Chapter 18: Serana

AN: Welcome back to The Old Kingdom. The main quest rewrite has officially begun!

(Act 4: The Virus)

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Three weeks had passed, and the college quarter had paused. A deadly plague had infected all of Skyrim, and the whole province was in lockdown. Everyone quarantining in their homes. Each hold not allowing anyone to enter or exit without a plague test. As fall fell and the snows increased, so did the dead bodies piling in the streets. Savoss Arran had unfortunately contracted the plague last week and died within a day. There was no funeral for it was far too dangerous to gather. Stesha had spent the days alone, mourning in the cafeteria while eating cold leftover chicken. Savoss, in the brief time he'd known him, had been a kind and warmhearted Tsaesci, and a reliable source of counsel. His death was shocking and not taken lightly.

Stesha and Gwendal were in the former Arch Mage's office as Headmaster Tolfdir had been promoted to Savoss' previous position. It was a stormy night and lightning struck several times followed by thunder outside. Harsh rain and hail assaulted the province outside. Candles were placed upon small plates, lighting the dark office. Flying books flapping their pages as they flew around with fairies.

Tolfdir's face had grown dark eye circles underneath it and he impressed to be older than Stesha had ever seen him. He paced the chamber, twiddling with his beard. "We must find a way to stop this virus. Otherwise, all of Skyrim, possibly all of Tamriel will perish. Who could've caused such a sickness?"

Gwendal rubbed his chin in apparent thought. "The Knahaten Flu was caused by an Argonian trying to get revenge for his people, either that or it was caused by the Hist."

Stesha continued for his friend, "and then there's the Thrassian Plague engineered by the Sload. Both diseases were artificially made by a person or group of people."

"Swamp dwellers, Sload and Argonians," Gwendal noted. "Then there's Peryite too."

Tolfdir stopped and groomed his beard. "So, we already have three suspects. The Sload, the Argonians, and Peryite. Possibly all three since this virus is the deadliest in all of Tamrielic history so far. It kills quickly and effectively, more so than its predecessors. It was most certainly created by someone with lethal intent. But who?"

"They've named it the Vomindok Virus. Since vomindok means unknown in dovahzul." Stesha wrote something down, dipping his quill pin in ink. "And the only way to inoculate oneself from it is eating a dragon heart. Good luck finding one of those."

"So, say I caught the virus," Gwendal postulated. "If I ate a dragon heart, I'd not spread the virus to anyone else and extend my lifespan? It wouldn't cure me, but it would keep me alive for a few more months possibly."

"That is if our researchers are correct. In the past a Khajiit ate a dragon's heart and caught the Knahaten Flu, it made it so he couldn't spread it to anyone else and it extended his lifespan. The Khajiit still died but he lived longer than anyone else who had caught the flu. Then a Nord repeated those actions with the Thrassian Plague and came away with the same result. So, the scientific hypothesis is that Dragon hearts in their psychedelic nature inoculate a sick person from a disease and extend the duration of time left. If everyone in Skyrim ate a dragon heart, then the Vomindok Virus would no longer spread. But it wouldn't cure them. – The issue is Dragons are extinct and so few are remaining. Wyverns and forktails simply won't suffice." Tolfdir poured himself hot tea. The kettle was boiling in the corner near the small kitchen outlet.

"I guess Jarl Balgruuf was right then." Stesha scratched his head. "We should've listened to him and gone to Mzulft."

Tolfdir's ungroomed eyebrows perked up. "What do you mean? What does the Jarl of Whiterun have to do with this?"

Gwendal held a hand toward Stesha, indicating he wished to explain. "Jarl Balgruuf asked us to retrieve an Elder Scroll pertaining to a virus from the Dwarven ruins of Mzulft. He said his court wizard, Farengar was researching it."

That would mean that they either knew people were getting sick… or they just had a really good hunch… Suspicious. Stesha stared at the veins in his hand.

He peered at the flying books and small fairies that buzzed about the room, gliding over the array of bookshelves and ornamental grandfather clock ticking away Akatosh's nature.

Stesha sighed. "Alright, let's continue with the main quest Balgruuf has us on. We should head to Mzulft and look for the Elder Scroll."

"Remember, social distancing and wear face masks!" Tolfdir chided, chewing on a gumdrop between sips of tea.

Stesha stared at the lines in his palm as they curved away into empty streets of Winter Hold. Everyone inside, their doors locked, windows closed, and curtains drawn. It was surreally silent and only two guards were on patrol, their faces covered by scarves. Not a sound echoed around the hollow city as they emptied into the road south of Winter Hold. Sludge mountains and oobleck snow passed them by, candy canes and log cabins until they were in Eastmarch, walking through the great hot springs with red lichen plants and small flowers parading the area. Passing by the oldest human settlement on Tamriel, Yngol's Rest. The normal ruckus of a neighboring metropolis could usually be heard from this far but not this time. Instead, the great grey walled city was completely devoid of sound due to the lockdown. Great land bridges connecting it to the main road. Wind helming the crown palace in the back that stretched to the sky as smoke from its factories billowed into the sky like the fumes of Red Mountain. It smelled like ash here and several mounds of the grey fluff resided on the bridge.

