The Ocean Recedes
Though there were no walls, the word echoed. Miraak hummed as he felt the power of his own name rumble through his old skin and resonate through his older soul. He relaxed his grip on Felwinter's head. Weak and sluggish, Felwinter just barely managed to keep from falling forward, slumping onto himself instead.
"I've heard the whispers, Felwinter. Your deeds resonate through Oblivion. Your defeat of Alduin, your destruction of the Volkihar, your decimation of the rebels. Annoyances I would have had to deal with when I came to power, no more. You have my gratitude."
Felwinter spoke, his throat still raw. "Come to power? What-"
"After ages of being contained in Apocrypha, I plan to reclaim my place in Tamriel," Miraak said, his voice almost cowing Felwinter into silence. He had taken a few small steps away, his hands returning to their place behind his back. "Thousands of years ago, I tried. I tried and to oppose me, the dragons sent the one being I even remotely consider my equal. Our clash was what sent me here and here, I have remained ever since. With the boundless knowledge contained in this realm, I have learned. I have grown. Dragons dominated the lands of Tamriel until they were struck down. It is only right that I take my place on their proverbial throne of all mortalkind."
Miraak reached forward and grabbed Felwinter's skull again. "Long ago, I fought one I just barely considered my equal. He is gone. His body faded to a husk, his name faded from memory even further. Now…" He looks the struggling man up and down. "Now I look upon you. I look upon what you have done and I see just a glimmer of potential that is barely there."
"So it is with you I will start," said Miraak, "When I have struck you down, when I have taken your life and your soul, then and only then will I take Skyrim and Tamriel, piece by paltry piece." One of his gloved hands fell to Felwinter's neck and gripped him tight. Struggling even further, Felwinter felt himself be lifted up, rising slowly from his knees to his kicking feet.
In panic, he found strength. Felwinter's arm darted, magic filling the palm he brought up to shove against Miraak's mask.
The hand freezes mid-flight. Pale blue light had encased his arm and was holding the limb in place, his spell stopped just half-inches from the bronze mask. Miraak chuckled smoothly.
Despite himself, Felwinter gave a weak and throaty laugh back. "I'm already here," he rasped through a tight throat. "Why wait? Give me my blade and we'll settle this 'debate' like true Dragons should."
The challenge sounded suicidal when thought about and even more so when spoken aloud. But Miraak's words burned inside him, bred the beginnings of desperation and admittedly, some fear. Of all the upjumped would-be conquerors he had faced, none seemed to evoke the sheer feelings that Miraak did; of gravitas, of dread, of capability.
But Miraak just cocked his head. Through his mask and voice, Felwinter could hear him smiling. "Tempting," he murmured, amused, "But I want you at your best. To realize the true power a Dragonborn can wield and test your mettle against mine. Besides, I've made too many promises to cast all of this off on easy slaughter."
The name 'Apocrypha' rang in his head like a bell but he could not bring himself to place it. "Promises? Of what?" Felwinter demanded, "To who?"
Miraak doesn't speak. Just throws back his head and lets out a short burst of laughter, dark and contemptuous.
Then his grip on Felwinter tightens again and suddenly, they are falling. Felwinter felt the entire world twist and spin around his head. The sensation was short-lived but viscerally intense. Nerves and nothing else kept the contents of Felwinter's stomach exactly where they were. The sky, however, refused to stop spinning.
Through the fog, the air felt different here. He hears noise and as he comes to just a bit more, the noise gets louder and louder. At its peak, it was ear-splitting and came from everywhere at once.
Miraak began to move him, his smaller stature belying great strength. Felwinter's hands came up to the wrist of the hand still clutching his face as he was turned around and forced down to his knees. Miraak held the back of his neck in a vice, forcing Felwinter's vision down and keeping his head from turning away from what Miraak wanted him to see. The world did stop spinning then and with perfect clarity, Felwinter took in the sight.
Miraak answered his question with glee. "To them," he said, his voice no louder than a whisper but enough for it to ring around Felwinter's mind. He had taken them to the top of a tower, pushed against a balcony and forced to look over. Far below, Felwinter takes in the sight of the ground, covered entirely by a raucous, roiling mass of Daedra that stretched so far and so wide, Felwinter could not see where it ended and the horizon began. Ash Spawn, Dremora and Atronachs, armored warriors and misshapen monsters even Felwinter had never seen before clamored up at him like a clutch of starving, newly-hatched birds, begging to take the helpless prey that had been brought for them and tear it apart.
Felwinter's heart fell into his stomach and his lungs constricted, making him fight for every breath he took. Not once did he blink. The stark, glaring reality of the situation was hitting him full-on with all the restraint of an enraged giant.
The Ash Spawn and Falx Carius. The All-Maker Stones and the cultists. All of them a prelude. All of them the harbingers of what was to come.
Miraak opens his mouth to speak again. Still, his voice refused to rise above a whisper. "We are coming to Skyrim, Felwinter. Me, for you. Them…" he gestures to the army, "For everyone you know."
Felwinter's senses come alight. An instant later, a heavy shadow flew over their heads. It roared a dragon's roar and from below, several others began to join it.
Miraak bent to get closer to Felwinter's ear. He could feel the heat of his skin radiating through his mask. "I allow you your life. But only under one condition; heal your wounds, gather your allies, learn your potential. For soon, I will return home and when I do, I will bring this sea with me. To leave destruction and change in our wake. Grow, Dovahkiin. Harden. Become the wall that halts my advance. If not, you will be swept away with the tide and the last thing you ever see will be everyone you know and love drowning for your failure."
Miraak straightened and finally, his hand around Felwinter's neck came loose. Felwinter swayed with the sudden freedom, dizzy and sick. He heard Miraak fill his chest with air and let it all out in a sigh. And then he said, "You have been warned."
His hand came again to Felwinter's head and pushed. Felwinter pitched forward, twisting over the balcony and falling into the ocean of Daedra, screaming as the sky drew further and further away; with the clawed and monstrous hands grasping up at him.
He drops for what feels like eternity. Screams until his throat runs raw.
And then the hands take him, by his arms, by his legs, by his mouth and head and Felwitner feels them. All of them. Ripping and tearing pieces of him off in a violent and ravenous fervor.
Gnarled fingers cover his eyes. He feels a second of pressure before they erupted in a pain that had him screaming and thrashing even harder. At the same time, everything in his vision went dark.
It stopped. As abruptly and as jarringly as it started. Everything remained dark. Felwinter could not see the green sky nor smell rot and ink nor taste the metal of his blood dripping onto his lips.
He could hear and all he heard was...chanting.