"Aaaand here we are; Labyrinthian - the ruinous corridor-laden fortress built by none other than the legendary Shalidor himself!" Lucien exclaimed as he leapt off his horse and ran into the middle of the courtyard.
The others followed suit and their horses disappeared into the aether.
Apparently also Savos Aren's past mistake, or achievement as well, Cura pondered as she looked at the glorified doorknocker in her hand. It was made of ebony, there was no mistaking it. It was hefty, and it was ancient. If anything would get her inside the large maze, it would of course be this. She just had to locate the entrance that was missing a knocker.
It was clearly no accident; not a thing. Ancano's arrival at the College, the Arch-Mage's past with Labyrinthian, and Cura's compulsion to enter the College of Winterhold. All of the threads of fate woven separately were now coming together.
The disaster had struck, as Azura and the Psijics warned, and Cura's actions were key in stopping it for good.
Her mind returned to Aranea Ienith.
A Dunmer Priestess who, they admittedly did not know very well, as she had kept most of her details private, but they did know she was looking for a new beginning in her life as a researcher in the College.
Ancano killed her in cold blood when she attempted to stand in his way.
Disgusting.
Did the Thalmor truly hold no value for life? Even the lives of their fellow Elves?
Well, Cura already kind of knew that, after seeing how that poor Bosmer servess was treated at the Thalmor Embassy, and the whole debacle concerning herself, Elenwen, and Ulfric.
Eventually, after several hours of meticulous travel through the Pale, and over the mountains surrounding Whiterun, and through the upper swamps of Morthal, the group headed south through a smaller mountain range, where Lucien eventually led them up the stairs of an Ancient Nordic Ruin, similar in appearance to the unearthed Saarthal, but considerably rounder in its overall shape.
Immediately upon entry into the large encroaching courtyard, the group were met with a great tablet. Cura approached it with Lucien and Onmund, and quickly realized that it was inscribed in Draconic writing.
"Oooh... I wish I could read that." Onmund mused disappointedly. "Can you, Lucien?"
Lucien shook his head. "No, but Candle can!" He pointed to Cura. "She's done it before, actually."
Serana confirmed it. "Yes, I've seen her do it in Dimhollow Crypt. It's really quite amazing."
Cura blushed. Since she was being flattered, she figured that she might as well give it a read-over. She placed her fingers upon it, letter by letter, and translated the text aloud:
"Hail All - Brave City Bromjunaar
Forever These Walls Shall Stand
May Enemies See Her Majesty
May All Quake to Behold Her"
Lucien furrowed his brow. "Bromjunaar? What does that mean, Candle?"
Cura tried to search for the answer deep within. She should know this. "Brom... Jun... Aar. North, King, Servants..." Snapping her fingers in realization, Cura rephrased it in a proper way. "Kings of the Northern Servants"
Lucien's jaw dropped. "The... Kings of Northern Servants... Dragons... then... are the Dragon Priests' corpses here?"
Serana too examined the plaque with interest, and called Onmund over to ogle it as well. "This was even before my time... and there were still Dragonborns around back then."
Onmund nodded. "It is weird to imagine what our deepest Ancestors' lives were like, living under the thumb of Dragons and their priests. Just how far back does this go?"
The decayed shrine was located within the decrepit central barrow where they stood, at the very center of Labyrinthian's courtyard. From that point, the group could admire the far-stretched circular ring of buildings encroaching upon a large central structure seated atop the highest row of stairs, with a large, ornate door stretching high from their perspective below.
Lucien and Cura entered the small barrow together and witnessed what appeared to be a large row of nine hooded busts stretched along a draconic wall mural carved out of stone. Each of the face busts had a name inscribed beneath it in Dragon writing.
"All right; you're up." Lucien moved aside with journal open in hand as he began to copy down the Dragon scribings. Cura cleared her throat and began to recite the names of these entities as well as the meanings below.
"Dovah-Sonaak: Dragon Priests." Cura ran her index finger along a header text. "This is, in fact a commemorative altar, then." She started on the left. "Volsung (horrible), Vokun (shadow), Otar... which I don't think is actually a word. It may just be his Nord name. Morokei (glory), Rahgot (anger), Nahkriin (vengeance), Hevnoraak (brutality), Krosis (sorrow), and the large central one is Konahrik (warlord)."
The words just seemed to come to her, quite easily. It called back to when Arngeir told her that language was intrinsic to a Dragon's very being, she supposed. Even in mortal form, she did indeed have the soul of a Dragon; or souls of Dragons, now that she considered the ten that merged within her, like an all-consuming fire within her heart.
Thankfully, the morning meditations she'd done of the Way of the Voice allowed her introspection, and the ability to quell the wrathful drakes within herself. Meditation and introspection came more naturally now, and she even found herself doing it while standing, while reading, while eating.
It was important to remain in control.
Lucien allowed a small scoff to escape his throat as he jotted down the information as it trickled down to him. "Such pleasant concepts. When is the Vigil of Stendarr going to officially recognize Dragons as Daedric beings?"
Cura had no real answer. "I... don't know. I thought of that, myself. But to do so, we would technically have to place Akatosh in that category."
"Haven't you ever found it strange, how Peryite is also a Dragon?" Lucien asked frankly as he continued making a crude sketch of the monument before them on the next pages of his journal, labelling the names to the faces through numeration.
"Yes, actually. It was a concern I had discussed with Keeper Carcette quite a long time ago." Cura admitted. "When I'd first discovered I was Dragonborn, I wasn't thrilled, and I had a wrathful moment against Akatosh and all of Dragonkind. I had also brought up Peryite. There was no conclusive point to be made, and it makes little difference as far as my individual life is concerned. I'm basically over it now."
Suddenly, the sounds of fireballs and shouting came from outside the barrow, alerting Cura and Lucien.
Once emerged, they saw Brelyna, J'zargo and Inigo warring against several Frost Trolls, which were jumping up and down like children throwing temper tantrums before lumbering towards the group, claws bared.
J'zargo swept a whole slew of them away with a great Elemental Bolt, and he kept firing a few more for good measure.
Several trolls fled through the ruinous ramparts and into the hills, whie J'zargo laughed menacingly. "What? Are these ones leaving so soon? J'zargo hasn't even gotten his feet wet yet!"
Inigo noticed a vast improvement in J'zargo's magickal technique, and saw fit to bring it up. "Wow, J'zargo, I am impressed - your aim and your use of magicka has greatly improved! Now you are a proper magicka bomb!"
"J'zargo told you he would master the more advanced Destruction spells, did he not?" the gray Khajiit tried to remind him. "J'zargo never backs down on his goals. Never. Even if the world were coming to an end, he would be sure to achieve his goals right up until the deadline."
Brelyna smirked and began to look around. "So... this is it. Are you certain the Staff is inside of there?"
