Hey ya'll!

So, I was gonna hold off on posting this until tommorow, but I decided I'll go ahead and do it today as a sort of double treat for ya'll. These chapters just sort of introduce Haven and Irina's new dilemna (gal can't catch a break, lol). Next update probably won't be until Friday. With the way things are going, I'm planning on getting all of the Haven Saga out before Christmas, , so stay tuned ya'll.

Tell me what you think of the chapters! Comments and Kudos are appreciated and Happy Holidays to ya'll! :)

Desolate, cold, bitter, dirty, any of those words could be used to describe the homeland of Nords, Skyrim.

Everything felt as though it were a mere illusion by the machinations of Vaermina; perhaps she'd awaken, and she'd still be back in her old room in Valenwood, Pholeri shouting for her to wake up lest she miss her bow lessons from Master Silvershade.

But not everything could be swept aside as a nightmare. Not as the stench of blood hit her nostrils so potently, she'd thought she'd vomit. The man's head rolled off cleanly into the bucket. His glassy eyes stared directly into Irina. She'd thought they were the eyes of Arkay. Watchful, ever waiting, ever patient.

Her luck had run out. She'd been caught. Running was futile, as proven by the horsethief.

A jostle on the chains, and suddenly, she was swept back into the present. The Imperial guardswoman stared directly at her. It was time.

A roar echoed, none like she'd ever heard before. The guard said something. Was it a bear? Was it a wolf? She supposed she'd never know. Not in this life. Perhaps never in the next, as well.

She moved forward without feeling it, as though she were merely a feather being drifted upon the wind. Edelweiss began bargaining with the guards, threatening, crying. She'd known the woman her whole life, yet she couldn't remember a day when the Altmer shed tears in front of her. She couldn't have it. If Edelweiss cried, then she'd break. They couldn't break. Not now.

And so she called upon the woman without turning around. It felt like they were still children like she was winning a game of tag.

"We'll meet again soon."

And for some reason, Edelweiss broke down. And so Irina did as well.

Divines above, she didn't want to die. Is this the way she's to die? On a chopping block for the sake of a war, she had no part in? She wasn't a fucking Nord; she could care less about Skyrim's or any stupid province's politics. At the end of the day, it was people like her getting fucked over. None of it made sense. The gods were so cruel to sit upon the thrones in their realms and watch with vacant eyes as those below suffered for someone up above. She hated it. Damn them. Damn them, all of them.

Hands roughly grabbed onto her and pushed her down. Everything was spinning fast. Blood mixed into and matted onto her hair as she stared into the black hood of the execution. Auri-el's hourglass was running short, so she fervently atoned atop the block. Her sister, her mentor, Edelweiss—she asked all of them to forgive her.

The ax hung high, its silver edge blazed into the sunlight. She begged Y'ffre to spare her an afterlife damned to the Ooze. The ax began to swing down. She closed her eyes.

And when she opened them, she stared into the face of an angry god.

Destiny, sang her soul.

When Irina officially woke up, the first thing she felt was pain.

The next thing she felt was the ache and dryness of her mouth and her tongue pushing against a firm piece of cloth. And then she realized she'd been gagged. She moved her right hand in an attempt to remove the gag from her mouth until it stopped short just a couple of inches from her face. And then she realized she'd been chained too.

What a wonderful way to start the morning.

Shit, she thought. She looked around the room frantically for anything to use to pick the lock. She'd found herself in a cell of some sort: old bars, hard concrete, and thick walls with tiny cracks that allowed a slight draft to seep into the area, making her shiver. Her only comfort was a thick blanket that someone had placed atop her.

While she frantically grasped for an escape plan, her mind was running with questions a mile a minute. First off, where in Kynareth's name was she? Second, how did she end up in this predicament in all of Oblivion? And finally, and most importantly, where was her shit?

As she struggled to adjust to her new situation, she heard faintly the sound of a heavy door opening and closing. Then, sets of footsteps descend a set of stairs. Three, she noted mentally. In the dim light of the prison, she could see shadows cast on a wall. Her body tensed. She silently prayed to Nocturnal to give her strength.

Into view came three people, two she recognized and one new face. Solas stood farthest off next to the archway whilst Cassandra, who held something circular in her hand, and this mystery woman came towards the cell to open it. The Seeker's face was impassive if not tinged with disgust. The woman's face, a red-headed, Imperial-looking woman in a purple hood, was completely neutral.

