CHAPTER 71 - THE FIRSTBORN

The Elder Scrolls.

Fragments of creation, artefacts from outside time. As primeval as the Void, perhaps written upon the will of the very first conscious essences of existence – within them lay all the secrets of all the eras. All possible pasts and futures fused as one; the times that were, and the times that would be, could be, they were all written into the Elder Scrolls. Mysterious prophecies, one after another.

Despite belonging to the fundamental order of all creation, very few knew they even existed. The secret order of Moth Priests in Cyrodiil studied them under Emperor's command, most often at the price of losing their sight and sanity. If one were to claim an Elder Scroll into their hold, they could glimpse into their very own destiny – yet most who did, lost their minds, unable to understand what they witnessed.

Yet from a very young age, Zeref of Dragonbridge was aware of the Elder Scrolls – and he had been searching for them ever since.

Gifted, grasping, and troublesome he was, as is so often the case with the firstborn. Since he first opened his eyes to the world, he observed it with great curiosity and unbridled wisdom. Those who met him sensed it in their bones like a prophecy written in blood. It was no meander coincidence that a peasant child with no ancestry of sorcerers could be born so enlightened, like a brilliant star. The wise men of his birth village thought he received the power directly from the divines, some said he had to be an immensely powerful mage reincarnated. Either way, the boy was destined for greatness – he could conquer the entire Tamriel in time, if he only wished.

But Zeref never did.

Never did he think that his gifts were given to him by the gods. If one asked him, he'd say that if gods even existed, they didn't do a damn thing. His fate lay elsewhere, in manners deeper than greed for power and order.

He had been born in the aftermath of the Great War and seen what the greed for power caused men to do, he had seen the bloodshed, and even with all his intelligence, he could not understand the reasons behind such madness. Zeref, above all, craved peace. And that is what emitted from him since his first days on Nirn – a peaceful light, like the last moments of the sun before it descended to the tranquil sea, absence of the rumbles of war. If anything, he would bring peace to the world, at last.

That's what he always wanted. This power, this burden of brilliance, placed on his shoulders – he would, definitely, use it to bring everlasting peace to this war-ridden and bloodstained world, seemingly abandoned by all gods.

And for the time being, this thought carried Zeref forward on his path of life. He silenced his mind from the noise and listened to the guidance of his own heart, pointing him in the direction of his destiny. His power never grew into the poison of arrogance; he always remained humble. In this humbleness, he could always see how much there was to learn, how little he knew of the world, despite knowing much more than most of the living men ever did. He'd aimed to dig deep, deep into the very creation of the world – and he found what he should be looking for, something that would carry the deepest truths.

At the age of four, during one of the many times he sat on the shore of the Drajkmyr marsh pondering the means of his existence, he fell into a dreamlike state, enveloped in a mystic vision that revealed him the existence of the Elder Scrolls.

A call within his soul, a glimpse of destiny, that's what it had been. Deep underground in a long-forgotten city, sealed within unalloyed gold, lay the truth as written into an Elder Scroll. Next to him stood a young girl, beautiful, her hair as golden as the ornaments on the scroll, emeralds shimmering in her eyes as their gazes met for just a moment before the vision dissolved – and he was not the same since he saw her face. Yet even beside an Elder Scroll, Zeref had wanted to learn her name, for somehow, the truths were more visible in her eyes than anywhere else in all of creation.

The dream never stopped haunting him. Perhaps 'haunting' would've been a wrong word, but this vision, the ethereal feeling deep within him kept following him as persevering as a shadow. He returned to the dream many times over the years, gathering more pieces of knowledge the older he got. There wasn't just one Elder Scroll in these dreams, but three altogether – one sealed deep underground, one secluded into a distant castle, and one in the arms of a buried, long-lost daughter. These three Elder Scrolls carried a prophecy, something which resonated so vividly in his soul he couldn't help but be pulled towards them, falling with a gravity force.

And in each of these dreams, the girl was there.

Never did she tell him her name, but she remained by his side, her fate entwined into his, to the lure of knowledge that would define their fate. He felt her outside the edge of his life, saw her walk by at the edge of his sight. And all that time, Zeref knew she was real. Somewhere in Nirn, she had to be, so far, yet so very close on a cosmological scale – just like the scrolls themselves. And he would traverse the worlds, aeons, and lifetimes, just to find her too.

But how he had been able to witness such a vision at such a young age was never known. But as sure as his own blood, he knew it had been real, and so he embarked on a journey to search for the Elder Scroll and the girl from his dreams, his very own fate. Each step he took, even those he sometimes thought would lead him astray, was truly leading him closer to the truth, all this time, all these years.

And in the search for knowledge, his childhood passed by so soon. He grew older, became an elder brother, and delved deeper into the secrets of sorcery with each passing day. Eventually, before his sixteenth birthday, he understood that the village of Dragonbridge, nor even the libraries or royal Solitude could satiate his hunger for knowledge. He'd been chasing nothing but echoes there. Only the College of Winterhold, a sanctuary for all mages in Skyrim, could hold answers to his questions. And so, he left behind everything with sadness in his heart, but trust in the deepest knowing that he was on the right path.

And here he was now.

It was the 5th of Rain's Hand, E4 195, as was written into the corner of his study journal with fresh, still-glimmering ink. So often did Zeref find himself reminiscing on the past when he wrote the date on paper. It had been six years since he arrived at the College; it had been six years since he finally found her.

Zeref raised his eyes from the yet-empty page, glancing over his shoulder. Light enveloped the chamber, flooding in from the small window on the tower's wall. Rays of dawn pierced through the dust that lingered in the air, landing gently on the long hair of the young woman who lay on the bed, her nose buried in a thick tome. Her curls of spun gold reached all the way to her bare feet, shielding her like a blanket.

