The verdant hills of the Reach rolled out for miles along twisted crags, meandering ravines, and worn cobblestone pathways. The sky hung above the horsebacking trio like a dark blanket, threatening to thunderstorm upon the lot of them.

Droplets began to fall, and then a light, yet nearly invisible drizzle began to come down.

"It feels like rain!" Inigo exclaimed gleefully. "I love the rain! It releases all of the best smells in nature!" He sniffed the mountainous air around him and exhaled with ecstasy.

"You always have to be weird, don't you?" Lydia glared at the Khajiit as if he were an alien of sorts.

"It is not weird!" Inigo protested. "It is very normal to appreciate the natural world!"

"I hate the rain. And the heavy winds that follow." Lydia sneered.

"Don't say that too loudly; you don't want to upset Kynareth, do you?" Inigo asked her to maintain caution.

"I think your yapping into the open air is more likely to do that." Lydia responded with her brand of sarcasm, which seemed to have very little effect on Inigo.

Cura smirked with amusement. "Will the two of you ever set your swords aside and be friends?"

"No." Lydia and Inigo responded in unison, as though they were both ready for Cura to ask it and had been preparing that reaction for quite some time now.

Cura pursed her lips. "Well, I'll need the both of you to be alert. Anything can happen in Markarth, if our first minute there was any indication."

"What happened when you first set foot in Markarth?" Inigo asked, scratching his chin.

"Some woman was nearly murdered by a Forsworn lunatic." Lydia informed him, recalling the event in vivid detail. "If it weren't for Cura, that woman would be a goner."

"It seems like so long ago, but it was a little more than a month, I believe." Cura tried to remember, but in the recent weeks with all that transpired, time itself felt as if it were blending together, The Breton shrugged, defeated by her own lack of memory. "Well... I'm not entirely sure, really. It was in the Museum where we obtained Stendarr's Hammer for the Vigil."

"And where you almost died due to Dwemer death traps." Lydia reminded her of the horrid ballista that impaled her at Nchuand-Zel.

Cura instinctively rested a hand over her side to soothe herself as she remembered the shearing agony caused by the long pike that pierced her being. "I guess that's why my clock is all confused... part of me doesn't want to remember."

Inigo looked to the side, saddened. "And I suppose this is why you still do not remember me shooting you in the head."

"Inigo, we've been over this." Cura placed two fingers on her forehead in irritation. "That did not happen between us."

"It did!" Inigo protested. "I remember it clear as day! Your mind is simply blocking it out, is all."

Lydia grit her teeth and turned to face him. "If you really shot her through the skull, then why in Oblivion is she sitting on top of this Horse with me right now?" She attempted to show him the absurdity of his claims.

"I do not know." Inigo shrugged. "But I think it may have something to do with her being Dragonborn. So far I have seen her survive many things that would kill a normal person."

"Fair enough, I suppose." Lydia turned her eyes back to the road, dismissing the matter. It was true, Cura had more lives than a Cat, if the incident with the Dwarven Ballista alone were any indication. There was also the matter of Cura's inhuman strength; possibly an effect from the Dragon Blood, as well.

After seeing Cura capture the souls of Dragon after Dragon, and take them into her very being, nothing could surprise Lydia anymore. Cura could levitate in the air and it would not surprise her. Discreetly, though, Lydia did feel a twinge of jealousy for Cura. Most people had to work hard in their lives to get even a tenth of the glory or recognition she gets every time she absorbs a Dragon.

That isn't to say that Cura doesn't work hard, to be sure, but Lydia felt as if she were living in the Breton's shadow constantly. How could she protect someone who was threescore times more powerful than herself? It made no sense, but by her honour, she was bound to do so by the sacred contract between Thane and Housecarl. But again, once Cura was ready to return to her completed house in Windhelm, she would meet Calder, her second Housecarl.

Two Housecarls.

Lydia was irrelevant as ever, now.

What could she offer Cura that Calder could not? It was a stressful endeavour to make herself look better than another Housecarl, and she hadn't met him, herself. Perhaps Calder would be the sort who would rather be a property Guard and Cura would not replace her with him after all.

All Lydia could see was the back of Cura's head; her brown leather hood, pulled down to guard her hair from the rain. She could not see the Breton's expression, and she was unsure of how she felt at this moment in time.

Was she thinking of replacing her? Or not? Should she ask this of her Thane?

Perhaps not.

The Horses splashed through puddles in the cobblestones and whinnied joyfully. Cura tightened the reins a little to keep Joile on the right track, while Rex decided to splash around a bit more, to Inigo's protest.