As they entered the cell, Irina attempted to keep her body lax. However, she did cautiously pull the blanket further towards herself. If they were going to take her only source of heat away in a place that seemed to rival the ass-end of Winterhold without a fight, they had another thing coming.

The two women stopped at the cell door and momentarily observed her. Then, the red-head spoke.

"So you are the famed 'Demon,'" Irina made no movement to indicate that she heard, instead choosing to stare down the woman. She'd be damned to respond after they chained and cuffed her like a dog. Noting the lack of reaction, the woman looked at Cassandra.

"Put the collar on her."

Oh, fuck no.

Irina attempted to stand, only to realize her damned legs had been chained too. Irina started fighting like she was boxing a giant as the Seeker approached with the collar. She struggled as the woman attempted to wrap her body around her to hold her still. The passivity from earlier was gone, replaced with stone-cold determination and irritation.

Irina managed to land one good kick on the woman's face. In turn, the Seeker gave her a punch that would've knocked her out had she not been holding back.

As she writhed on the ground in pain, the woman grabbed the back of her hair to expose her neck. As she felt the cool touch of metal on her throat, her struggle renewed. She pushed, shoved, yanked, snarled and spat. But all of it was futile as she heard the click of the collar.

The woman let go of her hair and stood above Irina, who glared hatefully upward at her. She knew she looked every bit like an abused hound at this point, blood dripping down her chin, spit smeared on her cheek, but she could give less of a shit. She was captured, but she'd be damned if she let them push her around easily. The least she could do was act like a damned frost mother.

"Calm yourself," said the Seeker. "And I will remove the gag."

Irina glared at her and snarled, body still tense.

The Seeker crossed her arms. "Or, I could knock you out and remove it while you sleep."

Irina gave one last piercing look and then let herself go lax once more. The Seeker moved behind her and untied the knot carefully. Irina let her. The resistance seemed to have left her body after realizing the futility of the situation.

That was until she felt the gag drop to the floor. Like a whirlwind, she whipped around and shouted in the Seeker's face, "FUS RO DAH." The shout echoed throughout the hallway.

And absolutely nothing happened.

She immediately tried again with a different shout, "YOL TOOR SHUL." Nothing. Okay, different one. "FO KRAH DIIN." Nothing once more, Auri-el give her strength.

She threw everything she knew out there, getting more desperate with each word to leave her mouth. Ice Form , Marked for Death , Whirlwind Sprint , by Nocturnal's knickers, even Kyne's Peace to call upon the rats in the walls.

Nothing. Fucking. Worked.

She doubled down coughing, her throat felt sore as all Oblivion. The red-headed woman's, Leliana's, voice pierced Irina's ears.

"So that is how you cast your spells. Would you tell me what those words mean?"

While still hacking her guts out on the ground, Irina spoke, "'Fuck you,' that's the rough translation."

The Seeker made some sort of disgusted noise, but Leliana's expression didn't change. "You know why you're here, yes?"

"No, actually," Irina replied. She pushed herself back up into a sitting position to get a better look at the woman she was speaking with. "But if you would enlighten me, that'd be great."

"We saw you consorting with dragons, apostate," said the Seeker. "You knocked it from the sky, spoke to it, and killed it to absorb it."

With those words, everything in the last hours of memory came back. The excitement, the triumph, the elation, and the 'folly' as Sheogorath would say. Finally, she got a crumb of a clue on the whereabouts of Alduin, only to end up chained.

She could almost ask for death.

"As I said before, I mean to you no harm," Irina said.

"And yet you consort with demons." The Seeker spat.

"Who said I 'consort with demons?'"

"Then how did you acquire your powers?" Leliana asked.

"I was born into them, as is my birthright." Half-truths.

Leliana crossed her arms, her interest piqued. "Birthright."

"It's quite a long story, but to put it simply, I come from a long line of 'Dragonborns,' people able to copy the abilities of dragons through the use of words. Due to a certain catastrophe I can't speak of, I'm the last of my line."

Technically, this was the truth. She was no Septim, of course, but all are related under Auri-el; at least, that's what the priests always said.

"Dragonborn?" Leliana asked. Irina nodded. "How did your family come to gain this power?"

Well, she couldn't exactly tell them they were given by an all-powerful dragon god, and she had inkling that acting stupid wouldn't land her great results either. So she did the next best thing. Half-truths.

"They were given to us by the Maker."

The silence that filled the room was telling.

"I ask for the truth," said Leliana finally.

"And you receive it," Irina replied.

"This is ridiculous," The Seeker said. She looked at Leliana. "We will perform the rite and get this over with. We have more pressing matters."

