CHAPTER 72: EVENING STAR 1/3

On the 13th of Evening Star, Gray of Dawnstar stood on the balcony of the College of Winterhold, staring into the twilight sea below. The sun barely crept by the horizon, pale faint light leaking into the world, only to disappear again after a few hours. Here up in the north, the darkness had finally come as they arrived at the heart of winter, where the whole world seemed to be lulled into eternal sleep.

And it made Gray feet at home.

Only a soft, yet deathly frigid wind blew from the Sea of Ghosts, swaying his raven-black hair and dark-blue robes. Finding him actually dressed was rather unusual, for most often he stood outside wearing… well, nothing at all. But today, he had a reason to put on a robe. The cold he could bear, for he found comfort in the freezing temperatures, but at this age he had learnt that sometimes modesty was more important than comfort.

He leant on the stone merlons, his gaze still studying the icy fields far below while his thoughts traversed on the upcoming mission. There, Gray and the old Master were supposed to lead an expedition today. He expected they'd leave at any minute, but as always, Gildarts let himself be waited.

Gray had been so surprised when the old Master of Alteration returned to the College, exactly one week ago now. It had been years since he had last seen him, and thought he'd never return – but he did, with the heaviest news. In fact, Gildarts's letter had arrived at the College earlier, but the Arch-Mage never told who invited them to the treaty council that was to be held in Whiterun in late Evening Star. The letter had told about Riften's destruction and the increase of the Dragon Cult's activity, both of which demanded immediate attention from the mages of Skyrim. But as Gildarts returned and gathered each member from novice to master into the Hall of the Elements and told them in great detail of the world's situation, Gray quickly put the pieces together.

He remembered very well the letter they'd found in the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out that Gildarts knew Lucy Heartfilia was the Dragonborn. Gildarts didn't address it openly, only stating that the Dragonborn's identity was in his knowledge. After the lecture, Gray asked to meet Gildarts privately in his quarters. There, Gray told him of the journey he had partaken into Ustengrav to find the godsforsaken horn that Gildarts had stolen. A lot needed to be explained, but in return, did the old mage tell him about his association with the Blades, and his legacy as the protector of the Dragonborn. Gray never understood why he had to steal the damned horn though. It only caused more trouble to the ones he was supposed to protect.

Though Gildarts might have never been one of Gray's favourite teachers – perhaps there was something so similar in their personalities which caused them to clash – this matter over the Dragonborn connected them now. Gray was one of the few who had faced a dragon in battle and lived to tell about it. Such information was more than valuable to Gildarts, who was preparing to build a group of capable warriors in the upcoming war against Alduin.

And so, Gildarts told him about what Lucy and Natsu had been going through since they parted ways in Morthal, months ago. Gray learnt how after Riften's battle, Lucy was taken captive by the Dragon Cult – exactly as Natsu had feared back then. Gray could still remember his words, uttered in fear and rage. Natsu, Gildarts, and the others had managed to rescue her from Forelhost, but their sorcery left her so damaged that she returned to High Hrotghar to heal. There, they learned that the keys to Alduin's defeat lie within an Elder Scroll. And that's, that's where Gildarts stepped in with Gray.

They were supposed to find an Elder Scroll, or at least a clue about its whereabouts.

And damn, those bloody scrolls could be anywhere on Mundus.

Since then, Gray and Gildarts had their noses buried in the thickest, dusty tomes found in the Arcanaeum. The Librarian helped them the best she could, and eventually, Levy got her hands on a long-forgotten book, Ruminations of the Elder Scrolls, written by Septimus Signus. Even Gildarts had lifted his brows when he heard that Zeref of Dragonbridge had been the last one who borrowed the book, many years ago.

Apparently, that legendary mage had been digging into the secrets of the Elder Scrolls – which didn't surprise Gray – yet to their misfortune, it was unclear whether Zeref left behind any of his research as he left the College. No one had been in his quarters, and even Gildarts didn't dare to break those seals, no matter the urgency of their mission. It would be all lost if they all evaporated into thin air upon trying to break into Zeref's study, because that would, with all certainly, happen to them if they tried.