Ysgramor had built it this way to prevent any Snow Elves from sneaking into the settlement.

Their wanderlust continued as they strode into the giant blue hot springs as three netches and manta rays floated past them in the air, flapping their tentacles and wings. An octopus was walking down the path toward them, wearing a face mask. Orange with an oblong head and eight tendrils.

"Good evening gentlemen." The octopus nodded.

"Good evening," Stesha replied as a giant squid swam through the sky.

The plains were magnificent and huge, littered with destroyed elven skyscrapers that stuck out of the snow like monuments of the Merethic Era. They walked through the ruins of a giant city with high rises big enough to give the White Gold Tower a run for its money. Wrecked railroad tracks and crystalized round buildings and storefronts. Some Falmer were prowling about, minding their own business, huddled up together near bonfires. The highways and overpassed of the ancient city spanned forever and ever. Cracked areas with hot springs hither and thither.

"This is the ancient Snow Elven city of Falmereth. They say the Eldergleam Tree resides at the heart of it," Gwendal was in awe, staring around like a child in a candy shop.

Stesha took it all in, soaking in the surrounding glacier like architecture. "This is beautiful."

They exited the ruined city as it slowly transitioned into thick golden forestry the deeper they went. The beginnings of Rifat hold. Right now, though the golden aspens were short and sparse, they grew thicker and taller the further they progressed. Not a green tree in sight. As they turned the bend, they entered the fray, colossal golden trees the size of skyscrapers. Claustrophobic too because of how close the trees were to each other; it was impossible to see more than a few feet around the road because of just how thick the woods were. It was if a subsection of Valenwood was here in Skyrim. The gigantism of the trees and landscape was monstrous.

"It smells arboreal here," commentated Gwendal. "Skyrim is by far the most beautiful place on Tamriel."

Stesha stopped and twirled into the beautiful floral forestry. The trees danced with each other, chanting a low musical tone. Arteries between them connecting each golden conifer to the next. The trees whispered to each other, breathing, and exhaling as Stesha relished in their golden goodness. He walked backwards into something and immediately squared his shoulders, bringing up his magic.

Stesha shot the spell from his hands as it grazed the woman on the cheek… A woman?! A few golden petals fell over them both.

She reeled back in pain and punched him hard in the face, dropping Stesha to the leaf-covered ground. "I HATE YOU!" She yelled reflexively, holding her jaw. It'd been burned by Stesha's spell.

It was an accident.

"I hate you!" Stesha's heart left his chest. Tears teared at the corners of his eyes and rolled down his countenance.

Gwendal came rushing in and put his palms between them. "What happened here?"

The woman was a vampire, Stesha could tell by her aura. Pale skin and shoulder-length black hair. Glowing blue eyes and a buxom build. She was about two inches taller than both of them as well. And she wore royal vampire armor.

"Ugh, your idiot friend zapped me!" She cast a healing spell over her jaw, the burn marks burning away and the flesh resealing itself as blood replenished the area, restoring color to her cheek.

Stesha scrambled up and dusted the leaves off his clothes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Who are you? What are you doing out here? Don't you know there's a pandemic going on?" Gwendal eyed her as if she were insane.

"My name is Serana Volkihar. I'm well aware of this virus… it's why I left my… hometown, to try to stop it," she explained. "What do you know of it?"

"We're searching for an Elder Scroll that may enlighten us about its origins. It's called the Vomindok Virus." The blond Breton scratched the back of his neck. "The Jarl of Whiterun asked us too, and so did the Arch Mage of the College of Winter Hold."

Serana's eyes widened. "May I join you… that is if your petite friend over there can keep his magic to himself." Her eyes burned Stesha. He looked away.

I'm not talking to her at all If I can help it, Stesha angrily thought.

"Sure, we could use an extra hand." Gwendal shook her hand while Stesha remained silent. "What can you tell us about the virus? I'm Gwendal Opal by the way, and this is Stesha Jade."

"Pleasure to meet you, Gwendal," she said pointedly. "This virus comes from Atmora, where I'm from…"

This time Stesha's eyes widened.

"You're an Atmoran!?" Gwendal cried as birds skittered from the treetops.

"Yes, I've been alive since the Merethic Era. I'm an Atmoran Vampire, not a Tamrielic Vampire," Serana said. Upon closer inspection her fangs resembled tusks and her features did seem a bit archaic. She was also built quite well, as she was bigger than both Stesha and Gwendal, but not by a huge amount.

"I didn't know there were any Atmorans left. You saw your whole civilization immigrate or die out, that means," Gwendal noticed verbally.

"Yes, but we can talk about that later… back to the virus. It originates in Atmora, in a skooma club called Nok, aka the Red-Water Den. There a group of cultists from Roscrea called the Davouts engineered it and sent it to Skyrim in bottles of Red-Water Skooma. They used it to infect the local populace. I discovered them, then I took the liberty to kill them all and track down their bases in Roscrea and High Rock, where I also killed them. Their base in Skyrim remains, however. They all wore black robes with crow masks. When I questioned them, they told me they serve a man called Seracles, and that he's somewhere here in Skyrim."

