Stendarr's Dragon

by Midnight Coffee 64

I've decided to write a story based on my very first Dovahkiin, the Breton Paladin Cura! Raised in the Vigil of Stendarr, she goes on to save Skyrim in times of crisis in a Season Unending! Humble and meek by nature, Cura finds her values and general disposition challenged by the brutal world around her. *Decided to write this since Skyrim's 10th Anniversary! :)*

182. The Chill of the Void Part 2

"The Sounding Horn

A short text on the god Stendarr

Penitent, Stendarr's protection be upon you. Though the Apologist of Men bears a heavy burden, his compassion is still a quality to be admired. Listen to the sounding of the horn. See the blades of the justiciars, and attend the ministrations of charities. These are his expressions, for his atonement.

To complete your venerations here, intone: "Threefold are the masteries of Stendarr. I sound the horn in his name. May his shield protect me always from harm.""

---

Inigo, Serana, Vilja, Keeper Ciirta, Illia, and the aged Vigilant Veteran, Jacob, descended the underground beneath Stendarr's Beacon. The air grew colder with each step, the stone walls closing in on them. The flickering torches cast eerie shadows, highlighting the ancient runes etched into the walls. Keeper Ciirta led the way, her steps reverent yet purposeful, as if the weight of history bore down upon her shoulders.

Inigo strode alongside her, his thoughts whirling. He had weathered numerous battles, yet none bore the weight of urgency and significance as the one before him. Keeper Ciirta sought comfort from her venerable mentor, Jacob, while navigating the dilapidated base. At the heart of the central chamber stood a shrine to Stendarr, established to ward off Daedric forces. The shrine rose steadfast and resolute, its elaborate engravings narrating tales of legendary champions and vanquished adversaries in each and every curve. The atmosphere around it vibrated with a tangible force, bearing witness to its hallowed might. A blend of awe and resolve lit Keeper Ciirta's gaze as she drew near the altar.

Inigo felt the weight of the mission pressing down on him. "So I suppose the Vigilants must have known about a Daedric Shrine here for a long time?" he inquired.

"Ugh... can we just get this over with? I can just feel his power permeating the air." Serana shuddered, clenching her arms instinctively.

Illia turned to Serana. "I understand how you feel." From one Daedric-oppressed sorceress to another, Illia may not have been violated by Molag Bal as Serana was, but she understood all too well the allure and the suffocating aura that came with the presence of a Daedric Prince. "I may not have had any direct experience with Molag Bal, but..." she interrupted herself, refusing to continue her train of thought. "Ah, well, you're not alone here; we're all in this together."

Serana nodded, seeing where she was coming from. "Thank you. Don't worry, I won't hold everyone back. I've dealt with Molag Bal face-to-face already. Inigo could tell you more about it."

Inigo nodded, "I can. But what I am wondering is - the Vigil knew there was an Altar to Molag Balsack down here and nobody did anything about it?"

Keeper Ciirta paused, her gaze shifting to Serana with a mixture of empathy and resolve. "Yes, the Vigilants have long been aware of the Daedric presence in this region. This shrine is a focal point, a nexus of dark energy that must be neutralized. We did try to destroy it decades ago, but nothing seemed to work. So instead, we established a Shrine to Stendarr closer to the exit. Er, that was the previous Keeper of the Beacon. The one who was murdered."

"You never explained the fullness of that story." Inigo informed Keeper Ciirta as they continued to delve deeper into the shadows.

"I didn't, did I?" Keeper Ciirta sighed. "I went to investigate... against Father Jacob's orders." she gestured towards her mentor, who walked ahead of them. "Keeper Justain had mysteriously disappeared, and I did a little delving into the matters behind his disappearance. He'd kept a journal stashed away underneath his mattress. I discovered it when I sifted through the Keeper's Quarters - they were much smaller back then. Keeper Carcette was also investigating the suspicious matters, and she told me that Keeper Justain was suspicious of some strange activity beneath the Beacon, though he hadn't told her what it was, specifically. She believed Daedra worship was on the rise; especially the Mythic Dawn. For the longest time she was fixated on them, so many people dismissed her warnings as a stroke of paranoia. It turns out that it wasn't anything pertaining to Mehrunes Dagon, after all."

"At least it wasn't a hidden den dedicated to Sanguine." Inigo chuckled. "There is a high chance that you would have conveniently lost your memory and found yourself engaged to a Hagraven, a Troll, and possibly a Frostbite Spider."

Keeper Ciirta chuckled at his remark and shook her head. "I tossed the chamber, searching it top to bottom. Every drawer, every nook and cranny was upturned. When I discovered his journal tucked within the folds of the mattress, I found detailed writings about a secret, and very ancient Altar to Molag Bal within the mountain itself. After sweeping the grounds, I uncovered the Trap Door that led down here, hidden beneath collapsed stone. However, it looked suspiciously organized; the rubble, I mean. Almost as if it were placed back over the door. Clearly, someone had unearthed it beforehand and attempted to hide their findings."

Jacob, his voice gruff but steady, added, "The Daedra are cunning, always seeking to exploit weaknesses. We must be vigilant and prepared for any eventuality."

"Well, you are Vigilant, that is for sure." Inigo said with a playful chuckle, tapping Jacob on the shoulder, much to the Elder's irritation.