"It looks like you're not wearing anything at all," he chuckled, pleased by the sight.

As he had anticipated, she did not answer, so absorbed was she in the book she was reading. A Dance in Fire, first volume, account of Decumus Scotti's exploits during the war between Valenwood and Elsweyr. She loved history the most, her strategic mind deeply intrigued by the ancient wars and strifes. When she was reading, nothing, or no one, could pull her out of the depths of the tale. Not even him. It was a trait Zeref adored about her, and so, he turned and continued on the book of his own.

Zeref leant on his palm and spun the ink quill between his fingers. Beside his journal lay another great tome: Ruminations of the Elder Scrolls, Septimus Signus's seemingly insane ramblings about the Elder Scrolls that Zeref was somehow unable to restore his focus on. Though the topic fascinated him greatly, he blamed the woman behind him for distracting his attention. Sometimes Zeref thought that joining the College of Winterhold only hindered his process for unravelling Nirn's greatest secrets, for here, he had found his greatest weakness.

It was her.

Always her.

Sighing silently, Zeref dropped the quill to the desk and glanced over his shoulder again, leaning onto the backrest of his wooden chair. Rays of light kept dancing on her golden hair as it cascaded down her back, a sight of majestic beauty, yet Zeref only longed to see her face, her eyes, that now were chained to the old and worn pages. Sometimes, Zeref was truly jealous of those damned books.

For the passing fortnight, she had been even more focused on her books due to her sudden sickness. She could stomach no food except for frozen snowberries in caramel sauce, and everything else she'd thrown up. In all his worry, Zeref could do nothing but ask for Mirajane, the Master Wizard and the College's finest cook, to deliver those berries to her. She kept insisting she was fine, which Zeref struggled to believe. If they wouldn't find a reason for her sickness soon, he'd lose his mind – yet another reason for his lack of ability to concentrate.

"Mavis," Zeref called for her quietly, hoping to catch her attention this time. An empty wooden bowl lay on the bed beside her. At least she has eaten, he thought. "How are you feeling now? Do you want some spiced tea? I could bring you some."

And again, there was no reply, no notion, and she still did not raise her eyes from the book. Zeref sighed with a soft smile. As Mavis drifted into her own little world, so did he drift lost in a memory; the day they met, one he so often loved to reminiscence.

He could still remember it as clearly as yesterday. He had just arrived from the long journey from Dragonbridge to Winterhold, first set his foot on the College ground, when suddenly, they stumbled onto each other in the courtyard. Mavis had been carrying a pile of books from the Arcaneum to her quarters, and as small as she was, she was hidden behind a pillar when Zeref walked by. Both lost in their thoughts, they collided, her books spilling to the ground as she fell with a sudden sweet shriek.

Zeref had instantly begun to mutter countless apologies, helping her gather her books. The moment their eyes met as she lifted her gaze from the ground to him, Zeref swore she'd cast a spell that stopped time.

And now, six years later, he wasn't sure if the time ever went back to normal. Still, he was under her spell, ever so beautifully frozen in the moment Zeref learned what magic truly is. Before her, he wasn't sure if he believed in any gods. If they exist, they don't do a damn thing, he used to say, but it all changed when he found her.

The gods exist, after all, he had thought then. They exist in her eyes.

Oceans. That's the first coherent word to describe the captivating sight when he locked eyes with Mavis. Green and so vastly deep, glimmering bright, yet something in her gaze felt like a mirror to him – as if looking down on the still water, seeing his own reflection, his life defined. The realization hit him slowly at that moment, but as it did, his world was never the same. Above all, he recognized her. He remembered her.

She was the girl from his dreams, the one who'd been there all the time – she had traversed the edges of his life, yet now she was finally there, in corporeal form, right in front of him – and it took a long time for Zeref to realize he wasn't dreaming. She was real. As she had always been.

Later, Mavis had told him that she'd felt the same at that moment. She'd been instantly wrapped in the deepest knowing that behind those darkest eyes, black as the night sky itself, resided her soul's other half. They were united, coupled in a primeval way, fated to each other since the very beginning of all times. She, too, had long ago seen the same dreams, gazed into him, and searched for him ever since. Their shared destiny had brought them both here, in search of the Elder Scrolls and the peace they could bring with their immeasurable power.

And since that moment, the ocean and the night sky were inseparable.

Again, Zeref smiled softly at the memory. He had known himself as a stoic young man who rarely smiled, and rarely showed any emotion, but Mavis had changed that all. Still, he preferred to keep this side of him hidden from the rest of the world, but here, in their quarters – or his, actually, but Mavis had made herself home here – he could show the colours of him that no one else but she could ever see. Mavis often referred to him as a luna moth still hiding within its cocoon. Only in the safety of the night, did he let his light shine. To him, this metaphor seemed ridiculous, but deep down he knew she was right.

Zeref watched as Mavis turned another page, swung her legs, and hummed a distant song – a Bosmer war hymn, actually – ever so absorbed into the story, unaware of his loving gaze that lingered on her figure. When they had met, Mavis had been reading about the history of High Rock and all Breton dynasties, a topic Zeref was also very familiar with. Even before they had gathered all the books from the ground, they were suddenly lost in a deep conversation about High Rock's rulers from the Second Era onwards. And as long as history was, they kept talking until it was getting dark, and Zeref realized he had to introduce himself to the Arch Mage and actually get accepted into the College. Mavis had been surprised – she had honestly thought Zeref was a wizard here already, just someone who had been missing for so long.