"Seracles!?" Stesha blurted out. "I've heard that name before, in my dreams! He wears a crow-mask too!"

"Whoa, why didn't you tell me this?" Gwendal questioned unconvincingly.

"Do you have something to do with this?" Serana raised a thick brow.

"No." Stesha bit his lip. "He's just a figure in my dreams that haunts me. I guess he is real. But why is contacting me of all people?"

Serana's eyes fell to the leafy floor. "Well, we can use you as a lead… If you're telling the truth, Stesha, then that means Seracles has found some way to contact you and for a reason. Keep tuning in and keep us updated."

Gwendal sniffed. "Then there's the fact you mentioned Davouts. There's a potion shop in Wayrest called Davout Pharmaceuticals."

"I killed everyone there, that was the Davouts' High Rock base," Serana elucidated.

An eagle screeched across the sky as they set up camp. A medium-sized tent with a tree stump for them to sit on with a fire spit in the middle. Gwendal and Serana were chatting around the fire as the latter drank blood potions.

Stesha stared into the fire, eyeing its roaring tongues as they whipped back and forth. It was then something surged to the forefront of his mind, prompting him to interrupt the conversation, "what were the Davouts doing in High Rock? That shop of theirs has been there a year. You killed all the Davouts in Atmora, Roscrea, and High Rock, but explain to me what they were doing there."

Serana's beautiful blues burned into his soul across the flames, and he swallowed the hard knot in his throat.

I wish I never hurt her.

"So, their main base where they congregate was in Roscrea, where their plans for the virus were laid out. They brewed the Red-Water Skooma out of an ancient wellspring in Atmora that infects anyone who drinks from it. Then they shipped it to Dawnstar from there. High Rock was just an outpost of theirs, and what I read from their logbooks, they have no intention of spreading the plague to the rest of Tamriel, meaning they only want it localized in Skyrim."

"Any reason why?" Gwendal asked.

"No clue," Serana mumbled. "Though someone in my father's court is helping the Davouts. One of our attendants has betrayed us… and there's one other thing, the Davouts are working with a Daedric Prince. I just don't know which one."

"Probably Peryite." Gwendal ate a piece of lembas bread. "So, we know Seracles, Peryite, a vampire, and the Davouts are behind the Vomindok Virus. But we don't know who Seracles is, and why he created the plague. Why is he trying to extinguish all life on Skyrim? And who is the traitor in Serana's court?"

"Seracles is the leader of the Davouts then?" Stesha presumed. "We've got our work cut out for us but thanks to Serana we've made a lot of progress."

"Maybe destiny lead us together," Gwendal joked but Stesha thought of the Golden Dragon.

Serana stared at Stesha for a moment. Just a moment. And he thought he saw the beginnings of a smile, but maybe that was just the flames of the pit. A lump formed in his throat again.

"I'll keep watch," she said as Stesha crawled into the tent. He fell asleep as Gwendal and Serana continued their conversation long into the night.

That night Seracles returned to his dreams.

"So, you know it's me… But do you wish to know who I am, beneath the mask?" Seracles questioned.

Stesha nodded.

"Join me, join me and I will reveal my identity to you, Stesha Jade!" Seracles taunted.

"Join you in killing all life in Skyrim? No thanks," Stesha denied.

"You're a fool. Don't you understand that all life in Skyrim must be purified. You must be shown the truth, then you will understand." Seracles brandished his robes and turned around. "Besides, why should you care about any life when you yourself tried to end your life two years ago?" Seracles' crow-beak curved into a grin. "Didn't think I knew about that, did you? Poor seventeen-year-old Stesha trying to overdose on potions in the hope you could be liberated from your misery. Join me, Jade, and you'll never experience such misery again. Join me, and we can accomplish wonders! You by my side, think on it."

Stesha awoke, staring at the ceiling of the orange tent. Gwendal slept next to him, breathing into his face. He crawled out, stretching his back as the morning rays of sunlight bristled through the leaves of gold array. Serana was sitting there, on the tree stump. Apparently, she had stayed up all night, keeping watch.

Stesha cleared his throat lightly. "Do vampires need to sleep much?"

Serana's head snapped to his, those eyes of hers carving into his, making his knees weak. "Oh, you're up. Well, we Atmoran Vampires can stay awake for days at a time."

Stesha's heart thumped in his chest. "Oh… nice. Listen, Serana, about yesterday. I am sorry. If you want revenge, I understand."

Serana's lip crumpled. "Forget it. I've been through worse, plus it was an accident. Do it again though, and I'll make you suffer."

Stesha shivered.

"It must've really hurt." Stesha winced.

Gwendal bumped into him, rubbing his blond curls and yawning. "What's going on?"

Serana stood up and Stesha quivered, backing out of the way. "Nothing, let's get to Mzulft."

The golden trees whispered to themselves as the crew packed up. They echoed in ancient tones, telling them things that just barely couldn't here. What were the trees saying?

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AN: Well, there's chapter 18. A lot of ground was covered too! Now to develop things and get through the next few dungeons. Please leave a review, give our discord a try, and all that stuff. Also, uhm, here are some words for the very important thing I like to call a word count.