Cura had explained her intentions to her friends along the road, and now that she was here, the overwhelming stage made her a little disoriented. "Hm? Oh, yes. Of course. That is what we learned in Mzulft's Oculory. And Mirabelle gave me this. I think the evidence strongly points in that direction, yes. I'm willing to take this chance."
Serana rolled her eyes. "Cura, I think the mountain air is messing with your mind."
"I'm lost in thought a little. I'm sorry." Cura admitted as she looked up towards the sky.
"Are you thinking about Mirabelle?" Onmund asked, as she had lightly mentioned her state of being along the way.
Cura nodded sadly. "She's going to die. She knew it, too. Her body is degrading over time - it's... it's really bad. But Ancano is sure to finish the job before it does." She wiped a lone tear from the corner of her eye. "I... hate that I can't stop it. There's nothing to be done! I couldn't help Aranea, and I can't help Mirabelle... I'm the Dragonborn, but I can't even help the people of Tamriel..."
"Don't do that." Onmund shook his head. "Don't blame it on yourself - you're not to blame! It was that damned Elf! ...No offense, Brelyna."
"None taken. I hate that damned Elf, too. He ruined everything." Brelyna agreed with him.
"You can still save Skyrim, right?" Onmund reassured her. "You can't win 'em all. That's life. We've got to do what we can, where we can, even if it's inconvenient and hurts us in some way."
Cura had no rebuttal. Understanding Onmund's point of view quite well, herself. "No, you're right. You're absolutely right, Onmund. I apologize, for that moment of childishness."
"It is not childish to grieve, my friend." Inigo expressed. "I would just recommend you do it as you keep walking."
Cura scoffed. "Yes, Inigo, you're right. Let's go." She quickly picked up her pace and ascended the large staircase before them, which led up to a giant door with a placeholder. It did not take a second for Cura to ascertain that this was the location where the fancy knocker would be fitted into.
And that was when she heard a familiar voice speak to her from beyond:"I knew you'd come eventually. It would seem I'm bound to this place. The bitter irony of it all - my greatest failure, and even in death I can't escape it. I never meant for any of what happened here. Tried to seal it up, lock it away forever. But now it all comes out again..."
Cura looked around, and saw the Arch-Mage himself standing there, in ghostly form. His head was hung with shame as he locked eyes with the concerned Dragonborn. All that transpired would be made plain to see, much to his regret.
"Arch-Mage? What? What happened here?" she asked for certainty before the apparition vanished before her classmates caught up and looked at the large set of doors.
"Wow... incredible..." Lucien mused in wonder.
Suddenly, the doorknocker began to glow as it was pulled from Cura's hands and fixed directly onto the door through a magickal force.
Before them all, a small group manifested; not spirits, exactly, but projections of an astral nature, playing out an event that occurred long ago.
One of them Cura could immediately recognize as the Arch-Mage. The other five were a female Dunmer, a female Redguard, a male Bosmer, a male Nord, and a female Argonian. All wore hooded robes.
The younger Savos Aren gestured towards his allies to follow him. "Come on, we're finally here! Let's not waste any more time!"
His classmate, the Argonian, crossed her arms and leaned a litle to the side with uncertainty. "Are we truly sure this is a good idea?"
Another classmate - the Redguard sorceress, seemed proud in her abilities and waved off her concerns. "We'll be back at the College before anyone even knows we're gone."
The Bosmer was mildly annoyed. "You would care about that, since you're the Arch-Mage's favorite!"
Savos Aren scoffed rather audibly. "Don't forget, this whole idea was Atmah's to begin with." He gestured towards the proud Redguard as he said this.
he Nord wizard walked up to the door and disappeared. "Let's just get inside, see what's in there."
The others, ending their argument, followed suit and dissipating the vision.
Cura and her allies were not by any means emboldened in the slightest by this, but they followed shortly as she banged the knocker against the ancient metal. With a luminous aura surrounding it, the door slowly creaked open and allowed entry to the group, for the first time in millennia.
"Be brave, guys." Cura initiated. "Our field trip is goi8ng to be yet another of History."
"Good, then I will be double certain not to scratch my ass. I do not want future visitors to get the wrong idea about my ghost." Inigo chortled as he entered behind the group and the door shut itself behind him.
Tolfdir stood before Ancano, joined by Mirabelle, in the wrecked Hall of Elements. The barrier had receded considerably, almost as if Ancano wanted them to enter.
The old Nord noted Mirabelle's heavy breathing and stood close by. Even drained as she was, there was strength to be had in numbers. Of course he knew this, but with more consideration, could their number really make the difference against the Eye of Magnus?
"Why, Ancano? What do you hope to achieve with this?" Tolfdir demanded honesty from their assailant. If they were about to be murdered, it should only be right to know why.
Mirabelle grit her teeth. "The Thalmor crave power. It has always been the way for the Aldmer. Why should it be any different now?" As if she needed to remind Tolfdir on the history of her ancestry. The Nord understood quite well, even beyond that. The Night of Tears spoke volumes, in and of itself. No further evidence of Elven cruelty was needed.
With a teal barrier surrounding him and his focus divided, Ancano turned his face to the speakers. "You want to know why I am doing this? Well, I'll tell you. You won't be coming out of this alive, so I suppose there won't be any harm in it." He began to charge up energy from the hovering orb's apex, and the pair did not like the sight of it.
Lightning bolts of greenish hue lit up the room as they struck haphazardly, tearing up part of the ceiling.
Students poked their faces through the entry door upon hearing the commotion, only to be driven back by the hazardous storm brewing within.
Mirabelle quickly cast Longstride and shoved Tolfdir out of the Hall of Elements as the light travelled, outlining the Hall's lobby, effectively trapping her alone with Ancano.
"MIRABELLE! NO!" Tolfdir shouted with desperation as he rushed up to the barrier. Having learned about what it did to Mirabelle's hand, he knew better than to lay his own upon it.
Mirabelle looked back at Tolfdir and gestured with her face for him to leave. The Alteration professor gathered students who were watching from the destroyed courtyard and led them back off the campus. He took one last, saddened glance at the Master Wizard and hurried outside. "Thank you, Mirabelle..."
It began with a stern conversation between herself and Ancano, and it would end as such.
Once the shockwave subsided, Mirabelle found herself leaning against a wall for support. There was no way out, as the classroom door was blocked off by the barrier, as was the entry door itself. Instead of one, there were now two barriers in place.
Mirabelle looked at her rotting hand, as well as the charring flesh around her wrist as the corruption slowly spread up her left forearm, encircling it, layer by layer. Even if she weren't going to die here, right now, she would within perhaps a week at this rate. Knowing her grim future, Mirabelle stormed right up to the High Elf and spat at him. "I curse the day you ever walked in here."
"I've been wanting to kill you for a long time, my dear." Ancano snapped his fingers and a focused bolt of energy shot out of the Eye of Magnus. "At every turn, you've been in my way, as an obnoxious, persistent obstacle. How does it feel to know you've failed, Breton?"
