Urag Gro-Shub furrowed his brows as he stared blankly at the inquisitive Breton before him. "A glowing turquoise-coloured orb? Of all the intriguing bits of insanity I've heard, that's a new one, I think."

Cura understood what he meant. It wasn't the first thing she'd expected to come across herself, but she had, and now it was en route to the college as they spoke. The Arch-Mage himself saw to that, ordering mages to transport it discreetly into the college.

It surely couldn't be so easy to do without attracting the attention of the already superstitious locals. The method of carriage must be quite unorthodox.

"I honestly had no idea such a thing existed under Saarthal." Cura admitted. "I've never read any texts with reference to such a thing."

"Hmm..." Urag walked over to a bookcase and began to sift through many titles lined up in rows on the wall before huffing and closing shut the door on it. "Well you don't even need to ask. No, I don't have anything for you. Not anymore, anyway."

"You don't have anything that can help?" Cura whined desperately.

The last thing she needed was for them to hit a roadblock. Could that be what leads to the distaster?

"I said not anymore." Urag emphasized on the past tense. "Orthorn stole a number of books when he ran off to Fellglow Keep to join those Summoners. Some kind of peace offering. I think one of those volumes may have had some relevant information. If you want them, you'll have to talk to Orthorn."

Cura was surprised by the lack of concern he held for stolen volumes. Especially considering how adamant he was on ripping her apart if she so much as smudged the text on the introductory page, as he'd threatened her and so many others with before. "Doesn't anyone care that Orthorn stole things from the College?"

"Not enough to bother with it. Arch-Mage Aren's approach to these things is to just let them sort themselves out. Although now it looks like you'll be doing the sorting. Good luck with that." Urag muttered smugly as he began to flip through one of his books at his desk.

Cura needed to know, if she was going to track the poor fool down. "Who is Orthorn?"

"He was an Apprentice here at the College. Not very skilled, but got involved with a group of mages who took a liking to him. When they left, he took off after them. Stole supplies and books from the College, I suppose as a way to ingratiate himself." Urag theorized.

"Do you have any idea why these mages chose to settle at Fellglow Keep, of all places?" Cura asked.

"Let's just call it a difference of opinion with the College. They were interested in research that goes outside the bounds of what the College allows, so they were... persuaded to leave." Urag hinted.

"It was Necromancy, wasn't it? Not simply reanimating skeletons, but... like Malyn Varen." Cura shuddered.

"You could say that." Urag rubbed his chin.

Cura dusted off her sleeve. "Fine, then. I'm going to get Orthorn and the books back."

"You could leave him behind." Urag showed his flagrant indifference about the whole thing. "He's dead to us, anyway."

Cura simply walked out of the Arcanaeum and down the hall, where Ancano busted her on the spot. "Well, well, well. Here we have everybody's favourite little mongrel, racing through the halls on a desperate mission all the while something incredible has been discovered. I wonder what she's doing."

Cura brushed him off. "I don't have time for your stupid games, Ancano. Do I have to report you to Mirabelle?"

"I don't care." Ancano sneered. "That little witch can't do anything to myself without the Arch-Mage's authorization. Do you think your petty threats can even shake me? Now, I have simple questions for you. You were in Saarthal, yes? It has come to my attention that something was found there."

Cura responded to his smugness in kind. "Maybe..."

"I know full well that you have. Please do not insult my intelligence." Ancano rolled his eyes and shook his head at her feeble attempt to deny involvement. "Tolfdir is still there now, is he? I shall expect a full report when he returns."

"What, is he your secretary?" Cura snickered lightly.

Why would Tolfdir have to answer to him?

"Something was discovered in Saarthal that was significant enough that Tolfdir sent the Dragonborn herself, to deliver word. That sounds precisely like the sort of thing that should matter to everyone. Especially me. Thank you for your help. You may go now." Ancano took down notes as he continued to look down on her from his lofty tower.

Cura wormed her way around him and continued walking, leaving the Altmer there.

As she reached the outside, Cura was confronted face-to-face bt J'zargo, who raised a finger to garner her attention. "Er... excuse me. Does this one have a moment?"

"Make it fast, J'zargo." Cura huffed with irritation. She was in a hurry, and everyone was trying to get in her way, it would seem.

"It is not easy for J'zargo to say, but he is sorry for the rudeness he has treated you with for the last five months." J'zargo awkwardly shifted in his stance. "J'zargo knows now that the Dragonborn is not the prissy, selfish, boastful superiority-complexed person he thought she was. When that Draugr Lord tried to finish the careless J'zargo, you intervened in his most desperate moment, and because of that, Khajiit now has only eight lives, rather than none. I thank you."

"Well... you're welcome." Cura didn't know quite how to accept this thanks. "I would have done it for anyone in the group."

"J'zargo knows this, and this is why J'zargo realizes that you are a good person." J'zargo admitted. "...And, if the Breton would permit it, J'zargo would be happy to lend a hand in her task!"

Cura shrugged. She was fine with it. "Okay, sure. I'm all right with this. Have you ever been sent on a retrieval errand before?"

"J'zargo cannot say that he has, to be honest." the gray Khajiit scratched his chin as he tried to recall instances of such, but was coming up blank.

"Well, congratulations. This is your first." Cura expressed enthusiastically. "Luckily, I've already been to Fellglow Keep once, before?"

"Oh, when?" came Inigo's voice from around the corner, startling the both of them.

"Inigo!" Cura held a hand to her bosom to still her speeding heart. "...Er, when I was with the Companions. One of the many errands I ran during my time there involved slaying Bandits there. It's not far from Whiterun. Apparently a thief and some necromancers are holed up there."

"Sounds like it'd be a better idea to bring some backup." Brelyna Maryon expressed as she came closer to the group with Serana, Onmund, and Lucien.

"What is this, another field trip?" Onmund posed the question. "Hey, if you're going, we should go as a group!" he then added in shyly. "If you don't mind, of course."

Cura shook her head. "Not at all! More hands make for lighter lifting. Let's go!"

"Fellglow Keep..." Lucien tried to think of it. "I hope it's not like Ilinalta's Deep."

"If it is, then we have this in the bag!" Inigo playfully nudged him in his ribs.

Cura gathered the group close and had them join hands together with her and they all Fast Travelled through the aether together, Being Mages, they were quite accustomed to the mode of transportation, even if it made most of them a little nauseous.