"Anyways," Keeper Ciirta continued, "I descended the Trap Door; alone. I discovered Keeper Justain deeper in. Behind a large pair of black doors. He had been sacrificed to Molag Bal; or, perhaps, slain due to witnessing a sacrifice. A dark figure donning a hood stood before the shrine, and disappeared when it saw me. I haven't the faintest idea of what it was, but... I discovered the Keeper and the Vigil was able to seal this off."

Inigo scratched his chin. "A dark, hooded figure. There are so many hooded figures on Tamriel. It could have been a Necromancer, an Executioner, an Imperial Torturer, a Mage, a Vigilant, a Priest, a Thief, a Nightingale, heck, even the Arch-Mage, for crying out loud. I can see why the Vigil may have had trouble narrowing the list down."

"You underestimate the threat we may very well face." Jacob spoke sternly. While many found Inigo's antics amusing, he did not seem to appreciate them at that moment.

The atmosphere in the central chamber of the subterranean maze was heavy with expectation as Keeper Ciirta neared the sacred shrine of Stendarr. His hallowed horn, a vessel of mercy for the world, glimmered in the subdued light of the chamber that lay before her. Her footsteps resonated gently off the stone, each one a deliberate stride towards their inevitable looming encounter. The shrine, radiating Stendarr's light, served as a stronghold against the encroaching darkness. She bowed before the shrine, invoking Stendarr's presence.

Keeper Ciirta's voice rose in a fervent chant, her words reverberating through the chamber. "Stendarr, hear our plea. Protect us from the Daedra's sway. Grant us the strength to vanquish their evil and bring light to the darkness."

The hallway stretching long ahead of them was dark and winding, and the echoes of a darker world hissed like coiling serpents through the group. Inigo shuddered. "Ech. I know I did not touch any Skooma. What is this?"

Illia took Inigo's hand. "Ignore it as best as you can. Trust me."

Vilja placed her hands on her hips. "All I hear is a faint buzzing in the air, like the song of the wings of a Bee."

Serana nodded, "I hear it, too. And Illia is right; don't open yourself up to it."

Vigilant Jacob shivered lightly, and the voices appeared to be causing him some sort of physical discomfort. Keeper Ciirta noticed her father figure's anxiety, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Father Jacob, are you all right?" Keeper Ciirta asked, observing his discomfort with concern. Jacob's eyes fluttered, and he struggled to compose himself. "It is nothing, Ciirta. The whispers of the Daedra are just a nuisance, a distraction from our duty."

Keeper Ciirta's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Molag Bal is persistent. The Daedra is cunning and relentless. His low whispers are a symptom of his influence, but we cannot let him break our resolve." After a few silent steps, she added in, as if to remind him, "It's what you've taught me." The group moved forward, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The whispers seemed to grow louder, a chilling symphony that threatened to seep into their minds. Inigo clutched his bow tightly, his eyes darting nervously around the dark corridor.

As they navigated the twisting passageway, the oppressive atmosphere seemed to press in on them from all sides. Vilja shuddered, as the air grew colder and colder with each step. She turned to look at Serana, "Serana, maybe you can take a few steps back from me? Maybe your coldness is giving me the chills."

Illia, who was holding her frost spells, turned to look at Vilja, who was directly behind her. "Oh, that's me. Sorry."

When Illia canceled her spell, Serana rolled her eyes. "Look, Vilja; if you want, I can walk further behind."

"Please do." Vilja inquired, feeling the weight of her gaze on the back of her neck, at least in her mind. Even knowing that Serana was an ally, the idea of having a pair of flaming Vampiric eyes on the back of her neck unsettled her greatly.

The air was laden with an otherworldly chill, making each breath feel like shards of ice cascading down their spines. The whispers of the Daedra wove through the stone walls, a maddening symphony that appeared to penetrate deep into their bones. Serana's eyes shone with a blend of determination and worry as she took a step back, her icy aura diminishing faintly.

"Thank you, Serana." Vilja responded.

Vigilant Jacob paused for a moment, freezing in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights. "Begone, Molag Bal! I will not yield to you!" He shouted suddenly, startling his allies. The echoes of Jacob's cry resonated through the dark corridor, blending with the whispers of the Daedra. The tension was tangible, and the dim torchlight flickered as if in answer, throwing sinister shadows that played upon the stone walls. Inigo's grip on his bow tightened, his eyes scanning the passageway with apprehension.

"Father Jacob, we must press on," Ciirta urged, her voice steady but filled with concern.

Jacob's anxiety only seemed to heighten, and his face begun to pale. Sweat poured down his temples, obscured by his hood. He gawked, staring into seemingly nothing. "You're right, I lost to you once! But this time, I will overcome you!" Jacob declared aggressively, shouting at whatever invisible force seemed to be guiding him forward.

Inigo turned his head to look at Illia, and he swirled an index finger next to his head. Illia nodded subtly, her eyes never leaving the path ahead. The Daedric whispers seemed to grow louder, almost as if they were mocking Jacob's resolve. The group continued forward, each step echoing through the dimly lit corridor. The air was thick with malevolent energy.

Jacob was growing tenser and tenser by the minute, his face a mask of horror and unbridled rage. "No! No, you're lying! You're lying!" he roared at nothing.

Keeper Ciirta gently placed her hands on her mentor's shoulders. "Father Jacob! What's happening to you?" Jacob's eyes, once bright and full of wisdom, now seemed to be clouded by some unseen force. His body trembled violently, and his voice was barely a whisper. "The Daedra... they're inside me. They're whispering my darkest fears, my deepest regrets."