Mirabelle's legs carried her a few feet away from the site of impact, and she launched a pair of Firebolts at Ancano himself. They made contact with his form, but not an ember touched his body. His entire person was covered with a small outer shell of magic, similar in nature to the Breton Dragonskin, except it did not drink the magic as Dragonskin would.
"Do you see how pointless it is?" Ancano asked with the largest, most incredibly smug expression Mirabelle had ever seen plastered over a person's face. It made her sick to her stomach.
At least Tolfdir was able to get away with those ogling students.
Mirabelle's job had always been to protect the students and ensure things ran smoothly at the college. At least she could say she hadn't completely failed in her duties. The building was replaceable, but life was not. As much of it she could preserve, she has.
"Surely that slow rot must be agonizing." Ancano nudged his face in her direction. "Kneel before me and I will give you a painless death."
Mirabelle shook her head fervently. "Now that you have the power of creation at your fingertips, you would use it to indulge in petty power fantasies? You are truly pathetic, Ancano. I hadn't realized just how before."
"There is no fantasy to indulge in, my dear." Ancano laughed in amusement. "I have already achieved it... or at least part of it. You don't factor in in the slightest."
Mirabelle fumbled in her step and landed against a column as the world shook around her.
"I am going to rule this world, and I am going to remake it in my own image. Man and Mer alike be damned." Ancano explained. "And filthy half-breeds like yourself don't factor in at all. I am going to destroy the Breton race to cleanse the Mer of the stain of Man. You were a vile mistake borne of Direnni curiosity, and every last instance of men and Mer breeding together ought to be considered blasphemy. Once I've destroyed you all, I'm going to cleanse the Orsimer, Dunmer, the Khajiit, the Argonians, the Imga, Minotaurs, Sloads, Humankind - all of you repugnant abominations that grew upon this world once perfection was lost."
"You're... you're mad!" Mirabelle exclaimed in terror. "You really hate us that much?"
"Elven supremacy is the only truth." Ancano sneered. "Clearly something that even Madame Ambassador herself cannot seem to acknowledge, laying with that... possibly Nord beast to create that disgusting creature." He was, of course, referring to Cura in this. "Once I'm through here, I'm going to extract the truth from Elenwen herself before I kill her for her treachery to her own kind."
"Falling in love is treachery to you?" Mirabelle scoffed. "Why is that the least surprising thing I've heard in your entire diatribe?" She looked down at her arm - the black charring was beginning to move up over her first layer of flesh, peeling it back. The tip of her pinky finger broke off and fell to the floor with a sharp snapping pain that resounded through her body. "Ahh-!"
He meant all of what he said.
If they'd only known how dangerous this Elf was beforehand.
Perhaps the Arch-Mage knew. Perhaps he had a feeling concerning his motives for being here.
Looking at the physical damage the Eye of Magnus inflicted upon her person, Mirabelle shuddered to consider what it was capable of in the grand scheme of things. Ancano probably could achieve exactly what he's set out to do; the only barrier in his way being his own incompetence.
"We are going to ascend to greatness, and I shall lead the path!" Ancano exclaimed with great determination. "I shall unmake the world and realize the ultimate goal of the Thalmor - I shall make us perfect! Talos holds no ground here, and Lorkhan will have no chance to stop us." Ancano laughed darkly as he gazed deep within the Eye. "Once I erase all that opposes us, the Aldmer shall be one again, and we shall hold Dominion over all of Nirn."
Mirabelle stood up to him. "You are not going to succeed. The Dragonborn, even now, is working against you. She is going to foil your idiotic schemes."
"It figures, doesn't it, that Elenwen's mistake would haunt the rest of us?" Ancano pondered as he removed his gaze from the artifact before him. "But no matter - with this, it is a mistake that can be easily corrected."
"You're demented." Mirabelle shook her head with disgust.
"And your time is spent, mongrel." Ancano spat as he charged up another powerful bolt of energy.
With blurring vision and weakness in her legs, Mirabelle quickly activated her Dragonskin in a last-ditch effort to cushion the blast. When the bolt loosed, it struck her at the center of her body, shredding through her Dragonskin and tearing a gaping hole through her flesh and bone. Her Dragonskin held no power against the might of Magnus. The recoil sent her back into the column behind her with a great push, and the Master Wizard went down, slumping to the floor and curling into the fetal position as her body was wracked from within, much to Ancano's fiendish delight.
The pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, and yet no scream could exit her throat; merely pained sobs. Mercifully, however, the pain was short-lived as her vision began to blur and grow dark. The world grew colder and colder as the life force began to leak out of the Master Wizard.
Her only regret being that she allowed things to descend this far. Were she and the Arch-Mage a tad less professional, perhaps they would have taken sides with the Stormcloaks, and Ancano may not have ever had entry into the college.
"It's... all up to you now, Cura... please, avenge us... hold up... this monster's head... before us..." Were the last words feebly choked from the Master Wizard's mouth as she perished. With a final twitch of her right hand, her body settled there on the floor, limp and lifeless.
Her final sight was not Ancano, nor was it the Eye of Magnus; it was instead the gentle hand of Savos Aren, offered to lift her up from the floor. "Come, Mirabelle. It's all right, now. Everything is going to be okay." Graciously, she took it and departed with the Arch-Mage, leaving the cold world behind her.
"As much as I utterly despise you, I must thank you for listening. Declaring one's plan for the world always feels best when there is an audience." Ancano loomed over his lifeless nemesis.
The Labyrinthian was larger than life, even from within, it seemed. The group had gone through some chambers and hallways, seemingly desolate, before Cura received another vision of those mages from the past. The group appeared a little uncertain, but emboldened just the same.
"I can't believe we're doing this." the formerly silent Dunmer sorceress expressed her uncertainty.
Savos Aren attempted to reassure her. "Can you imagine the looks on their faces when we come back?"
The Nord was unconvinced. He seemed to look around the barren room surrounding them, past and present. "You keep talking like you're sure we'll find something useful in here."
The Bosmer agreed with Savos, coming to his friend's defense immediately. "Given the history of this place, it's more than likely there's still some amount of power here."
"Enchanted weapons, tomes of ancient knowledge, Shalidor's secrets themselves - who knows what we could find!" Savos exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm. To him, the possibilities really were endless.
The Argonian sorceress shuddered and massaged both of her arms as she shifted uncomfortably where she stood. "And what if... What if there are things guarding this place?"
The smug Redguard brushed off her concerns. "Against six College-trained mages? I think we'll be fine."
The group appeared to continue walking before disappearing into the next room.
Cura silently closed her eyes and allowed herself room for breath in the damp environment. What were they walking into, exactly? What awaited beyond this door before her?
Savos Aren's ghost loomed behind her, and spoke once more to his amicable student. "There were six of us. Full of ambition, eager to conquer the world. It was Atmah's idea to come here, at first. She talked me into it, and I convinced the others. We were sure we'd find it all here, hidden away from time. Power, knowledge... All the things we didn't want to wait for. We thought it would be so simple."
