Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls or Divinity series or any of the related characters. The Elder Scrolls series is developed by Bethesda Game Studios and published by Bethesda Softworks. Respectively, the Divinity franchise is developed by Larian Studios. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. All rights of the original IPs belong to their respective owners.

Chapter 1 - Locked & Bound

"Each event is preceded by Prophecy.

But without the hero,

there is no Event."

-Zurin Arctus | the Underking

Location: Beckonbridge Castle, North of the Holy City of Arx.

It was frigid cold as the northern wind whistled through and the snow danced with the wind, causing the line separating heaven and earth to shorten. It was not midnight, just twilight, but the sky was already dark as night - brought about a heavy feeling on one's chest.

Across the vast, white expanse, among the dry mountains - a colossal silhouette emerged, dominated by towering structures resembling a majestic castle nestled amidst them. Its centrepiece, the keep, stood tall like a spectral cathedral, defiantly piercing the clouds. Unyielding in the face of the blizzard, the fortress remained stoic, responding to the wind's caress with resonant bell chimes that harmonized with the gusts.

Tong!

"Is there still a way… Is there?"

A hoarse murmur, almost indistinguishable from the wind, echoed from the tower's heights, permeating the desolate atmosphere.

"If there's still a way, then where is it? If there is no hope then why do you let me see it?!" As if being driven mad, the owner of the voice roared towards the heaven as if he was pouring out his heart and soul into the scream.

Beneath the tower, a multitude clad in straw garments stood in silence, their gaze fixed on the towering structure. Further scrutiny revealed a line of hundreds, coerced by enigmatic figures in crimson cloaks. The people may be unmoving and shackled, but there was a sort of fanaticism that could be felt among them as if they would sacrifice everything should the person on the altar just speak.

Tong! The bell rang...

The blizzard became heavier.

"If you've let me see it then there must be hope, but where is it?!" There was a hint of anguish and sorrow in the hoarse voice on the voice of the man, and the voice lingered for a long time.

"Today the divine eludes us, ensnared by his own sins! The world suffers - its people are in chains. Beyond the veil, he returns!" The voice swelled, altering the colours of the sky with an unknown mastery. Lightning crackled, thunder rumbled, and exclamations from the onlookers converged, causing heaven and earth to tremble.

At this very moment, the people standing just behind him cast hand seals and bit down their tongues, spitting mouthfuls of fresh blood. As if guided by some sort of energy, the blood darted forth across the heavens like a sea of blood.

Before they could reach it, it began to shatter apart.

"Nothing shall be allowed, Everything is permitted..."

"...Many Will Fall, One remains."

On the top of the tower was the man clad in a purple robe looking at the sky. His pale face was covered in scratches and wounds. Mumbling, he opened his eyes but his gaze held no light, a clear sign that he was blind.

Just then, a figure in a red coat stepped forward, placing a noose around the man's neck, initially loose but gradually tightening. With a vacant gaze, he looked toward the assembly - one last time.

Tong!

"Tell everyone… I tried my best…"

As he spoke, his right hand liberated itself from its shackles, the chains breaking, and a force instantly repelled those around him. Drifting towards the edge of the desolation, he exuded a poignant solitude and frailty amid the sounds.

"Once I was high enough, I failed to see the world that you see."

With a measured sigh, he jumped down from the tower, the rope giving way and the noose tightening.

Tong!

"And as a Godwoken, you cannot see the world that I see…"

"You… cannot see…"

"Hope…"

Location: The High Seas, Lucian-class Frigate Merryweather, Inside the Cargo Deck

In a surreal realm, landscapes flickered and ebbed like tides in constant turmoil. Gigantic rocks flowed in the sky, leaving behind a colourful trail of dust and clouds. There was no solid ground to tread upon, yet he effortlessly moved through the luminescent water, feeling as if he floating in effluvium oceans of crimson. A brilliant light suddenly obscured his vision, its radiance so bright - he had to raise his hands in an attempt to shield his face. Amidst the dazzling glow, a woman's voice, slow but majestic, resonated around him. Her whispered words penetrated his ears with unwavering clarity as if he were compelled to hear and obey.

"They have taken you from the city of Cyseal, first by carriage and now by ship, to Fort Joy," she declared to him, "Fear not, for you have been chosen. Become my instrument, and bring my will to this false world."