Inigo's grip on his bow tightened, his knuckles turning white. "We have to get him out of here. Now."

Ciirta nodded, her expression grim. "Follow me." She reached for Jacob, but he pushed her back slightly. He sobbed as a heavy wave of guilt seemed to crush him. "Exactly, I killed you! I killed innocents in the name of Stendarr!"

"F-father Jacob?" Keeper Ciirta asked, growing fearful of his outbursts.

Jacob's eyes snapped to Ciirta, the haze of madness momentarily lifting to reveal a flicker of recognition. "Ciirta... I... I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

Inigo stepped closer, his bow still ready but his expression softened. "We need to help him, Ciirta. Whatever is happening to him, it's not his fault."

Ciirta nodded, her grip tightening on her sword. "Father Jacob... what have you done? Who's talking to you? What's happening?"

Jacob hid his face from his student when he saw the desperation in her eyes. "Don't look at me like this! Please, I beg you..."

Keeper Ciirta's eyes hardened, her voice unwavering. "Father Jacob, you must tell us the truth. Whatever is holding you, we can break it. We must!" She reached out, trying to grasp his shoulders once more, but he pulled away, his eyes wild and haunted.

Inigo's voice was calm and steady. "Jacob, old man, listen to us. You are not alone in this. We are here for you." He stepped forward, his hand extended. "I do not know you that well, but I will help if I can."

"You can't help me," Jacob shuddered. "nobody can."

Keeper Ciirta's expression softened, and she took a step back, her eyes never leaving Jacob's face. "I won't give up on you, Father Jacob. I believe in you. You have to believe in yourself too."

Jacob's body shook violently, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "It's... it's the Daedra. They're inside me, whispering, taunting me. They say I am no longer worthy of Stendarr's light."

Serana stepped forward. "Then maybe it's time to come clean. What are they saying to you?"

A dark voice whispered in the air, inaudible to all save for Jacob, though its chuckle was loud enough for everyone present to hear. Jacob shouted back at the voice. "Shut up, murderer! I'm not like you! I'm not a monster like you!"

The air in the room seemed to grow colder, the shadows twisting and writhing like living things. Keeper Ciirta's eyes narrowed, her grip on her staff tightening. "We need to understand what we're dealing with," she said, her voice a low growl. "Jacob, tell us more about these whispers."

Jacob's eyes darted around the room, as if he feared being surrounded by unseen enemies. "They... they say I'm cursed. That... Joshua... it was my fault... and Rahel..."

"Who? What?" Vilja asked, raising an eyebrow.

Inigo crossed his arms and leaned back. "Joshua? Why does that name seem familiar to me?" Then it dawned on him: he remembered shortly after Carcette had killed the vampiric Vigilant Thingol underneath Windhelm, in those ancient ruins; the very day he and his party had ventured there to clear the vampires out.

He found a letter on the other Vampiric Vigilant after he collapsed. It said, "Jacob is dead. Joshua fled with fear. The rest of us had no choice but to surrender to the Blood Matron."

Author's Note: This occurred in Chapter 120, during the group excursion underneath Windhelm

That was over 20 years ago. The revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a dark pall over the room. Keeper Ciirta's expression hardened, her eyes flashing with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "We need to know more," she urged, her voice steady yet laced with urgency. "please, Father Jacob."

Jacob's shoulders slumped, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. It was a time of his life that he wanted to bury; to forget. "I... I was so young, so naive," he whispered, his eyes dropping to the floor. "naive enough to believe that my small platoon was enough to best Lamae Bal, the Blood Matron. We were utterly slaughtered."

Inigo and Serana shifted uneasy glances. In a way, they had retraced Jacob's steps, were this the case; only they emerged victorious when he emerged condemned.

Serana stepped forward, and sized Vigilant Jacob up and down. "Then that explains why I can't detect you. But you're... not a Vampire."

"What are you saying, Serana?" Keeper Ciirta inquired, her memories thrown into question as she looked upon the man who meant everything to her.

Illia's gaze fixed on Vigilant Jacob. "He's Undead," she declared, her words lingering in the air like a ghostly echo, profound and unsettling. An eerie hush descended upon the room, as if the shadows were digesting the weight of her revelation. Vigilant Jacob's eyes grew wide, his complexion growing even more ashen, as he grappled with the stark truth unveiled before him. His eyes, filled with entreaty, turned to his apprentice.

Keeper Ciirta's grip on her belt tightened, her knuckles whitening. "No... this cannot be."

"Ciirta," Jacob began, calm and measured. "I..."

"You were killed by the Blood Matron." Inigo explained, "On the steps... that skeleton I saw near her coffin..."

Vigilant Jacob closed his eyes and nodded shamefully. "Yes, that was mine."

"But how can that be possible?" Vilja snorted in disbelief. "A human being only has one skeleton."

Vigilant Jacob's face was a mask of sorrow and regret. "It is not just a matter of one skeleton," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "The Blood Matron, she... she killed me in one fell swoop, and as I lay there, dying... Molag Bal appeared to me, with a bargain for life."

Ciirta's eyes glistened with tears, but she fought to maintain her composure.

"I sacrificed the soul of my wife, Rahel, to live." Vigilant Jacob confessed, his heart sinking with the memory. "My corpse lay there, upon the stairs, but I was given a new, cursed body to inhabit that resembled it. I returned to the Ravine a new man; but a cursed one." he gestured to his current form. The room grew heavier, as if the very walls were absorbing the sorrow and betrayal.