The exterior of Fellglow Keep was a ruined fort of kinds with fallen palisades and tons of rubble lain across the plains. There were two mages in black robes and a roaming flame atronach guarding the exterior of the keep. One of the mages was standing lookout on the damaged tower on the right, but thankfully was unable to notice the group due to a large, collapsed pillar blocking them from his view.

The other was standing by a campfire near the main entrance, warming his hands, unsuspecting of the danger around the corner.

The flame atronach was near a side entrance to Fellglow Keep's Dungeons, which was certainly the best way in for the task at hand, as Inigo pointed out. Cura agreed. She gestured towards the mage who was out in the open by the Campfire, telling Inigo to plug an arrow through his head, and she instructed Brelyna to summon a frost atronach to hold the flame atronach at bay. She then told Serana to sneak over to the broken watchtower and cast a Paralysis rune to ensnare the necromancer.

She told Onmund to raise a rock wall to guard them from stray fireballs from the atronach, who would be coming over to see what's going on. Lucien would act as support, using a Ward to guard Inigo as he would fire his arrows at the paralyzed necromancer. J'zargo would blow open the door to the dungeon.

"And what will you do, Cura?" Serana asked her friend.

"Run right through the center." Cura held up her shield and mace, pointing them towards her target. With this combined effort, it will be much easier. "Ready? Go." She said it lowly so as not to garner unfortunate attention.

The plan initiated once Inigo stood upright above the rubble and loosed an ebony arrow, which spiralled through the air and buried itself in the skull of the campfire mage.

"Nice shot!" J'zargo had to exclaim.

As predicted, the flame atronach was alerted and began to trail over towards the fallen mage, leaving a small flaming path behind it. Brelyna conjured up a frost atronach and sent it forwards and Onmund raised the earth itself into a large wall, guarding the group from the atronach's fireball.

The second mage exclaimed "Huh?" as he looked around sheepishly and withdrew an ebony dagger. He stepped down from the ruins and was immediately hit from the ground with a green burst of magickal energy, and suddenly could not move his body.

Inigo stepped out from behind the rock wall and aimed an arrow at the paralyzed necromancer, and Lucien held up a ward behind him, catching another fireball.

The flame atronach was fighting Brelyna, Onmund, and the frost atronach.

J'zargo followed Cura towards the dungeon door and the Breton stood back to allow him to work his magic.

The Khajiit cast Elemental Bolt very quickly and blew the door off its hinges, and Cura quickly ran inside.

Her allies made short work of the necromancer, dispelling the atronach, and then pursued their friend.

The dungeons were just as Cura recalled; collapsing, dingy, and rotten. Only now, after some walking through she and her allies could smell the unmistakable odor of Vampires. The mages were holding them in cages for some reason.

"I kind of don't want to know what they're doing down here." Serana expressed concern.

"Necromancy. That much is obvious." Lucien responded. "Maybe they're trying to learn what makes the undead tick."

The fiends stared at the group of passersby with glowing red eyes and one of them, an Imperial vampiress, extended a hand to Serana. "Help us... please..."

Serana shook her head. "Oh, no. I'm not falling for that. The second I open your cage you're going to try and eat them."

Cura walked up to the cage. "Were you always a vampire, or did these necromancers do something to you?" she asked simply.

Lucien furrowed his brow. "I don't trust them. Isran would say to put a bolt in them, and I think that's a better idea."

Brelyna agreed. "Yeah, they're not like Serana. They look... feral."

"I don't converse with my prey." the vampiress snobbishly responded to Cura.

That said it all.

Cura quickly cast Vampre's Bane at the fiend, incinerating her within her cage.

The other vampires began to back away and hiss reflexively, prompting Onmund and J'zargo to quell the nearest ones with Unbound Fire, and Serana used Incinerate on the one in the cage behind her.

Cura shook her head. The Dawnguards' work was never done. Nor was the Vigil's.

The group headed further into a partially-flooded room, when they were assailed by necromancers. They quickly dispatched the dark wizards and their skeletons and moved on through an experiment area where tons of corpses were strewn upon tables in puddles of their own blood; some with entrails hanging out. Black Soul Gems were filled, as well.

Cura took a moment of pause to pray for those lost souls before moving onwards, her thoughts only concerned with averting that Psijic's prophecy.

Heading further into the dungeons, Cura and her friends came upon another cell block, with three cells three matching levers in the middle of the room that would correspond to them.

Immediately, a Novice High Elf Mage stood up from his lying position and approached the cell door and reached out to the College mages. "You... are you with the College of Winterhold?" he asked in a hurried panic. "Please, please let me out of here! You have to let me out. They're going to do something awful to me!"

Cura approached his cell. "So, you're Orthorn?"

"Yes, yes! Did Arch-Mage Aren send you? He sent you to rescue me, didn't he?" Orthorn hoped with his best.

"Not exactly. I'm here to recover your stolen books. But I won't leave you here to rot." Cura informed him.

J'zargo hissed at Orthorn. "Your thieving skills are pathetic."

Brelyna shook her head disapprovingly. "We should leave him here to rot. After all, he betrayed the College to work with these people."

Onmund pondered on it. "Maybe we should bring him and the books back to the College. Let the Arch-Mage have a few words with him."

Lucien shrugged. "Killing him is a bit harsh, don't you think? I mean, who hasn't taken a book out of the library for longer than its due date?"

Inigo laughed. "Maybe someone who is illiterate, because they couldn't read the due date to begin with!"

The two began to chuckle amongst themselves.

"If the person in question is illiterate, they probably wouldn't take out a book to begin with." Brelyna cut the joke short, to their displeasure. Lucien stuck out his tongue at her in response, declaring her a square.

Orthorn seemed baffled for the moment. "What? The bo... Oh. Oh dear. I shouldn't have taken them, I know! It was stupid. I was stupid. It won't happen again. Help me get out of here, and I'll help you find them. Please!"

"Why are you in this cage? Weren't you working with them?" Cura asked diligently.

"They threw me in here until they were ready to use me in one of their experiments. This wasn't supposed to happen. I thought they wanted my help, not to use me as a test subject!" Orthorn's distress was written across his face. Looking at Cura's Amulet, he sighed. "Thank Stendarr for his mercy... you can help me! Came along just in time, too!"

"Is there a key for this cage?" Cura asked.