While Gray had tried to comprehend the incomprehensible ruminations of the book, Gildarts had taken an alternative route in finding the clue about the Scrolls. While Zeref was lost without a trace, the other madman had left some traces behind. Following such traces and communicating with some rather suspicious sources underneath the College, Gildarts discovered the possible location of Septimus Signus's hideout. If the man was still alive, after so many years of being gone, he'd be their best source of information.

And out in the Sea of Ghosts were they heading today.

If he was absolutely honest, Gray didn't have high hopes for the mission. He didn't have high hopes for pretty much anything these days. Into the silent melancholy had he been falling into, slowly drifting into the firm belief that all would be over soon. The endless night awaited them all.

The reports of dragon attacks were reaching Winterhold each day. The villagers begged for mages to come and protect their properties from the dragons, even Jarls and other high lords desperately asked for help. Some mages had the Arch-Mage sent, but due to the oppression of wizards during the last decades, they were rather short in number. Short in the ability to help.

Gray had seen only the frost dragon in Labyrinthian, and nearly lost his life in the battle. They were lucky enough to have mages and warriors in their little team – including the Dragonborn. Most didn't. In Riften, there had been two fire-breathing dragons, and the city was lost. Many times, when he was alone, Gray kept imagining how it had been. He had never loved Riften, no, but it had still been his home for a brief while. What happened to his friends there? Wooden buildings could be rebuilt, but not the lives lost in the sea of fire.

And as a man who loved the freezing coldness of winter, a death by fire was an unfathomably terrifying thought.

Could they really do it? Gray wondered, still gazing into the twilight sea. Even if we found the damned Elder Scroll, could they do it? Could they defeat Alduin, and prevent the end of the world, or will the fate of Riften fall onto every one of us?

Ur had often talked about this. The wisest woman Gray ever knew, his dear adoptive mother, had always told him the tales of the final days. They are upon us now, the final days, Ur would say now, if she were to say anything. After healing Natsu, Ur's state had spiralled down to the point where Gray was surprised each time a raven arrived at Winterhold and didn't carry the message of her death. She wouldn't live long. And maybe that was for the best.

At least she could be salvaged from the death by fire.

Gray let out a heavy sigh. Even the promises he had made, the pledges to defeat Karstaag and carry to the finish what Ur couldn't do, they all tasted like ashes in his mouth. The ice demon Karstaag would be brought down in Alduin's final flames, so what was he fighting for? What was he training for? Perhaps it had all been for this, the final fight, so futile, effortless, where they'd all go down like snowflakes to a funeral pyre. He had once believed in the superiority of ice over flames, but he didn't anymore.

But despite all the odds, and against all his doubts, Gray had faith in them. He wanted to have faith in Natsu and Lucy, and for that, he had to carry on, and do all he could to share their burden. Even if it was just a little bit. Even if it was just finding a godsforsaken Elder Scroll.

Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, as they had lingered there for aeons to pass, but time after time the clouds would dissolve eventually. Gray had seen the resolve in his fellow Nord and her fiery companion, he'd seen them charge against a dragon, and they would certainly keep doing so in the future. They were survivors, even more so now, and one should never underestimate those who'd survived through their worst fears.

If they can't do it, no one can.

This thought kept him pushing through all his doubts, through his hopelessness, like pushing through the darkest rock.

"It's about time to get going," said a voice behind him.

Gray didn't jolt from surprise, even though the speaker had arrived without a single sound. He had grown used to that silence lately. More ghost than a living man, no footsteps echoed after Gildarts as he walked. No crunch of snow, no clap of a heel on rock, not even the wisp of air – like an eternal muffle spell was cast on him. Gray turned around to face the silent old man.

"Good, I was getting tired of waiting."

"I had to make some final calculations of Septimus's location. Here," Gildarts told and unrolled a map, placing it on the merlon. He placed his ghostly finger at Winterhold, the shore on the Sea of Ghosts. "This is where we are now, and if I traced the energy sources correctly, Septimus should be right here." His finger moved an inch away from the shoreline, to the tiny island drawn on the map. "Seems like the best place for a hideaway is right under our noses. He hasn't ever been further than that."

Gray nodded slowly. "And you are sure he's this close?"