None of what was said sounded particularly good. Irina didn't have much luck with weird rituals, and she wasn't tempted to test Nocturnal again after the shit show she just went through. She peered at the Seeker, hesitantly. "What Rite?"

"The Rite of Tranquility," The Seeker clarified, as if that clarified anything.

Leliana frowned like she'd just smelled something foul. "I don't know, Cassandra."

"It is necessary. We are worn thin as it is with the breach." The tiny hint of exhaustion tinged her tone. She then looked down at Irina. "We don't need another potential problem on our hands."

Irina met her stare head-on. "Look, I won't be a problem if you'd just let me go. I'm not some demon sent from the Fade to kill you all."

"You are right," The Seeker replied simply, walking towards the cell door. "You are an abomination."

Abomination? That son of a—

Leliana moved to follow her, but not before glancing between Irina and the Seeker. Irina could see nothing of what she was thinking behind her blue eyes. Finally, after a couple of moments, she spoke up, addressing Irina.

"There will be a vote," she said. "I can promise no more besides that and some prayers conducted by the priests," she turned to follow Cassandra, but not before taking her keys and throwing them to Solas. "Solas, our magical advisor, will be in charge of you for the time being. May Andraste have mercy on you."

And with that, the two women cleared the room, leaving behind the pair of elves. Irina looked warily at Solas, who studied her with a complicated expression. He moved from the doorway and offered her a tin of some sort of liquid. She accepted it carefully.

Studying it in the firelight, it appeared to be clear with some sort of tint. Atop it floated a leaf. Irina took a sniff. It smelled like freshly picked dragons tongue.

"It is a tea to help with the pain," Solas said. "You fell quite hard after the Seeker smited you."

Irina snorted bitterly. "No figure." She gave a silent prayer to Mara before downing the liquid in one go. Oddly enough, it was sweet almost and imbued with a floral taste. Much better than the last shite he gave me, she thought.

"Suppose I couldn't convince you to unlock this collar and let me go?" Irina asked.

Solas smiled. "Even if I wished to, I do not have the ability. The spymaster only handed me the keys to the cell."

Irina thumped her head against the wall. "Fuck," she muttured. She needed to leave. The details were a mystery, but whatever they had planned for her wasn't pleasant. At least not for her. "Listen, Solas, I'm not a threat to anybody here. I swear it on my sister."

"So you say."

She wanted to curse him, but she restrained herself. Acting out wouldn't do her any good, not under these circumstances. "If I wanted to kill you, any of you, would I have not done it already? I fought with you, Y'ffre's branches, I even risked my life to save your Herald—"

"You are preaching to the choir."

"I'm sorry I lied about the whole mage thing but…" Irina stopped. She stared dumbly at the man before her. "You believe me?"

Solas hummed. He seemed to be turning something over his head, but he spoke plainly. "Allow me to clarify, I do not believe your story. At least not completely." He said. "However, I do believe you mean no harm."

By eight, that had to be the best news she'd heard all morning.

"So you'll ask them to release me?" she knew it sounded naive, but a gal could hope. As expected, though, Solas shook his head.

"As the Spymaster said, it will be taken to a vote. Most likely among the Spymaster, the Seeker, Commander Cullen, myself, and the Herald."

Irina perked up at Evette's title. She was rue to know the elf's thoughts on the situation. They'd talked about the Demon thing before, but the elf had no clue her companion happened to be said 'Demon."

"Where is Evette?" asked Irina hesitantly.

"The Herald is off to her own business. Ever since you arrived in Haven two days ago, she's been keeping herself busy with tasks." Solas replied. Haven, Irina mentally noted the name. She was in a place called Haven.

Perfect. She needed to convince her that she wasn't a threat.

"Could you perhaps persuade her to come down here?"

"You are aware of the delicate relationship between me and the Herald?"

Irina gritted her teeth. "Yes, but I must—"

"She must come around on her own terms," Solas said. "Or else it will end violently. She was not fond of your identity reveal."

"I know that Solas, but I must—"

"I can only provide you comfort and a companion before the trial." The look in his eyes was that of finality. "That is all."

They stared each other down, neither budging. Irina was running hot. She'd regretted a lot in life, but she regretted not kicking Sheogorath out the door when she'd arrived the most. By Oblivion, she regretted not going plan A and taking the road to Highrock all that time ago in the small tavern room with Elle.

She couldn't die. She couldn't.

Not when Pholeri still needed her. Not when Elle was probably wondering what in Oblivion happened to her.