"No, it's the levers in the center there. Just make sure you don't pull the wrong one. Please, hurry. I don't like being in here!" Orthorn extended his wiry arm between the bars to point at the lever.

"Okay, fine. It's settled. You're coming with us back to the college." Cura gestured towards the center lever, which Serana was standing near, and the vampiress pulled it down, causing the cell door to open.

As soon as Orthorn stepped out he wrapped his arms around Cura, pulling her into an embrace of gratitude. "Oh, you've saved me! Thank you so much. Who knows what they'd have done to me if you hadn't come along. I promise I'll help you get out of here. And then I'll go back to the College and I'll beg them to let me back in."

"Yeah, good luck with that. I'm sure Mirabelle will be thrilled to bits to see you again!" Onmund snarked.

"Well, she's always been a mean one." Orthorn brushed it off. "I don't expect her to be happy to see me again."

"So, the books. Where will we find them?" Serana demanded, cutting to the chase. It was clear that she had a soft spot for books, herself.

"Yes, of course. I said I'd tell you, didn't I? The Caller will have them. She was most interested in one of the volumes. Although not interested enough to keep me from being locked up." Orthorn explained bitterly. He pointed to the door to the north, which hid a staircase leading upwards. "We need to go upstairs, that's where she is! That's where the books are!"

"'The Caller', huh?" Lucien mused. "Not quite a scary name for a master necromancess."

"It's no 'Sacred Anatomancer' or anything like that, for sure." Cura mused. "But we shouldn't underestimate her based on her handle. She could be a formidable mage."

Orthorn led the way through the upper chambers and through the library, where the group found themselves at war with even more necromancers. It was a long and bloody duel, but they emerged victorious in the end.

Cura healed the burns and frostbitten wounds of her allies and they pushed forward.

"Why did I ever come here?" Orthorn moaned, realizing just how big a fool he'd been. He walked through the end of the library, around the twisted shelves. "We're getting close, now. The Ritual Chamber is just ahead."

Cura elected to enter first, and Orthorn entered immediately behind her. As soon as they set foot in the Ritual Chamber, a magical ward took residence over the door behind them, blocking them off from their other allies. She was unimpressed. Of course this would happen now. Why wouldn't it?

A High Elven sorceress in dark blue hooded robes stood at the center of a round room with three pedestals in it; two in enclaves in the wall, and one on a star-shaped platform at the center. There were two doors; the entrance and the exit, and both were closed by barriers.

"So, you're the one who barged into my home and laid waste to my projects. How nice to meet you." the Elven woman spat with venom.

"Who are you?" no sooner did Cura ask than Orthorn squealed 'That's her!'

"Names no longer matter. You may refer to me as The Caller." the Altmer sorceress placed a proud hand over her collarbone. "Now, do you have a reason for making such a mess?" her scorn was tangible; Cura could feel her hatred emanating forward, though the High Elf tried to remain polite.

Cura was wondering if Ancano had anything to do with this event, but she determined that perhaps that was a bit too paranoid. She didn't want to begin to sound like Delphine, now would she?

Cura explained it simply. "I'm here for the books from the College."

"So you're just one of Aren's lackeys? That's disappointing. You show real promise." the Caller attempted a scornful compliment. "You come here, kill my assistants, disrupt my work... You've annoyed me, so I don't think I'll be giving you anything."

Cura tried to be diplomatic, though she could feel the anger boling. "'Work.'" she snorted with disgust. "Why is it that 'work' for necromancers almost always consists of mass murder and gore?" She shook her hatred of the arts off for a moment and returned to politeness. "May I please have the books?"

"Oh, now we're all please and thank you, are we? I'm afraid we're well beyond pleasantries." the Caller shut it down fast. "I'll allow you the opportunity to turn around, walk out that door, and never come back, Vigilant. I suggest you move quickly."

Cura took a step forward. "Those books are important to the college, and to thwarting disaster. I can't leave here without them. Let me leave with the books, and there won't be any more trouble."

The Caller seemed to ponder it for a moment, and then relented. "Fine. Take them and be gone. Never return here, or else you'll face my full wrath." she waved a hand to the side dismissively. Cura approached, and then came the caveat. "...I just require one thing from you."

"What?" Cura asked.

"Give me the Elf." the Caller pointed at Orthorn, who was trying to open the door behind him, but was prevented by the barrier.

Orthorn paused for a moment and stared awkwardly at Cura and at the Caller. "I, uhh... wait, what?"

The Caller raised her voice. "This little adventure of yours has cost me a number of test subjects. I need more, and you'll do nicely."

"But why?" Orthorn shivered as his back literally hit a wall.

The Caller pointed at Cura. "She gets the books, I get you. It's very simple."

Orthorn approached Cura and pleaded with her. "You wouldn't do that, would you? You wouldn't leave me here with her!"

Cura looked at the books on the pedestal and then at Orthorn. He got himself into this mess, allowing himself to be swayed by dark magic. Stendarr's mercy dictates he should be punished for this sinful act.

But Cura was not the right person to carry out this sentence. She's dipped her own toes into the pool of darkness, herself, by Vigil standards.

Okay, she would have to look at this not as a Vigilant of Stendarr, but as an individual.

Could Cura, in good conscience, sell the soul of this foolish Elf for a few books.

Books that could thwart disaster, potentially. The three books were titled: "Fragment: On Artaeum, The Last King of the Ayleids, and Night of Tears."

The more she considered it, she could take her chances with the Caller. That was always an option. At this point, Cura could declare that she lived for danger.

The Caller crossed her arms and began tapping her foot impatiently. "I'm waiting."

Cura was, after all, the Dragonborn. The Caller was a mere psychopathic sorceress.

Perhaps it would be difficult, but her honour would not be scathed.

The Breton pondered for a second more and then gave her verdict, stepping forward and withdrawing her mace and shield, allowing the two to hang in her hands, readying themselves to crush bone. "Wrath it is, then."

The Caller was taken aback by this, but quickly regained her dark demeanour. "Very well. I'll kill the both of you!" Taking a step back, she cast the three books onto the three platforms, and their residual magic hovered in the air.

The books created those barriers?

The Caller immediately teleported to the other side of the room and summoned two storm atronachs and cast an Ice Storm at Cura and Orthorn.