The rest of Zeref's first day in the College hadn't gone by as fast. After taking her books to her quarters, Mavis had guided him to Arch Mage's tower and witnessed as he was instantly given the title of an expert wizard – with a young man of his incredible skill and genius, it would've been a mockery to reduce him to the level of a novice. Mavis was tasked to introduce him to College's grounds and rules and to other students, but the last part was left unfinished when it was time to lead him to his new quarters. As Zeref now turned his gaze to the door, he could still remember how Mavis had closed it and leaned her back against it. They had both known it was time for her to head back to her own quarters, just as well as they knew she didn't want to leave.

And she did not.

Even to this day, she never left his side – and Zeref never wanted her to leave.

Straight from the beginning, Zeref had been able to let her in. He'd trusted her the secrets no one else knew, just simply everything, as it felt like there was nowhere left to hide when she looked into his eyes. She could see it all, looking directly into his unveiled soul. She could see all the pain, all the dreams and memories. And so, he had told her it all that very first night, everything, things he had kept in his heart and never told to anyone before, never thought he even could.

Zeref had even told her about the sudden disappearance of his mother, how she had been brought back by a nobleman carrying a Daedric sword, and how his bastard little bother had been born nine months later. He had told her how tired he had been watching his father pour out his hatred on the innocent child, as calling his little brother a whoreson insulted Zeref as well, and how much he had ended up hating the man he called his father. Mavis had listened to it all, staying still by his side, eventually telling him of all of her scars in return.

But most of all, before meeting Mavis, Zeref had thought he knew all about magic. How wrong he had been. His mother once told him, during one of the scarce times she spoke about her encounter with Natsu's father, that love was the true source of all magic. She had seen it, glimpsed to the very creation of all, how both light and darkness were born from the same interplay, same love, that still bound the souls together and lifted them to their full potential. For the longest time, Zeref had thought it to be utter nonsense, but after Mavis walked into his life, he realized his mother had been right all along.

Love was the true source of all.

"Mavis," Zeref said quietly. Still, she didn't react to her name, and he was getting desperate. Calls for desperate means, he thought and smirked. "The Bosmer civil war, known as the Blacksap Rebellion, erupted in 2E 488. Instigated by Camoran Gelthior under the belief that his cousin Aeradan refused to uphold the Green Pact…"

"No, it was 2E 489, not 488 when the rebellion began," Mavis answered sharply. "Get your facts straight, my love."

Now I got her attention.

"Oh, my mistake," Zeref answered and hid his smug smile. "Dear, my study of the Elder Scrolls isn't going anywhere. Tell me something, just talk to me, make me think of something else than this for a while."

Mavis turned around, revealing the white dress covering her petite body. She smiled as she saw how Zeref had been looking at her. "Oh, the Elder Scrolls. Isn't that Septimus Signus's book? You're still going back and forth on it?"

Zeref nodded, his heart fluttering as their eyes met. In an instant, he drowned in the endless ocean of her peaceful and loving gaze, almost forgetting what he was supposed to say. That's what being madly in love does to a man, he thought. It destroys all coherent thought. "It's just incomprehensible rambling of a madman. Come, take a look at it."

Mavis rose from the bed as Zeref turned to face his desk again. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her touch so gentle and warm that shivers ran down Zeref's spine. Mavis leant onto his back as she took a glance at the book. This book, written by a scholar who disappeared long ago, was the first solid clue Zeref had found. Septimus had spent his entire life trying to unravel the mystery, and Zeref hoped he wouldn't have to waste all his precious years on the same mission only to end up missing as well. No one knew if Septimus was still alive, but this book was his only legacy.

"It is like poetry," Mavis whispered after reading a few lines. "Imagine living beneath the waves with a strong-sighted blessing of most excellent fabric. Holding the fabric over your gills, you would begin to breathe-drink its warp and weft. Though the plantmatter fibers imbue your soul, the wretched plankton would pollute the cloth until it stank to heavens of prophecy. This is one manner in which the Scrolls first came to pass, but are we the sea, or the breather, or the fabric? Or are we the breath itself? Can we flow through the Scrolls as knowledge flows through, being the water, or are we the stuck morass of sea-filth that gathers on the edge?"

Zeref lifted his hand onto her fingers, leaning his head against hers. Her soft voice was already lulling him into a trance he would never want to wake from. "Yes, poetry I can only understand when you read it."

Mavis chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss on Zeref's cheek. Even after all these years, it gave him chills. "Imagine, again, this time but different. A bird cresting the wind is lifted by a gust and downed by a stone. But the stone can come from above, if the bird is upside down. Where, then, did the gust come from? And which direction? Did the gods send either, or has the bird decreed their presence by her own mindmaking?"

Zeref thought for a long. "I wonder if even Septimus has ever read an Elder Scroll," Zeref said then. "He's clearly describing their essence, but I'm afraid I can't understand it until I've seen it myself. If I ever get my hands on an Elder Scroll, though."

"I know you will. There's nothing you can't conquer once you set your mind on it," Mavis answered. "I have a feeling that our excavation in Ralbthdar will lead to a breakthrough. We are so close."

"Your intuition is never wrong, isn't it?" Zeref chuckled. "If some had anything to do with an Elder Scroll, it must be the Dwemer. There's no better place to hide the most powerful artefact in the world than Blackreach. It has to be there – and I know the route must go somewhere from Ralbthdar."

Mavis nodded. "Indeed. But don't think your head through yet," she said, gently urging him to turn around in the chair until he was facing her. Her sudden silence put him on the edge, yet the way she looked down into his eyes calmed him at the same. "We have all the time in the world."

