Enshrouded in the thick air of concern and oppression, Cura wandered the dark fields and maintained a low profile. Though under the protective ward of Savos Aren and Mirabelle Ervine, she desired to move with caution.
As Cura maneuvered around a broken pillar, she saw a vision of a familiar man in Emperor's Garb: Martin Septim. He stood atop the large pillar, looking down at her and the others as she passed by, and then vanished.
Cura quickly pointed to the top of the pillar. "Did you see him?"
Mirabelle and Sabos looked, but were too late, as the Dragonborn Emperor had vanished almost as quickly as he came.
"See who, Cura?" Savos Aren inquired.
"Martin Septim! I just -" Cura scoffed in aannoyance before realizing the futility of an explanation "oh, never mind. Forget it. Let's keep moving." she roamed ahead and the other two followed her. The state of Cura's mind was up for debate, but she was still sensible.
The walk through the chaotic realm was slow and the heat smoldering. A couple of Clannfear walked to and fro, only to be ended by powerful Ice spells fired by Savos and Mirabelle, clearing the pathway.
Cura wrenched away from a couple of dastardly vines that attempted to spring out of the igneous ground and whip her. She doused them in fire, but it had little effect, predictably. Instead, she rathered keep her distance and ducked under collapsed stone.
"Mehrunes Dagon has been plotting this invasion since his failure at the Oblivion Crisis, I fear." Mirabelle informed. "While we were all occupied with Alduin and the Eye of Magnus and the other problems over the past few years, his followers have infiltrated many high places. They have killed people and assumed their faces."
Cura grunted with frustration. "You have got to be joking. They were there, right under our noses the entire time."
"They've been plotting even longer. Windhelm's court wizard was a Mythic Dawn agent for decades, by his own volition. Nobody at the College even knew, though he was a member." Savos confessed, showing signs of regret and disappointment at his own judgment failure.
"You can't be serious!" Cura almost shouted. She knew something was off about Wuunferth, given his demeanour, his moniker 'The Unliving', and his false claim about the College of Winterhold condemning necromancy as the basis of him not being the Butcher, but she couldn't have guessed he was involved with the Mythic Dawn.
Then Cura paused to ask: "Keeper Carcette... was she... no. No, she was real. But the impostor... when did she kill and replace her?" a profound sadness overcame Cura then.
"Oh, no. Carcette is still alive." Mirabelle reassured her. "Though, her allegiances have changed."
Cura silently climbed a distended ramp borne of broken piece of tower and stood tall over the magma below. "What? What do you mean by that?"
"In her grief of your demise, she renounced the Vigil of Stendarr." Savos explained the earth-shattering surprise.
"She what?!" Cura's jaw hung open.
Mirabelle was hesitant to continue, but figured Cura would rather know the truth. "She has bargained with Jyggalag to become a Knight of Order."
Cura touched her Amulet of Stendarr teary-eyed. "Then... then... what has it all been for?" Even if Cura worked with Meridia, she still followed Stendarr.
Carcette renounced Stendarr? Carcette, of all people? She was the most devout woman Cura ever knew.
For her to renounce her loyalty to the God of Mercy, and for Cura's death to be the catalyst...
It was her fault.
If Carcette was a Daedra worshipper now, Cura could only blame that on her impulsiveness.
"No... no." Cura dismissed the case. "I have important things to deal with now. Enough about Nirn."
"Wouldn't you like to know how Inigo and the others are doing?" Savos asked.
"Later. I just... need time to think." Cura wandered ahead in a spiritual daze. A part of her wondered if her body was already in the grave, and if she was rolling.
Come to think of it, what would happen to her body? Would she be burned on the Skyforge like Lydia was, by the Companions? Would she be enclosed in the walls of the College of Winterhold like Savos and Mirabelle were? Would she be buried near the Hall of the Vigilant? In Falkreath cemetery?
It was such a surreal thing, wondering about her body as a separate thing from herself.