Spellbreaker drank the Ice Storm with its ward, and Cura retorted with a quick lightning bolt, which the Caller dodged with a skillful teleportation. Cura quickly blocked a punch from the first Storm Atronach and skidded backwards a few paces.

Orthorn hurled a Firebolt at the wall behind her, hitting the Caller as she materialized behind the Breton with the intent of plunging a Bound Sword into her back. On impact, the High Elf stumbled backwards and Cura quickly cast Welling Blood upon her, causing the Elven woman to cry out as the blood within her boiled and wrenched her organs from within.

Orthorn summoned a Flame atronach and sicked it upon one of the Storm Atronachs and fought the second one himself to keep it away from Cura.

Lightning fell from the ceiling and struck Cura from above, breaking her hold on the Welling Blood and allowing the witch to regain her composure. With her newfound maneuverability and her growing hatred, the Caller roared unintelligably as she cast Soul Trap onto Cura, coating her in a bluish-violet hue.

Cura could feel hooks gripping her spirit itself.

"No. Way." the Breton responded by activating her Dragonskin and absorbing the next few bolts of internal lightning and the energy from the Caller's Bound Sword.

"Ugh! Accursed mongrel!" the Caller shouted angrily as Cura dodged the next swing, which left her wide open.

Cura quickly cast a Paralysis Rune on the ground and grabbed the Caller by the back of her head. She then pushed her down to the floor, hitting her face into the Rune, causing a burst of green energy to consume her.

The Altmer was lightly twitching, but unable to move.

Cura then raised her mace backwards and brought it down with great force, splitting her skull and ending the Caller's life.

Orthorn's ward defended him from another lightning bolt, but shattered upon impact. Thankfully, following their summoner's demise, they faded back into Oblivion.

Cura exhaled as she stood over the corpse of her enemy. Thankfully the Soul Trap relented, releasing her soul from its grip.

"Well, everything worked out nicely, didn't it?" Orthorn clasped his hands together nonchalantly, casually ignoring the puddle of blood underneath the Caller. "I suppose the Caller's conversation has ended."

Cura walked over to the pedestals and carefully removed the books. Her adrenaline wore off, and now she was beginning to feel fatigued. Upon removing the last book, the barriers over the doors subsided. "Well... I've gotten what I came for."

"Yes, you certainly do. You'll be going back to the College, then?" Orthorn asked as her allies entered the room.

"My friend, I heard a conundrum brewing in here! I can see by the blood everywhere that we must have missed a fun game of Hide-and-go-die." Inigo remarked, noting the singed floors and the Caller's corpse.

"My word!" Lucien exclaimed. "Thank the Divines you're Dragonborn. By the looks of it, if you were literally anyone else, that could have gone far differently."

Brelyna nodded. "It would appear that this mage was a Summoner by trade. I guess she had intentions of communing deeper with Oblivion."

"J'zargo is not impressed." the Khajiit crossed his arms. "He just wishes to return to the College and continue his studies now."

Onmund nodded with agreement. "Well, when we get back I'm going to look at the Orb close up."

"I, uhh... I think perhaps I'll wait a bit before venturing there myself. Let this whole thing blow over, you know. Give certain parties a chance to forget what I may have done." Orthorn began to walk away while the group was preoccupied with their surroundings. "Still, you've gotten me out of that cage, and I won't forget it. Thank you again, and good luck to you."

Serana pointed at the Elf. "Hey, you aren't going anywhere! You're going to make a formal apology to Urag."

Orthorn looked at the group and then at the door. Quickly, he surmised that he would not be able to escape them. With a sigh after the realization of his hopeless situation, he relented. "Okay, fine. Take me to the Arcanaeum."

"Do the right thing." Cura said simply as the group led him outside and performed a collective Fast Travel to the College.

It seemed they were gone for a couple of hours, and many students were at their lunch break. One ran by the group with his friend and exclaimed, "Did you see the mysterious orb? I've got to see it for myself!"

Aranea Ienith was leaning against one of the columns in the courtyard and approached Cura upon seeing her. "Ah, Cura. Just the Breton I wanted to see. Did you... did you know about the odd artifact that was uncovered in Saarthal?"

Cura nodded. "Yes, I helped discover it. Why?" she attempted to walk past the Dunmer to reach the inner College, when Aranea grabbed her right arm to stop her.

"I... I heard her voice." Aranea swallowed. "Azura has spoken to me once more."

Cura turned her attention to her as her friends continued bringing Orthorn back into the College. "Really? What did she say?"

"She has foretold a Prophecy to you. She beseeches you to remember it." Aranea loosened her grip. "That... is all."

"I... see." Cura mused as she tried to recall the kinder Daedra's words. "Thank you, Aranea."

The Dunmer simply nodded in response as Cura headed past her and reentered the Hall of Elements.

She could see it, hovering there, past the classroom gate. A crowd stood before the luminous globular artifact with abject awe and excitement, and some with fear and trepidation. The musings of the college were filled with the whispers of uncertainty and grandeur. Professors Phinis, Drevis, Tolfdir, and Faralda stood among the crowd, visible amongst the foreign faces, speaking to the students and instructing that they not touch or play around such a thing. Phinis said in particular to avoid hurling magic at it.

"Beware, Dragonborn, for there are artifacts more powerful in this world than even that of my Star. One such artifact you shall come across. Heed my words, and heed them well: when the eye is misplaced and when the Elf's own eye takes its place, do not combat it without its purifying Staff."

Cura felt shivers ride her spine like traffic over Dragon Bridge. That was it. It had to be. Azura warned her of this. The artifact more powerful than Azura's Star.

She felt Dawnbreaker again pulsating on her hip and decided to hurry up the stairs, obscured in the shadows of the stairway as she headed through to the Arcanaeum.

Orthorn was already standing there with his head down as Serana oversaw his apology, and the others were sitting around the library.

"It would help if you brought the books back with you. They're far more valuable than you'll ever be." Urag snarled.

"Cura should be here any second with them." Serana informed the agitated Orc, just as her friend entered, sure as day.

"I do. Here they are!" Cura held them up and hurried past the longtable and rushed up to Urag's desk, laying them down.

"Well, well. And you seem to be in one piece! Thank you. I'll look these over, and inform Mirabelle if I find anything relevant." Urag seemed elated as he accepted the books back.

Orthorn mouthed a 'thank you' to Cura, as he knew full well what ghastly fate would have awaited him if they hadn't been brought back on time.