As Mavis cupped his cheeks, Zeref placed his fingers gently on hers. "A mortal life is short, my dear. Way too short for discovering the secrets of all existence. That is what I've been thinking my head through lately."

Mavis smiled. There was something so mysterious in the way she smiled now, so many unsaid words dancing below the surface of her eyes. Zeref knit his brows together, waiting for her response. Calmly, Mavis took Zeref's hand and placed it on her lower belly.

"Mortal life might be short, but our legacy will be eternal," she whispered. "Whatever we'll leave unfinished, our son will carry to the end."

Zeref swore his heart skipped a beat, or two, perhaps even stopped completely. With widened eyes, he stared at her, unable to utter a single word. Mavis was still smiling so warmly.

"Wait, are you serious? You're… you're with a –"

"I'm with a child, Zeref," she said. "Our son."

Though he had heard what she said, he could not believe it. They'd both believed they'd remain childless, either due to her pains or some unknown reason, for during all these years together she had not become pregnant. Of course, they had hoped for a child if they'd be blessed to have one, but such happiness didn't seem to be granted to them. An endless swirl of emotions caught Zeref perfectly by surprise now. Is that why she's been sick? How does she know for sure? Why now? If not during all this time, then why now, when we're so close to accessing Blackreach –

"How far along –"

"He'll be born Evening Star," Mavis said. It's still so early, barely in the beginning. "A child of the winter solstice."

Zeref held his hand over his mouth and blinked, as if to wake himself from this dream, but it did not dissolve. This was real. True and real. "Oh dear, we must get married, and soon!"

Mavis laughed. "That's your first thought?"

"Yes!" Zeref exclaimed and grabbed her into his arms, squeezing her tight. He had been wrong again – he had already thought he knew what love was when he met her, but now, as they'd be a family, the ethereal warmth still expanded within his chest, as he fell in love with her even more. "Gods, we must get everything arranged! Will these quarters get too small for us? What if it will be twins? Can you even know for sure yet? What happens to our study? I'll forget all about the Elder Scrolls if –"

"Zeref, dear –"

"I will build us a castle if –"

Mavis silenced him with a kiss. "A castle?"

"On a second thought, no." Zeref smiled against her lips. "I'd build a whole damn empire." He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "There's nothing, Mavis, absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for you. For us. I would –"

"Zeref –"

" – I would die for you, you know that? It's as simple yes for sure."

Mavis gave him a soft, yet saddened smile. "But would you live for me?"

"Not without you," he answered with stern determination. "Only if you live with me."

Within this jubilant excitement, Zeref had given her a pledge to protect them at all costs until the end of time. An oath after oath; he would sin for her, sell his soul for her, spill blood for her. He would kill for her, he would die for her, and start a war for her. Mavis had laughed warmly, reminding him that she only asked for him to love her, and so he did. Those had, inevitably, felt more like sacred vows uttered directly under Mara's loving gaze. May we journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, in joy and hardship – bound together in eternal companionship, in love, now and forever. And within that love, he'd endlessly draw power to keep his pledges, and oh, how many of them did he have to keep.

In the end, Zeref never got to marry her, nor hold his son in his arms.

It had all happened so soon, sooner than he ever anticipated that happiness could be so violently lost, all bliss twisting into pain. Perhaps somehow, his own power had finally left him blinded, in the foolish belief that he could keep her safe from everything. He just could not lose her. Such a thing could not happen to him, his worst nightmares could not be true, he had believed. It always happened to someone else, but he and Mavis, they were protected by fate.

He had truly believed so.

Before he lost faith in everything.

The scenery of their chamber, where they lost each other in a loving embrace, faded into a desolated void as the memory withered away.

"Do you still remember this? Do you remember my promises?"

The light that had flooded in from the tower's window was now replaced by lightning strikes. They pierced the purple skies, lifeless bolts of energy enlightening the darkness, only for a while. In his arms did the dead man hold a ghost, a ghost of a woman whose long, white hair cascaded all the way down to her ankles. He held her so tight, yet still, she slipped through him in silence. With a mere whisper, she answered,

"I remember."

For so long, he had been afraid that the cairn of souls would suck out her memories from the time she was still alive. It was his responsibility and mission to keep reminding her, so she would not forget, so she would have something to think about in this barren hell where she could not even dream. In silence, she listened to his stories, time and time again. Zeref had already told her everything, for the time they spent together on Nirn was already less than the time after her death and imprisonment.

Currents of frigid wind blew against his face, swinging his raven-black hair in the air. It caught his black velvet cloak, yet he wrapped it tighter around his slender body and Mavis's ghost – there was some old comfort in the gesture, something he had done when he was still a human capable of feeling cold. No longer did his heart beat within his chest, no longer did his lungs draw in the salty scent of the sea.

He was dead now, on the definition of the very word.

In her arms, secured tight between them, Mavis held the soul of their son. The unborn child's body had been undeveloped by the time she was brutally murdered, but his soul still existed. In the shape of a small baby, small enough to fit one's palm, did he manifest now, never speaking a single word. The Soul Cairn was the only thing he had ever known, and that haunted Zeref the most. He had promised to give his son an empire, but only delivered nothingness – nay, worse than nothing. He had brought them to the Void.

All because he had failed to protect his family.

Early Mid-Year it had been, first days of summer, when Zeref had lost it all. He had thought Ralbthdar would be safe – they had already destroyed most of the Dwemer automatons in the ruins, and their laboratory was sealed tight with magic. Mavis had insisted they could continue the research throughout summer and return to Winterhold as the first leaves would begin to fall. Zeref had disagreed with the idea, but Mavis got her will through. She always did.