Cura touched her breast. She felt the same as she had in life, but without the hindrance of breath. Her sense of heat was the same, though she had no pores to sweat through.
She felt light on her feet, unencumbered by her armour and barely noticing its presence on her form.
She pinched herself. She could still feel pain, though.
There was a large, black tower with horned architecture looming above her like a bad dream. She would be a liar were she not to admit she was curious to see what lay within. Perhaps a way to close that infernal portal?
In front, however, there were two very large, very cruel Dremora standing guard.
Lightning struck the tower.
Cura snuck around some jagged rocks and crouched down. She drew Auriel's Bow from her back. It would be more discreet than her Dwarven metal arm's crossbow.
She quickly loosed an arrow, which struck the second Dremora's head, killing him on impact and alerting his partner.
Cura quickly scrambled around the rock as he came around, weapons in hand, to inspect the origin of the arrow.
Once the fiend came too close, she sprawled upwards from the floor behind him and clocked him over the head with her Elven Mace, stunning him.
Then she cast a great Elemental Bolt with her left hand and it burst on impact, sending the Dremora flying through the air and into the lava below. Unfortunately, the explosion was too close-ranged and Cura too was blown backwards into the tower wall.
"I would recommend you act with greater care." Mirabelle suggested. "You may not have a physical body, but it would be foolish to act careless in the Deadlands."
Savos agreed. "You will find that death is not the worst thing that can befall a person."
"Sure. You could end up here." Cura gestured towards her surroundings sarcastically.
The Bards of Solitude had finally finished setting up the decorations for the Vigil of the Dragonborn. The festival was in two days' time, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.
However, it was not all joy and mirth in the air, as a cloud of unease hung over the province. The earthquake and the gray skies in the east had stirred up concerns among the superstitious Nord populace, some even blaming the occurrence on the College of Winterhold. Some of the Imperials theorized that the jaws of Oblivion have been pried open once more.
"Has anybody heard any news of the Dragonborn's whereabouts?" Jarl Elisif asked nervously as she sat atop her uncertain throne. Her court was in disarray, many voices making baseless claims left and right.
Sybille walked before the throne and bowed before the Jarl. Her ageless face was gloomed with ill news. "My Jarl, I've heard grave news; apparently the Dragonborn has been killed."
The entire court fell silent at those words. Falk Firebeard nearly gagged on his tankard of Firebrand Wine.
Jarl Elisif was stunned. "What..."
"Apparently she was slain in the Velothi Mountains by the Remnants of the Mythic Dawn. A grave day it is. I'm sorry to bring you such sad news, but pretty soon it will be common knowledge." Sybille elaborated further.
"Perhaps that tremor was related." Falk figured.
"The Festivities will still go on - in the Dragonborn's honour, at the very least." Elisif sighed. What a shame that the Dragonborn would not be there to see it.
On that same note; what was to become of Skyrim now?
Erikur, who sat in the corner of the court hall, waited patiently for the other nobles to depart from the meeting before standing before Jarl Elisif.
He looked around shiftily before creeping over to the throne.
"Such a shame about the Dragonborn," he said. "you were so excited about seeing her at the festival."
Falk Firebeard and Sybille Stentor at the foot of the palace stairs were too engrossed in a conversation about the city's future to see Erikur's sister Gisli entering the palace. Being a noblesse herself, the lesser of two siblings, no less, she was able to enter unchecked and unnoticed.
"I really wasn't expecting this. What's going to become of Skyrim now?" Elisif pondered anxiously.
Gisli ascended the right staircase with a crossbow hung on her right hip, hidden from view.
"We'll just have to keep chugging along, I suppose." Erikur sighed as he began to exit the conversation. "Farewell, Jarl Elisif."
"Good journey to you, Erikur."
As Erikur tensely descended the stairs he approached Sybille and Falk to join them in conversation and Gisli walked up the stairs past him. They briefly exchanged glances on their pathways.