"No, Horsey, no!" Inigo pulled the reins and gave Rex a light kick to get him moving back in the right direction.

And that was when he saw it, over the bridge to their East. A figure with a crossbow, wearing red and black, headed towards Cura and Lydia. Was it a member of the Dark Brotherhood?

Not quite.

"CURA, LOOK OUT!" Inigo cried out as he immediately knocked an arrow on his bow, aimed towards the assailant.

Before Cura could turn her head, a crossbow bolt embedded itself in her right thigh, shocking her and causing her to fall off of the Horse and into the mud. "Gah!"

"Die, Vigilant!" the figure exclaimed as three more joined him in the shadows beneath a tree.

Cura yanked the bolt out of her thigh. It was a steel bolt, to be sure, and it made itself known as it tore through fibers before emerging from the seething Breton's flesh.

The group's horses began to panic and scatter about, falling afoul of one of the Vampires, who assaulted Joile as he attempted to flee.

The four figures were Vampires, and one wielded a Crossbow while the others wielded ebony swords.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lydia shouted as she leapt off the horse, shield drawn.

Perfect! This was her chance to prove to Cura that she was the best Housecarl in Mundus.

"Vampires!" Cura exclaimed as she healed herself and pulled up out of the mud.

Inigo fired an arrow through the air, and it rushed through the heart of one of them, giving them an express pass to Coldharbour.

"No! You will not hurt my friend!" Inigo shouted angrily as he came running on Rex.

Lydia engaged a vampire in melee combat, and wound up missing most of her sword strikes and becoming frustrated as slash after slash missed its mark, She felt a sharp pain in her back as her assailant zoomed around her over and over again at blinding speed.

Cura ran to her side, and clasped her hands together. "I call upon Stendarr's Aura!" She declared and a powerful globe of light emerged from herself, burning all of the Vampires within range of herself and Lydia.

This granted Lydia the opportunity to shoot an arrow into the forehead of her nuisance to which she followed up with a shield bash, pushing the arrow in deeper and deeper still, killing the fiend.

The Vampire with the crossbow was occupied with trying to shoot Inigo when he grew fed up of the cat's antics and opted instead to chase him down on foot and knock the Khajiit off the horse.

Inigo hit the mud and rolled down the small hill and landed in the river below after snapping through brambles and bushes on the way down.

"Inigo!" Cura exclaimed in horror as the Vampire rushed back up to try and tear her throat.

Cura quickly headbutted the undead fiend as Lydia stabbed him in his side, doing no lasting harm to the undead.

"What...?" Lydia was shocked by this turn of events.

"Fire, wood, or silver!" Cura exclaimed, as she readied to use her Flames.

She did not want to risk using her Fire Breath, as Lydia was right in the line of fire, behind the Vampire from her angle. It would consume the Vampire, but then her ally, as well.

Inigo pulled himself out of the river, and his fur was dripping wet and heavy. He spat excess water out with forceful coughs and dragged himself onto a rock for support while he caught his breath, witnessing the world spin around him. It was like being high on Skooma, but without the enthralling feelings that came with the experience.

As Inigo came to, he knocked another arrow and plunged it into the third Vampire who had just realized his recovery, pinning them to a tree by their heart. The wood from the arrow desecrated their condemned organ and caused the Vampire to howl in agony as his body began to disintegrate, eventually leaving behind a macabre display of bones pinned to the tree by its ribcage.

Inigo then proceeded to lift a rock off the ground, and plunged it into the jaw of the Vampire, keeping his mouth stuck biting down on the stone, "Just in case you do not remain dead." Inigo wiped off his hands.

Cura, wielding the Dawnbreaker, with a single swipe conflagrated the leader in front of her, causing him to scream and panic while the blazes caught him. A shockwave of blue fire burst through the air and caught his ally ablaze. Lydia then took the opportunity she was given, and with one clean swing, decapitated the beast. "Hyaaaah!" Lydia cried out as the blade carved its way through gummy, undead flesh.

The Vampire's body slunk to the ground, then reduced to ash as the remaining embers consumed it. All that remained of the fiend was his head, which rolled down the hill and landed in the water nearby, and then sunk to the riverbed. Cura just hoped nobody would go fishing there and catch it by mistake.

"Are you all right, my Thane?" Lydia checked up on her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Cura nodded. "I am. Are you? How about you, Inigo?"

Inigo examined himself thoroughly. "Well, I can confirm that I am, without a doubt, breathing. That is why I can tell you this."

