocused.

Audibly gulping, Neloth speaks hoarsely, reverently, his trademark sarcasm and scorn utterly absent, "Arise, Knight."

I stand. The lead feeling is gone from my legs. I'm no longer tired. I feel like I could take Dagon in a fistfight and win.

Glimmer-Void laughs softly, knowingly, then says weakly, "Make sure they all get home, lad." I nod, and she relaxes, a look of absolute seriousness appearing on her face.

Then she addresses us all, though her voice is so weak we have to strain to hear it, "Now… one last thing… for all of you…" we lean in closer, "Never… re-repeat what I… am about to t-t-tell you… take it to your graves." a round of agreeing nods.

Three shuddering breaths later, she drops a mountain on us, "I am Lifts-Her-Tail. The Lusty Argonian Maid is non-fiction, and an entirely truthful account of my affair with Crassius Curio, whose work I happily proofread and edited for a cut of his profits." A girlish giggle leaves her maw while we all gape at the Nerevarine in shock and horror, "And… you'll tell… no-one… because they won't believe you."

And she died, last breath leaving her with a rattle, a bright grin on her face.

My eyebrow twitches. Too much. I'm fairly sure I've finally gone mad.

Suddenly, shining starlight and moonlight burst from Glimmer-Void's every scale, blinding us; when the spots clear, only the Spear of Bitter Mercy remains of Glimmer-Void's gear, Azura taking her Grand Champion to the Vales of Twilight rather than leave her to the corruption of these blighted wastes.

Letting the silence drag on for a moment, I shake myself to regain my wits, rubbing the bridge of my nose when everyone flinches at my sudden movement. "Well," I drawl in a shaky attempt of nonchalance, stooping to collect the Spear before giving everyone a look I learned from Master Ged, "I heard her say to anonymously donate half our collected loot to orphanages around Morrowind. You?" I add to Neloth, who nods thoughtfully and reaches for his pack.

"Aye," Aegnir mutters, sounding stupefied, adding, "Fine last command." Melessi nods frantically from his side, still staring at where Glimmer-Void had just been lying in awe.

Ellie is silent, looking absolutely scandalized, but R'siiri just waggles a finger in her ear, "This one's earrrs must be going. All R'siirrri hearrrd was the howling wind, Drrrevas." 'That Elsweyr accent is going to be the death of me, someday.'

Solan gulps audibly, speaking in an awed rasp, "By Mephala, she's right. No one'll ever believe it."

Scoffing, Minka glared at the lad, "What the hells are you on about? She told us to donate our money to orphanages, like the Knight said."

Humming in agreement, Neloth pours out cups of flin and begins handing them out, "Listen to your elders and betters, young Solan: some things are best left in the dark."

We stand there, in a rough circle, holding cups of the amber liquor, heads bowed in silent reverence.

Finally, I raise my cup, "To Glimmer-Void, the Nerevarine, Horator of Morrowind, and," I grin, "the sweetest little maid you ever did see!"

That got some laughs, but Ellie punched me again. Totally worth it.

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A/N: That was so sad. Llewellyn, play Für Elise.

Reviewer responses:

Me Myself and I: The reasons behind the Night of Tears and resultant war go into more depth here than in canon, but you'll have to wait for the next story arc to find out how. Anyone can learn a couple destruction spells; as for the Flare spell, it's a low-level fire spell that was slashed in Skyrim because it's not pretty enough. For further details on the magic systems I'm using, please see Morrowind and Oblivion, because Skyrim's magic system is just shit. Next, the hunt for the Forge is part of the next story arc, so you won't have to wait too long. Finally, Hermione's language is partly a product of her environment, partly due to her amnesia erasing that part of herself. Thanks for the review!

Draco Oblivion: The Hagravens get another chance later on to be sufficiently horrifying, don't you worry! The Forsworn redoubt is actually Madanach's seat of power and only one of their storehouses, hence the security; don't feel bad for them, at all. By comparison, their true cause is only slightly less diabolical than Harkon's. You'll find out why later, along with the reason for the Snow Elves hating the Nords and vice-versa.

Oh, wait, I forgot to do the currency spread! Here you go!

1 Gold=1 Drake

100 Drakes=1 Septim

So that's 10,000 gold for every returned explorer.

The next chapter of the story proper should be posted in February at the very latest. Till then!

~Baked

Next Time: The Betrayed Part 2: Darkfall