"Could you at least tell me what this 'RIte' is?" She asked. Once more, Solas shook his head.

"It is better not to know."

Her shoulders hunched in defeat.

"Well," She leaned back against the cell wall and pulled the blanket up to her chest. "Could you at least give me something to eat?"

The coming of night was marked by Solas leaving and a guard being stationed outside the prison on the stairwell. The man looked Nordic in size and shape, and looked Irina up and down as though she were some hoarvor he'd found in his kitchen. There was a mutter of 'abomination' before he returned to his post.

Through her time with Solas, she'd convinced the man to get her a pillow, an extra blanket, some paper, and a small piece of chalk. She'd asked for a dagger, jokingly, but the man only shook his head.

This was all like Cidhna mine all over again, except there was no secret Forsworn planning a wild rebellion here.

She shuffled the pillow and laid the thinner of the blankets on the prison cell floor to act as a mattress of sorts. As her head laid upon the pillow, she thought of what tomorrow may bring. Tranquility, a peaceful word yet the way the Seeker and the Spymaster spoke of it, as well as Solas's reluctance to tell her exactly what it meant crawled under skin.

What she needed to do right now was to find her things and escape. The question was how was she to do it with no lockpicks and no idea where she was. Gods, she wished she had the Skeleton Key right about now. But then again, that would be collecting dust along with the rest of her stuff in some dingy corner.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move around on the opposite side of her cell. She bolted upright, hoping it wasn't some rodent or Divines forbid bug. She'd have enough today, and having to sleep beside the still carcass of a roach was the last thing she needed.

She narrowed her eyes to see better in the minimal light and felt relief brush faintly over her. Creeping steadily towards her was no bug but a mouse. Black, beady eyes, brown fur. It tittered about almost nervously.

Irina tilted her head. It couldn't be.

"Sakn'vunen?" she whispered.

Upon hearing this name, the mouse went from pacing to sprinting towards her, startling Irina quite a bit. Acting more on her reflexes than her rational mind, she kicked it. A small squeak echoed throughout the prison, followed by a pained " Ow!"

"Shit, sorry," said Irina. She peeked at the archway to watch for any shadows. None. Good. She scooted over to the hurt spirit and scooped her up in her right hand. With her left, she placed a finger over her lips. "But we must speak quietly, okay?"

"Okay ," Sakn'vunen whispered. Irina smiled and scooted back to her blanket pile to get more comfortable. Sakn'vunen stood on her hind lips and peered up at Irina. " Are you okay?"

"As good as I can be after being knocked out after a dragon fight," she muttered. "How'd you find me?"

"I followed the people," Sakn'vunen said. " I rode on the cart."

"Ah, so you were being sneaky?"

The mouse almost glowed with pride. "Yes! I was sneaky." She was a little too loud for Irina's liking.

"Shh, okay, quiet down," Sakn'vunen obeyed. "Do you know where we are exactly?"

"I don't know. It's cold here and bad."

Irina huffed, while she did agree it wasn't exactly a clue. "You say that about everywhere we go."

"Because it's true." The spirit whispered fervently. Her eyes became glassy. "There's a lot of pain. People got hurt. A lot of them didn't want to die."

Well, that didn't sound too good.

"Never mind that," she said more to herself rather than the spirit. She gestured to the collar around her neck. "Do you know how to get this off?"

The spirit leaped off her hand and clung to the fabric of her shirt with her tiny paws. She climbed up the expanse of her collarbone in order to examine the piece of metal on her throat. Sakn'vunen sniffed around it, climbing on Irina's back to get a better view of the back of the collar. There was some movement with the collar under the spirit's hands. After a minute or so, however, she stopped her motions, looking very disheartened.

"I can't."

Well, fuck. She didn't expect the spirit to be able to get it off anyway. "It's alright. Can you find me a lockpick?"

"I don't think that'll work."

Irina looked at her, confused. "Why not?"

"There's no hole ." Irina felt the pit in her stomach drop. Oh, no. "It's magic."

Okay, she'd get the collar after she got out of this damned cell. "Then get the keys to the door. They should be on the guard."

"Okay."

The mouse scurried out the cell, and Irina silently prayed to Nocturnal that she would find them. If she could escape the cell, she could escape this prison and grab her things as she searched for a way out. She'd contact Sheogorath and ask the woman to assist her in taking this metal around her neck off, and then she'd be on her way to find Alduin once more.

Yes, this was the plan. She just needed to leave.

After a minute or so, Sakn'vunen came back. No keys in sight.