Cura smiled. "Good-I don't know what I would do without your fun songs on the road.

"I'd do a Breton Jig." Lydia rolled her eyes, hating Inigo's bubbly nature.

Inigo stuck out his tongue mockingly. "You're just jealous that you will never be great like me."

"Okay, with that, we should be off." Cura walked between the two to halt the coming argument. "Where are the Horses?"

"They ran away, I think." Inigo observed.

"You think?!" Lydia raised her voice.

"Joile!" Cura called out. "Joile, where are you, boy?" She whistled loudly to catch the equine's attention.

"Rex, where did you go?" Inigo called out as he began to search for his horse.

"Joile?" Lydia called out as she and Cura began to scan the roadside area.

Then, off in the distance, Lydia spotted him. "There he is! Down the river!" She pointed at a gray and white object further off in the distance, floating in the river.

"Oh, no!" Cura cried out, leaping into the river herself.

"My Thane!" Lydia extended a hand forward, attempting to prevent her from entering the perilous tide.

Cura ignored any obstacle; be it Lydia's cries of protest, or the jagged rocks in the river, or some fish that swam by her, fighting the current. She could feel her heart racing against the tide, and When Cura reached Joile. she could feel her heart halt and shatter. It did not take long for her to realize that the Horse was dead.

Joile lay with his head back in the water, and his throat clawed and covered with blood that was still leaking out into the river. When Cura's attempt to heal him was futile. she knew that he was gone. "Joile..." Cura began to sob lightly as she embraced her faithful steed. Admittedly, they hadn't travelled together for very long, but that only seemed to make it feel worse overall.

How was she going to explain this to Keeper Carcette? Her Horse is dead and gone; the horse she entrusted to her.

Cura gently moved Joile from the jagged rocks and pulled him out of the water, then lay him gently on the grass of the bank nearby. "Rex is nowhere to be found." Inigo lamented as he and Lydia ran over to see, and Lydia cupped her hands over her mouth in shock.

Cura kept her head and hood down, so neither of her remaining allies could see her face. She held the Horse's head on her lap similarly to how she embraced the Dog in Ruunvald, Lydia recalled.

Cura loved animals. The horrific demise of one was always terribly sad. Cura sat there, in the rain, and chilled to the core, but all she could find herself doing was stroking the Horse's mane catatonically as she grieved internally. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

"What... what happened?" Lydia asked.

"The Vampires... one of them attacked the Horses..." Cura finally spoke. "they... they killed Joile, and his body fell into the river..."

"Cura, I'm so sorry." Inigo went down on one knee. "He was a good horse."

"My Thane, we've got to get out of this rain." Lydia stated. "Markarth isn't too far from here-if we continue onwards by foot, we could make it there before the early afternoon."

"But... I..." Cura looked down at her deceased steed. "I can't leave him."

"You have to, my Thane." Lydia brought in the harsh reality. "You can't just sit here forever, and you definitely don't want to be here for the rotting stage."

Cura paused. It was true; that was an image she certainly did not want to see. Slowly, the Breton lifted herself out of the blood and dirt. "Do either of you have a shovel? I'd like to give him a burial, at least."

Inigo shook his head. "I am no miner; I do not carry a shovel with me."

Lydia shook her head, as well. "I'm sorry, my Thane. I don't."

Cura sighed sadly. "I didn't want to, but this is the next best thing I can do to preserve his dignity." She walked to the Horse and removed the Banner of Stendarr from around the Horse's back, beneath the saddle. When she folded the banner nicely, she placed it tenderly inside her bag. She signaled for Lydia and Inigo to stand back. "Joile, you were a good horse. Our time together was short, but heartfelt. I will inform the Keeper of your demise. I'm so sorry that I failed you..." Her voice broke, but she quickly wiped her eyes and then continued. "May the Light of Stendarr be with you, always."

Cura took a step back, and, arming herself with Flames, began to scorch the Horse's body, Dual Casting the Destruction spell. The scent of charred flesh filled the air as the body was cremated before Cura, Lydia, and Inigo's very eyes.

As the smoke finally cleared, all that remained were ashes, which Cura looked upon morosely as they blew away in the wind. Sorrow gripped the Breton's chest. The finality of it all stung the worst. He was gone.

It brought back horrible memories.

Vigilant Hilde.

Helgen.

Cura pulled herself together and kept her face from her friends. "Where is that accursed city?"

"You can see it from here." Lydia pointed to a large, stone city off in the distance, past many hills and crags.

