The next morning, we found ourselves on the surface again, a little south of the destroyed Hall of the Vigilants. We headed north to Dawnstar, resupplied, and made our trek back to Winterhold and then Septimus' outpost.

The old man perked up when we returned and I held up the blackened lexicon for him. "Give it, quickly!"

He snatched the cube from me as soon as I extended it and turned it over and over in his hands. His focus sharpened on various points of the object, though I couldn't see any rhyme or reason as to why one glowing blue squiggle meant more than another.

Maybe it's in Dwemer script and he can read the language? I wondered to myself, then shrugged. Who knows. I knew Cyrodiilic, and could recognize Daedric runes, but studying all the languages wasn't exactly part and parcel of vampire hunting.

"Extraordinary." The old man breathed, "I see it now. The sealing structure interlocks in the tiniest fractals. Dwemer blood can loose the hooks, but none alive remain to bear it."

"Are you saying that you dedicated years of your time to open a lockbox that requires the blood of a race that no longer exists?" I felt a stab of pity for the old man. "I'm sorry. I take it that this is where your hunt ends?"

"Well, no, not entirely," Septimus sounded perky. "A panoply of their brethren could gather to form a facsimile. A trick. Something they didn't anticipate, no, not even them. The blood of their descendants: Altmer, Bosmer, Dunmer, Falmer, and Orsimer. The elves still living can provide the key. Bear you hence this extractor. It will drink the fresh blood of elves. Return to me when the set is complete, and I shall become the recipient of their legacy within my own body."

He handed me a device that made my skin crawl: small canisters were bundled together, each one tipped with a needle.

"Slay through violence, or steal through bribes, the lifeblood of each of the five races," he reiterated.

I stood, holding the device delicately and with as few fingers as possible. "You… can't be serious. It would take days. Maybe weeks. Any blood extracted would rot and kill you if you injected them into your body."

"The Dwemer are far more clever than you… or I," he added, as though remembering that it would be rude to call me an idiot so blatantly. "Their ways were a mixture of technology and magics. The extractor will keep the blood fresh and lively until you return."

"You say that with far more confidence than I would," I muttered uncomfortably. How could we possibly get the blood other than a massive killing spree?

While I could admit that anyone could become a bandit, Altmer weren't exactly plentiful in Skyrim considering their association with the deeply unwelcome White-Gold Concordat. We could kill a roving band of Justiciars out in the wilderness, but I preferred not to take such a risk more than once. They had centuries of life to hone both magic and weapon skills. Just one was dangerous to tussle with… and they tended to roam in bands of three.

Serana, though, had thought of something else; "Excuse me, Septimus, but you've devoted your life to studying the Elder Scrolls. Why are you so obsessed with the knowledge locked away in here? Wouldn't an Elder Scroll itself have the knowledge you need?"

"Good question," I murmured, giving the old man the side eye. "You said before that it was the heart… of a god? Am I to assume you are looking for a literal body part of a Divine, and not something metaphorical?"

"Ooooh, an observant one! How clever to ask of Septimus." He did a little bouncing movement that could have been a happy dance if he had been younger and more spry. "I have devoted my life to the Elder Scrolls, but their knowledge is a passing awareness when compared to the encompassing mind of divinity. The Dwemer were the last to touch it; the Heart of Lorkhan. The still-living heart of the god who created the mortal plane! It was thought to have been destroyed by the Nerevarine, but my lord told me otherwise."

Serana took in a sharp breath and I looked at Septimus, feeling a very cold chill trickle down my spine that had nothing to do with being in an ice cave.

I was almost afraid to ask, but Serana's glance into my eyes said that she was as on edge as I was. We needed to know. Swallowing with a little difficulty, I asked, "Who is your lord?"

"The Daedric Prince of the unknown; Hermaeus Mora. I thought there were no secrets left to know, until I first spoke to him." The old man's voice was cheery, as though speaking of a wise and benevolent scholar that he held in high regard and even more fondness. "He asks a price to work his will; a few murders, some dissent spread, a plague or two. For the secrets, I can endure. In time, he brought me here, to the box. But he won't reveal how to open it. Maddening." The old man pouted like a child denied a rope of taffy.

I kept my hands very still, though they ached to draw my sword and run the crazed man through. I had taken an oath to defend people from those who would do them harm. Septimus was absolutely one of those threats, made more so that he did these things in the name of one of the most insidious Daedric Princes ever.

Serana put a steadying hand on my shoulder, "We will return as soon as we can." Her voice was very steady and even, and she gently turned me and began to propel me up the ice ramp toward the exit.

Septimus lost interest in us immediately, pacing and muttering to himself below.

"Serana..." I hissed.

"Not here," was her curt reply.

We made it to the ice tunnel at the top of the ramp when I gave a strangled "Eeeeeep!" and lurched backward from the tunnel, colliding with her.

Serana gave a curse of shock, as the tunnel suddenly filled with a writhing mass of black tentacles and goat-like eyes. They swelled like bubbles before sliding along various paths of the Daedra's tentacles and then popping out of existence.

"Come closer, mortal. Bask in my presence." The slow, masculine voice echoed as though spoken in a room much larger than the one we were in. "I am Hermaeus Mora. I am the guardian of the unseen, and knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal. And I find your skills to be… most impressive."

Why do I have to have the attention of a living nightmare?! I do not want this. I do not want this! I swallowed heavily as those inhuman eyes remained fixed on me, ignoring my vampire companion completely.

"Er… Greetings, sir," I decided it was safest to be polite when dealing with an immortal monstrosity. "What do you want of me?"

That slow voice continued, "Your continuing aid to Septimus renders him increasingly obsolete. He has served me well, but his time is nearing its end. Once that infernal lockbox is opened, he will have exhausted his usefulness to me. When that time comes, you may take his place as my emissary. What say you?"

I'll never join you, vile demon! My mind screamed, but Serana's hands rested on my shoulders as a stabilizing factor that kept me from yelling my thoughts to him. Instead, I said, "I must decline. My life is already under an oath to an Aedra, and a Daedra. I think I have all the emissary duties I could ever want."

Hermaeus Mora chuckled, which was not at all reassuring, "Be warned; I am the Prince of Fate and Knowledge. I see all that there is to see: past, present, and future. Many have thought as you do. Willingly, or unwillingly, I have made use of them all. However, your struggles amuse me. We will speak again… in time." With those last two menacing words, the creepy eyes abruptly began to pop all at once. His slowly writhing tentacles dissolved away into nothing, leaving the tunnel empty and unobstructed.

Trembling like a leaf, but holding my head high, I walked past the place where he had been. I managed to climb the ladder, and take several cleansing breaths of the icy air outside. It cleared my head of some of the fear, but it also sent a shot of complete rejection straight to my belly. I scrambled to the edge of the iceberg, dropped to my hands and knees, and vomited into the ocean.

When I was finished, Serana handed me a water canteen, gently letting go of my hair from where she had been holding it back. I washed my mouth out and gave a quiet, "Thanks."

"That was really brave of you; did you know that? You stood up to him, and you didn't back down or let him intimidate you." Serana's hand rubbed my back soothingly.

"Yeah," I growled sarcastically, if a bit weakly, "really brave. I'm sure I look like a pillar of the Nord ideal right now."

Serana snorted a bit, "Lasirah, even Nords suffer from the aftereffects of a bad scare. The thing we really care about is whether you crawl off and hide, or get back up and start swinging again."

I took a deep, shaky breath and slowly pulled myself to my feet, "Okay, then let's start swinging."

I might have been imagining it, but Serana had a small, but warm smile for hours after that.