Chapter 22: Dark Night Of The Soul
AN: This is the worst chapter I have written for this story. You see, I wrote this back in June when I was off meds and thus what was 4 chapters worth of material got crammed into 1. But now I am back on meds and able to write again so hopefully I can get back to writing now. Thus the chapter rate will slow down. At the time of the hiatus between chapter 12 and 13, I was off meds. Meds which helped my depression but also gave me motivation to write. I languished my inability to write over the summer months but now I am back on the same meds I was on and so, we can get this show rolling again.
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Stesha stood in the entrance hall the next day; the Gray Fox was issuing some instructions to him in private. The corridor was gray paved with runic pillars holding up the roof, totems of dwarven faces etched onto them. Alcoves to the sides held small dwarven statues.
"Since you're new, I'm entrusting this mission to you and you alone. Tell no one," the Fox stated. "We got tipped off by an informant that someone who knows the Nightingale is in the Silent City in Blackreach. I need you to go down there, find this contact and force them into revealing the Nightingale's identity to you."
Stesha nodded. "Alright."
He stalked through the silent, eerie environment of Markarth-Side and toward the train station. It was a downslope set of grey stairs into the smooth, paved flat stone station. Again, pillars of dwarven make held up the roof. The train stood there with no passengers, decommissioned. Stesha climbed into the driver's seat and pressed the pedals that got the dwarven steam engine to advance.
"Alright," he said to himself. "This can't be too hard. Just have to push these pedals with my feet." He took time to shovel the coal left there in intervals into the furnace.
Before he knew it the train was thundering down the tracks of Skyrim's underground railroad. Endless tunnels went on and on until finally coming out into a caved station, indicating it was Blackreach.
Stesha stepped out and traversed through Blackreach, stepping over the yellow brick road. Giant bubbles floated around the expanse and bounced off the huge, towering mushrooms leering from every avenue. Dwarven automatons scoured through the circumference. Spheres rolling by as spiders scuttled about. Stesha stepped up the steps into the steppe that was the Silent City. Long walls holding up around grey buildings with bronze domes and a giant orange orb hanging from the ceiling. Gold doors doored the way into the buildings as the canopy of luminescent mushrooms hung around the outskirts.
Stesha's eyelids hit the floor at what he saw next. – In the center of the mount was a mound of gold and atop it a red dragon. Six limbed with four legs and two pairs of wings sticking out its back. Sharp scales and a smooth, slick tail.
"Well, well, well, seems like Vulthuryol has a visitor. To what do I owe the pleasure?" The dragon's voice purred.
The Gray Fox didn't say the contact was a dragon.
Stesha gulped, feeling his voice box jiggle in his throat as he carefully approached the monstrosity.
"Oh, mighty Vulthuryol," Stesha echoed, "I need your help."
"Go on." The Dragon bowed its neck. The eerie quietude seeping into Stesha's mind and being.
"I need to know the identity of the Nightingale, the one who's preying on my friends and me," Stesha explained. "A little bird told me you know who he is."
"Aah yes, he is a friend of mine. Did Gissur tell you? He was always a weasel." Vulthuryol raised his long nail and scratched his cheek in a weirdly human way. "Very well, I will tell you, mainly because I wish to see my friend succeed and come back to me with how he managed to kill you honor-less thieves. The Nightingale is the red-haired jester."
Cicero! Stesha clenched his fists. I knew there was something wrong with that fool!
"Thank you for this information. I have one more question, if you don't mind." Stesha lingered near the towering Dragon.
"What is it, joor?" Vulthuryol's wing scraped against the mound of gold.
"Do you know anything about eating Dragon hearts?" Stesha asked cautiously.
"No, considering I have never eaten one… though it is said great truths are revealed from doing so… why do you ask?"
Stesha's heart clamored in his ribs. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"
"No, you'd have to ask my Father, Akatosh if you wanted to know more. Now leave me, you have already extorted enough information and my temper is short." The Dragon turned around, gold shifting beneath its weight. A few jades, opals, and other jewels tumbling out of its wake.
Stesha headed back to the Crimson Dirks' hideout and found the Gray Fox by the main foyer. Their leader was perusing a book, flipping the pages at intervals. Stesha peaked around and made sure no one was nearby or listening.
"I know the identity of the Nightingale. It's Cicero Angelus," Stesha explained.
The Gray Fox's eyes widened beneath his mask. "That little fiend!" Then the Fox did something Stesha wasn't expecting, he removed his mask. He was an Imperial man with short black hair and a thick but short beard. "My name is Gallus Desidenius. You found out who the Nightingale is, so you deserve to know my true identity as well."
"Nice to meet you, Gallus." They shook hands before Gallus resecured his mask over his face and head.
"Now, let's go find Cicero!" Gallus tightened his fists.
They marched off down the descending lane of Nchuand-Zel, toward the training room. Cicero was playing with some knives near the target dummies when Gallus grabbed him from behind and choked him out with a rear-naked choke. Cicero panicked and frenzied around before slumping over.