Cura walked ahead, in the direction Lydia pointed, keeping her back to her friends. Saying nothing, she continued to walk ahead, in silence. One of the slain Vampires lay on the ground, dead, and Cura booted him in the face a few times in rage, and then lifted him off the ground and tossed him in the river, like garbage.

Lydia and Inigo shared concerned glances at Cura's lashing out. It was not something she normally did, as the young Breton valued peace more than anything generally.

They continued along the beaten path and after a couple of hours of morose wandering through the ugly downpour, the group entered the City of Markarth through the large, Dwarven doors.

The first thing they saw were the vendors at the Marketplace.

Cura looked around, searching the faces around her for Vigilant Tyrannus. This must have been something truly awful for him to request backup. She turned to Lydia and Inigo. "I... want to be alone for a while, if that's okay."

Inigo nodded. "Very well. I will be at the Silver-Blood Inn."

Lydia nodded. "Be careful out there." She did not like the idea of Cura being alone in this city, but she knew her Thane could very well handle herself should anything come up. Perhaps giving her some time alone would be best.

Cura slowly approached the Redguard jewelry vendor, Kerah."Hello... you may not remember me, but I have a question for you."

"Of course I remember you!" Kerah exclaimed. "You're the woman who saved Margret from the Forsworn."

Nearby, a rugged-looking Breton man with odd face tattoos and red hair in a green tunic who was shopping for meat overheard this declaration. He turned to look at Cura, then returned to his browsing through the blood-soaked meat before him.

Cura nodded, unawares. "Yes. Er, I have a question concerning a man in similar garb to myself. Have you seen him?" She pointed to her Apprentice Robes and her Amulet.

"Ah, the man from the Priesthood of Stendarr?" Kerah asked. "Yes, he's been going around the city, inquiring about this creepy abandoned house in the lower level."

"Thank you." Cura nodded as she turned around to walk towards the lower city.

The Breton man turned around and followed her as she made the motions, and placed a note in her hand. "Oh, I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important."

Cura nearly jumped, and then turned to him, confused and more than a little irritated. "Is this your note?" Her voice was a little nasal, as phlegm remained from her tearing up earlier. Keeping her voice low was a fool's effort.

"My note? No, that's yours. Must have fallen out of your pocket." the Breton man shrugged, playing an act.

She did not have pockets. Who here hearing them would believe that? Cura sighed and opened the Note.

"Meet me at the Shrine of Talos."

"Where's the Shrine of Talos? Cura asked.

"Huh. Not sure. I don't worship Talos, myself. I think I heard someone mention it was underneath the Temple of Dibella, in the big crag in the center of the city." the Breton pointed discreetly towards the large rocklike part of the city.

"Fine, but I have other business to attend to first." Cura informed him.

"Very well." The Breton decided to leave her there, holding her to it.

The nerve of some people. This had better not be some kind of weird sexual thing. Cura thought as she snorted in irritation.

As Cura headed down the stone road, she heard a familiar voice. "Excuse me, but do you know anything about this house? Seen anyone enter or leave?"

She looked up from the floor, and saw Vigilant Tyrannus speaking to Yngvar, the Thug who accosted her the first time she entered this wretched city.

"No." Yngvar dismissed.

"So you don't know anything about this house?" Vigilant Tyrannus pointed to the condemned building.

Yngvar shook his head. "No."

Tyrannus insisted, desperate for information. "Anyone seen entering or leaving? Any strange lights or unusual noises?"

Yngvar turned around to leave, fed up with the interrogation. "It's abandoned and it's always been abandoned."

Vigilant Tyrannus clicked his tongue and looked down to the floor in thought, as Cura approached. Before looking up, he spoke. "I'm with the Vigil of Stendarr. We believe this house might have been used for Daedra worship. Evil rites and so forth."

Cura chuckled. "Oh, how dunny! I'm with the Vigil of Stendarr, too! What are the odds?"

Tyrannus looked up to see Cura's now-smiling face. "Vigilant Cura! How have you been?" He asked.

"I'm not sure, honestly." Cura had no real response. To say things were completely awful would be a lie, but to say they were good would be a lie in equal measure. At the end of the day, she's had it rough. "I'm Dragonborn now, so, things have changed."

"So it is true, then." Vigilant Tyrannus exclaimed. "I've heard rumours on the road from other Vigilants about that. Apparently you've slain Dragons and taken their souls."

Cura nodded. "It's all true."