Cura understood that feeling very well, herself. It was the very thing that pushed her into the Companions, and into the College. The desire for fast power. For quick improvement. The world moved at a steady pace, and yet there never seemed to be enough time; everything was a desperate race to an uncertain finish line.
None of her allies had noticed the spirit of the Arch-Mage, nor the apparitions.
"Are you doing all right, Cura?" Serana asked her friend out of concern.
Cura nodded. "Yes. Are we all ready? There's no telling what may await us beyond this door."
"Ready as I'll ever be." Lucien remarked, and the others gestured forward.
The door opened with a loud resounding squeak that shook the structure to its core. Clearly it had been shut for many centuries.
Cura took a few cautious steps through the echoing, vacuous halls into an open clearing, where the stench of rot prevailed over all else. The room was sprawling with bones, weapons, and armour, as well in the center, to the group's great surprise; a Dragon skeleton lay collapsed on the ground.
"Wow... it looks like an extermination attempt gone horribly wrong!" Serana said through gritted teeth.
"Yes, but there's no way that it isn't a trap. We should tread carefully." Brelyna warned.
"I wonder how many ash trays can be made from these bones..." Inigo wondered. "Maybe we should make some and sell them in the Imperial City for a small fortune! What do you think, Lucien?"
Lucien considered it for a few moments. "Well, if we sell them at 40 septims per tray, we could make a small fortune in a week. It's a good idea! I say, yea, yea! Let's get on with it!"
Immediately the two of them rushed towards the open cemetery and Cura quickly pulled Lucien back by the back of his collar. "Hey, no! I think Brelyna might be right! It could be-"
Suddenly, the room began to shake and tremble, and dust fell from the ceiling in streams amidst the crumbling rubble. A booming, wispy voice with a sadistic hiss reverberated off the walls and through the structure of the room. "Dinok wah laas, qahnaar votolaan!"
"Death to life... vanquish undesired..." Cura translated. "Uh, oh..."
Loud chattering rung through the air as the bones strewn about began to assemble and reconnect by their joints, weapons in hand.
Worst of all, the Dragon skeleton too reshaped itself and stood tall, towering over the group with its dominating presence.
Cura was not afraid. She had to ensure the safety of her friends. "Inigo, Lucien, Serana, I want you to handle the western half of the room. J'zargo, Brelyna, Onmund, you take the eastern half. The Dragon is mine to play with."
"Fair enough, my friend. Show that overgrown ash tray who is boss!" Inigo exclaimed as he leapt into action.
Serana was silent, but she knew Cura had this in the bag. She had no worry for her friend. Acting support was best she could do this time around, and she would.
Onmund scoffed. "Well, they're just skeletons... a legion of them."
Brelyna quickly summoned two Flame Atronachs, and J'zargo opened a Flame Cloak scroll and charged into the fray with Bound Sword in hand and Flames in the other. Brelyna activated Stoneflesh to guard herself against ancient, rusted blades.
They were fighting to save Winterhold, and Skyrim by extension. They could not afford to make mistakes.
Cura stared down the Dragon and activated her Dragonskin. She had no fear reserved in her heart, not anymore. She had faced down so many of their kind now that the mere sight of one proved more of an annoyance than anything. Cracking her right shoulder, she readied her Dawnbreaker. Since the fiend was Undead, this was not going to be an issue. Strangely enough, that made it all the more simple.
The Dragon breathed a mighty stream of Frost onto her, but Cura was quick to the draw. "YOL TOOR!"
Her burst of flame dissipated the frozen vapour, opening the way to a clear attack.
Inigo, Lucien, and Serana held off the swarm of undead to her left and Brelyna, J'zargo and Onmund furiously battled the skeletons to her right. There was a straight and narrow pathway to the Dragon, some thirty feet ahead.
With her left hand, Cura summoned a Bone Spirit, which flew through the air in a sideways arch and homed in on the skeletal face of the looming wyrm and exploding in a ball of light, which caused the giant bone lizard to recoil to its left.
Cura dashed forward and hacked at its ribcage with Dawnbreaker, and proceeded to duck and slide lower beneath it as the fiend attempted to spin its body to throw her away.
As she slid, Cura caught the Dragon's foot and climbed up its shin and onto its femur bone.
The Dragon throttled furiously in attempt to shake her off, but the Breton held firm.
The skeletal head thrust itself backwards and turned around impossibly to face Cura on its back, much in the same way an Owl would twist its face around, causing Cura to gasp with surprise.
Right before a mighty blow of frost could immobilize her, Cura dropped down between the stony ribs within the Dragon's person, narrowly dodging a horrible fate as the frozen gale blew overhead. Keeping her head down, Cura used the ribcage like a ladder, crawling within and heading towards the beast's neck.
The Dragon jumped high into the air and plummeted down, causing its bones to fall apart and Cura to fall outside of its ribs. As she fumbled along the floor, Dawnbreaker rolled out of her grasp and she scrambled to retrieve it as the Dragon quickly reassembled once more.
She had no choice. Dawnbreaker was out of her grasp, and the Dragon readied another Frost Breath shout.
Pulling out Auriel's Bow, Cura fired a Sunhallowed Elven Arrow directly into the dread wyrm's mouth, causing its jaw to dislocate and fly off like a door kicked from its hinges. The strain of the attack stunned the beast long enough to buy her time to retrieve her sacred sword.
"SERANA, FIND COVER!" Cura alerted her vampire friend as she leapt over rubble to pull Dawnbreaker up off the ground.
The Vampiress heard her friend's warning and dashed past a few relentless undead to duck for cover behind a ruined pillar, knowing all too well what was coming.
"WULD NA KEST!" came Cura's shout as she tore through the dusty old chamber, knocking bones and a cloud of dust spinning through the air in a forward-bending cyclone. She poised her sword forward, and stuck it into the Dragon's spine and supercharged the beast with Meridia's light, which exploded outwards and covered all of the skeletons uncovered in the room with blue fire that quickly dissolved them.
The Dragon's bones too began to dissolve before their very eyes, laying the lizard to final rest.
Cura wiped some of the sweat off her brow and hung Dawnbreaker back on her hip. Off in the distance she saw J'zargo incinerate a couple of stray skeletons that had avoided Meridia, and Inigo sniped another further away with an ebony arrow.
"What, no Dragon soul? That's a ripoff." Serana scoffed lightly as she returned to Cura's side and watched the bones sink into the ground.
"I don't think it had one to begin with." Cura explained. "Necromancy was what that was. Its bones were animated by something unseen. Perhaps a great shadow hangs over this place."
"Well, you're the Vigilant. You know more about this sort of thing than we do." Brelyna remarked off-hand as she and the others rejoined her.