As she did that day, when she headed out to gather some herbs from their garden. Even now, Zeref kept drowning deeper and deeper into never-ending hatred for himself. I should've never let her out of my sight, echoed within his head, again and again and again and again. Not even into our beautiful garden.

And still, he cried. Watching her now, no matter how he tried to cherish the memory of her life, the vision of her lying lifeless and bloodied amongst the first flowers of summer, never stopped haunting him. Not for one moment. His beautiful Mavis, dead in his arms, all happiness that could have been now so brutally destroyed. And as he had closed her ocean-green eyes for the last time, he knew his life was also over. Death tore out the flesh from his bones, left his soul so pale and hollow, his hands forever reaching out to the void where she used to be.

All alone in the endless night.

"I will bring you back to me. Back home," Zeref whispered to her, cradling the ghost gently in his arms. "This is not what we were destined for. Time and time again, I promise you this." He wiped the wisps of misty hair from her face. "No life or death will tear our hearts apart."

Mavis remained silent. She had heard these words so many times, yet she still remained here, where no light or life could ever reach – and she knew she would be here forever. Zeref could leave, but she could not. How many centuries would he try for the impossible? How many empires would crumble before he'd realize he could not succeed, for Soul Cairn was eternal. He would not realise this, she knew. No matter how many times she'd tell him to turn back and return to the world, he would not stay there long.

Somehow in his soul, Zeref could still sense the traces of Mavis, what was left of her. They had been perfectly separated for years since she died and before he found a way to Soul Cairn, and as they met again, Mavis could barely recognise him. No light had ever shone in his eyes anymore, only bloodlust and endless hatred, as all the stars in his sky had dimmed out the moment she took her last breath. Could she still love this empty shell of a man? Zeref kept thinking, fearing. Could she still love the monster I have become?

"Zeref," she said so quietly, only sadness in her voice. "Do you remember… what I asked?" And as Zeref did not reply, she continued. "Would you live for me? Would you live for us?"

"My answer is still the same," Zeref said. "Not without you."

Zeref looked at Mavis's face, seeing the sadness that glimmered behind her dead eyes. The ocean green had dimmed into white nothingness long ago, but he could still remember it. He tried so hard to keep remembering the way life glimmered in her eyes like light on the surface of the sea, but more and more did he see blood spreading on the waves, turning the ocean crimson red.

"You've already sinned for me. You've spilt blood, you've killed for me, you have died for me," Mavis said and then fell silent again. "You have even sold your soul, Zeref. Your beautiful and brilliant soul. What's left of you anymore? You're being drained, the same way as I am. War is the only thing you have not yet started –"

"And I would do it all again if that would take me closer to bringing you back to life. I still mean every word of it."

"This is not what we were destined for. That is for sure," Mavis said. "But with all my might, all I ask is for you to turn back to the light. Use your power to build peace – an empire, as you promised, dear. Build a world you would've wanted me to see."

"It's too late," he whispered then. "Too late to dream again. Of peace, of tomorrow without the dark, that will remain, in me. Without you, Mavis –" his voice cracked upon the weight of his grief, "without you, I just cannot see it. I can't see anything. No light, no color, only the endless night. All goodness within me… it was always your good. Your light. Never mine. I was barely… a reflection. A reflection of you. Like a compass without the North, I am lost. Forever lost."

"Zeref –"

"And I can't even die! For if I do, you'll remain here for eternity. If I give up on the fight, you –" he looked down at Mavis and their son, " – you can never know any afterlife but this desolation. And I cannot bear it. Cannot bear the mere thought of it."

"I already will. My soul is bound here. The Ideal Masters keep it, and you know, Zeref, no matter how you try, you cannot release me from their hold," she said. "But please, if you love me, don't force me to witness your eternal suffering as you try to commit an impossible act. Your soul is withering as much as mine the longer you keep trying. The longer you remain here, with me. Zeref –"

"Don't. Just, don't. Don't say –"

"You've already shed so much blood," Mavis said, now crying – although he had never told her what truly happened at Castle Volkihar, there was no lying to her. She always knew. "Please stop it. I don't want anyone else to die for the sake of releasing me from here, because I simply can't! I can never come back to life, Zeref! I can never walk on Nirn nor Aetherius, for here, only here, will I spend my eternity. I'm sworn to serve as the Masters command. I have –"

"I cannot accept it, Mavis. I cannot. I cannot –"

"Please."

"Do you still love me?" Zeref abruptly asked. "Do you, still?"

And without any hesitation, she answered, "Of course I love you. I always did, and I always will. Nothing is ever going to change this." Mavis held tight onto his hand, her ghostly presence fading from his grasp. "But I can't bear to see how much you're suffering. It… it truly breaks my heart."

He nodded softly. There was no hope in her voice, only quiet acceptance of this terrible fate. And yet on this, they disagreed. She was ready to let go. If he couldn't find a way to bring her back, she would be ready to give up, and fully dissolve into Soul Cairn. His only solace was that she still loved him – if not, he didn't know what he would do to himself, or to the whole world, but reign hell. It might've not been what Mavis would've wanted, but without her love, there was nothing, nothing he could feel towards life anymore. No joy, no hope, no mercy.

"As does mine, but I will end our suffering. I will bring you home. I promise," Zeref whispered in tears, forcing himself to look away from her. "Next time I come to visit you, I will have found the means. I know. I know, for certain. Next time I will know how to bring you back to me."