"Perfect! Then perhaps you're sent here by Stendarr's divine providence!" Vigilant Tyrannus scratched his chin. "You'd make the perfect assistant in the investigation I've been conducting."

"That's why I've come to Markarth." Cura admitted. "Vigilant Moric said you need help with a haunted house of sorts."

"This is it." Vigilant Tyrannus pointed to the rugged structure built into the cliff beside them, lead into by a Dwarven metal door. "You haven't heard anything from the denizens about it, have you?"

Cura shook her head. "No. Nobody mentioned anything about it, save for that it's abandoned."

"Damn. It's like everyone in this city has amnesia." Tyrannus snapped his fingers in frustration.

"I'll help you if you're going inside." Cura told him. If he was just going to spend the day wandering around and interrogating the locals, she had more important things to do.

"I was actually just about to head on inside. Be good to have someone watch my back." Vigilant Tyrannus admitted. "Follow me, and keep your eyes open. Daedra are powerful creatures and tricksters. Never know what you'll find."

"Oh, yes." Cura agreed. "That's certain."

Vigilant Tyrannus cautiously pushed the door open, and held his Steel Mace at the ready. Cura held her Elven mace and Spellbreaker. Somehow Tyrannus had no remark to make on the Daedric Shield. Maybe he didn't recognize it.

How great it felt to turn Daedric Weapons against their masters.

The pair found themselves in a living space indeed. It was very spacious.

"Fresh food. No wood rot on the furniture. Someone's been here. Recently. But the people I asked say no one enters or leaves..." Vigilant Tyrannus examined the furniture and the stocked food.

Cura lifted a green Squash to examine it closely. It did indeed look fresh. "Maybe one of the Homeless have made this their dwelling?" She proposed.

"Or a Daedra worshipper." Tyrannus sneered as he examined the pots and pans.

A small scraping sound could be heard from the next room.

"Wait. Did you hear that? I think it came this way. That's it. Something's inside the house." Vigilant Tyrannus was fast to investigate, practically leaving Cura behind. "Come on, we're getting to the bottom of this."

Cura followed him and kept herself alert.

The air took on a dark chill. Cura really did not like this.

"Come out! We know you're here!" Vigilant Tyrannus called out to the air, hoping to grab the attention of their company. "There's another door. See if you can get it open." He gestured towards Cura and the door ahead of them.

Ladies first, she supposed. Cura opened the door and felt something tear through her. She clenched her chest.

"Vigilant Cura, are you all right?" Vigilant Tyrannus noticed her reaction.

It took her a moment, but Cura spoke again. "Something very bad is down there..." She shivered. This was a bad idea.

"Well, you're Dragonborn. I'm sure whatever it is, you could handle it." Vigilant Tyrannus stated. "Let's keep moving."

A dark, ethereal, and graveled voice spoke to Cura as she headed down the next hall. ''You have killed so many people... your strength is admirable."

Cura quickly began to look around, her eyes darting back and forth. Where was this voice coming from?

"Is something the matter, Cura?" Tyrannus asked her.

"Did you hear that?" Cura asked Tyrannus, who simply raised his eyebrow.

'Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down.' the voice sweetened in all of its sinister splendor.

"My reward?" Cura asked the air, both confusing and concerning Vigilant Tyrannus.

"Cura, what are you saying?" Tyrannus asked her.

Cura ignored him, and, as though spellbound, continued to head further down to an area that was labyrinthian in nature, arranged by old, tattered shelves, and present nearby was a hole in the wall that dug into the earth.

Tyrannus took note of that. "Somebody was here, all right." He stated, pointing to the hole. "Let me go ahead, Cura." He pushed past her and headed through the hole.

Cura scoffed. How rude!

'Yes. Further. Into the bowels.' the dark voice beckoned to the both of them.

When the two of them headed down into the cavernous area, they found themselves face-to-face with a Shrine to Molag Bal with a spiked mace depicting a relief of the fiend's face upon it.

"Daedra worship! I knew it!" Vigilant Tyrannus ran ahead to observe the Altar.

The dark voice laughed victoriously before explaining. 'Men would come and sacrifice the wretched in my name. The weak would be punished by the strong.'

"Vigilant Tyrannus, don't!" Cura exclaimed as she ran to grab him. Unfortunately, when the two of them landed on the platform before the altar, large gnarled, spikes came shooting up out of the ground, effectively trapping the pair of them in a cage.

'Fool! Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you? What do you see from that little cage? Speak.'

Cura looked up at the infamous staple of Molag Bal. "A mace. It's rusted."