Keeper Ciirta's voice trembled as she spoke, "You... you traded Rahel's soul for your own life."

Vigilant Jacob nodded, his eyes showing the burden of his guilt. "Yes, I did. I was so consumed the desire to live that I made a pact with Molag Bal. But now, I see that it was a terrible mistake."

Inigo massaged his brow. "Oh... that's... I do not know how to respond."

"Cowardly." Vilja sulked.

Jacob's gaze fell to the ground, his voice barely audible. "I know I acted cowardly. I allowed my own fear to control me, and it cost me my love, my dignity, and my soul." His words hung in the air, a heavy cloud of regret and sorrow. "But don't tell me that if you were put in that same situation, that you wouldn't have capitulated to Molag Bal as well."

A deep silence from the group spoke volumes.

Ciirta's expression softened, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. "Jacob, there is still a chance to make things right," she said, her voice full of hope.

"I tried to make things right." Jacob sighed, "Before I came to Skyrim, I found Rahel's ashes, and I bargained with Molag Bal once more, right here, below the Beacon. It was shortly after I'd met the Dragonborn."

"You met Cura?" Inigo asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Vigilant Jacob nodded, "Yes; she was carrying out Vigilant duties, during her time at the College of Winterhold. I'd come here to discretely check up on Keeper Ciirta, and then I descended to the Daedric Shrine... I... I brought Rahel back to life, and she has since been serving Molag Bal in the shadows."

Author's Note: Vigilant Jacob had briefly met Cura back in Chapter 76, shortly after she obtained Azura's Star.

Jacob's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he recounted his story. "Rahel was resurrected, but she was not the same. Molag Bal's influence had twisted her soul, and she became a servant to his dark will. I tried to protect her, but it was too late. She had already been consumed by the Daedric Prince's power."

Vilja's face hardened, her expression one of steely resolve. Vilja's eyes narrowed as she listened to Jacob's words. "So, Jacob, you traded your soul for her life, only to see her become a pawn in Molag Bal's game. That is a heavy burden to bear."

Jacob nodded, the weight of his actions evident in his posture. "I know. I have spent every waking moment since then trying to find a way to undo the damage." he then continued, "And it wasn't my soul that I promised to resurrect her."

Illia took a few cautious steps closer to Inigo, keeping her eyes on Vigilant Jacob. "What are you trying to say?"

Vigilant Jacob sighed, "I promised the Dragonborn, body and soul. I was going to meet Vigilant Cura and lead her to Molag Bal... but the Mythic Dawn took her first." The room fell silent, the gravity of Jacob's words sinking in.

Serana's gaze hardened, his mind racing with the implications. "So, you're saying that Cura was taken by the Mythic Dawn before you could lure her here to Molag Bal?"

Jacob nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and determination. "Yes. They acted quickly, and I was left with nothing but the echoes of my failure."

Inigo unsheathed his sword and pushed Jacob against the wall. He pressed the blade against his neck. "What have you done with Cura's body, you old creep?"

Keeper Ciirta gasped and tried to pry Inigo away from Vigilant Jacob, but Inigo shoved her back aggressively. Keeper Ciirta stumbled back, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Inigo, please! He doesn't know anything else!"

Inigo's gaze remained locked onto Vigilant Jacob's. "You'll tell us where she is," he growled, pressing the blade a fraction deeper.

Vigilant Jacob flinched, his face pale. "I swear, I had nothing to do with it! It... it was Rahel." he searched Inigo's eyes and Inigo searched his intently.

"Then... the one who tried to destroy her body and killed those Vigilants a while ago..." Inigo began.

"Taranis. He was manipulated by Rahel." Jacob sighed sadly. "She lured him and his family here to Skyrim, and held his wife and daughter hostage, working together with the witch, Reyda... it was all Molag Bal's will."

The room was thick with tension as Inigo's blade remained pressed against Jacob's neck. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, highlighting the gravity of the situation. Serana's eyes narrowed, her mind racing with the information Jacob had just revealed.

"Rahel..." Serana muttered, her voice barely audible. "She must be a powerful sorceress."

Jacob nodded, his eyes wide with fear. "That... that was why Molag Bal wanted her to begin with."

Inigo's grip remained firm, the blade pressing into Jacob's neck just enough to keep him compliant. "And what else do you know about her plans?" Inigo's voice was a low growl, barely masking his desperation.

Jacob's breath hitched, but he composed himself, knowing the slightest mistake could cost him his life. "She is planning to summon a powerful entity from the Daedric plane. But she has help. I don't know who is helping her."

"Another one." Illia slapped herself in the forehead. First, the Mythic Dawn, now Molag Bal's sycophants.

"It never ends." Vilja shook her head with disapproval and stared off into the distance with silent contemplative condemnation of these Daedric Cultists.

Inigo's eyes hardened, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows on his determined face. "Who is helping her, Jacob?" he demanded, the blade still pressed against the Vigilant's throat.

Jacob's breath was shallow, but he seemed to gather his resolve. "I... I don't know for certain," he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. "but I am determined to find out."

Keeper Ciirta's eyes flickered under the warm orange light, shimmering with disappointment and sorrow. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. I thought I knew you, Father Jacob, but... I... I can't even look at you right now."

Jacob's face fell, the realization of his betrayal sinking in. The flickering candlelight highlighted the lines of despair etched into his face, contrasting sharply with the once steadfast Vigilant. He looked down at the floor, unable to meet Ciirta's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Ciirta," Jacob whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I was desperate. I thought I had no other choice."