Urag marveled one in particular, singling it out from the three. "Night of Tears, eh? I remember this one. Well, isn't that interesting. Did you read it yourself? If I recall it correctly, that has some interesting implications. You should mention that to Tolfdir. And... here. I suppose you've earned these." He handed Cura a coin purse containing 500 gold and a copy of the Mysteries of Talara, volume 3.

"I haven't read it. May I?" Cura asked.

"Are your hands clean?" Urag insisted they be before touching the books.

Cura held up her bloodstained gauntlets. "Well... the blood is drying, so..."

"Swine." Urag sneered,baring his sharp fangs.

Serana instead took the book. "Here, allow me." She walked over to the pair of chairs next to one of the smaller tables and Cura sat down directly in front of her. "Okay, I hope you have a Sweetroll or something."

Cura shook her head. "I don't need one. Words are food enough to keep me satiated."

Serana smiled with amusement upon hearing this, and she cracked open the book, reading the excerpt on the dreadful night. One name in Dranor Seleth's writings struck the both of them, however.

"Vingalmo's Treatise on the Altmer Antecedent suggests that the elves of the Merethic Era, along with their counterparts the early Dwemer, possessed a degree of sophistication unparalleled in Tamriel."

"Wow... that can't be the Vingalmo I'm thinking of. That's just too... uncanny." Serana raised her eyebrow.

The pair sat there in silence for the moment.

"Do you think he might have known something about the Night of Tears?" Cura wondered.

"I don't know. He's never mentioned it before, and my Father certainly wouldn't allow such a snake into his court." Serana sat in disbelief.

"And yet he allowed snakes into his court." Cura said flatly as she stood up. "I wonder what those other two books say..."

She invited Serana to come along so they could pour over the literature together.

Orthorn was instructed to head to Mirabelle's office for a proper reprimanding. They knew it wouldn't go smoothly.

Serana cracked open "The Last King of the Ayleids".

"The Last King of the Ayleids

by Herminia Cinna

Chronicles the downfall of the Ayleid Empire in the First Era

The Ayleids, or Heartland High Elves, ruled Cyrodiil in the long ages of Myth before the beginning of recorded history. One of the earliest recorded dates, in fact, is the Fall of White Gold Tower in 1E 243, which is commonly assumed to mark the end of the Ayleids.

Although Ayleid rule over all of Cyrodiil was indeed broken in 1E 243, this was only one of the most obvious stages near the end of a long decline. The first two centuries of the First Era saw increasing strife between the great Ayleid lords of Cyrodiil. Alessia appears to have taken advantage of a period of civil war to launch her uprising. Imperial historians have traditionally attributed her victory to intervention from Skyrim, but it appears that she had at least as much help from rebel Ayleid lords during the siege of White Gold Tower.

The popular image of the Ayleids as brutal slavemasters is based in fact, of course, but it is less well-known that a number of Ayleid princes continued to rule parts of Cyrodiil after 263, as vassals of the new Empress of Cyrodiil. This suggests either that Ayleid rule was not universally detested, or that Alessia and her successors were more pragmatic than is traditionally believed, or perhaps some of both.

In any event, excavations at a number of Ayleid sites show continued occupation and even expansion during the so-called Late Ayleid Period (1E 243 - c. 498). At first, many Ayleid lords continued to rule as vassals of the new human regime. In some cases, Ayleid supporters of Alessia were even rewarded with new lands taken from slain enemies. It is not clear to what extent human slavery continued under the Cyrodilic Empire. Humans continued to dwell in the Ayleid-ruled areas of Cyrodiil, but there is nothing definitive to show under what terms.

This was an uneasy relationship from the beginning, and was not destined to last long. Resentment at the continued presence of Ayleid nobles within the Empire was a contributing factor to the rise of the so-called Alessian Order founded by Maruhk. The first victims of the Alessians were the Ayleids of Cyrodiil. In the early 300s, the surviving Ayleid communities in human-ruled areas were obliterated one by one, the refugees temporarily swelling the power of the remaining Ayleid lordships.

Then in 361, the Alessians gained control of the Empire and enforced the Alessian Doctrines throughout its domain. The Ayleid lordships were abolished. Enforcement of this decree does not appear to have required much direct violence - it seems that by this point the balance of power was so overwhelmingly against them, and their fate so long foreshadowed, that most of the remaining Ayleids simply left Cyrodiil, eventually being absorbed into the Elven populations of Valenwood and High Rock. Indeed, the rise of the Direnni Hegemony may be linked to this exodus of Ayleids from Cyrodiil (a connection so far little studied by historians).

Still, a remnant Ayleid population seems to have survived the rule of the Alessians, because we hear of "the last king of the Ayleids" joining the battle of Glenumbria Moors where the Dirennis decisively defeated the Alessians in 482. How this king's people survived the preceding century is unknown. We do not even know who they were, although recent research points to Nenalata as the possible resting place of this "last king." Unfortunately, in the current state of the Empire, funds are no longer available for proper scientific investigation of such extensive ruins, so the answer to these questions will have to be left to future generations.

"

Cura shook her head sadly. "So much unnecessary bloodshed. It sounds to me like the Alessian Order were just as bad as the Ayleids."

"Things aren't that black and white, Cura. You know that." Serana reminded Cura of the lesson she had learnt over and over again since the start of her quest.

The Breton agreed as she discreetly slid the third and final book to her friend when Urag wasn't looking. Serana opened "Fragment: On Artaeum" and began to read it.

"Fragment: On Artaeum

by Taurce il-Anselma

A work explaining some of the history of the Psijic island of Artaeum

The Isle of Artaeum (ar-TAY-um) is the third largest island in the Summurset archipelago, located south of the Moridunon village of Potansa and west of the mainland village of Runcibae. It is best known for being home to the Psijic Order, perhaps the oldest monastic group in Tamriel.

The earliest written record of Psijics is from the 20th year of the First Era and tells the tale of the renowned Breton sage and author Voernet, traveling to the Isle of Artaeum to meet with Iachesis, the Ritemaster of the Psijics. Even then, the Psijics were the counsellors of kings and proponents of the "Elder Way," taught to them by the original race that inhabited Tamriel. The Elder Way is a philosophy of meditation and study said to bind the forces of nature to the individual will. It differs from magicka in origin, but the effects are much the same.