A Vigilant of Stendarr stood at the hall entrance, leaning against the wall and locking eyes with Erikur, and then staring at the red-clad guard adjacent to him.
As soon as Gisli made it to the top of the stairs, she locked eyes with Elisif.
"Oh, you're..."
"You can call me 'Erikur's sister.' Everyone else does." the bitter blonde noble spat. A wicked smirk came across her face and she raised her crossbow. "Dawn is breaking. Things are about to change around here."
Indeed; promises were made to her, and to her brother a year or so ago. Promises of much glory and grandeur.
Elisif gasped and cried out for help.
As soon as Erikur heard her voice he came running up. "Gisli! Put it down! What on Nirn are you doing?!" his eyes were nervous and filled with reproach.
Sybille and Falk hurried up behind him.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Falk cried out.
Sybille readied a couple of Ice Spikes. "Put the crossbow down or you're not going to like what happens next."
Jarl Elisif held herself fearfully as she leaned back in her throne. The situation was very dire, and a twitch could spell her demise.
Erikur took a step forward and Gisli whirled the crossbow over in his direction. "Don't." The Nord slowly backed away from his maddened sister.
"Why are you doing this?" Erikur asked, visibly trying to maintain his composure.
"Our world is changing. I'm just doing my part." Gisli fired her crossbow and hit Elisif in the left arm, missing her chest due to the stress of the situation. When the Jarl cried out in pain, her eyes opened wide.
Sybille hit her with a pair of Ice Spikes before she could reload, impaling her.
Falk rushed to Elisif's aid and helped the wailing Jarl. "Erikur! Call the Guards, damn you!"
Erikur was silent. He stared at the Jarl, and then at his sister, and heard the sounds of swords clashing on the floor below.
"Heh... heh... good-bye, Solitude..." Gisli laughed as she pulled out the Ice Spikes and dropped them to the floor.
Sybille cast a Healing spell on the Jarl. "You're going to be all right, ma'am. I swear it."
Elisif could only whimper as the horrifying sounds of war filled her palace.
Legion soldiers has stormed the palace with Vigilants of Stendarr at their side, and were fighting the palace guards, who turned out to be Mythic Dawn agents.
One of the Vigilants raised his mace and attempted a swing at Erikur, who quickly leapt backwards.
Nirtius Pontanian had given the order for the Agents of Righteous Might to observe happenings in the holds. He'd sent out nine men to masquerade as common folk and oversee the general populace.
Erikur stared at the Vigilants. "Shit." he spun around to face Gisli, who was fleeing from a wrathful Falk Firebeard. She was backed up into the wall in the eastern balcony when Erikur plunged his sword into Falk's back. "Go, Gisli, you fool! Go!"
Falk gasped loudly and dropped his sword.
"FALK!!" Elisif shouted, having witnessed the bitter betrayal from her throne. She was then grabbed by Sybille, who created an opening in the ceiling with a mighty Firebolt.
Sybille flew into the air with the Jarl on her left shoulder and escaped the clash of steel.
Falk sighed with relief, knowing the Jarl was out of the battlefield. Terrible pain wracked his body, though he rearmed himself and chased Erikur and Gisli through the side hallway and around the fighting warriors. "I always knew you were a Craven... but I never pinned you for a traitor, Erikur." he clashed swords with the coward.
Erikur scoffed as he pushed the sword backwards and kicked Falk in the stomach, pushing him back. "Really. Not once? If my sister wasn't such an incompetent, I'd be the next Jarl of Solitude!" he whirled his face angrily towards Gisli, who was catching her breath next to the Jarl's bed. They were backed into the bedroom; trapped like a couple of rats.
"Shut the hell up!" Gisli roared back. "I've never done this before! Wh-what do you expect?" she reloaded her crossbow. "It doesn't matter anyway, though... destruction is coming, and we will be the greatest among mortals once it subsides."