Ciirta's expression softened, though her eyes remained sad. "You once told me, that there is always a choice, even if that choice involves self-sacrifice." Ciirta's voice carried a weight that resonated deeply within Jacob, the memories of his once-strong convictions now tainted by the actions he had taken. She continued, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face for any trace of the man she had known. "What will happen now?"

Jacob hesitated, his gaze shifting nervously between Ciirta and Inigo. "Whatever lurks beyond those doors," he pointed towards a pair of large, black doors carved into the cavern wall in the distance. "I will face it with you. You have my word."

Serana leaned against the nearby wall and pursed her lips, unconvinced. "And just what is your word worth? It's clear that if you turned on your own wife in a moment of fear, there's nothing holding you back from doing the same to us in a pinch."

"That isn't fair." Keeper Ciirta admonished Serana. "I... I'm sure he won't turn against us. It's all of us against whatever is behind that door. We're strong enough to manage it... I hope." The cavern seemed to hum with an ominous energy; a great spark of dread which ignited a flame of doubt around them all. The group stood in tense silence, their eyes fixed on the ominous black doors that loomed ahead. Jacob's betrayal still hung in the air, a heavy reminder of the trust that had been broken.

Inigo's grip on his blade tightened, his jaw set in determination. "We don't have time for this." His mind was set on what lay beyond. He feared that Cura's body was beyond the door.

Inigo's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "We don't have time for this." He turned to Jacob, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperation. "If you're afraid, then say it. But if you're staying with us, then show us your strength. And maybe then I will forgive you for wanting to use my friend to begin with. Otherwise, you are six seconds away from becoming a pincushion."

Ciirta's eyes pleaded with Jacob, her voice soft yet firm. "Father Jacob, please."

Jacob's face contorted with conflicting emotions, the weight of his past actions pressing heavily upon him. He knew that his betrayal had already caused irreparable damage, and now he had to prove his commitment to his new allies. His gaze met Inigo's, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.

"I... I am committed to this journey," Jacob finally said, his voice wavering. "I will not turn against you. I must make this right before the eyes of Stendarr. One way or another."

Inigo slowly removed the sword from his neck and nodded. "Fine; then you push the big ominous doors open first."

Illia stood by Inigo's side, her frost spells at the ready. "And don't try anything funny." she warned the elder Vigilant. Jacob's hands trembled slightly as he reached out to grasp the massive iron handles of the ominous black doors. The air around them seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening and twisting into grotesque shapes. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay beyond.

With a grunt of effort, Jacob pushed the doors open. The hinges groaned in protest, the sound echoing through the cavern like the wail of the damned. On the other side of the doors, there was a small cavern; circular in its shape, having been purposely carved in such a fashion long, long ago. At the furthest end of the circular room was an Altar dedicated to Molag Bal, and past it, a throne with a figure wearing black and tarnished silver armour sat, wearing a red hood and flanked on either side by two Dremora.

Upon the altar to Molag Bal was Cura's body, lain on her back, still in her rested position. The air inside the cavern was thick with the stench of decay and corruption. The walls, lined with ancient carvings depicting scenes of dark rituals and suffering, seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. The figure on the throne, shrouded in shadows, slowly raised its head, revealing a face twisted by dark magic and malevolence.

"Welcome, Jacob," the figure intoned, its distorted, feminine voice dripping with malice. "I see you've brought some friends. How..."

"Rahel..." Jacob's voice dropped to a low whisper.

Keeper Ciirta's eyes widened as she took in the sights before her. "Father Jacob..." she asked, "was this the place where..."

"Where I resurrected her, yes." Vigilant Jacob confirmed. He motioned towards Cura's body. "It seems Molag Bal still intends to collect what is due him."

The figure on the throne, Rahel, rose from her seat with an unsettling grace. Her once human form was now marred by the dark powers she had embraced, her skin pale and clammy, her eyes glowing with an eerie green light. She stepped down from the dais, her crimson robes billowing around her like a cloak of night.

"Ah, dear Jacob," she crooned, her voice dripping with sinister delight. "it is time. I cannot breach the light that surrounds the Dragonborn Vigilant..."

"Meridia." Inigo confirmed, taking a tentative step forward with a hand on his sword. He knew that the Daedric Prince of Life Energies was guarding his friend's corpse. And possibly Stendarr, as well.

The cavern's oppressive atmosphere seemed to tighten as Rahel's presence filled the space. Her eyes flickered with a malevolent glow, casting eerie shadows on the ancient carvings that adorned the walls. The Dremora flanking her moved with a predatory grace, their eyes fixed on the Dragonborn Vigilant's body.

Ciirta, her heart pounding, stepped forward, her resolve unwavering. "Rahel, this ends now."

Rahel narrowed her eyes at Ciirta. "Hmph. And who are you to order me?" She conjured a fireball and launched it at Keeper Ciirta, hitting her square in the chest and sending her sprawling across the floor.

"CIIRTA!" Jacob cried out after his protégé, reaching a hand out towards her futilely.

Keeper Ciirta struggled to rise, her vision blurred by the searing pain. The fireball had left her breathless, but she refused to yield. Summoning every ounce of strength, she managed to push herself to her feet, her resolve burning brighter than the flames that had nearly consumed her.

Rahel's laughter echoed through the cavern, a chilling sound that seemed to reverberate off the stone walls. "Jacob, you have made a bargain with the Lord of Enslavement. You cannot back down."