"I get the same feeling that I had back when I entered Mount Kilkreath with Lydia so long ago." Cura explained, looking at Inigo who approached. "This was before we met, Inigo. Lydia and I went to Mount Kilkreath to purge Meridia's Shrine of the presence of a Necromancer named... Malkior? Maldoro? Malkoran? I don't remember the jerk's name, exactly, but he was messing with powerful forces beyond his control, and through Dawnbreaker he corrupted the souls of deceased Soldiers. This... energy in Labyrinthian is similar."
Cura held Dawnbreaker horizontally in both of her hands, and she showed it off to her friends. The blade was shining with a light teal hue. "See that? Dawnbreaker reacted this way near the Eye of Magnus, too. I think it may have a connection to the Staff and the Eye, or some relation."
Lucien scratched his chin. "Dawnbreaker is Meridia's artifact, right? She was one of the Magna-Ge. You know that, Candle."
Cura nodded. "Yes, she left the Aedra during creation with Magnus."
"More than that." J'zargo expressed his surprise as he leaned in for a closer look. "Khajiit knows that Merid-Nunda is daughter of Magrus... or Magnus, as Humans call him."
The group all stared at J'zargo in shock.
"Meridia is literally Magnus' daughter? I thought the title of "Children of Magnus" was only symbolic?" Cura asked. A strange concept, indeed. She turned to her own Khajiit for consultation as she lay Dawnbreaker back on her hip as she led the group ahead. "Inigo? Did you know about this?"
"No, I am afraid not." Inigo shrugged his shoulders. "I am ashamed to admit that I do not have the deepest connection to my peoples' folktales - except for their superstitions."
"Merid-Nunda is daughter of Magrus, whom he didn't love because he only loved himself and his own creations. Magrus made Merid-Nunda out of Aether rather than out of love. He was not very loving in general, it is said." J'zargo cleared his throat. "It is also said that Boethra pried Magrus's eye out, which is why the Khajiit value both swords and claws."
"I guess they really know what they're talking about, then." Onmund expressed his surprise. "We do have his eye there, at the college, after all."
As soon as Cura laid her hand on the door at the end of the massive chamber, the same dark voice passed through the air and around the group, dark and unrelenting. "Wo meyz wah dii vul junaar?"
The group could feel energy leave their bodies briefly as the voice spoke, and Lucien immediately shuddered. "Oh, no. No, I do not like the sound of that at all. What did he say?"
"Who comes to my kingdom of darkness?" Cura translated as she licked the dryness off her lips.
"M-maybe we shouldn't be here after all..." Onmund shuddered.
Brelyna cringed lightly. "It... didn't sound friendly, that's for sure. We're clearly unwanted here."
"Oh, what gave it away? The tone, or the skeletal vanguard?" Serana asked sarcastically as she followed Cura. "If you're afraid, you can always take your chances with the College right now instead."
The phantasmic group manifested once again, and Cura attempted to call her allies' attention to them, but she realized that, like when she communed with the Psijic Monks, the world lay still around her.
It was just her and the spirit of Savos, and the truth.
"We... we have to go back. We can't leave Girduin..." the female Dunmer shuddered as she turned to the door, walking past Cura and through her partners.
Burshing the Bosmer's death aside for a moment, the Nord refuted her. "We barely made it out alive, and you want to go back in?"
Atmah, the Redguard, held a hand up over her forehead and lamented his fate. "It's too late. There isn't enough of him left to go back in after."
The Argonian took a moment to sit upon the rubble on the floor and held her face in her hands. "Gods, what have we done?"
Savos tried to encourage his allies, and pumped his fists forward. "We can't go back. Might as well go forward. We can still do this."
"Savos is right. We can make it if we just stay alert." Armah concurred, and led the way, Savos and the others following suit.
Cura felt a tad saddened, and retroactively wondered if Girduin was among the skeletons they had just contended with.
Savos Aren had fought a Dragon before. That could have been an interesting conversational topic.
The Arch-Mage lamented to Cura as he manifested himself before her very eyes. "Girduin died first. It happened so fast, none of us had a chance to react. One moment we joked about what we'd find below, the next he'd been ripped in half. And then we were all fighting just to survive. None of us were prepared. It was amazing the rest of us survived. When it was over, Atmah, Hafnar and I stared, pale-faced, at one another, unwilling to admit we'd made a terrible mistake. We could have turned back. It could have ended there. But we kept going."
"I have a feeling that it only went downhill from here." Cura said through seething teeth as she sympathized with Savos' suffering.
"Please, Cura, see this through..." Savos requested before fading away again.
"I will." Cura responded softly as the world returned around her.
"Will what?" J'zargo asked, hearing what she said.
"I will see this mission through to the end, no matter what." Cura put it simply. She would keep her interaction with Savos between them, as he clearly intended.
"Yes! That is my friend! Yes!" Inigo cheered joyfully. "You tell that evil spirit! We will keep on going!"
The group passed through a large corridor where Mounted Soul Gems began to spew lightning and fire at them. Cura held up Spellbreaker to absorb most of the blasts, and her allies used Wards to attempt to guard with varying degrees of success.
Cura yanked one of the Soul Gems off its pedestal and batted the second nearest to her away with her mace.
Lucien was surprised by her audacity. "Wow, really? You're just going to grab them? Like that?"
Cura shrugged as she pushed back against a flamethrower with Spellbreaker before grabbing its gem source and pocketing it for herself. "Yes. Don't be shy. I've seen this sort of thing before."
Brelyna sent a Frost Atronach ahead to absorb some of the lightning busts while Inigo knocked the Soul gems off their pedestals with arrows from a safe distance away, following Cura's example.
Once they reached the other side, Cura mended her allies' wounds with Grand Healing.
"Hehehe, I love the tickling sensation! It feels like I am being surrounded with moving feathers!" Inigo proclaimed happily.
"I... I can do this. I can go on..." Onmund casted Rally onto himself and the group to bolster their courage.
The dark voice returned at the end of the hall. "Nivahriin muz fent siiv nid aaz het."
Cura sighed before translating once more. "Cowardly men shall find no mercy here."
"Yeah, Onmund. Grow a pair, will you?" Lucien teased his Nord friend.
"Me, grow a pair? You're the one who nearly wet the floor earlier!" Onmund accused him back before the two began to laugh.
Suddenly, a rattling sound was heard in the next room, and the enclaves in the walls revealed themselves to have sarcophagi. Draugr immediately emerged like a curse upon the group.
They were weak Draugr, so they were more like a small hurdle to jump over. The group quickly dispatched them with a few spells and Fire Runes, courtesy of J'zargo, and moved on towards a large natural cavernous area with winding paths and even more Draugr.
With one Unrelenting Force shout, Cura sent them spiraling down onto the sharp rocks jutting out of the stream far below. Inigo gave her a high-five for killing a row of them in one shot.
"Wow... the Dragonborn really does have an unfair advantage in some of these situations." Onmund extrapolated from that instance.
"Better them than us." Cura expressed callously.
Though, he wasn't wrong. Shouting does provide a major advantage in combat. High King Torygg could vouch for that, as well, were he able.