Falk slashed Erikur across the collarbone and readied a killing blow, when Gisli shot him in the center of his chest with a bolt.
Falk grunted and his knees began to buckle under the harsh, searing pain. "You'll never --"
BAM!
A loud explosion shook the city, and the large windows behind Gisli and Erikur exploded, and glass collapsed to the floor with deathly chimes.
A sea of glass coated half of the Jarl's bed chambers and the bed itself. Gisli felt the sting of a hundred thin cuts on her body as she and her brother hit the floor. Glass shards penetrated their bodies.
Falk sunk to the floor as his own blood ran deep. He lowered his head and slumped to the ground.
"He's dead... we have to... we have to get out.." Erikur looked to his sister, who had a large shard of glass sticking out of the back of her exposed neck and blood leaking out like a faucet.
"No... no... we're so close to victory... we have... to live..." The stubborn noble exclaimed as he pulled himself back to his feet, though crouched over in agony. "Vonos... promised us... Solitude. Solitude, once Mehrunes destroys Skyrim... we'll... we'll be the law of the land... come on, Gisli... my dreams... our dreams... of power... are within our grasp!"
Erikur grabbed Gisli and slowly lifted her upright, but his knees gave out from blood loss and the pair collapsed one more time to the bloodsoaked tiles before death claimed them.
Falk slowly looked up at them to see their fates as he crawled along the floor, dragging his lower body with the remainder of his strength to reach the door.
The battle continued and the remaining true guards of Solitude joined the battle from the basement, driving the impostors into a corner before cutting them down, once and for all.
The Temple of the Divines was up in flames outside, the source of the explosion. Streets were covered in broken window glass and fire was rising in embers to the sky above.
"By the Gods..." Elisif whimpered as she cupped her hands over her mouth. Sybille stood beside her atop the Blue Palace's roof.
Civilians fled the area, chased by a couple of Mythic Dawn Cultists firing bolts of lightning at them.
General Tullius and Legate Rikke hurried into the fray, striking down cultists with true city guards and legionnaires backing them.
"Don't let a single one of them escape!" Tullius barked after the fleeing cultists.
The Bard's College was locked down, and they hid therein as the war raged past.
The cultists were attempting to reconvene with the ones within the Palace, only to become sandwiched between Tullius and the guards, and the Vigil of Stendarr and second troop.
Another explosion resonated in the distance as part of the city ramparts were knocked down by an onslaught of Dremora, summoned by other cultists in the ashes of the Temple.
Legate Rikke growled with fury and sounded her Battle Cry, rattling the demons to their core with fright.
The Legion cut down the cultists like knives through butter and General Tullius boldly met the Dremora leader, clashing steel on ebony in a deadly dance among the flames. The General was cut across his cuirass, but he managed to push through it and jam his sword into the Dremora's hideous face.
Legate Rikke engaged the second one with the fury of the North. She clashed and ducked and leapt to the side with the grace of a Spring Thunderstorm, and beheaded the fiend.
Captain Aldi's boldly led his men in a charge straight into the remaining cult horde, cutting and cleaving and goring the stones with the blood of the Daedra worshippers.
The battle was fierce, but was ended quickly enough with the might of the Legion. At the skirmish's conclusion, the streets were lined with smoke and blood: a mirror event to the attack a year ago, though save for the temple nothing else was damaged beyond minor repair, fortunately.
General Tullius sheathed his sword and a soldier ran up to him. "Report, soldier. What news have you?"
"Sir! The estimate is rough, but we are sure that the interlopers have all been vanquished."
"And what of property damages?"
"The Temple... it's... it's gone. Nothing remains... but as for the city itself, we will begin tallying the costs."
"Those ramparts will be costly to replace." General Tullius pointed at the rubble standing between the housing block and training yard that was once a proud archway connecting the city walls. "This will set us back quite a bit in our war with the Stormcloaks..."