"As sure as I can be. I don't know what has driven him there or what he's doing, but it has to have something to do with Elder Scrolls. Even Zeref followed after his research. Septimus dove so deep into the obsession that there's simply no way he could've found a way out of that rabbit hole."

"Yeah, at least according to his ruminations," Gray sighed. Spending a few days with that book had nearly made him lose his mind as well. "I hate to admit that he's our best chance at getting closer to an Elder Scroll."

At that, a sharp sting of grief punctured his heart, only for a while. If my mother was still here, she would be able to help us, Gray thought without saying it. Even though Ur was still alive, her mind had already begun to dissolve into the Aetherius, her brilliant memory and knowledge with it. If some fragments of insights into the Elder Scrolls were stored in her journals, there was no time to rescue them from Dawnstar. They needed to act now. Gray braced himself and wiped his emotions to the side. He'd grieve later, as he always did.

"The ice is as thick as a full-grown mammoth this time of the year, so we can get there safely," Gildarts said, analyzing the distance between the shoreline and the island. "Though you wouldn't mind swimming five miles in the Sea of Ghosts, wouldn't you?"

Gray chuckled. "I call that a refreshing morning swim."

Gildarts grinned, then rolled the map and patted Gray on the shoulder as he turned. "Let's go swimming then."

The journey across the Sea of Ghosts passed on in silence.

Even though it was daytime, the skies remained dim, and the twilight never truly dissolved into brightness. The fields of ice formed a flat lid on the once-raging sea, concealing it into the winter's sleep. As the rocky shorelines and the silhouette of the College were left behind, the scenery never changed during the miles they marched on, following Gildarts's spell of clairvoyance.

I can't believe someone lives here, Gray thought with every step. There's nothing here but ice and snow. Even if one could bear the cold like I do, they'd starve to death.

After a walk that felt endless, they arrived at the spell's destination, an island in the sea, buried in snow and ice, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the never-ending ice field. Amongst the snowy mist, a frail path was padded, leading down into the hole in the ice mound. Snow had covered the wooden boat anchored by the entrance – perhaps during summertime, the ice of this part melted only partially, and the only way out of the cave was on a boat. Moss grew on the wood, instantly erasing Gray's thought. Whoever lived here – was it Septimus or someone else, who'd inherited the madman's work – didn't leave this cave. They stayed here.

Perhaps they are dead. That would be more reasonable… but the path is still padded.

"Well, let's try our luck the old-fashioned way," Gildarts said as he stepped forward on the path, descending to the cave's entrance, covered by an old wooden door. He knocked his knuckles on the door, making Gray shiver. For a man whose steps made no sound, he still had one hand left for knocking on the doors. "Septimus Signus, are you there? It's Gildarts from the College of Winterhold, your old colleague. I would like to visit, after all these years."

The frozen wind blew hard from the North, raising veils of snow in its wake. They both listened closely for a good while, but Septimus made no reply. If he's even there, to begin with.

"What, did you really think, that he'd just come to open this damn door, and welcome us with open arms?" Gray muttered then. "He's been gone for… how long? A decade? Or two? In this… frozen shithole? I don't think he's got much sanity left."

Gildarts ignored the younger mage and knocked again on the door, harder this time. "I've got some wine!"

Gray buried his face into his hands, sighing. "Idiot."

Gildarts waited for a moment longer, and then he punched the door in.

"Were you doubting me, boy?" he chuckled while he crossed the threshold, stepping into the darkness ahead of them. "Wine always works. It's the secret word."

Gray sighed again, staring at his mentor, barely able to believe what he'd just done. I should've expected this, he thought, but did not say it. He didn't say anything at all, just followed Gildarts into the cave, to the dark, heavy air which smelled of candle smoke and raw fish. Both scents fought against Gray's belief that they'd only find a corpse within this place, but he still struggled to believe they'd actually find Septimus Signus here.

Inside the cave, a narrow path led them into a tunnel of ice and stone, the walls growing taller the further they descended. They didn't have to descend far before they arrived in a bigger chamber, illuminated by dozens of candles – and instantly Gray's gaze shot into the enormous thing in the middle of the cavern. A large sphere of coppery metal and gold, so fascinating that Gray couldn't even see the person standing before it.