To the left of the winding natural paths was a door with a Lightning Rune inscribed upon it. Inigo took the liberty to fire an arrow at it and activate it preemptively so they would go through unharmed.
Cura passed through and quickly smashed a hiding Draugr in the forehead with her mace before entering the small corridor. At the corner was a damaged sarcophagus with an ancient Nord helmet and sword slipping out of it. The Draugr's bed, Cura supposed. The main room contained a table with an arcane enchanter built into it and a chair drawn up in front, with the skeleton of a conjurer that was obviously killed where he sat in the chair. A skeleton in hooded robes was always a fun sight to see when venturing through these ancient ruins. Cura began to wonder if this was one of Savos' partners, but she hoped not.
There was long-dried blood over the enchanter and spotted all over the floor. To the left of the table was a chest, which Inigo shamelessly sifted through and took some scrolls and gold from within. On the table was a filled soul gem, a copy of the ancient book "Immortal Blood", a copy of a spell tome titled ''Equilibrium'', and two bowls of bone meal. In an alcove to the right of the table was an alchemy lab, with two bowls fire salts, a bowl of ectoplasm, a bowl of bone meal, a deathbell, and a giant lichen sample covered in cobwebs within boxes on the floor to either side of it. You will need to backtrack to the chasm to continue onward.
Serana picked up Equilibrium and learned the spell, causing the book to burn itself out.
"Whoa, was that a spell book?" Onmund pointed out.
"Yes; Equilibrium - the balance of life force with magicka." Serana explained it.
"You're going to teach us that later, right, Serana?" Brelyna asked her friend.
"Sure thing." Serana reassured them as the group continued to pass through.
The dark, demonic-sounding voice returned, draining the energy from all who would hear it, scouring the crowd. "You do not answer... Must I use this guttural language of yours?"
"Gutteral?" Lucien looked insulted. "Why, I never!"
The voice beckoned from afar. "Have you returned, Aren? My old friend? Do you seek to finish that which you could not? You only face failure once more..."
The entire group exchanged worried glances, and Cura advanced with caution. "Steady, everybody..."
The group approached an old, wrecked bridge that covered a gap, and Inigo launched a quick Flame Arrow at a Draugr who lurked in the dark off in the distance, killing it and allowing safe passage.
J'zargo reminded everyone to cast Muffle so they could sneak through as silently as possible as they continued their investigation.
The disembodied voice returned, once again, finally realizing what the group made obvious throughout the expedition. "You... You are not Aren, are you? Has he sent you in his place?"
Cura was not going to dignify this fiend with a response. She simply grasped her Amulet of Stendarr and pinched the drinking horn between her fingers as she moved softly.
"Did he warn you that your own power would be your undoing? That it would only serve to strengthen me?" the voice asked, seemingly insulted by the whole thing. With dark energies, it pulled more energy from the group, and Brelyna collapsed from exhaustion. "Come. Face your end."
"Brelyna!" Onmund panicked before his own lightheadedness got the better of him and he too collapsed.
And then J'zargo too fell to his knees. "J'zargo... cannot go on... any longer... hnng..." he landed face-down onto the floor.
Cura's eyes widened. "They-"
Lucien held his forehead in his hand and slowly sunk with his back against the wall. His knees gave out as the oppressive energies drained him. "I... feel so... weak... Candle... I..."
Cura placed her hands on his arms, trying to keep him up. "No, Lucien! No... this..."
Behind her, Inigo too collapsed to the ground and Serana followed next. Cura was the only one left standing.
"This.. this can't..." Cura panicked and then casted Detect Life. Thankfully, they all seemed to be alive, but exhausted beyond the hope of moving.
She couldn't leave them there, but she had to get the Staff.
"Stendarr, what do I do? What if Draugr attack them like this? I-I can't... no. I can't! I..." Cura bit down on her nails as she felt the anxiety well up within her.
Some distance away, she saw the ghostly group yet again, and yet again, they had shrunk a member.
Savos seemed to beckon them forward towards the moss-crowned door. "Come on, we can't stop now. We have to keep moving!"
Atmah began to look around frantically. "Where's Elvali? She was right behind me."
Hafnar, the Nord, looked frustrated. "Dead. Something grabbed her from behind. Gone before I could do anything."
The Argonian growled furiously, pointing at Atmah. "This is insanity. We never should've come here."
Atmah sighed sadly and leaned against the nearby wall, presumably, though in Cura's time it was only a few stones with a tone of broken pieces strewn along a broken staircase and small tunnel below. "You're right. This is all my fault. Should we turn around, head back?"
The Nord shook his head and sulked. "I don't think going back is a good idea."
"Going back would be the end of all of us. We keep pushing forward, and we'll make it. We will!" Savos assured them.
"Come on, you can make it. Let's go." Atmah led the way through the old door.
Cura stood near her friends and awaited her Arch-Mage's return for elaboration.
He did not disappoint, materializing before her and her unconscious allies. "Elvali died here." he pointed to a skeleton that was leaning over a table that was now obscured in the shadows. "I don't even remember what killed her. One of the countless faceless horrors. I think she was glad, in that final moment. Hafnar was covered in blood, but his stupid Nord pride wouldn't let him admit defeat. I... I don't know why I pressed the others on, convinced them to keep going. "If we can just make it through, it'll all be worth it", I told them. And the fools believed the words I myself didn't trust."
"Am I a fool too, Arch-Mage?" Cura asked him. "Something has happened to my friends... I don't know what to do. If I leave them behind, they could die. But if I stay here, Winterhold will die."
"Not just Winterhold." Savos warned her. "The World will die if you cannot stop Ancano."
Fear flashed in Cura's eyes and she began to break out in cold sweat. "I... I can't leave them, Savos. I can't! ...I..." she began to tremble as she remembered seeing Lydia pinned against that wall, blood spilling out. Fear consumed the Breton. "N-never again... I can't do it. I can't keep going. I can't..."
"You must."
Savos' spirit faded away, leaving Cura alone to contemplate.
It took her a few minutes of shivering and coming out of her panic, but Cura found within herself a compromise. She noticed a large trail of stones and elected to carry her friends there to hide them behind the large rocks. If there should be any Draugr or other fiends unknown, they will not simply stumble upon her unconscious friends.
She prayed to Stendarr, Arkay and Mara to watch over them as she descended further and further through the winding maze.
The atmosphere was oppressive, and Cura could feel her own magic weighing her down.
Perhaps Savos Aren had indeed come to finish what he started long ago, and his spirit was keeping her rejuvenated.
That was when she felt the Amulet Mirabelle had imparted unto her before she left the College within her pocket. It was Savos' Amulet, she said.
These apparitions, the Arch-Mage, her resistance against that demon. It was all coming from the Amulet.
As Cura continued walking through the blackened halls, she dodged several Shock and Flame Runes along the ground and tread through a small wreckage. Therein, she saw the skeletal remains of an Argonian in robes, mostly dust at this point.