"With these costs... If they attack us now, we'll be ruined financially. We can't afford another attack on this city. I don't think the Empire will be willing to send more lumber our way, and Falkreath forest is no longer an option." Legate Rikke growled.
The Empire would only supply them with only so many resources. It was difficult as it is, importing exclusively by the East Empire Company wharfs in the Pale and Haafingar.
"We'll see, Legate. We'll see." Tullius responded gregariously. "For now, I want to have a word with those Vigilants of Stendarr. They warned us of Mythic Dawn activity in Haafingar - we owe the remainder of our city to their good faith."
"Yes, of course, sir."
"And Jarl Elisif - where is she?" the General expressed a deal of concern for the young Nord woman's welfare.
"Up there, sir!" Legate Rikke pointed up to the roof of the Blue Palace, where Elisif stood with Sybille Stentor. Her dress was covered in trailing blood, but she seemed otherwise okay.
Elisif looked down solemnly as the embers of her city continued to flit through the air like torchbugs. The Jarl was shaken and could barely stand. The air was thick with smoke and she grew light-headed. "I... I think it's over, Sybille. Take me down."
"Of course, my Jarl." Sybille wrapped her arm around Elisif's waist and loftily hovered downwards, landing softly.
As soon as they witnessed the action, General Tullius and Legate Rikke hurried to the Jarl's side.
"Jarl Elisif! Are you injured?" Tullius examined her quickly.
"I... I'll be all right, General Tullius. What happened?" Elisif was still shaken by the matters at hand.
General Tullius shook his head and wiped the sweat off his brow. "Skyrim's going to hell."
A hollow roar resounded through the air, hollow and disruptive like a warning siren. The wail sent chills through Cura, Savos and Mirabelle.
"What in blazes was that?" Mirabelle asked.
"I think it was the Doom Strider calling out." Savos pointed far off into the distance, at the direction where the sound was made.
"Confound it. I can't see it!" Cura muttered in frustration. She needed a better view, but the needle-like crags only served to obscure her vision.
"I'll teleport us to the top of the Tower." Savos took Cura and Mirabelle by the hands and warped the three of them to the highest point of the immediate area.
The Dunmer and the two Bretons gazed off into the murky red sky, where further away they saw its tanklike form. The Doom Strider howled as it repeatedly dove in and out of a large sea of magma.
When it came up, it blew smoke out of its eye, which filled the air with dread.
It was as if the Numidium were transformed into a giant insectoid.
"It can't enter Tamriel yet. Something is blocking the portal!" Savos surmised.
Or rather, the portal was yet too small for the massive horror.
"Maybe there's a way I can close the portal entirely..." Cura wondered.
"The Sigil Stone is long gone. Any hope of that is dashed." Mirabelle stated.
"If only we'd kept the Eye of Magnus." Cura laughed. "Wait a minute... the Staff! Of course!"
Savos looked impressed. "Yes; the Staff of Magnus absorbs magic!"
"If you used the Staff on the portal, then perhaps you would be able to close it manually. Yes, very clever!" Mirabelle applauded.
Then Cura realized that she didn't have the Staff with her. "Oh... I think it's back at the College." was it? Or had she given it to the Beacon? Cura had acquired so many weird artifacts that she'd forgotten most of them.
"You... don't have it!?" Mirabelle sighed. "I suppose it was too good to be true."
Cura continued to stare at the abominable machination. "If I can't stop it here, Inigo will on the other side, but... how many will die before then? Skyrim is in big trouble unless I can regain my Dragonborn powers and return."
"As I said, you will need the Chim-El Adabal." Mirabelle restated.
"But the Chim-El Adabal was destroyed by Martin Septim centuries ago!" Savos reminded her.
"Not entirely." Mirabelle shook her head. "Julianos has told me that it rests in Coldharbour. As does Cura's Dragon Soul."
"What?!" Cura snapped. "Why is my Dragon Soul in Coldharbour?"