Turning around in search of her, he sought an explanation - why. However, as his gaze shifted, the scene metamorphosed. The luminosity dissipated, leaving no stable ground beneath his feet. The sensation of falling enveloped him as the flashes of an island, a dilapidated castle, and a cave inundated his vision. Then the lights finally plunged into darkness, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder.

"Wake up."

The floor beneath him swayed a slow undulation from side to side. Then, amidst the sensation of loosening shackles, Abruptly, a voice ended the final curtains of his dream, a voice he didn't recognize.

"Wake up now."

Someone nudged him and the world began to open up.

"Still a bit groggy, are we? Don't worry, the sedative will wear off soon enough." Varus opened his eyes to a woman in a crimson cloak with two ponytails leaning over him. "Easy now. No need to hurry. Get your bearings, then report to me upstairs."

Liberating himself from the confining contraption, he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his lustrous dark hair while casting a discerning gaze across the ship. "That dream—once more?"

Turning sideways, he noticed a grinning skull atop a tall device. He absentmindedly rubbed the skull but found no apparent significance. "Seen many things here, didn't ya?" he muttered.

Returning his focus forward, Varus took in the surroundings and then at his contraption.

"I don't even recall them securing me like this," he mused, tugging at the collar bound around his neck. In essence, this seemed like a prison within a prison.

When a whiff of fresh air reached him from above deck, he sighed. Something intangible hinted that many problems lay ahead.

Rather than heading for the ladder, he veered towards the stairs leading to another door on the right. Opening it seemed like a mistake as the room was strewn with haystacks and sheep droppings. A real sheep wandered about, and in a corner, bread and a bottle of wine beckoned from a table.

"Ration beckons," he mused, grabbing them. In the corner, he spotted a key beneath the crates. It would have eluded his notice if not for the unpleasant taste of the wine that forced him to spit it out.

"A key. Now to find the lock that it opens."

Securing the key in his pocket, Varus noticed the sheep gazing at him as she shaked her fluffy coat. The sheep eyed him balefully - her rectangular eyes like letterboxes to the Void. As he moved towards her, with one sharp hoof, she kicked him right in the shin.

"Baaaa! Mbaaaaaa!"

Varus dodged and observed the sheep with a curious look, attuning his senses to understand its message. Focusing on his arcane reserves, he tried to decipher what the sheep was attempting to convey.

"Fresh meat, mba? Nice," the sheep remarked, studying his back with an intense gaze, "Plump." It then moved forward, sniffing his legs, "Banded like a chicken's leg too."

Maintaining a stoic expression, Varus attempted to pick up the sheep and poked its belly with two fingers, "You seem to have more meat than I do, Stalk. Is that your name?"

"That maaaay be so," the sheep nodded disdainfully, "But look at the flies, mbaaa. Aeons of wisdom." Its ears tingled with flies, and it continued, "Flies know when a creature will die. And it's around your head, not mine. You do not have much time left."

With two shakes of her stumpy tail, the sheep turned away from Varus and resumed perusing her hay-filled manger.

Holding his nose, Varus chuckled with restrained anger at the creature, "Pity, I am not in the business of changing fates."

Shaking off the encounter, he advanced beyond the table and hay toward another locked door. Using the newly found keys, he entered a corridor filled with plates, cutlery, and boxes. Grabbing a decent knife, he gave it a few swings.

In more civilised times, this would have been a long sword. Desperate times, however, had a tendency to reduce men to animals.

Searching a cupboard, he stumbled upon a letter that gave him a bit more context.

[Orders from the Guard Steward.

IMPORTANT!

It's come to my attention - again! - that several of you are bypassing the cargo hold security measures by sliding boxes onto the pressure plates.

THIS WILL NOT DO. The purpose of these measures is to require the presence of at least 3 magisters at a change of shift. Any deviation will result in at least one magister getting thrown overboard. Make sure it isn't you!

- Magister Siwan]

Not far away, another locked door presented itself, accompanied by two pressure plates. The absence of magisters guarding the pass hinted at a potential manpower shortage due to mass magister throwings.

Not surprised with Divine Order stupidity, Varus thought.

Utilizing telekinesis, auxiliary magic. Varus moved two heavy crates onto the pressure plates.

Click! Click! Tuck!