Savos walked with Cura and knelt before his friend's remains. "There were only three of us left. Takes-In-Light just sat down and gave up, and we left her there to die. I've no idea what killed her, but I'm sure something did. Atmah cried to herself. Hafnar wouldn't look at either of us. And I kept telling them it would be all right. I was in charge now. I pushed them on, insisting it would be worse to try and go back. What happened after was my fault. All mine."
Cura crossed her arms. "There was nothing urgent keeping you here. Why go through with it?"
"I... suppose it was to ensure that my friends who had already fallen hadn't fallen in vain." Savos lamented as he slowly arose. "I suppose by fate's cruel design, I may be doing the very same to you, right now."
"I understand." Cura nodded. "But as Dragonborn, I am sworn by my honour to defend this land and its inhabitants. It is why the Divines put me here. Whether or not you came, I would be here. But... I appreciate having you with me, Arch-Mage."
"Oh, gentle Cura... you have no idea." Savos expressed with a small smile. "You're helping me in more ways than you'll ever know."
The next long corridor was mildly flooded, the ground damp and covered in moldy water. Torch sconces lined the walls and lit progressively as Cura walked beside the Arch-Mage. He led her down a stairwell and at the very bottom the stairs were broken and Cura had to leap down to descend into what looked like a chamber where she would expect to see a Claw Door, but there was none. Though, murals decorated the walls just the same, lit by braziers that burned with blue fire.
The apparitions returned, only Savos, Atmah, and Hafnar stood before the door.
Atmah sobbed loudly as she leaned her forehead on her arm against the nearby wall and mourned their friend. "We shouldn't have left her there to die!"
Savos defended their actions. "What else could we do? Stay there and die with her? She refused to go on, we didn't have a choice!"
Hafnar iignored it entirely. He sacrificed too much to dwell on it now. He placed his hand upon a rugged old ornate door. "This is it, you know. Through this door. Can you feel it?"
Atmah shivered and held herself as she tapped her foot repeatedly against the solid stone tiles underneath her. "We're not going to make it, are we?"
Hafnar held out two hands to his allies. "We stay together, no matter what. Agreed?"
Atmah grabbed his right arm at the elbow. "I'll be right with you."
Savos grabbed his left arm by the elbow. "Agreed. We all stay together."
And with that, they all elected to pass through the forbidden door.
"We all knew this was the end. Without even opening the door, we knew what was behind it would kill us. None of our spells were potent enough, none of our wills were strong enough. "No matter what, we stay together" Hafnar said. I looked him in the eyes and lied to him." Savos sighed sadly.
"You can't blame yourself." Cura told the Arch-Mage kindly. "It wasn't just your fault. At the end of it all, you all resigned to fate. You honoured one another."
The Arch-Mage shook his head. "No, no I didn't. Cura, please... when you open this door, you shall understand. My shame shall be revealed to you, and Morokei awaits you within. Good luck, child. I believe you can set everything right." With a hand placed on her shoulder, he walked ahead of her through the door.
Inside the chamber beyond, the Dragon Priest Morokei lurked in the shadows with an ornate staff in his hand, surrounded with a forcefield on the eastern side. Cura could see atop the giant ornamental altar to the west, two ghostly wizards who bore a close resemblance to Atmah and Hafnar were both casting the energy barrier on Morokei.
Savos Aren's soul wept beside Cura as he witnessed his younger apparition run up the stairs and flee the scene. "...I'm sorry, friends. I'm so sorry! I had no choice! It was the only way to make sure that monster never escaped! I promise you, I'll never let this happen again! I'll seal this whole place away..."
Cura looked at the Arch-Mage. "That was why you had the door knocker thing that you gave to Mirabelle."
Savos Aren pointed at the Dragon Priest's staff, calling Cura's attention towards it. The staff appeared to be a turquiose-coloured orb surrounded by several spikes with a turquoise-coloured gem at the bottom of the shaft. "That's the Staff of Magnus. Gods be with you, Cura..."
Cura swallowed hard and readied Spellbreaker.
But would it be enough?
As soon as Cura stepped forward, Atmah and Hafnar both redirected their streams of energy at her, attacking her with their spells. Cura leapt off to the side and rolled along the floor, dodging the enthralled mages' attacks.
"YOL TOOR!" Cura's shout engulfed both spirits and caused them to dissipate by its sheer force alone.
Rest in peace, Cura wished them when a sudden turquoise stream of energy shot through the air and latched onto her torso, lifting her up into the air.
Morokei spat as he held her up into the air. "Krumah us zey, joor." He brought down his arm, driving Cura down into the ground and pinning her in place.
Cura grunted as the force held mastery over her, trapping her onto the dry, moss-covered stone as she futilely struggled to break free of its magickal grasp.
This was a duel between the Staff of Magnus versus the Child of Akatosh.
Dragon Priests subjugated the mortal races of Tamriel long ago on behalf of the Dragons they so feared, and achieved highest status within the society, resting just a rung below the Dragons themselves on the social ladder. How many had they subjugated under their rule? How many had they tormented? How many graves within these diverse Nordic ruins spread throughout this land were filled by their own hubris? How many Draugr roamed the halls aimlessly guarding these tombs because of them?
"FEIM!" Cura shouted, causing her body to turn ethereal and allowing her to slip out of the grasp of the Staff.
Magic was magic, but the Thu'um was another beast entirely.
Magic was a tool that could be used to get far, but Cura knew that when it came down to it, the true battle between herself and Alduin would consist of Words, not fists, not magic.
Words.
She slipped from Morokei's grasp and rolled along the floor to dodge subsequent bolts of energy, and taking cover behind Spellbreaker.
That Shield was by far the greatest gift her friends had ever given her.
Dodging another bolt, Cura used Meridia's Wrath to burn a hole through the fiend's chest from a distance, causing the Priest to lower his guard in attempt to quell the burning blue flames.
Cura sprinted across the bridge and leapt at Morokei, mace in hand, and brought it down onto his ancient, withered skull, driving it down through his temple and tearing off his mummified head.
One well-placed whack was all it took to tear asunder the ancient, rotted body.
His clothes slump to the floor like a light breeze as his empty vessel exploded into a swarm of ashen locusts that caught flame as they spiralled upwards into the air before settling down upon the floor.
All that remained of the Dragon Priest were his rags, his Mask, and the Staff of Magnus.
Cura sat down and caught her breath for a moment as she curled forward with her chin rested on her knees. Her heart was racing.
"That was not as hard as I'd expected..." Cura said as she exhaled a deep breath. She poured everything she had into her mace when she struck the walking corpse. This only confirmed what she had been measuring over the course of her long, arduous journey; her power had grown significantly.
Or perhaps Savos' old friends had exhausted the Dragon Priest's power over the centuries and Cura was simply the last hurrah. It mattered little to her, though she only hoped the Arch-Mage and his friends could now rest peacefully.