Mavis remained silent then. She did not believe him, Zeref could read that from her silence, and from now on, she did not need to. She did not need to believe – the Soul Cairn was merging into her, forcing her to abide by the laws of the Ideal Masters. I will demolish them if I must, Zeref thought as he kissed her goodbye and turned away. I will destroy them all, so no law binds her to this godsforsaken realm.

She is mine, and mine alone.

As Zeref left her behind to walk towards the stone stairway, somewhere across the distance, his heart was torn into shreds once again. Lightning strikes light the way through the endless darkness, and on the skies, the manifestations of the Ideal Masters floated in the shape of gleaming crystals. So many times had he tried to communicate with them, but each time they just inflicted mocking pain upon him.

Neither him, nor not even Valerica, the former lady of Castle Volkihar, who had remained in Soul Cairn for thousands of years, knew what the Ideal Masters truly were. He only knew they wanted souls, and would do anything to keep them. The more he pushed, the more they pulled back. He'd tried to force them into giving Mavis and his son back, tried to trade and bribe and threaten but not even the two Elder Scrolls in his possession were enough. Souls were their only property. Their only sustenance. They wanted more of them, more and more and more, and in his foolishness, Zeref had sent so many unfortunate souls into this Cairn in hopes of trading his family back. Time after time, the Ideal Masters received, but did not give.

Would even the soul of a god be enough, if he'd ever manage to slay one? The gods, whom he had lost faith in? Or a Daedric Prince? Should he turn against Molag Bal from whom he had gained this wicked power, which was all for naught if he couldn't bring Mavis back home? Would anything, anything ever be enough?

The scenery around him shifted as he walked forwards. The Soul Cairn rippled around him like a bleak canvas in the wind, yet he was guided by the energy that marked the portal to Nirn. Only he was allowed to pass there in this undead state. If it would've been so easy to just grab Mavis into his arms and raise those stairs back to Nirn, but no – the pull of this realm had nearly ripped her apart. Each failure had been more maddening, and gods, he had already tried everything.

But right before he reached the floating stairs, he halted and glanced back. From here, he could see so far in the ever-changing realm. Amongst the lightning strikes, a dragon soared over the distant castle. The dread dragon, Durnehviir, who the Ideal Masters had tricked and imprisoned here aeons ago – Zeref had conversed with the dragon many times in search of way to release Mavis, but not even the ancient creature knew how to break free from this prison. They all seemed to accept it, all but him.

My soul is bound here. The Ideal Masters keep it, and you know, Zeref, no matter how you try, you cannot release me from their hold. But please, if you love me, don't force me to witness your eternal suffering as you try to commit an impossible act.

If her words had aimed to bring him relief, they only plunged him deeper into despair. He just could not give up. Not on her. Not on his family.

He had to give it one more try.

All alone, he ascended the endless stairs that led to the skies of Soul Cairn and through the veil between the worlds, the only shard in the firmament, he returned to Nirn. The glimmering purple portal rested on the floor of Valerica's old study, in the forgotten tower of Castle Volkihar.

Here, many years ago, when Zeref and Serana, the daughter of Coldharbour, discovered that Lady Valerica had truly managed to create a portal to Soul Cairn, did his rapid descent to madness begin.

First, as he returned, he went to the large desk that was located in the corner of the chamber. The entire castle was shrouded in eerie silence; even his quiet footsteps could be heard in this dead stillness. Not even the endless rains wept over these empty halls anymore, as waters had turned to snow, softly falling over the rooftops without making a single sound. Truth be told, Zeref preferred it this way – he still remembered Castle Volkihar when he had arrived, as the clan of vampires feasted loudly in the main hall.

They feasted here no more.

The portal behind him closed slowly, only to be opened again when he'd summon it with his blood. To keep track of time, he had conjured an ethereal calendar on his table to give him the current date: it was the 24th of Evening Star, E4 201, some hours before the sunrise. He had been gone for two months, as he withdrew to Soul Cairn in the middle of Frost Fall. The flow of time never failed to amaze him – and not bring him grief.

His nameless son would've turned six this Evening Star.

Endless piles of books and notes cluttered his desk. Some of them were Valerica's heritage, yet most were his own ramblings, calculations and theories and fragments of coherent thoughts as they were getting scarcer and scarcer in his head. All he could think about was his monumental failure. He gazed at them, the knowledge he had gathered on this desk over the years, and there it began to build up within his lifeless chest. Heavy as lead, a scream he suffocated, for if he'd let it out, he'd awaken each sleeping god and each demon in the world.

Without a sigh, he seated on the wooden chair, letting his shoulders fall limp. He listened to the silence around him, the absence of heartbeat or breath deafening, but it brought him no comfort. Had he not failed as terribly as he did, there would be voices. Sounds of life. Laughter. Tiny steps tumbling on the floor. Now he only imagined it, tried to dream of what could be, to bring him solace in this desolate void of his existence, but now he knew it could never be.

Never, ever, could he bring them back.

Am I accepting it? he wondered, words of Mavis echoing in his head, slowly erasing every dream that had kept him clinging to his sanity these past years. I can't accept it, can't I? I have come so far. I can't leave her there. It just cannot be. There has to be a way. Something I haven't figured out yet. She doesn't belong in that dead darkness. She belongs amongst the stars. Gods, if she must die, let me at least bring her to the heavens of Aetherius with me!

I cannot lose hope.

I vowed I wouldn't give in, but here I stand alone.

The sounds of life he'd imagined faded away as the silence returned, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't bring them back to keep him company. Even all the voices in his head went silent – he couldn't hear her anymore, couldn't feel her presence in his heart. He tried to hold onto it, despairingly clutch onto the remnants of her memory so tight, but then it all disappeared from him. Even after her death, he had felt her distantly, as persevering as his own shadow – yet now, even his shadow disappeared into the darkness as all hope was gone.