"Septimus, is it you?" Gildarts asked, having reached the bottom of the path, standing only a few feet away from the robed figure.

Not even a flinch crossed the figure's shape. In perfect obsession did the man stare at the object in front of him, and if Gildarts hadn't mentioned his name, Gray would still be staring at the same thing. Gray moved his eyes to the frail figure dressed in old, blue robes, embroidered in the College's sigil.

"Dig, Dwemer in the beyond!" the man suddenly exclaimed, in a voice so dry and worn, as if he hadn't spoken a word in years. "I'll know your lost unknown and rise to your depths!"

Yes, it's certainly Septimus, the madman whose ruminations I was reading about.

"Are you… are you alright?" Gray asked.

Then did Septimus Signus turn towards them, his hollow eyes staring right through him – as if a light shone in windows, yet there was no one home. Gray flinched at the sight, an uneasy shudder running down his spine. The old man didn't even seem to see him, or understand that there were people in this place, like they were nothing but voices in the wind. Or, in his head.

"Oh, I am well. Septimus will be well. Well to be within the will of these walls," Septimus replied, still staring right through him. "Ice entombs the heart, the fundaments. To harness it… is to harness the will of the god itself! To grasp such… bane of Karnegac, and Dagoth Ur, the remains buried within this… this… infernal lockbox! The masterwork of the Dwemer!"

The words flooded out of Septimus's mouth like an incomprehensible rumble. He spoke of old gods and legends Gray had barely heard of, disturbing poetry which made no sense to him.

"Alright, can we, eh, start again, Septimus?" Gildarts joined, seeing the utter confusion on Gray's face. "It has been so long since you've been seen around the College, so I think the time is due for a… check-in. So, what have you been doing all this time?"

The thin, frail man turned his eyes into Gildarts. Confusion mixed with peace in his gaze – he seemed surprised that he'd gotten sudden, uninvited visitors, but at the same time, he didn't seem to care less, if he could even truly comprehend they were here.

"Oh, what has Septimus been doing all this time?" Septimus said and pointed towards the large sphere. "This! Here lies hidden the truths of all, the deepest secrets, the heart of a god! Heart of Lorkhan, Heart of Shor, it's concealed within the box. The Elder Scrolls bring an insight deeper than the deep ones, to bring an opening!"

"Oh, the Elder Scrolls. Perfect," Gildarts replied, nodding to pretend he'd understood half of that. "We've come here in search of an Elder Scroll. You studied them, didn't ya?"

Septimus nodded several times. "Yes. I've seen enough to know the fabric. The warp in the air, the weft of time. But no, if you are in search of them, you haven't come to the right place. Septimus has none in his possession."

"As we assumed. But are you aware of their location?"

"Of, they are here."

"Here? But you just said –"

"Here, as in this plane. Mundus. On Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking. On a cosmological scale, it's all nearby!"

"I'm afraid that won't be helping us in any way," Gildarts sighed. "We'll need to find one, and soon. Do you know their location or not?"

Septimus remained quiet for a while, his hollow eyes wandering across the two mages and the cavern's wall behind them, their shadows that leapt from the frail fluttering candlelight. Was he even aware of this conversation? Had he talked to none but his own shadow during this entire time? Gray had seen all kinds of madmen and drunkards, but this man… he'd cracked the nut completely.

"One block lifts the other. Perhaps ourselves could help us each," Septimus said then. "To bring an opening… Septimus has arisen beyond its grasp. The Elder Scroll, I mean. To glimpse inside the world of the Scrolls will damage the eyes, or the mind, as it has done to Septimus. But the Dwemer have found a loophole, they always do."

Gildarts nodded, pretending to understand him. Though Gray had tried his best to pay attention, he could only hear endless rambling without a beginning nor an end, a loophole indeed only in the mind of this lunatic scholar. We're wasting our time here, Gray thought. Gods, he's even referring to himself by his name half of the time.

"The Empire. They absconded with them. Or so they think. The ones they saw. The ones they think they saw. But I know of one," Septimus said then. "But I cannot go to it. Not poor Septimus…"

"So you do know of one? Tell me more about it."