Could she face Alduin now?
She still felt a twinge of uncertainty, though it would not hinder her. She stood up and picked up Morokei's mask and the Staff of Magnus. It was far less exciting than she'd imagined it to be. It seemed like a simple, fancy staff, with a tad more character than the Staff of Ruunvald.
But there was no doubt; this was it.
Savos Aren confronted her again, his eyes hollow with shame and his heart sunken at the mention. "I had no choice, don't you see? I had to leave them behind, had to sacrifice them so I could make it out alive. If we'd all died there, if we'd loosed the thing on the world, who knows what might have happened?" Savos pined for Cura's understanding. "That's how I consoled myself for years, after I'd sealed this place shut and vowed never to let anyone open it. Now you've put it all to rest, but it can't undo my mistakes. They can never be undone..."
"They can't be undone, but perhaps they were meant to happen." Cura proposed. "Perhaps you were meant to come here so that the Staff's whereabouts could be known for this very time. To save Winterhold, and the world."
"Do you really believe that?" the Arch-Mage asked.
Cura nodded honestly. "The Gods - Aedra and Daedra alike - have greater foresight than any of us. They would have known of this long ago. I have no doubt that they could have arranged the world in such a way that the Staff would become known to you, the future Arch-Mage of the College, so that the knowledge could be passed down to me, the Dragonborn."
Aranea was right, especially concerning Azura. Azura told her of this many months ago; the Eye, the Elf, the Staff.
If Cura felt anything at the moment, it was empowerment. She gripped the staff tightly and held it up. "Skyrim shall be saved, Arch-Mage. You have my word."
Savos placed a finger over his mouth and rubbed his lip as he was entranced in thought. Once he was done pondering, he accepted Cura's theory. "You may be right, Cura. Your arrival to the College was no accident. Ancano, as well. You were put here in opposition to him. I had the feeling when we'd first met, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. When the Psijic monk came, seeking you out by name, I knew. I knew that you would get the Staff. You have not disappointed."
Cura nodded. "I'm going to destroy Ancano. And it's not going to be gentle. Let Stendarr show him mercy, for I have none to spare."
"Mirabelle and I will watch over you from the beyond." Savos spoke with relief. "In your understanding, and your defeat of that demon, you have lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders, Cura. Now I can rest in peace. Thank you very much."
"You're welcome, Arch-Mage. Rest peacefully." Cura smiled as he slowly began to fade away.
"Cura!" shouted Serana from behind, as she and the others finally caught up.
Her heart skipped a beat as she saw her friends creeping up from behind. They all looked incredibly weakened, though they could move again. That, she was more than thankful for.
"Guys..." Cura addressed her allies.
"Was that the Arch-Mage?" Brelyna asked, pointing out the apparition that had just left.
Cura nodded. "Yes, he guided us along the way. I have the Staff, now." She held it forward, showing it to her classmates and friends.
J'zargo was the first to pull up. "Wow... the Staff of Magrus himself... this is a very strange nightmare we have walked into indeed."
"It's no nightmare!" Onmund corrected him as he leaned against a wall for support. "It's a miracle! With it, Cura can fight Ancano..."
Brelyna approached Cura cautiously. "What's your plan, Cura? Do you know how that will affect the Eye?"
"It will suck the life from it like an annoying know-it-all at a ballroom dance, yes?" Inigo asked.
Cura nodded. "It's supposed to contain the energy. I suppose I'll just aim it at the Eye and siphon."
"Perfect." Serana smirked. "You've got this, pretty girl."
Cura continued to tilt the Staff and planted its shaft on the ground to lean on it. "Sure, but after this I think I'm going to sleep. For a month."
"You're telling me." Lucien sat down against the wall. "I... think we'll rest here for a while. Give Ancano hell, Cura."
Cura accepted her friends' wishes to rest for a while. Clearly they had confidence in her abilities now, too. "Very well. Once you're fully rested, return to Winterhold. "
Inigo lay down flat on the cold stone floor as the world spun around him. "If you stick that staff up Ancano's behind, tell him it was Inigo's idea."
Cura laughed as she ascended the stairs along the Altar to reach the exit above. Leave it to Inigo to say the absurd.
That was what she loved the most about him.
Once she reached the top, where the ghosts stood for centuries, she looked down to see her allies resting in a safe place, and she felt a huge sense of relief wash over her.
Above all things, that was all she cared about: the wellbeing of the others.
She knew fully well that if she'd brought them along with her to face Ancano, in this condition, they would be at high risk of death. She could not have that on her conscience. They helped her traverse this nightmare, and now it fell to her to repay them in kind.
Savos Aren's soul told her that he and Mirabelle would be watching over her, confirming the heart-breaking knowledge Cura had already. She was unable to save Mirabelle, but she would certainly avenge her death, and Savos'. It was the least the Dragonborn could do.
Cura found herself headed to a corridor ending at a pair of iron doors flanked by burial urns. Through the door came a dank, dingy tunnel, with a white cap mushroom and a large urn on the left, and stairs up on the right to a lowered gate, with the lever on the right-hand side, having been suspiciously activated.
As soon as Cura approached the open door, she was greeted by a Thalmor agent. She quickly held her hand over her mace hanging on her hip. "Hello?" she attempted to appear diplomatic.
Though, it didn't take longer than a single glance for her to realize that he worked for Ancano.
Unless this was a surprise letter from Elenwen, which she highly doubted.
"So, you made it out of there alive. Ancano was right... you are dangerous. I'm afraid I'll have to take that Staff from you now. Ancano wants it kept safe... oh, and he wants you dead. Nothing personal." the Thalmor added in for good measure.
At least she would know who wanted her dead.
Cura rolled her eyes. "Get out of my way. I don't have time for your nonsense."
"You fool, you don't stand a chance." the Thalmor exclaimed as he readied two bolts of Lightning.
"FUS RO DAH!" Cura's voice blasted him into the wall thirteen feet behind from so close a range, the sound waves hitting him before he could call forth his lightning.
The Thalmor grunted as he struggled to pull himself up off the floor, and Cura stood over him like a dark shadow. "I'm going to give you one chance. Leave me alone, and leave Ancano's service. He's going to perish in a few hours, so it's a wasted alliance."
"Do... you really think... you stand a chance against him?" the Thalmor agent spat as he slowly used the wall to support his aching knees. "No... you're all dead. Every last one of you disgusting Humans." He readied his Elven Dagger and attempted to impale the Dragonborn.
A petty gesture against a demi-goddess, to be sure.
Cura quickly spun around and caught him with a horizontal swipe of her mace, breaking open his chest cavity, allowing him to perish with a violent gasp as his lungs were crushed. Naturally, he dropped the dagger to his side as he slunk to the floor.
Cura retrieved the elven dagger and pocketed it. She stepped over the Elf's lifeless body and, with no more distractions, focused her sight on one objective: destroy Ancano.