"He doesn't have them."

Shit. "Okay," she whispered. Think. Think. She tapped her knuckles on the floor. "Alright. Have you seen a bald elven man? Pale, green pants, beige shirt."

Sakn'vunen paced for a moment before excitedly jumping up and down.

"I have!"

She leaned in close to the bars. "He should have the keys, Sakn'vunen."

The mouse nodded vigorously. "I'll find him then."

Irina smiled tiredly. "Be quick." The night only lasted for so long."

Sakn'vunen scurried back up the stairs. Irina stood up and began to pace in a small circle, her nerves bustling with energy. She clasped her hands together and placed them atop her head. She needed to leave. She needed to make it to Pholeri; in order to do that she needed to find Alduin. Her lips moved in a fervent prayer.

Sakn'vunen came back after what felt like eons, her head hung low.

"He doesn't have them."

She couldn't break down, not right now. "Can't you see what he did with them?"

Sakn'vunen shook her head. "I can't. It's fuzzy."

Gods, she wanted to scream. To cry. Anything. But all she could get out was another whisper. "This is a dilemma."

Feeling her fear, Sakn'vunen bowed her head sadly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." The words felt numb on her lips. She felt like she was back at the executioner's block. Same cold, same chains, same fucking hopeless feeling. Everything felt bland.

"Irina, " Sakn'vunen said. " I think you need to lie down."

"I'm good."

"Irina, I—"

"I said, I'm good, damnit." She was too forceful, too loud. A part of her knew the guard probably heard that most of her didn't care. A loud bang echoed off the concrete walls of her cell as she kicked the bars violently.

She was at the mercy of the Divines once more. Or of this so-called 'Maker' that these fuckers loved to worship.

"Irina," Sakn'vunen said quietly. The sound of footsteps could be heard clomping down the stairs. Irina grabbed Sakn'vunen with a quickness she didn't even know she possessed and stuffed the mouse under the covers. Everything felt automatic.

The guard looked half-asleep. He looked at her, annoyed.

"Talking to someone."

"Myself," Irina replied simply. "Am I not allowed the luxury of my own company before this Rite of Tranquility?"

The guard grumbled something under his breath and yawned loudly as though everything was fine. She wanted to shout him across the prison and watch as his body collided with the concrete.

But she couldn't. Not while this fucking collar remained firmly around her neck.

"Keep it down will ya?"

"Yes, sir." She said simply. "Goodnight."

He didn't so much as dignify her with an answer as he stumbled back up the stairs. Irina gave it a minute or so, before she released her grip on the mouse and collapsed back onto the pillow, and stared up at the ceiling.

Sakn'vunen moved. She didn't know where she didn't much care. She was too busy trying to grapple hold of her thoughts and her heartbeat. Everything was fucked. She needed to calm down, she was a goddamn Nightingale of Nocturnal, for crying out loud, but she couldn't.

Fuck.

Fur brushed lightly up against her neck, moving deeper into the crevice of her neck and shoulder blade little by little. Sakn'vunen spoke no words, but Irina felt her hopelessness. Unconsciously, she curled up into the small comfort presented to her.

Tonight, right now, she'll rest. Tomorrow, whatever came with Magnus's sun would come.

She'll live.

She must.

Sakn'vunen was gone by the time she awoke.

Outside her cell door stood Cassandra. She looked resolute, ready to face a new day. In contrast, Irina could only feel the weariness in her bones. The night had brought nothing but visions of nightmares straight from Vaermina's fingertips.

Nonetheless, she stood up and faced the Seeker as she opened the cell door. There was almost a bout of hesitancy on the woman's face as she truly took in Irina's appearance, but it was quickly mushed and replaced with the same expression from before.

"It is time," she said. The guards walked into the room and held Irina's arms as the Seeker cuffed her hands behind her back.

Silently, she sent out a prayer to Y'ffre before looking tiredly at the Seeker.

"Let's get this over with."

The room they arrived in was empty for the most part, besides a long table, some scrolls, and some unfamiliar equipment that lay on the wood. In front of the table lay Solas, Evette, Leliana, and a blonde man Irina had never seen before. Her lips quired upwards at the gaudy-looking cape he wore.

As Cassandra took her spot next to the man, Irina was made to stand in the center of the room, guards on either side of her. She cast a glance at Evette. The woman's expression was inscrutable, though her hands were clenched tightly at her side. When their eyes brushed past each other, Evette's eyes shot downwards.

Good. Whatever this punishment is, may she feel guilt for eons to come.