"Gods," Zeref muttered, crossing his fingers below his chin and closing his eyes, pain overwhelming him like death's cold grasp. "The Divines, whoever created this wicked fate upon us, hear me out." Had he prayed before? Yes, but never with the same desperation he did now. He didn't know what else he could do than turn towards the gods. "Akatosh, Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Kynareth, Mara, Stendarr, Zenithar, I'm calling out to your power. Give me your strength, give me your insight, to release us from this suffering! Why have you cursed me!? I cannot take it! Not anymore! I just want it to end!"

As the reverberation of his yell died down, silence returned to the chamber. The gods did not answer him. They never heard his prayers. No one did. With his vampiric fangs, Zeref bit down to his lip, and squeezed his hands together hard enough to draw out the blackest blood. In the absence of divine interference, the Daedra often found their place. Because they heard mortal prayers – and sometimes, they answered.

Terrible things happened when a man couldn't let go of the one he loved – and the Daedra loved terrible things.

"Molag Bal, are you listening? Mehrunes Dagon, Hermaous Mora, Nocturnal, Malakath, Meridia, Sheogorath, Clavicus Vile, Hircine, Mephala, Azura –" he chanted, "Can't any being in this world hear my despair!? I call upon thee! Answer me! Even Sithis, the Dread Father! I'll lay down my pride! Humbled by this endless grief, I reach out to you! Help me!"

And again, there was only silence. In his mourning, he was alone. So alone.

Black blood dripped down his wrists, falling onto the parchments like ink. With crushing pressure he kept his hands crossed, knowing he'd soon break his own bones, and caring very little about it. He'd crush his beatless heart at the same. Perhaps that would be most fitting – as a punishment for his innumerable sins, he'd suffer all eternity knowing that Mavis was still imprisoned within the Soul Cairn. To bear the weight of his failure, why did he ever think he should be released from it?

Why did he ever think he could run from his fate? Why did he ever think this wasn't what they were destined for?

This was exactly it.

Then, Zeref was no longer sure who he was praying to. Who he could pray to. Anyone, anything, anywhere, they all remained silent, just staring blankly at his desperate efforts. "Come," he whispered, "and take my pain into you." Slowly, he shielded his face with bloodied fingers, and bent forward until his forehead touched the desk. "TAKE MY PAIN INTO YOU!"

He screamed then.

From the bottom of his longs, he screamed, his shout echoing all across the lonely castle, all his agony bleeding out of him as if it flooded from a bottomless well. If this truly was his fate, unfathomably cruel, the only way to escape it was to destroy those who had created it. He'd kill the very gods, all of them, and the Daedra too, who refused to help him. He'd kill them all. This world, Nirn and the Aetherius and all the planes of Oblivion, it meant nothing to him if he could not save her soul.

He could as well destroy everything, and let it be born anew from the ashes of the old.

And when even the echo of his despairing shout died down, in the following silence, all was clear as the first ice on a lake's surface. In the absence of any reply, any divine interference, he had found the answer he had been looking for so long.

I will bring this world to an end.

Zeref raised his head in silence, and lowered his arms down to his table. He chuckled dryly, and began to laugh, a maniac cackle of lost sanity. The blood stained his notes like spilled ink, still flowing down his arms, and he set it all ablaze. Flames as black as the night sky spread from his blood, cold and lifeless, devouring his research and turning it to ashes. He would not need it anymore – and as it burned, his laughter twisted back to weeping.

But as the silence was broken by a strike of thunder, he forced the flames to die and listened. The resonance of his pain was still there, as if being answered by something, someone, perhaps by only its own echo. He remained unmoving, and with each passing moment, he realized it was a presence. Someone was approaching.

Someone heard me.

Quickly, he stood up and marched to the heavy stone door to the tower's balcony, stepping into the frigid air. The resonance grew louder, the tension in the air like an impending storm – and in the darkness of the night, Zeref gazed out to the raging Sea of Ghosts. The winds lifted waves as tall as giants that now crashed against the rocky bed of this barren island, yet even the foundations were waiting for the worst to come.

… and they are coming.

Over the horizon, the lighting strikes danced, sending enormous blasts of deadly energy from the heavens to the endless, dark ocean. The water was black at night, only reflecting the flashes of light whenever thunder erupted from the heavy clouds above the sea. Gentle snowflakes fell on him, and for a moment he wondered when there had ever been lightning and snow.

But still, despite not feeling the chill in the air in his lifeless body, there was another kind of energy in the atmosphere that he sensed. It wasn't the vibrations of the lightning strikes, not the magicka bleeding from the storm, it was different, darker, heavy as gloom and death. It lingered on the horizon, approaching him. All kinds of Dark Lords had come to him before, asking for this and that or praising him for whatever massacres he had done upon their command. Yet he wasn't their servant, as they had all later realised, for Zeref of Dragonbridge bowed to no one.

Just what in the Oblivion have I summoned?

The gloom soared with the wind, like an apocalypse on black wings. Zeref focused his sharp gaze on the horizon, the origin of the frequency, and found the shape of a bird. But as it came closer, he soon realised it wasn't just a nightingale, but something far bigger, far more deadly, just as its energy let him know. He knit his brows together in wonder. And then, amongst the thunderstrikes, a roar of a dragon sounded, low like a mournful horn.

