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.]
The frigid northern wind whistled through the air, swirling snow in its wake, blurring the boundary between heaven and earth. Though midnight had yet to arrive, the sky hung heavy with profound darkness, casting a weight upon the chest of any who gazed upon it.
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 centerpiece, 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 toward 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 again…
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, trapped by his 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, another man awoke numbed. He felt nothing, his mind a clouded soup, and all senses lost to him. He only knew that he was alive and breathing. Slowly his senses began to come back. The air smelled of lavender. The wind blew stinging sand against his face and body. It howled like a siren of Oblivion. When the man finally regained sight he was immediately mesmerized with the world he walked in.
The 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 floating in effluvium oceans of crimson.
ACCEPT YOUR FATE
WHAT WAS OF THE PAST SHALL BE RECTIFIED
A brilliant light suddenly obscured his vision, its radiance so bright - he had to raise his hands in an attempt to shield his face. Tears filled his eyes and a dull pain washed over him that rendered him helpless and without any strength. He howled from an anguish unlike any he had felt before, and he knew in that moment it was caused solely by the voice itself. The man fell forward and plunged his face into the water, filling his mouth and eyes. Further and further down he pushed. Maybe, he thought, if he could suffocate and kill himself, his torment would end. It would be worth it to stop it all, if only for a moment. He gasped for the air he denied himself.
He now begged for death. Welcomed it.
Let it all end.
Please…
Suddenly, he felt a hand grab the back of his neck. It violently lifted him back to his knees. He now gasped for breath, coughing up water and unsuccessfully blinking it from his eyes. He could now just barely make out a human-like figure before him. It reached out and gently brushed more tears from his eyes but the man could still not see clearly. The figure spoke to him and then disappeared.
YOUR DEATH SHALL COME BECAUSE IT IS JUST
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 boat, to Fort Joy," she declared to him, "Fear not, for I am watchful. 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. His panic-stricken gaze immediately fell upon her eyes.
"Easy now. No need to hurry. Get your bearings, then report to me upstairs.", the woman in red reeled back with a sly smile, her eyes filled with uncanny mischief.
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. He looked down at his arms and even through his robes, he could see that his body was indeed covered in beads of sweat.
"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 you skullface?" 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, all of 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. He would have to prepare.
Rather than heading for the ladder, he veered towards the stairs leading to another door on the right. As he pushed it open, he was greeted by a disordered scene — haystacks and sheep droppings strewn about. A solitary sheep roamed, while a table in the corner bore bread and a bottle of wine.
"I need something to store these. Perhaps a bag or a sack," he pondered, collecting the items. 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 and peer beneath the crates.
"A key. Now to find the lock that it opens."
With the key safely tucked into his pocket, Varus observed the sheep as she shook her fluffy coat, her rectangular eyes fixed on him with a baleful glare, resembling letterboxes to the Void.
As he approached the sheep, it suddenly lashed out with a swift kick to his shin, accompanied by a chorus of "Baaaa! Mbaaaaaa!"
Varus dodged the kick and regarded the sheep with a mix of surprise and amusement, wondering what message it was trying to convey. He focused his arcane senses, trying to decipher the cryptic meaning behind its actions.
"Fresh meat, mba? Nice," the sheep remarked, eyeing him up and down with an appraising gaze. "Plump as well." It leaned in closer, sniffing at his legs. "Banded like a chicken's leg too."
Suppressing a chuckle, Varus lifted the sheep and poked its belly with two fingers. "You seem to lack self-awareness, given you seem to have more meat than I do."
The sheep nodded, unbothered. "That may be so," it replied, its voice dripping with disdain. "But look at the flies, mbaaa. Aeons of wisdom in them." Its ears twitched as flies buzzed around. "Flies know when a creature will die. And they're around your head, not mine. You do not have much time left."
With a dismissive flick of its tail, the sheep returned to its hay, leaving him to ponder its cryptic words.
Holding his nose, he chuckled with restrained anger at the creature"Looks like even the sheep are in on the prophecy game," rolling his eyes. "Next thing you know, they'll be reading tea leaves and predicting the weather."
Shrugging off the bizarre encounter, Varus moved on, unlocking another door to reveal a corridor filled with supplies. Grabbing a knife, he tested its weight with a few swings.
"In more civilized times, this would have been a long sword," he mused wryly. "Desperate times, however, tend to reduce men to animals."
Searching a cupboard, he stumbled upon a missive 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.
Opting for telekinesis, his preferred auxiliary magic, Varus deftly maneuvered two hefty crates onto the pressure plates, triggering the mechanism with ease.
Click! Click! Tuck!
And just like that, another door swung open. Crouching, he proceeded ahead, navigating cautiously as oil from numerous drums made the path treacherous. A voice pierced the oily ambiance, "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. Varus 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. But 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 him 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 meager yet promising total of 21 coins.
In the meantime, the magister began to stir and he 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 him closely. More specifically, his gaze fixed on Varus's collar, he rose, pointing his blade at him. "You're a Sourcerer! 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, he 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 sourcerers 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.
A/N: Soundtracks that match the story, and I like it so :
Assassin's Creed Rogue OST Main Theme (Track 01) - Ezio's Family - By Elitsa Alexandrova.
Tatsuya Katou- Ougon no Ken (Campione OST)
Skywind Official Soundtrack: Nerevar Rising - Fredrik Jonnason
& Many more.