"Do you understand why you are here today?" said the Seeker.

"Yes, for bullshit reasons," Irina spat.

"You made a deal with a demon—"

"I made a deal with no one." She could barely restrain the force behind the words. "I know my fate has already been decided. I know what you brand me, but I will never accept the title. Demon or abomination."

The room was silent for a moment. Evette was the first to speak up.

"As I said, your 'rite' is barbaric considering the circumstance," Her voice was barely above a murmur. "I advocate for execution not tranquility."

Irina almost flinched. She thought she'd properly braced herself for the words, but damn that stung.

"I argue neither is necessary," Solas said. "What has she done to warrant either? Lashed back at those who struck her? Killed a dragon?"

"That she was communing with," Cassandra emphasized. "Such power can only come from the assistance of demons. Do I need to remind you of what happened at Kirkwall?"

"That is not relevant." Solas argued.

"A crazed mage blows up the chantry with the assistance of a corrupted spirit and that is not relevant, Solas?"

Leliana poked into the conversation. "The 'crazed mage' was a misguided terrorist desperate for the liberation of his people," she glanced at the blonde-man. "Am I right, Commander?"

"You are," responded the Commander. He gripped the hilt of his sword. "But I agree with Solas on the terms that Kirkwall isn't relevant here." Surprise washed over the elven man's face. "However, I agree with Cassandra that Tranquility is necessary."

"Really?" Leliana said.

"It is mercy," argued the Commander.

"It is not, and you're fully aware of that," Evette spat. "To make someone Tranquil is to cut them off from themselves, from who they are." She snuck a look at Irina. "At least with death, you retain that."

"Tranquility is becoming something greater than yourself." Cassandra said. Evette scoffed, crossing her arms. "To become closer to the Maker. It is the highest mercy we can offer."

"If you are willing, that is, Seeker." Solas said. "Such is not the case for all who undergo Tranquility."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. The tension in the air was becoming palpable. Irina hated it. She hated having to stand silent while a bunch of people argued over her fate. It was like Helgen. It was like Valenwood. She despised it.

She'd had enough of this.

"Am I to be tranquil," she said, loud enough for her voice to cut through the arguing. "Or not. That is the question, that is what you're voting on. Get on with it."

Once again, silence overtook the room. Cassandra looked to Leliana, who looked back at her. A silent conversation went on between the two of them, before Leliana bowed her head.

"We shall now vote," said the Seeker. "Execution, raise your hand," Evette's hand stood lonely in the air. She bit her lip and placed it back down. "Imprisonment, raise your hand." Solas did so alone, which seemed to be a shock to him as he looked curiously at Leliana. "Tranquility, raise your hand."

Three hands went up. Irina's shoulder slumped. And so it was decided.

"I can't watch this," Evette murmured. She walked out of the room, nearly running towards the door. As she passed Irina, she heard the elf say; "Ir abelas. Mythal ghilana ma."

Irina did nothing to indicate that she heard. Instead, she sent another silent prayer to Y'ffre as she felt the guards bring her to her knees and restrain her arms at her side once more. It seemed like whatever this was was going to involve a great deal of pain, if she needed the cuffs too. She closed her eyes.

Alduin wasn't coming for her this time.

"Hold her still," she heard the Seeker say.

She felt something, something, scald her forehead and she screamed in pain.

Chanting began, and she felt something she had never felt before.

It was like she was being ripped apart from her very essence, as though she were an old tree being pulled at its roots. Bile rose on her tongue, and she couldn't fight the urge to let it all out. Something was gnawing and clawing under the very surface of her skin like small ants looking for a meals.

She couldn't think, couldn't see, couldn't breath hardly. She wondered if she existed? Had she at all? Was she there right now?

Everything was being dripped, dripped down the drain, everything that was Irina Venbalor.

Something within her did not like that.

Something snarled and with a mighty roar it lashed out like the beast it was. It'd be damned if it lost itself here, to some mortals who hardly knew what sort of magic they were playing with. What they were trying to restrict.

In a burst, she was pulled back and in another burst, she screamed once more as a burst of pure magicka erupted from her very soul and sent shockwaves throughout the room in a search for vengeance.

Everyone and everything in the room was knocked back in the explosion. Her senses went haywire. Everything was close and far. Far was close. It was as though she was a link in a chain that spread throughout the whole room. She felt everything . She saw everything . She heard everything.

For a brief, brilliantly horrid moment, she was everything.

And then it poofed.

She hit the floor with a thud.