Zeref leant on the merlon, bracing himself for whatever was coming his way. Then, the dragon crossed the ocean at the speed of the lightning strikes. It reached Castle Volkihar, wings spread open wide to cover the skies ahead of him, then it landed on the top of the tower closest to him. The whole castle shuddered at the dragon's weight, Zeref nearly losing his balance upon the impact, and then he raised his gaze to the dragon. Black horns framed its enormous head and spikes ran over its spine, the blackest scales covering it all around, only bloodred eyes staring right into his, as equally crimson as the dragon's.

"Drem Yol Lok. Zu'u lost hon do hi, sahrot diil drog," the dragon spoke, its voice resonating deep within Zeref's cold bones as if the skies themselves had erupted. At the loss of words, he stared back at the dragon. "I am Alduin. I come to you… with an inquiry."

Alduin.

In my despair, I have summoned Alduin, the World-Eater, to my doorstep.

Instinctively, Zeref took a step back. Alduin, the ender of eras, the destroyer of worlds, the one who would bring this Kalpa to an end, as the scrolls have foretold. With one breath, Alduin could bring this castle into ruin and burn his immortal self into ashes. Even as powerful as he was, Zeref was not a fool – he knew he had to remain cautious. He was trembling. He went down to one knee, and bowed down to the dragon – he, Zeref of Dragonbridge, who had bowed to no one.

Of all the gods, only the god of apocalypse answered my prayers.

"What is it that you ask of me, Alduin?" Zeref asked then.

The eyes of the dragon were still on him, carefully examining whether his broken soul could truly be of use to him. The gloom of death that lingered in the atmosphere formed a clear resonance, a mutual agreement that both of them sought – an undead lord, and the shadow of a god, both of them set out to bring an end to this world. They knew it, even without a shared language, a shared word.

"I seek one of my kin," Alduin spoke then. "I know you have walked between the worlds, explored the depths of the void, and pushed the limits of death. Have your paths ever crossed… with a dragon named Durnehviir?"

Zeref froze in astonishment. Durnehviir, the dread dragon, who soared the endless skies of Soul Cairn – yes, he knew the dragon. He'd even befriended it. "Yes," he said briefly.

Alduin let out a low growl, resembling a satisfied hum. "Good. I am raising my kin from the dead, yet Durnehviir is out of my reach," he answered. "I have a task for you, Undead Lord, if you'd accept it."

Zeref gave a fast nod. "I'm listening."

"You must release Durnehviir from Soul Cairn, from the grasp of the Ideal Masters."

Zeref remained silent, lowering his eyes from the dragon to the stormy sea. How could he defy a dragon, how could he defy a god? "I'm sorry, but such a thing… Such a thing is impossible," Zeref whispered then. "I have tried, but the will of the Ideal Masters is unbreakable. It cannot –"

"No. It shall be broken, as their realm will burn down in the final flames," Alduin spoke without a hint of doubt. "You have not been strong enough, Undead Lord. Not the power of your blood, nor the blood of Molag Bal, has granted you the strength you seek. But I am Alduin. Mine is all might of this world – I can give you the power you need to break the will of the Masters, if you pledge to release Durnehviir in return."

Zeref listened close, chills running down his skin upon these words. Could this have been what he prayed for? Had he reached out to Alduin, who reached out to him in return? An undeniable synergy, frighteningly tempting, an offer he could not refuse when all else had already been taken from him. He had tried everything – except this.

"What… What is this power you offer?" Zeref asked. "And is there anything else you want, Alduin, than releasing Durnehviir from the Soul Cairn?"

"Yes," Alduin began. "The power I can give used to belong to one of my Order. A priest of the essence of my rage – but to my disappointment, he was defeated. His power is free to be given to more worthy hands. Were you to accept this gift, you would become a dragon priest, one amongst the eight. The Order keeps mankind on its knees, waiting for the final judgement as the time comes to an end upon my command when all of my kin are resurrected." As if to confirm that Zeref understood everything, Alduin paused. "Depending on your success with reviving Durnehviir, I could task you with repairing the soul of Agnoslok, but on that, we will see."

And in his heart, Zeref couldn't find a reason to refuse. In silence, he thought for a moment, but knew his decision was already made.

"I accept," he said then. "I accept your offer, Alduin."

"Pruzah."

Upon Alduin's sharp reply, Zeref turned his eyes back to the night sky. The thunderstrikes were accompanied by a choir of roars; dragons, dozens and dozens of them, flew onwards from the North. They appeared amidst the mist and soared over his castle, roaring with the music of doom. Awestruck, Zeref gazed at the sight, knowing it was directly from an end-times prophecy.

Just as the scrolls have foretold.

"Tonight, I shall declare war. The final war," Alduin began then, "And you, Dread Lord, have chosen your side wisely."

Then, Zeref bowed down, enveloped in a faint memory of accepting Harkon's blood before he'd receive power far greater than that. Yet what was this title bestowed to him by Alduin the World-Eater? Where had he heard it before? In a prophecy, written in the Elder Scrolls, that's where it had to be.

Amongst the night's children, a dread lord will rise.

The prophecy disappeared then into the black mist. Tonight, I have fulfilled all my pledges to my beloved Mavis, he thought before all went dark, incomparable power entering his broken soul. I have sinned for her, sold my soul for her, spilt blood for her. I have killed for her, I have died for her, and now, I have started a war for her.

The war to end all wars.

A/N: Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Who expected this POV to pop up? :D

There's so much I'd like to say about all this, but I think it's better to keep it short. Zeref's storyline has been one of the most interesting things to develop for the entire plot, and now he finally steps into fray! I hope you remember chapters 39, "Laid to Rest," and 45, "Orphan's Tears 2/2" where pieces of his story were already revealed. Now, you got to read it from his very own perspective.

24th of Evening Star is gonna be one hell of an day...

Next up: Evening Star 1/3