"Rusted. Dry. There was a time when this mace dripped with the blood of the feeble and the worthless.' the voice hissed. 'Perhaps you'd like to wield it? It is far superior to the feeble mace you currently wield.'

Was he really trying to tempt her here? There was no way in Oblivion that she would use such a horrendous thing.

"Stendarr's Mercy! This isn't an ordinary Daedra. We have to get help." Vigilant Tyrannus began to panic as he shook the bars viciously, only serving to cut his hands.

'Weak. He's weak. You're strong. Crush him.' the disembodied voice of Molag Bal filled the room loudly, audible enough for the both of them to hear the command.

Cura was taken aback with horror, and quickly jumped to protest. "I refuse! I defy you and your despicable desires!" She shouted to Molag Bal. "All the evil you've wrought upon our world-I'll have no part in it!"

'Then perhaps he will.' Molag Bal snorted as he momentarily cut contact with Cura.

Cura began to look around, when Tyrannus grabbed his head and nearly screamed from the pain. "Get out of my head, Daedra!" He smacked his head against the black bars to try and free himself, but to no avail.

The voice became louder once more, and the objects around the house and in the small cavern-shovels, lanterns, and pickaxes-began to fly about in a frenzied manner. 'You will kill. You will kill, or you will die!'

Tyrannus whimpered, overwhelmed and bested. He grabbed his face in terror and peered at Cura through his clenched fingers. His visible eye was bloodshot and consumed with fright. "I don't want to die. I can't die here! The Daedra has us. It's you or me!"

"No!" Cura fought the influence. "No, Vigilant Tyrannus! Calm yourself!"

Quickly, Tyrannus took out his mace and whacked Cura with it, causing her to fall back against the sharp bars behind her, The back of her right arm was cut and bleeding through the sleeves. In such close proximity, it was nearly impossible to dodge Tyrannus' mace.

"I'm sorry, Cura!" Tyrannus exclaimed as he whacked her across the face, breaking her nose.

Cura fell backwards again, and felt her shattered nose, and examined the blood on her gauntlet. She could not afford to die in a place like this. Skyrim could not afford it, either. She parried his next blow with her shield and instead opted to Heal herself, and blocked subsequent blows, determined to resist the Daedric Lord's game. All Molag Bal wanted was for her to strike Tyrannus back and kill him. If she did that, the Daedra would win.

Just like how he won with Fenrik.

"I. Will. Resist. You!" Cura exclaimed through gritted teeth as she continued to block Tyrannus' frenzied attacks.

Wham!

Bam!

Wham!

Crack!

Slam!

Bam!

Blow, after blow, after blow, Cura blocked. Her elbows were strong, thankfully, due to years of shield practice. However, Vigilant Tyrannus was a seasoned warrior, himself, and no square with a mace. Though, as hard as he battered her shield, he hadn't noticed the waning integrity of his cudgel.

Bam!

Wham!

Slam!

Crack!

Crunch!

Spint!

The head of Tyrannus' mace flew off and out of the cage, leaving him with a stick and handle in his hands. He stared at it and gasped. "Oh, no..." He whimpered. He looked at Cura, who was sturdy with her weapons intact, and realized that he wasn't in the cage with a Vigilant; he was caged with a Dragon.

"C-Cura, pl-please..." Tyrannus attempted to gain some vain distance, holding out a hand and pleading with her. "please, don't..."

"I won't!" Cura assured him. She moved her shield aside and held up her right hand, revealing the lack of her own mace, which never left her hip. "Console yourself, man!" She tried to calm the situation as best she could with the madness present in the room with them. "There has to be another way out of here! Help me find it!"

'I grow weary of your resistance, mortal.' Molag Bal sneered.

"Good!" Cura shouted back at him as she continued to try and examine the cage bars. "As long as I have a mind of my own, I will resist you!"

'Your defiance, however, is amusing all of its own. Though, it draws no blood.' Molag Bal snickered before going silent.

"Wh...what is he planning now?" Vigilant Tyrannus trembled in fear. "You've angered him! You fool!" He insulted Cura.

"You have to defy him, Vigilant Tyrannus!" Cura told him. "It's your duty to Stendarr!"

"Where is he, then?" Tyrannus shouted. "Where is Stendarr? Do you see him? Do you hear him? All I hear is Molag Bal, and all I see is his trap!"