Serana stepped forward, her vampiric gaze hardening. "And you think we're just going to stand here and watch?"

The air in the cavern seemed to thicken with anticipation as Serana's voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere. Her eyes, those piercing orbs of crimson, locked onto Rahel, and a chill ran down the spine of the undead summoner.

Rahel's smirk faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "Ah, the daughter of Harkon. I have heard so much about you in Coldharbour."

Serana's eyes sparked. "You have?"

Rahel's tone was dripping with disdain as she addressed Serana. "You think your blood makes you special? You're just another pawn in a game much larger than either of us. I will trample you just the same."

Serana's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Is that so? Then let us see how you fare against someone who has faced the power of the Daedra and emerged unscathed."

Rahel laughed coldly and walked up to Cura's body. She caressed the dead Half-Elf's cheek. "Such a strong spirit this one has," she began. "she has caused quite the stir in Coldharbour, and seems to harbour illusions of an escape. And the grand delusion that she will be the one to defeat Molag Bal. What naivete."

Rahel's words dripped with disdain as she turned back to face Serana, and the others. The cavern was filled with tension, the air thick with anticipation. Rahel's eyes seemed to gleam with dark magic as she raised her hands, summoning forth a swirling vortex of purple energy. "Molag Bal will not be defeated so easily," she declared. "But for now, let us focus on your precious Dragonborn."

Inigo immediately drew his bow and fired an arrow right through Rahel's neck. "You will not touch her, you disgusting witch!"

Rahel's head snapped backwards from the force of the impact, but she recovered, and slid the arrow out from her neck. Black ooze began to pour out from the hole.

Illia and Vilja flanked Inigo on either side, and Serana moved ahead of the group. Keeper Ciirta drew her sword and clutched her Amulet of Stendarr tightly.

"I made a promise." Ciirta proclaimed. "I will not allow you to defile Cura's body." Rahel's eyes narrowed, a cold smile spreading across her lips. "Bold words from a mere mortal," she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "But you underestimate the power of the Daedra."

As she began to chant, the cavern around them seemed to distort and ripple, the shadows elongating and twisting into grotesque forms. The air grew colder, and an oppressive weight settled over the group.

"The Dragonborn's body will become a vessel for something much greater... Molag Bal is coming, and he will end it all and shroud everything in red mist." Rahel explained with a wicked smile.

Vilja growled. "You evil bitch! You won't get away with this!"

"There is no way you can even manage it!" Inigo fired another arrow at the witch, but she swiftly dodged to the side and brought a stalactite from the ceiling above down upon them with a violent crash.

Illia used a shield of ice to block the impact somewhat, granting them precious seconds to move aside. "A Vigilant unto the end, aren't you, Jacob?" Rahel smirked as her husband drew his sword.

Jacob clenched his fists. "I... I'm here to make up for my crimes... No... No, Rahel, I'm here to save you!"

"Enough talking, you're disturbing the ritual. Orthe! Ranyu! Take care of our guests!" Rahel gestured towards the two Dremora in her employ. The Dremora, their sleek, crimson bodies glistening with dark magic, lunged forward with a predatory grace. One of them, a towering figure with horns curved like scimitars, lunged at Inigo, while the other aimed for Serana.

Inigo, with the agility of a seasoned hunter, sidestepped the Dremora's attack and counterattacked with his ebony sword. The blade sliced through the air, narrowly missing the Dremora's throat. The Dremora let out a guttural hiss, his eyes flashing with fury as he recoiled from the missed strike. Inigo's eyes remained focused, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword as e slid under the blade of his foe. The Khajiit danced and weaved, and Illia used her glacial magic to harden the feet of the foe to the earth.

Serana, meanwhile, had already reacted with her inhuman speed. Her vampiric reflexes allowed her to dodge the second Dremora's attack, her movements fluid and effortless. The room seemed to hold its breath as Serana's ethereal form glided effortlessly across the cavern floor, her crimson eyes locking onto her opponent. With a swift, fluid motion, she unsheathed her Daedric dagger and thrust it towards the Dremora's exposed side. The blade pierced the Dremora's scales with a soft, wet sound, causing him to let out a pained hiss. Inigo, sensing the opportunity, made a swift feint towards the first Dremora, drawing his attention away from Serana. The Dremora, his eyes narrowing with focus, lunged forward with a vicious roar, but Inigo's agility allowed him to evade the attack by a hair's breadth. Inigo's eyes sparkled with determination as he spun on his heel, bringing his sword up in a swift arc, aiming for the Dremora's exposed flank.

The blade struck true, and Keeper Ciirta managed to glide past the barricade, and sprinted towards Rahel directly, accompanied by Vilja. The two women set upon the dark sorceress who stood over Cura's body. Rahel's eyes widened in shock as she felt the blade of Ciirta's sword pierce her defenses. The sorceress staggered back, her hands trembling as she struggled to maintain her concentration. The room seemed to pulse with dark energy, but Ciirta's resolve was unyielding. She pressed forward, her sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. The air was thick with tension as Rahel's eyes flickered with a mixture of fear and defiance. Her hands, once steady and confident, now trembled as she tried to conjure another spell. The dark energy around her pulsed with a life of its own, swirling like a tempest about to unleash its fury.

Vilja, her green armoured leather robes billowing like a leaf caught in a gust, stood beside Keeper Ciirta, her eyes sharp and unwavering.