"The Dwemer, the deep ones. They left behind their way of reading the Scrolls. Their machinery… the way they collect starlight, transcribe the transmundane, it's beyond all of our grasps. But it's still there. In the Blackreach it is, under deep, beyond the dark," Septimus continued. "Have you heard of the Blackreach? Cast upon where Dwemer cities slept, the yearning spire hidden learnings kept."

Gildarts rubbed his bearded chin. "I have heard of Blackreach, but it's only legends and myths. None knows if it even exists, except…"

"Oh, Septimus does! Septimus knows for sure!" the madman exclaimed. "Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock!"

"You… you have keys to Blackreach? Where have you found them?"

The answer remained on the madman's tongue – from his eyes Gray could tell that he could say it right ahead, but chose not to, as if he'd been slapped into silence to keep the secrets to himself. Gray wasn't sure if he had heard of Blackreach before, perhaps only heard its distant echo in a long-forgotten lecture, but now, it all got just more suspicious.

"They are here," Septimus started then and pulled something from the deep pockets of his robe. He kept his hands closed tight around the keys – if they were truly the keys to Blackreach, that was – and let his gaze linger on them for a moment. "Two things. Two shapes, one edged, one round. One for tuning, one for inscribing. Look."

Then, Septimus revealed the objects resting on his palms. A small sphere on his right hand, and a mysterious cube on the other. These are the keys? Gray wondered, glancing at Gildarts, whose brow remained as knitted as before. There was an aura to these objects that separated them from any other mundane misc, an aura which Gray certainly didn't like.

"Where did you get these?" Gildarts repeated the question, raising his eyes from the sphere and the lexicon to Septimus. The madman's hazy gaze remained fixated on the objects, as if he had been staring at them for a really, really long time already. "I hope you can be honest with me, Septimus. They are ancient Dwemer artefacts that had been hidden from the world for the last millennia or more. Finding these would be a…"

"A blasphemy? A pickpocket from a god? Though Septimus is bound to this box, Septimus can travel. Septimus cannot go to Blackreach, not this old man, but just by staying still, he can reach places few men have been to. And there are artefacts to be found for those who dare to peek past the veil of the forbidden. Yes, Septimus has found these, and yes, you have found Septimus! What does that make of you?"

"It makes me a man who doesn't want this world to end," Gildarts sighed. "So… We need an Elder Scroll, that could or could not be in Blackreach, and with these, we can open the sealed way to the hidden city. But where to find this hidden path?"

"Under deep, below the dark. The hidden keep, the tower of Mzark. Alftand, Mzhinchaleft, Ralbthdar. All paths lead home. Deepest depths, the point of puncture, that is. The sphere can open the cleverest gates," Septimus said and lifted then the lexicon, "but all Septimus wants from you is to lay the lore of the Elder Scrolls into this cube!"

Gildarts blinked more than once. "Excuse me?"

"To us, a hunk of metal. To the Dwemer, the library full of knowing, but… empty! The sky-dome can fill the void. Once it's inscribed, Septimus can use its songs to sing open this infernal lockbox! Trust Septimus! He knows you can know!"

Septimus held out the sphere and lexicon in his hands, but now he looked up. He was asking for them to take them, but Gray could tell he didn't want to let them go. It made no sense to him, and probably didn't need to – if it would, he would've lost his mind. However, the decision of what to do with them was up to Gildarts to make. Gray was here merely to accompany him, yet somehow, as he looked at those objects, his gut told him there was more to them than met the eye.

But then Gildarts took them, causing the madman to shudder. Shrieking, as if torn away from a lifeline, Septimus turned away and crouched on the icy floor of the cave, tremors running all across his fragile frame.

"It's alright, Septimus. We will bring these back to you in time. Then you can finally open this box," Gildarts said. "But say… what do you expect to find once it's opened?"

"The fractals of the universe itself shall open. The box contains the heart. The essence of a god. 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. It was thought to have been destroyed by the Nerevarine, but my lord told me otherwise."

Gildarts fell quiet.

"Who is your lord?"

Septimus replied with a long silence.

"For the secrets Septimus can endure," he whispered then, "I shall not say his name."