"Don't give up hope!" Cura told him. "I'm sure Stendarr is holding Molag Bal back! Maybe that's why he's gone silent! Maybe... that's... why... maybe... that's... maybe... why... that's..." Cura's eyes slowly began to droop and she seemed to fall into a trance.

"C-Cura...?" Vigilant Tyrannus became terrified, fearing the worst.

"Maybe that is why Stendarr refuses your aid." Cura spoke words that were not her own. "The lot of you are weak. Your Vigil here is dead and your Keeper belongs to me now."

"What?" Tyrannus backed away. "No! That's...that's impossible!"

Cura's green eyes glowed violet with the flames of Coldharbour. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Her voice was overlaid with the dark, sinister shadow of Molag Bal.

"You lie to demoralize me, fiend!" Vigilant Tyrannus cried. "You will not succeed!"

"No? I've been succeeding this whole time." Molag Cura spoke with a sinister smile. "All that remains is to complete my work." With that, Cura gasped loudly and snapped out of the trance as the fiend left her.

"Cura?" Tyrannus called out to her fearfully.

"T-Tyrannus? What just..." Before Cura could ask what was happening, she felt her body moving by itself to the Northern side of the cage.

'I want you to be sentient, and powerless.' Molag Bal informed her as he usurped control of the Breton.

"Wh-what...?" Cura tried to struggle, but to no avail. All she could do was move her face. What she witnessed was horrifying. Her right arm reached through the bars and removed the Mace of Molag Ball from its placeholder on the blood-dripping altar. "No!" Cura protested. "I don't want this vile thing!"

'You do.' Molag Bal told her. 'And you are going to use it in my name.'

"Never!" Cura tried to resist. "I would never!"

'But you are.' Molag Bal's smile could practically be heard through his voice.

"C-Cura... no..." Tyrannus tried to back away as she closed the distance.

"Tyrannus, I'm sorry!" Cura apologized genuinely, her soul shrieking from within.

'No. Kill him. Crush his bones. Tear at his flesh.' She involuntarily raised her hand and brought down the demonic weapon, cracking his skull and killing him immediately. Cura could not close her eyes, nor could she look away. She was forced to bear witness to her own murder of an ally. An audible gasp escaped her throat as his bloody corpse slunk to the bottom of the cage, broken.

"YOU MONSTER!" Cura cried out to Molag Bal.

'Ah ha ha! You mortals and your frail, limp, pathetic bodies. Try it again.' Molag Bal laughed gleefully as he restored Vigilant Tyrannus to life before Cura's very eyes.

"N-No... not again." Cura tried to fight the best she could.

"Please-" Tyrannus begged, blood still dripping down from the top of his crushed skull. It was clear he was being kept alive through Daedric power; not truly alive again.

'Mortal. I've given you my mace, in all its rusted spitefulness. Crush the spirit of your cohort. Make him bend to me.' Molag Bal ordered Cura.

"N-no! Please, don't make me do this" No. Don't plead with the Lord of Domination. "! I...I... won't!" Cura was trying her hardest to resist, but her body again was moving by itself.

"I'll never submit!" Vigilant Tyrannus shouted to Molag Bal, spitting blood at Cura, the vessel before him. "Do you hear me, Daedra? I will never bow to you!"

'We shall see.' Molag Bal muttered through her lips, and immediately, Cura smashed Tyrannus in the chest, shattering his ribcage.

Tyrannus stumbled over backwards, clutching his chest as Cura watched in horror. "I won't bend. Never!"

Cura shattered his right arm. Upon the impact, Vigilant Tyrannus could feel the bone splinter within his flesh, and the muscles and ligaments detached from the broken quarters, causing his arm to hang.

"Do your worst, monster!" He bared his teeth through the internal searing of his own flesh.

Cura smashed his left hip, causing him to drop to the floor.

"I... won't... surrender!" Vigilant Tyrannus realized what was at stake, and through the violent blows, he continued to refuse.

"St-Stendarr... where... are you..." Tyrannus trembled as Cura smashed his right thigh. "GAHH!" The pain was excruciating.

"That's enough!" Cura shouted. "Stop it!"

'Not enough yet.' Molag Bal spoke.

"Don't kill me... I don't want to die!" Tyrannus pleaded as he lay still. "No more... No more!" The man was barely able to move, and even if he were to somehow come out of this for life, he would surely be crippled. Damage had been done to his spine from the concussive force, and he could only move his upper torso, which he used to feebly cling to his waning life.

'No more?'

"N-no more..." Tyrannus responded, as he was nearly blacking out.