"Because you've been marked by Molag Bal long ago." Mirabelle said. "I don't know what you've done, but the Divine told me as much. Your Dragon Soul fled there to rejoin the Amulet of Kings due to the Dragon Break occurring there right now."
Marked by Molag Bal? Since when? Was it back in Markarth, when she unintentionally murdered Tyrannus? It had to be. It just had to be. Why couldn't that infernal den of vipers just leave her alone?
Oh, well. If she was going to go to Coldharbour, she might as well greet Molag Bal with her mace in his skull. She owed him that courtesy.
"Slow down." Cura requested Mirabelle to explain more coherently.
"We're on the cusp of a Great Daedric War." Mirabelle seethed.
"What did you mean about my soul and the Amulet of Kings?!" Cura demanded to know. "What does my Dragon Soul have to do with it?"
Suddenly, the figure of Martin Septim began to manifest before the trio, slowly phasing into the Deadlands once again. "You were the Avatar Akatosh used to defeat Mehrunes Dagon."
Cura gasped with surprise, and the others were caught by surprise as well. They could not believe it, and yet here he stood, before them. "The... Avatar?"
Martin sat on the side of the wall, overlooking the harsh terrain around them. He elaborated. "When I broke the Amulet of Kings and gave up my life, I joined together with an Avatar born of Akatosh's covenant with St. Alessia, and destroyed Dagon in the heart of the Imperial City, and my body was turned into stone. That avatar, born of pure Aetherial energy, was your Dragon Soul. It roamed the world, formless, but once your life was conceived, it chose to incarnate within you at the turning of the age. I too am part of it, though I have remained with you."
That explained her visions of him; that dream in the past and her sight of him here. "So that really was you in my dream!"
"It was no dream; we were within your soul." Martin slowly took himself off the wall and walked over to the Breton. "Cura, I have been with you since you were a child. I have felt your joys, your furies, and your sorrows. Akatosh chose you and Stendarr accepted you. You have severed your connection to the Dragon God of Time, but he forgives you, for you knew not what you were being led to do."
Cura walked around him and looked at the dark skies above. It was a lot to take in. Knowing that Martin Septim, the last Septim Emperor was with her for her entire life unseen was both concerning and confusing. It caused her to question every thought she'd ever had, and what he thought about them.
Though, it was oddly comforting to know that she has never been truly alone.
"You will need to escape The Deadlands and go to Coldharbour as Mirabelle says. The Amulet of Kings rests there." Martin placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and joined her skygazing. "The trials ahead of you are going to be the hardest you have ever faced in your life, but fear not. You will not walk this path alone."
Cura looked at Martin, then at Mirabelle and Savos, who granted her a nod of reassurance.
"Why is the Amulet in Coldharbour? Didn't you... you know... destroy it?" Cura asked. It was a curious thought.
Savos interjected. "Coldharbour is going through a series of Dragonbreaks right now... ever since Molag Bal marked you."
"It seems that Akatosh was less than pleased, to say the least." Mirabelle explained. "When you were struck down, your Dragon Soul went to Coldharbour, and is causing a great disturbance therein."
"Time is fractured there." Martin concluded. "Molag Bal, the fiend, has collected the bodies of heroes of old - among them the fresh body of Saint Alessia, and--"
"Her Amulet of Kings!" Cura exclaimed with a gasp.
"Precisely."
"Beware when you reach that realm: do not fall for the guile of the Red Stone." Martin imparted this dire warning with emphasis before he faded away once again.
The group was stunned with silence. Cura ruminate on the insane amount of information that was dogpiled on her and accepted it. "It... it makes a lot of sense." she muttered to herself.
"How do you feel, Cura?" Mirabelle asked with a gentle touch of her arm.
"I'm ready. Let's get this done." Cura looked back at the Doom Strider once again. Good luck, Inigo; I have faith in you. You can do it. she thought to herself before walking with her mentors through the winding path of igneous rock.
Her first order of business was to escape the Deadlands. Everything else could wait.