That said, it is perhaps more than coincidence that the Isle of Artaeum literally vanished from the shores of Summurset at the beginning of the Second Era at about the time of the founding of the Mages Guild in Tamriel. Various historians and scholars have published theories about this, but perhaps none but Iachesis and his own could shed light on the matter.

Five hundred years passed and Artaeum returned. The Psijics on the Isle consisted of persons, mostly Elves, who had disappeared and were presumed dead in the Second Era. They could not or would not offer any explanation for Artaeum's whereabouts during that time, or the fate of Iachesis and the original council of Artaeum.

Currently, the Psijics are led by the Loremaster Celarus, who has presided over the Council of Artaeum for the last two hundred and fifty years. The Council's influence in Tamrielan politics is tidal. The kings of Sumurset, particularly those of Moridunon, have often sought the Psijics' opinion. Emperor Uriel V was much influenced by the Council in the early, most glorious parts of his reign, before his disastrous attack on Akavir. It has even been suggested that the fleet of King Orghum of Pyandonea was destroyed by a joint effort of Emperor Antiochus and the Psijic Order. The last four emperors, Uriel VI, Morihatha, Pelagius IV, and Uriel VII, have been suspicious of the Psijics enough to refuse ambassadors from the Isle of Artaeum within the Imperial City.

The Isle of Artaeum is difficult to chart geographically. It is said that it shifts continuously either at random or by decree of the Council. Visitors to the island are so rare as to be almost unheard of. Anyone desirous of a meeting with a Psijic may find contacts in Potansa and Runcibae as well as many of the kingdoms of Summurset.

Were it more accessible, Artaeum would be a favored destination for travelers. I have been to the Isle once and still dream of its idyllic orchards and clear pastures, its still and silent lagoons, its misty woodlands, and the unique Psijic architecture that seems to be as natural as its surroundings as well as wondrous in its own right. The Ceporah Tower in particular I would study, for it is a relic from a civilization that predates the High Elves by several hundred years and is still used in certain rites by the Psijics. Perhaps one day I might return.

Note: The author is currently on the Isle of Artaeum by gracious consent of Master Sargenius of the Council of Artaeum."

"Quite an interesting read, isn't it?" Lucien walked around the corner to meet with his friends. "I do love how they misspelled 'Summerset' twice in that one. It always tickles me. You'd think, with all the centuries that have passed since it was first written, that they would have fixed it, but no. They remain faithful to that meandering text like it were the right hill to die on. It does make it a tad difficult to take it seriously, though, I must say."

Cura laughed. "Yeah, I caught that too. Maybe they had a different way of spelling it back in the past and only misspelled it once?"

"Are we really going to focus on that?" Serana was unamused by the discussion. "Look, I love books as much as the next girl, but I think you need to talk to Tolfdir, Cura."

Cura nodded. "You're right. I was so enthralled by the pull of History that I forgot my task. Thank you for the reminder." She stood up from her chair and quickly hurried out the door of the Arcanaeum, leaving her friends to resume their studies and casual readings.

"I swear, that one has a fire on her pants." J'zargo remarked as he continued reading near the door.

Cura headed into the Hall of Elements and noticed Tolfdir standing before the orb, and approached him, asking him to follow her to a private place to talk.

"Yes, my dear? What is it?" the gentle old Nord asked as the two hid behind a column, away from the ogling audience.

Without hesitation, Cura began. "Urag suggested I come see you. It concerns..." she gestured with a head tilt towards the strange orb.

"Did he now? Does he have information about our wonderful discovery?" Tolfdir's eyes lit up with wonder.

"I found a certain book, "Night of Tears"..." Cura explained. "I knew of the event already, but he feels the book will be relevant to you."

"Is that the one about something buried beneath Saarthal? Something that men and mer fought over? I'll have to make a point of re-reading it. I don't recall the details." Tolfdir explained as he slowly returned his attention to the luminous teal siren at the center of everybody's attention. Cura followed him out into the crowd and he simply marveled at the Arcane object. "I just can't seem to tear myself away. Whatever this is, its beauty is like nothing I've ever seen before. If you allow me to indulge myself for a moment, I thought I might make a few observations..."

Faralda crossed her arms. "Really, Tolfdir? You see fit to butt in front of the rest of us?"

Colette Marence entered the Hall of Elements, and looked reviled by the object. "Really? That's the big discovery? I don't like it."

Drevis scoffed at her. "Well, nobody asked you."

"Hmph." Colette sneered as she headed upstairs in a huff. Then she came back down to add one more thing: "That thing looks dangerous. Just letting you all know before you blow the College to Aetherius." then she resumed heading up the stairs when Drevis waved a dismissive hand her way.

Cura had to agree with Colette with that one. It did certainly appear dangerous, and Dawnbreaker kept reminding her of that fact by shocking her waist every now and then from being overcharged, it would seem. Were they connected in some way?

"I'm sure you've already noticed the markings. They're quite unlike anything we've seen before. Ayleid, Dwemer, Daedric... Not even Falmer." Tolfdir mused as he walked circles around the globe. "None of them are a match. Quite curious indeed. Now, I'm not quite sure that you're quite as attuned as I am, given my extensive years of experience, but can you feel that? This marvelous object. It practically radiates magicka, and yet it's unlike anything I've felt before. Arch-Mage Aren is already hard at work, and hopefully we'll have more information soon. Now, I..."

Ancano pushed open the gate, grabbing everyone's attention as the resounding thud! of the doors resonated through the echo chamber of a classroom. The elf was unimpressed and quite very annoyed. "Is Cura here? Where is she? Where is that little Breton whelp?"

Cura pushed past some of the other students and stepped forward.

"Ancano, what do you want? We're busy here!" Faralda admonished the Thalmor agent for his rude interruption while the rest of the student body stared at him with glares of both contempt and fear.

Ancano took in a deep breath as he held onto the doorway for support, attempting to keep his mood in check. "I'm afraid I must intrude. It is urgent that I speak with your associate immediately."

Tolfdir was near to bursting. He had long been calm and patient, but this unorthodox interruption had gotten under his skin. "Now, I... This is most inappropriate! We are involved in serious research here!"

Ancano attempted to appear reasonable and leaned on his diplomacy. "Yes, I've no doubt of its gravity. This, however, is a matter that cannot wait."