"Sir, what're you doing?" Vex rushed over, her face marred by astonishment.
"Cicero is the Nightingale. He'll hang for this." Gallus picked up the small Kreathmen and took him up the lane. "Stesha, you're to meet with Rune next. Seems he needs your help again. You'll find him outside the city."
Great.
"Cicero was the Nightingale?" Vex ran a hand through her brunette curls. "That doesn't make any sense at all."
"Mhm." Stesha lazily nodded and walked off, passing by Brynjolf who winked at him.
His mind dwelt on the truth of the universe and the image of Anu the Godhead, and he shed a tear. Why did it have to be like this? Skooma wasn't even on his mind anymore because of the truth and he sometimes forgot he was slowly dying.
Stesha found Rune outside the city. Flowers were parading the hilltops and various dwarven totems were structured around the hills of the Eastern Reach. Purple ice hanging off at certain angles.
"What's up Rune. Did you hear, we found the Nightingale." Stesha crossed his arms beneath his breast.
"Yeah, Cicero, right. Never would've guessed it. That little weakling really thought he could get this far. Anyways, Athel reached out to me and said the map leads to a cave nearby here actually. So, I'm guessing we search there." Rune nodded and led Stesha ahead.
They passed some purple stalagmites and crossed a crystalline bridge over an icy white river and stepped into the cave. It was damp and dark, some pungent smell wafting through the air. The room contained three… pods, and a man was standing by a table there.
The man was an old Imperial who bore a striking resemblance to Rune. "It's you! I never thought you'd find your way back to me!"
"My name is Rune. Who are you?" Rune scratched the slight stubble on his face.
"My name is Arcturus Menoetes, and I am your father, Rune… sort of." Arcturus gestured to the large cylinders in the side of the room. "Long ago my son, Clymene fell ill. I searched far and wide for a cure but alas none availed. I went to Divayth Fyr and asked him for assistance, and he gave me an… interesting proposition. There was no cure for Clymene, however I didn't want his legacy to end there, so I cloned him. You are that clone, Rune. You were remade as a baby. Your mother took you on a trip to High Rock, but the ship went down, and I lost you once again. I didn't have the heart to make another clone."
Arcturus grey hair spilled over his face, and he grabbed his cane, sitting down onto a stool.
"I'm a clone…" Rune said slowly, looking at his hands and arms, overturning them. Then the Imperial clone looked over at Stesha. "Thank you, Stesha. Please, leave us."
By Akatosh. What other crazy revelations am I going to find out today?
Stesha nodded and turned around, exiting the cave. He dizzied and fell against the railing of the bridge, blood coughing onto his palms. I'm losing time. Need to find… cure. Stesha straightened up and trekked back to Markarth-Side. I know you're real, gods. So, please help me. The city was empty as normal, Stesha could see families eating through the windows and enjoying themselves, completely oblivious to his increasing apathy and despair.
Everyone was dead. Everyone. All the members of the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood. It seemed like the chamber had been flooded because water was in odd places, and no one had any wounds. Gallus, Karliah, Astrid, Mercer, Vex, their bodies strewn about. Thankfully, Gwendal and Serana weren't there.
A potion of breathing water rolled across the stone pathway.
"So, then there were two," said Brynjolf. "Yes, I am the Nightingale. Not Cicero." Then the redhead started laughing maniacally like a jester.
"Before you kill me," Stesha began.
"You want to know why?" Brynjolf's russet red brow curved.
"Mhm," Stesha hummed boredly.
"My real name is Harmon Immok. I lived with my brother, Erik, and father Mralki in Whiterun. Everything was fine until a few years ago, Erik caught an illness. We were poor but we started raising money to take Erik to a professional healer. That was until a member of the Thieves Guild broke in and stole the funds. We didn't have enough time to raise the funds again and Erik passed away. It was then I swore to wipe out all of the Thieves Guild along with the Dark Brotherhood. If they think killing others is okay, then I'd kill all of them. I changed my name to Brynjolf Orval to avert suspicion and joined the guild. I instated the merger between the two factions and moved them to this location so it would be easier to kill them. All I had to do was scour the back alleys of this dilapidated dungeon and find the control switch to flood the expanse."
Stesha threw his dagger to the floor. "I never cared much for this organization, and neither did my friends. If you spare us, I promise we'll leave and won't ever try to reinstate this guild."
Brynjolf's face drew into something composed and he rubbed his beard. "You lot didn't really kill or steal, so I'll agree to letting you go. Just never come around here again."
"See ya." Stesha waved and walked off.
I can't believe Vex is dead.
Stesha met up with Serana and Gwendal outside and explained everything to them. He found them outside the Silver-Blood Inn, eating a meal on the tables there. Thankfully the dwarven automatons that were guards didn't have any gripes with it.
"Should we just let him go like that?" Serana's lip curled in.
"Yeah, because even though I don't agree with his methods, Brynjolf's right. The Crimson Dirks shouldn't even exist." Stesha sighed in defeat. "All they do is steal and kill. That's not something I want to be part of. I need to find a cure, otherwise I'll be dead too."