And just like that, another door swung open. Crouching, Varus proceeded ahead, navigating cautiously as oil from numerous drums made the path treacherous. A voice pierced the oily ambience, "Psst! you there - come here!"

Approaching, Varus saw a bald man in a cage, a peculiar gleam in his eyes, "Hey. Get me out of this cage and I'll make it worth your while. You in?"

Well, this was not suspicious at all.

Shaking his head, he turned his back. There is no way he was getting involved here. But as he turned, the man rushed toward him hissing like a snake.

"Suit yourself. But we're all in the same boat here. Literally. Trapped like a chicken, waiting to be slaughtered. Don't you want to be free?"

Who doesn't?

Nobody ever said no to more freedom. Varus hesitated momentarily, and the man continued, "You can go ahead and ignore me. But you should know - it's not just my freedom at stake here."

Eyeing the man warily, Varus retorted, "For starters, I am not the one trapped here like a chicken. Tell me again, why are you in a cage in the first place?"

The man laughed as he scratched his cheek, "Your guess is as good as mine. Someone screamed, loud as a banshee. After that? Pure pandemonium. They never even told me what I was accused of - just dragged me down here."

Screamed loud? Could it be the voice within me who did that?

Varus wondered, looking back she did sound like a banshee too.

Shaking his head, he looked at him and demanded, "What exactly is in it for me if I did help you?"

"Set me free, and I'll set you free. A fair trade, I should think?", the bald man replied.

[Yes, Not suspicious at all. But...let's entertain this thought...for now.]

Somewhere from deep within, his inner voice spoke and he felt the need to comply.

"Alright, tell me what to do.", Varus looked around and sighed.

"A gentleman among jesters, you are. Name is Hemwar by the way.", the bald man in rags with a proud moustache to boot had a thick smile with the same mad glint. He offered his hand for a shake which Varus refused to take.

"See that lever over there? Give that a pull, and I guarantee we'll both get something out of the deal."

He slowly moved towards the lever and observed it. He was almost about to pull it out when he noticed the shadow of another person nearby – someone slouched in a comfy chair, snoring loudly. It was a red magister tucked in the corner in his comfy chair taking his sweet sleep.

The magister guard snorted and sniffled as he slept. Varus was almost impressed that one man could make such a phlegmy racket. He had some hesitation before deciding on his next move.

Silently trailing the red magister, Varus carefully surveyed the cramped compartment. Amidst a table crafted entirely from large drums lay an arcane scroll, recognizable to Varus due to his decent knowledge of arcane spells. Upon examination, he appraised it as a [Scroll of Electric Discharge].

"Good stuff for later," he mused. While the scroll had its uses. It wasn't nearly lethal enough to kill the guard now. Plus, these things had ways to get messy. Safely stowing it in his rags, Varus discreetly checked the magister's pockets, yielding a meagre yet promising total of 21 coins.

In the meantime, the magister began to stir and Varus swiftly adjusted his posture to appear innocent. The groggy man, awakening from his nap murmured, ""Mmm... is my shift over? Are you here to relieve me?" With a yawn he opened his sleepy eyes, One hand clearing his eyes, he retrieved his short blade with the other, gradually becoming more alert.

"Wait - you're no Magister," the magister stared at Varus closely. More specifically, his gaze fixed on Varus's collar, he rose, pointing his blade at him. "You're a Sorcerer! What are you doing here, filthy scrounger? Choose your words carefully; my fist aches to meet a new face."

In the blink of an eye, Varus weighed his options. Things happened pretty quickly as his brain synapses raced. Varus raised his hand for a respected salute and replied, "A senior magister sent me moments ago. She was cloaked in crimson and had two ponytails. Said you are to report to the upper deck."

The magister's blade lowered, and a moment of introspection followed. Eventually, the hostility dissipated. "Magister Siwan sent you? About time, I guess. The lads 'n' lasses up there are getting lazy. Figures they'd send one of you sorcerers down; they can barely be chuffed to wiggle a single toe."

As the magister dusted off his clothes, he began to gather his papers. However, he paused, eyeing Varus again. "Can't just leave the prisoner alone, though. I heard he might be the one causing trouble upstairs."

Trouble upstairs?

Varus presented his well-built arms and a smile fit for a politician, his voice reassuring, "I'll keep an eye on the prisoner; he wouldn't dare cross you."

He spoke the truth for as of this moment, Varus was going to cross him first.