Tolfdir was embittered, and looked to the soured expressions surrounding him. Everybody wanted Ancano to leave. "Well, I'm quite sure I've never been interrupted like this before... the audacity!... I suppose we'll continue this at some later time, when we can avoid interruptions." He walked out in a huff, heading through the crowd and pushing open the outside door and storming from the premises.

"I need you to come with me immediately. Let's go." Ancano looked at the angry face on Cura and motioned smugly towards the stairwell, encouraging the reluctant Dragonborn to follow him.

Cura decided to feign ignorance. "I don't understand what's going on." She knew very well that this had everything to do with Saarthal. Or, who knows, maybe he discovered the truth behind herself and Elenwen. Any excuse to kill this elf was a good excuse, as she saw it.

It didn't take long for his viper tongue to come out. "Really? Well, allow me to clarify the situation. I'd like to know why there's someone claiming to be from the Psijic Order here in the College. More importantly, I'd like to know why he's asking for you specifically. So we're going to go have a little chat with him, and find out exactly what it is he wants."

The Psijic Order?! Here? At the College?

What on Nirn was going on, and more importantly, why didn't this one warp time and space to talk with her again, and instead showed up out of the blue like this?

Cura had to speak. She could no longer hold her peace. "Why are you so concerned about this?"

"I'll be the one asking the questions." Ancano deflected immediately. "All you need to know is that the Psijic Order is a rogue organization, believing themselves to be above the law. They have clashed with the Aldmeri Dominion before, and I have no intention of allowing that to happen here."

They clashed with the Thalmor?

How interesting! Cura could feel a gleeful chortle crawling up her throat, but she quickly suppressed it. Instead, she would dig into him a little. For sport. "Aren't you just an advisor here?"

"Technically, that is true. But I still report to the Aldmeri Dominion, and I cannot ignore this situation. Don't worry, you can return to your petty squabbles and meaningless 'research' as soon as this matter is resolved." Ancano laid his hand upon the Arch-Mage's door. "Now, you are going to speak to this... Monk... and find out why he is here, and then he will be removed from College grounds."

"Oh, so I'm your little pigeon now, am I?" Cura chuckled. "You couldn't pay me enough. "

"Don't say something you'll regret." Ancano threatened her with a darkened glare.

Cura sighed. It wasn't worth it to fight outside the Arch-Mage's quarters. "What do you want me to say to this monk?

"Find out why he's here, and what he wants." the asshole squawked as he pushed open the door to the Arch-Mage's quarters. Cura stared at him for a moment as he held the door open and waved a hand, ushering her inside impatiently.

No sooner did Cura see the Psijic Monk standing before the Alchemy garden in the room than she noticed the strange sensation and blue hue settling into the world as time began to slow around herself and the Psijic. Perhaps this was the 'Elder Way' they were said to study?

Cura granted the monk a polite bow in greeting, and he responded in kind, speaking directly to her. "Please do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm."

The Breton smiled in response. "I know. Please, go on."

"I've given us a chance to speak privately, but I'm afraid I can't do this for long. We must be brief. The situation here at your College is of dire importance, and attempts to contact you as we have previously have failed. I believe it is due to the very source of our concern." the Psijic explained regretfully.

"That weird orb downstairs, right?" Cura interjected.

The Psijic nodded. "This object…. The Eye of Magnus as your people have taken to calling it. The energy coming from it has prevented us from reaching you with the visions you have already seen. The longer it remains here, the more dangerous the situation becomes. And so I have come here personally to tell you it must be dealt with."

Cura understood. "Yes, I know. I don't trust it. Not in the slightest. But, I have to ask... why me? What does this have to do with me?"

"You set this chain of events in motion at Saarthal." the monk pointed at her. "You must understand, the Psijic Order does not typically… intervene directly in events. My presence here will be seen as an affront to some within the Order, and as soon as we have finished, I will be leaving your College. I'm all too aware that my arrival has aroused suspicion, especially in Ancano, your Thalmor associate. Nevertheless, my Order will not act directly. You must take it upon yourself to do so."

"Oh, Ancano is no associate of mine, I assure you. He's more of an obnoxious stalker, if anything." Cura laughed lightheartedly.

"Do not take him for a joke." the Psijic warned her.

"Fine. Now, why should I trust you or your Order?" Cura had to ask, not for his justification, but for her own assurance.

"I presume you refer to Ancano's distaste for the Psijic Order? The Thalmor see our Order as a threat because we have power, and we will not allow them to control us. I assure you that we mean you no harm." the Psijic hit the right points, and Cura nodded with understanding. The Thalmor were not fond of things outside of their control. And with their abilities, she had no doubt the Psijics could take over Skyrim if they desired it. Clearly they had no intention to do so.

"So what exactly is the problem with the 'Eye of Magnus'?" Cura asked.

Then it hit her: when the eye is misplaced and when the Elf's own eye takes its place.

The Eye of Magnus.

Ancano's eye?

How could he replace that with his eye, though?

"As you may have learned, this object… The Eye… is immensely powerful. This world is not ready for it. If it remains here, it will be misused. Indeed, many in the Order believe it has already… Rather, something will happen soon, something that cannot be avoided." the Psijic lamented.

If it was set in stone, Cura had to know: "What do you expect from me, then?"

"We believe that your efforts should be directed towards dealing with the aftermath, but we cannot predict what that will be." the monk admitted morosely.

Cura was ready. "I'll help, but I don't know what to do."

"Unfortunately, the future is as obscured to us as it is to you. The overwhelming power of the Eye makes it difficult for us to see." the monk pondered for a moment. "I fear I have already overstepped the bounds of my Order, but I will offer this: seek out the Augur of Dunlain in your College. His perception may be more coherent than ours."

"Who is the Augur of Dunlain?" Cura asked.

The name sounded familiar. Where had she heard it before?

"He was once a student here at the College. Now he is… something different." the monk explained.

"Where can I find this Augur?"

"I… I am unsure. He is somewhere within the College. Surely one of your colleagues must know his location." the monk led her to a dead end. "I am sorry I cannot provide you with further help, but this conversation requires a great deal of effort on my part. Now, I am afraid I must leave you. We will continue to watch over you, and guide you as best we can. It is within you to succeed. Never forget that."

And with that, the world faded back into normalcy, and the Arch-Mage and Ancano both stared at the misplaced Cura, who was previously behind Ancano and was now in front of the monk.