"I don't know about you, Ciirta, but I am getting quite fed-up with these Daedric Princes and their meddling ways." Vilja snorted. Rahel's eyes widened as she heard Vilja's words, her confidence wavering. The sorceress struggled to regain her composure, but it was too late. Ciirta's blade sliced through the air, aiming for a fatal strike. Rahel's body jerked as the sword bit into her side, and she let out a pained cry.

Vigilant Jacob's attention was drawn to Rahel's scream, and he was compelled to intervene. He leapt into the fray, his sword clashing with Keeper Ciirta's. The world slowed down around them as master and student were locked in a moment of tension. Jacob's eyes locked onto Ciirta's, his movements precise and calculated. He had trained her well, and he knew she would not falter. Yet, there was a flicker of doubt in his gaze, a hint of the turmoil that had been brewing within him.

"Enough, Ciirta," Jacob commanded, his voice steady but edged with urgency.

"Father Jacob - we have to slay her." Keeper Ciirta informed him. "If we don't she'll-"

Jacob shoved her back. "NO! I have given everything to have her resurrected. Surely you can understand..." Jacob's voice cracked as he pleaded, the weight of his unspoken words heavy in the air. His eyes reflected a mixture of desperation and sorrow, his resolve almost tangible. Ciirta took a step back, her face paling as she struggled to understand the depths of the hole in which he'd dug himself. The flicker of doubt in Jacob's gaze intensified, as if a shadow had cast itself upon his soul.

Rahel grinned maliciously behind his back as her delusional husband fought against Vilja and Keeper Ciirta both. Even as an old man, his skill was nearly unmatched with a blade. He held his own against the both of them with desperate fervor.

Rahel's grin widened as she watched Jacob's desperate struggle. Her eyes gleamed with dark amusement, and she began to chant in a voice that echoed through the cavern. The air around her began to ripple and distort, and a faint, eerie glow emanated from her hands.

Vilja's eyes narrowed as she sensed the dark magic brewing. She lunged at Jacob, her blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. "Stop this, Jacob! Come to your senses, already! Rahel is dead! This is probably a Daedra wearing her face."

"Knowing Molag Bal, it's a distinct possibility." Keeper Ciirta conceded. She grunted as Vigilant Jacob's next strike sent her staggering backwards. Jacob's eyes darted between the two women, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. The desperation in his gaze was palpable, and the flicker of doubt seemed to intensify as he struggled to comprehend the reality of the situation. The Daedric entity's presence was unmistakable, its dark energy seeping into the very air around them.

"Jacob, listen to me," Vilja urged, her voice cutting through the tension. "This is not Rahel."

"Oh, but I am." Rahel said with a malicious grin. She drank a Healing Potion and mended her wounds before unleashing a bolt of lightning upon Inigo, who was still locked in combat with the Dremoras.

Illia, ever diligent, blasted the Dremora with a cold front so powerful it left trails of ice in the air itself. Serana was locked in combat with the second Dremora, who refused to let her pass.

It was clear that these two were very powerful Dremoras; they were likely part of Molag Bal's own personal Court.

The cavern echoed with the clash of steel, the crackle of arcane energy, and the sinister laughter of the Daedric entity that was Rahel. Jacob's eyes darted between the chaos, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He knew he had to act, but the uncertainty gnawed at his resolve.

"Father Jacob, please!" Keeper Ciirta shouted, her voice desperately cutting through the din.

"Eliminate them both." Rahel commanded Vigilant Jacob, gesturing dismissively.

Suddenly, his eyes flashed with red, and burning flames began to wrap around his body, without actually burning him. He glared at Ciirta, who, for her entire life, he'd seen as his own daughter, with murderous intent. The flames surrounding Jacob intensified, their glow casting an eerie red light across the cavern. His eyes, once filled with paternal love and concern, now burned with a dark, almost malevolent fervor. Ciirta's eyes widened in horror as she realized that something was terribly wrong with her mentor.

"Father Jacob, what are you doing?" she cried, her voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "Snap out of it!" She took a few tentative steps backwards as the suddenness of his turn struck her.

"He's lost it." Vilja clenched her bow tightly and took a safe distance from Jacob, who was quickly striding towards Keeper Ciirta. Jacob's steps were heavy and deliberate, each one echoing ominously in the cavern. The flames around him seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat, their rhythmic pulse riding the length of his body like an outer shell. Ciirta's eyes darted around, searching for any means to stop him, but her hands were shaking too much to even hold her weapon steady.

"Father Jacob, please!" Ciirta pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. "This isn't you! Something's wrong!" The cavern's atmosphere thickened with tension as Jacob's figure loomed closer, his eyes blazing with an otherworldly light. The flames around him seemed to grow more intense, casting an eerie, almost spectral glow over the scene. Ciirta's breath hitched in her throat, her mind racing for a solution to this unthinkable betrayal.

Vilja, standing a safe distance away, nocked an arrow in her bow and took aim, her expression a mixture of concern and resolve. The arrow whistled through the air, aimed for Jacob's shoulder. He barely flinched as it struck, but it was enough to distract him. The flames around him flickered and died for a moment, giving Ciirta a brief opportunity to act.

"Stop, Jacob!" she commanded, her voice firm yet laced with sorrow. She stepped forward, reaching out to grab his arm, her grip firm and unyielding.