And for Gildarts, that seemed to be enough. He gestured at Gray, turning to the way they'd come from. They left, rather hastily, while Septimus crawled back to the lockbox and began talking to it, the very same lines he had been chanting when they arrived. But now, something was lost, it was different, like mourning – and that something was now in Gildarts's possession.

"Goodbye then, Septimus. Take care of yourself, and… thank you, for this," Gildarts said, though he knew Septimus wasn't listening anymore. "We will bring these back."

But as Gray turned his back to Septimus, he sensed a presence in the air. Like someone, something, had seen the key passing to them, and was observing carefully. He looked around, but there was no one to be seen – and still, the feeling in his guts refused to fade, turning his stomach into a pit of restless snakes.

They went up the path until they reached the dark night outside the cave. The sun had set meanwhile they were there, and now the sky above was filled with an endless sea of stars. Gildarts let out a heavy sigh.

"Well," he mumbled, "this is the biggest step we have made towards the discovery of an Elder Scroll, and it could just as well lead us straight to the Oblivion. Still, it's a step we must take."

Gray nodded. He struggled to feel any spark of hope within his chest despite this discovery, still confused by the encounter with perfect madness. He couldn't get the image of Septimus's eyes out of his head – what a terrifying place his mind had to be. Gildarts summoned a magelight to float ahead of them, followed by a spell of clairvoyance, a faint trail of light that would lead them back home to the College.

"I… I'm not sure what to think of this," Gray muttered as they began to walk. "What happens now that we got these… keys to Blackreach? What is that place even?"

Gildarts remained quiet for a while. "The 24th of Evening Star draws near. We don't have enough time to dive into Blackreach and bring the Elder Scrolls to the council meeting, no, that's not likely," he said then, thinking out loud. "Would you accompany me to Whiterun, Gray?"

Gray glanced at the old mage. "Me? To the council meeting?"

"Yes. You have proved yourself useful during this research. A lad like you would be even more useful in a dangerous expedition to Blackreach after that deadly boring council."

Something about that made Gray chuckle. "I'd still like to know what in the Oblivion is that Blackreach, but consider me intrigued."

"It's the closest thing to Oblivion to be found on Nirn," Gildarts replied. "I have heard only legends of it, but most scholars are certain this place exists. According to the myths, Blackreach is a great expanse that stretches below ice and snow. An underground city, just like Septimus said, that once belonged to the Dwemer, and now sits empty after their disappearance… or has been filled with all kinds of monsters."

"Sounds like some imaginings of a drunken farmer who got lost in an odd cave," Gray said.

"Drunken farmers don't write legends," Gildarts answered and chuckled quietly. "If it truly exists, we'd have to go to the depths of a Dwemer city. Alftand is close by, but Ralbthdar is closer to Whiterun…" Then he rubbed his chin with his ghostly hand. "Either way, it's up to the Dragonborn to decide. I feel like these keys were meant to be passed to her. Our job is done, and now we wait to hear her command in Whiterun."

Gray fell silent then, and in that silence, he made his own decision. He had to help them, do his part to share this burden. If the Dragonborn was heading to the mythical and deadly underground city, the least he could do was accompany her – or at least offer his company. He still remembered what happened when he tagged along to Ustengrav, but maybe, just maybe, they were all on better terms by now.

At least he hoped so.

And for the rest of the journey, Gray kept thinking about the fate of the world. Would it truly lie within these two tiny keys, given by a madman? For now, he couldn't know, but he still chose to have faith in his friends instead of succumbing to the sea of hopelessness.

Together, they could push through the darkest rock.

A/N: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter with a brand new POV! It's first time during the entire story when things are seen through Gray's eyes, but it probably won't be the last. As the third and final arc of the story begins, many characters are returning to the scene, and Gray is one of the characters I have missed the most. He used to be quite a dick, but this shall be his arc of redemption as well. While Natsu and Lucy are sitting in the monastery doing some prayers, I find it interesting to explore the events through other characters :)

I waited forever to write that Septimus scene, and I hope I did it some justice. I have been suffering quite a lot from writer's block this year and this chapter in particular feels a bit chunky to me, but I decided to post it anyway, it's been two months since the previous update lol.

Next up: Evening Star 2/3 with another recurring character! Who do you guess we are seeing again? ;)