Cura was mortified. She did this. She reduced his body to mush. The man could not even stand. Tears rolled out from her eyes. "I...I never meant to..."

Molag Bal's voice elevated above them. 'Do you submit yourself to me, mortal?'

"No more... No more... I submit, Molag Bal. I submit!" Tyrannus pleaded for mercy from the worst possible person.

Molag Bal's voice made itself manifest to a ghastly cloud around them. 'You bend to me?'

"No!" Cura shouted. "Tyrannus, don't!"

Tyrannus ignored Cura's plea. "Yes!"

Molag Bal smirked victoriously in his realm. 'You pledge your soul to me?'

Tyrannus lay in the fetal position and lay his face on the floor for comfort. "Yes!"

Molag Bal needed one last confirmation. 'You forsake the pitiful and worthless Stendarr?'

"TYRANNUS!" Cura wailed. "DON'T DO IT, I BEG YOU! THINK ABOUT YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL!"

Cura's words could no longer reach him as the bludgeoning weapon had done enough already. "Yes!"

Molag Bal laughed gleefully. 'You're mine now, Tyrannus.' He turned to Cura for one last time. 'Kill him.'

Cura's hand gripped tightly the blood-soaked cudgel, which now had its splendor restored after drinking in the lifeforce of the Vigilant. Cura's spirit was broken itself. She became the unwitting servant of Molag Bal. As she approached Tyrannus, ready to smash in his skull one more time, she wrested some control for herself.

"FUS RO DAH!" Cura shouted, causing Tyrannus to hit the bars and perish on impact, and his corpse tore through the black metal instead.

She created a hole in the bars, and immediately regained her control per the surprise of the Daedric Prince. Quickly, Cura dropped the fiendish mace and rushed to Tyrannus. "No, no, no, no..." She turned him around and tore off her gauntlet. Cura began to feverishly search for a pulse; a sign of life; anything. "NO!" Cura cried out, punching the stone floor with her bare fist. "NO! NO! NO! TYRANNUS, NO! WHY?"

Molag Bal spoke to her again. 'You have done an admirable job. You are quite well-practiced with maces, I can tell.'

"I never wanted to help you." Cura spat as she held Tyrannus' corpse in her arms, cradling her fellow Vigilant.

'And still, you have pleased me.' Molag Bal admitted. 'Your might is great and your stubbornness admirable. I look forward to watching you progress.'

Cura had no response; simply put; disgust and revile usurped her.

'I have a parting gift for you.' the Daedric Prince stated. Cura's attention was caught as the Daedric Artifact floated to her, and stood a couple of feet away. 'The Mace of Molag Bal! I give you its true power, mortal. When your enemies lie broken and bloody before you, know that I will be watching.'

Cura backed away from the weapon, and continued to clench Tyrannus instinctively.

'Now, I have a soul in Oblivion that needs claiming. Take care of the house while I'm gone. Ha ha ha!' Molag Bal laughed as his voice slowly trailed off to a whisper. The air felt calm, once again, save for the abject terror that consumed Cura. She sat there in that dungeon alone, with the corpse of one of her allies in her arms. An ally who now was damned for eternity. And it was her fault.

She should have gone to Delphine. She should have followed Esbern. What was she thinking?

"Tyrannus... I..." Cura almost threw up. She looked at his broken and bloody body.

This was the worst day in her life. It must be. First Joile, and now this. She had much to explain. She had to return to the Vigil. If for no other reason than to lock away this awful Mace for good.

But... no. She could not return just yet. The shame was too great, and it's not as though the Vigil could help Tyrannus now.

Cura slowly picked herself up, and grabbed the horrid mace, and placed it in her bag, The world would be better to never see it. Its influence alone was too dangerous.

Markarth truly was cursed.

Cura stumbled down the hall and into the main living space of the house of horrors. The fresh food she had seen before, like the Squash, was all rotten, and cobwebs sat in every corner.

Illusion. It was all Illusion to lure people in.

Pots and pans were scattered about, and three skeletons lay under the kitchen table; two adults and a child. Possibly the previous residents. Cura shivered and opened the front door, casting sunlight into this unholy building.

Passersby looked at her in shock to see her off-white robes stained with blood. Yngvar himself looked her wide-eyed.

"Bloody enough." Cura responded to him before he could say a word, and she headed towards the Shrine of Talos. She lumbered up the stone-carved steps and crossed the stone bridge, and headed to a small walkway between the sundered rock.

She needed something to change her mind on all that transpired.

If he had any bad intentions, that's fine. She would splatter him against the wall.