Ancano scratched the side of his head in confusion. "Well? What is the meaning of this?"

The monk feigned ignorance. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand."

Ancano hated that more than anything and made it very apparent. "Don't play coy. You asked to see a specific member of the College. Here she is. Now what is it that you want?"

The monk appeared to almost be entranced. "There's been a misunderstanding. Clearly I should not be here. I shall simply take my leave."

Ancano snarled in response, jabbing a long, bony finger at the monk. "What? What trickery is this? You're not going anywhere until I find out what you're up to!"

The monk looked to Ancano, and then at Cura, and gave her a polite nod before walking out of the room. "I am not 'up to' anything. I apologize if I have offended in any way."

Ancano bit his hand in frustration, allowing him to maintain his cool. "We will see about this..." he spun around to face Cura with a face that only a dragon could love. "I'm not sure what just happened but I assure you I will get to the bottom of it."

"Get to the bottom of what?" Cura played along. It was admittedly a lot of fun to see him so flustered.

"Whatever it is those Psijics are up to. They cannot be trusted. For all we know, he's here to scout out the College. I'm sure they want to undermine our efforts." Ancano brought a fist down onto his other hand.

Cura knew he wasn't refering to the College. He was referring to the Thalmor. "What efforts would they be undermining?"

"This! This... Orb. The Eye of Magnus, whatever you want to call it." the flustered jerk flailed his hand to the side, pointing downstairs. "It's clearly powerful, and no doubt they want it for themselves! I expect to be informed if they make any future attempts to contact you."

"Oh, don't worry. If they contact me again I'll send you a nice little letter with pink hearts decorating it." Cura smirked.

Ancano smacked her across the face and bit his lower lip. "You will address me with respect, worm!" He then turned around and huffed down the hall.

The Arch-Mage, who was silent through the whole altercation cringed as he saw what happened.

Cura rubbed her cheek. "Wow..."

"Please, don't antagonize him." the Arch-Mage requested. "We have enough troubles to deal with at the moment." he sighed, still flabbergasted from the encounter. "I'm... I'm not sure what happened. A monk from the Psijic Order, here, after all these years, and then he just leaves. I hope we didn't offend him somehow."

"I don't think so..." Cura shrugged. "But it was an interesting thing to see here, indeed."

The Arch-Mage stood up from his seat. "Well, now my office is closed. If you'll excuse me, I'll be working on an experiment."

"Of course. Good day to you, sir." Cura bowed politely as she left him.

Savos looked over a document from Colette, concerning large-scaled wards and the level of power they would require to be sustained around the College, and scratched his head.

Cura felt her heart racing. Where had she heard of the Augur of Dunlain before? Where? Who?

It seemed oddly familiar.

"MY WORD!"

Cura collided with Colette Marence as she descended the stairs, accidentally bumping the older Breton against the wall.

"Oh! Colette, are you all right? I'm sorry, I..." as Cura apologized, the professor simply dusted herself off.

"You and stairwells don't seem to mesh very well, do you, dear?" Colette remarked.

Suddenly, she realized.

Colette! It was Colette who mentioned it, once. In this exact stairwell, when she came to after J'zargo had tripped her down the stairs many months ago. During one of her long-winded rants, she said that name: "Why, the Augur of Dunlain himself - himself, I say - told me..." and she hadn't quite caught the rest. But she was sure that was what the eccentric Breton said.

"Well, do be more careful. Skyrim needs its Dragonborn, after all." Colette waved her hands with faux enthusiasm as she turned to walk away, only for Cura to rush to her again.

"WAIT!" Cura cried out, to her surprise.

"Oh!" the older Breton was taken by surprise. "What is it - there isn't a stain on the back of my robes, is there? Or, no - wait. It's not another "Kick me" sign, is it? Ugh. Blasted Drevis."

"No, there's nothing on your back - I just have a question for you, because I think you might know something on the topic...who is the Augur of Dunlain?" Cura fumbled as she asked.

"The Augur? Tragic story, really. At least, the way I heard it. But that was a long time ago. It was some experiment gone horribly wrong. Ghastly results, I was told. And his ghost still roams the halls, they say. Of course, on further reflection, that may have simply been an attempt to scare me. Hmm. Perhaps I'll ask Tolfdir what really happened. I understand he was here at the time." Colette tried to deflect.

"Oh, don't play that game with me. I know you know more than that!" Cura chastised her. "You mentioned it before!"

"Really? I don't recall." the demented Breton tapped her lip with her index finger as she tried to search her memories.

"Colette." Cura's expression dropped. "Please, don't try to hide this. You said you've spoken with him before."

Colette took a moment to survey their surroundings, even peeking around the corner to see if anyone was about. "I suppose they're all still preoccupied with that monstrosity in the Hall of Elements. I don't like it. It's trouble. I can feel it. But they think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy, Cura. I'm not crazy! Not about this!"

Cura nodded. "No, you're right. That orb is why I need to see the Augur."

That registered. Colette exhaled. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'm not supposed to bring students down into the Middens, but if it's that important, then I suppose it's time for you to meet him. I was thinking about introducing you, you know... I just didn't know when the time was right." She led Cura discreetly through the main hall and past the Hall of Elements, where an even larger crowd was gathered, mesmerized by the intrigue.

Cura's friends were among the faces of the crowd. Unfortunately, she knew Colette would not take too kindly to her bringing them along, judging by her secrecy.

Colette muttered under her breath as she looked at the crowd. "Just because I don't fit in here is no reason for others to ridicule me behind my back."

The Hall of Countenance was deserted, save for Enthir, the shifty Bosmer, who came up from the trapdoor underneath the stairs, caught red-handed with a satchel by Cura and Colette.

"Oh! Er... hi." the Wood elf shifted awkwardly. "Cold day outside. It's, uh, warmer down there."

"Stop it, Enthir. We didn't see you, and you didn't see us." Cura stated.

"Sounds good to me." the sneaky Elf returned to his cubicle and closed the door behind him with his goods in tow.

"Creep. Sneaking in the shadows like a skeever. How undignified." Colette muttered without self-awareness as she squatted down before the trapdoor and opened its hatch. "Okay, Cura... are you ready, dear? I'll take you right to him."

Cura nodded. "Of course."

Colette dropped down first and waited for Cura to join her before shutting the small door tight behind them.