"I'm sorry, Stesha. Things just get worse and worse for you." Serana gently placed her hand on the back of his neck. Gwendal jumped in and they all hugged. A few tears trickled down Stesha's nose.
"You guys should head to Atmora and find out who this confidante of Seracles is. That's your best bet at getting a cure, Stesha. Finding Seracles," Gwendal suggested. "Meanwhile I'll head to Jorrvaskr and see how I can help Hadvar and Aela."
They departed with Gwendal at the train station. Serana and Stesha headed out of the city and over the dwemer paved landscapes that were covered by snow. They walked a ways in silence, contently enjoying the scenery. Passing by a few old Morrowind styled dwemer dungeons, not built into the mountains with old Telvanni style, round stellated towers. Giant lilac trees decorated the way into Halfingar. Their tendrils hanging off and scraping the floor.
I can't believe I'm alone with Serana. Stesha's heart fluttered in his ribcage.
"So, you're an Atmoran Vampire. How is that even possible?" Stesha severed the silence.
"I was alive when the migrations with Ysgramor were happening to Skyrim. Atmora was freezing over and even the giants were escaping to Skyrim. But I heard my fellow Atmorans had just escaped one war for another. You see they were at war with the giants but fled only to be at war with the Snow Elves. My family and our clan didn't want any part of that," Serana exhaled. "So, to survive the subzero temperatures my father made a pact with Molag Bal and he gifted my mother, me, and my father vampirism. Then we eventually gave it to the rest of our clan."
"I always thought vampirism came from Lamae Bal." Stesha rubbed his chin.
"Tamrielic vampirism does, not Atmoran vampirism." Serana frowned. "The ceremony was degrading. Molag Bal took advantage of us. I spent endless years trying to recover from that. I was so alone that eventually I fell into the company of a man named Zyven, an ex-lover of mine. He treated me horribly, tried to abuse me even, and I killed him. Then much later on, I got into a sort of relationship with Stalf, but he only wanted me for sex so I left him before I came here."
"Seems you've dealt with some pretty shitty men," Stesha's voice became somber and tender.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you. It's just been weighing on me and I didn't have anyone to tell." Serana's eyes softened.
"I care about you, never apologize for talking to me about your problems." Stesha smiled slightly.
"What about you?" Serana peaked up at him with her beautiful blue eyes. She was perfumed like white chocolate.
Stesha jumbled his teeth around. "Nah, never even kissed anyone. I've never liked anyone and I've never met anyone who likes me."
I'm doomed to die anyway.
"Well I think you're sweet, kind, and considerate." Serana's pupils widened.
Stesha blushed and he rubbed the back of his head. "I think the same of you." They walked a little more before Stesha asked another question, "do you still worship Molag Bal?" He shuddered.
"No," Serana said resolutely. "We forsook him. We only gave ourselves to him to gain power and become vampires so we could survive Atmora's climate."
They entered a snowy, forested environment with giant bubbles bouncing across the land. The need for skooma clawed at Stesha and he rubbed his teeth together at the withdrawal. When he was around Serana, for some reason Stesha felt he could hold on a bit longer without the drug.
"So, how do we get to Atmora?" Stesha looked up at the Atmoran.
"We go to Fort Piquine first. From there, the rest is a surprise." She gave him a wink that sent pleasurable shivers down his spine.
Eventually, they made it to Ice Water Jetty. A small dock with a rowboat docked near it. Serana and Stesha each got in and they both began rowing their way across the water toward the ruined, old fort. Sea Dragons swum through the water like serpents and giant icebergs hung in the expanse.
"So, Stesha. I've told you about myself a fair bit. Can you tell me anything about your past?" Serana eyed him curiously.
Damn, I was hoping she wouldn't ask that.
Stesha gazed over the sea as pink lights tinged its surface. He rubbed a hand through the side of his hair and over the back of his head. "My life hasn't been anything nearly as interesting as yours. I was born and raised in a village called Wind Keep in High Rock. I became friends with Gwendal and Hadvar early on but spent most of my time alone." He omitted the bullying he faced in school and his attempted suicide. "I remember one time the three of us went hunting, or at least tried to hunt. Gwendal got injured when a deer hit him and had to be put on healing potions which he got addicted to. The potions were administered by Davout Pharmaceuticals, it was a new shop at the time. Before they started spreading the Red-Water Skooma for the plague."
What were they doing in High Rock though if their mission was in Skyrim?
"Come to think of it, no wonder their potions were addictive. They were probably practicing for the skooma," Stesha said, mostly to himself.
"I spent most of my life pretty lonely too." Serana put her hand on Stesha's. "You're not alone anymore."
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AN: I want to apologize for the extremely fast pace this chapter has taken on. When I wrote it, I was weaning off my meds and it was getting harder to write. Now, I'm back on medication and will get to writing chapter 23 very soon. Please consider leaving a review!