Jacob's eyes, still burning with an unnatural fire, met Ciirta's. For a moment, the flames seemed to flicker, as if they too were uncertain about their host. Ciirta's grip on his arm tightened, her determination evident.

"Father Jacob, listen to me," she pleaded, her voice softening. "This isn't you. This... this witch is controlling you. Let it go."

"Kill her." Rahel commanded again. With a wave of her hand, she conjured a red wall; a barrier of dark light between herself and Cura's body, and the rest of the battlefield. She was determined to exorcize Meridia from Cura with Molag Bal's power so that Molag Bal could possess her body. Ciirta's eyes widened in horror as Rahel's dark magic enveloped Cura's form. The red wall pulsed with an eerie, malevolent energy, casting an ominous glow that seemed to seep into the very air around them. The cavern, already tense, felt like it was about to implode under the strain of their conflicting wills. In that moment of distraction, Keeper Ciirta was quickly stabbed through the side by Vigilant Jacob, and she gasped aloud. The pain was searing, a burning sensation that radiated through her entire body. Ciirta's vision blurred momentarily, but her resolve remained unbroken. She clutched at the wound, her hand coming away bloody and slick with her own life force. She looked up at Jacob, her eyes wide with shock and betrayal.

"Father Jacob, why?" she whispered, her voice trembling with anguish.

Inigo struck down the first Dremora at last, and with a loud hiss, rushed towards Rahel, only to slam into the shimmering red barrier. "No! No! You will not gatekeep us like this, you cow!" Inigo's sword clashed against the barrier with a resounding thud, sparks flying in every direction. The red wall shuddered but held firm, its dark energy swirling with an almost sentient life of its own. Rahel's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched Inigo struggle against her creation.

"Pathetic mortal," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "You think you can break my defenses?" She continued to focus on Cura's body, but Meridia was fighting back.

The Daedric prince's energy warred against the powers of Molag Bal; a frustrating obstacle for the summoner. The cavern seemed to reverberate with the clash of divine and daedric energies. Inigo's relentless strikes against the barrier sent waves of heat through the air, but the red wall persisted, a formidable barrier that refused to yield.

Ciirta, struggling to stay on her feet, locked eyes with Jacob. His betrayal cut deep, a wound that would take more than mere words to mend. She raised her sword and clashed with him again, only to feel another blade impale her from behind. In that still moment, she glanced over her right shoulder, and saw Vigilant Altano.

"Al...tano?" Altano's eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion as he stood over her. His blade remained lodged in her back, and with a swift, practiced motion, he pulled it free. Ciirta gasped, her vision narrowing as the pain overwhelmed her. She collapsed to her knees, her sword slipping from her grasp.

"It's nothing personal," Altano declared. "you are in the way."

"You son of a horker!" Inigo shouted at him. "What is this, Betray the Vigil day?"

Vigilant Jacob looked down at Keeper Ciirta, who was bleeding on the floor, and then he looked up to his disciple, Vigilant Altano. Then his eyes trailed along his bloodsoaked sword, and Altano's and then to his dear Ciirta, who was bleeding out on the floor.

"Wh...what...?" Vigilant Jacob dropped his sword, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Ciirta's eyes fluttered shut, her breath shallow and erratic. Vigilant Jacob's face contorted with horror and disbelief. He felt the ground beneath him tremble as he knelt beside her, his hands shaking as he tried to apply pressure to her wound.

"Altano, you fool!" Jacob's voice was a mixture of anger and sorrow. "This is madness! We're supposed to be allies, not enemies!" Altano walked towards the red barrier, and with the wave of a hand, moved the shimmering light aside and joined Rahel over Cura's body. "The powers of Stendarr and Molag Bal will do to exorcize Meridia from her."

The air was thick with tension as Vigilant Altano's words hung heavy in the cavern. Ciirta's lifeblood seeped into the stone floor, each pulse a reminder of the fragility of life. Altano's expression remained inscrutable, his eyes reflecting the cold, unforgiving light of the barrier.

"Altano, listen to me!" Jacob's voice cut through the silence, desperation edging his words. "We are Vigilants of Stendarr!"

"Molag Bal has promised me so much more than this foolish lot in life," Altano admitted. "Mehrunes Dagon is going to flatten Nirn, and you are all going to die. I want no part in that. Rather, I will be here to welcome Molag Bal in his Daedric War."

"Daedric War?" Serana asked.

"Yes; he intends to take the world from Dagon's clutches, into his own. The Red Stone needs to feed... and the many souls of Tamriel will be its nourishment. Then he will one day be able to reclaim Coldharbour from Jyggalag." Altano declared.

The group listened to this wicked confession with horror.

Ciirta's breath grew shallower, her life slipping away with each passing moment. Jacob's face was a mask of sorrow and anger, his hands trembling as he tried to stem the flow of blood.

"Ciirta, please hold on! I'm so sorry... I never meant to..." Jacob pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "This can't be the end. We've fought too hard, lost too much."

A loud smash echoed through the air as Serana shattered the frozen form of the second Dremora. She and Illia took a step back and regained their composure.

"And why does Molag Bal want Cura's body?" Illia asked.

"She is the Last Dragonborn, and within her veins lies the lifeforce of Shezzar." Altano stated firmly. " It was Molag Bal's greatest desire to be the recreation of Shezzar when he was reborn from Lyg."

The cavern seemed to darken as Altano's words hung in the air, each syllable heavy with foreboding. The light of the red barrier cast eerie dancing shadows on the stone walls, making it seem as though the very spirits of the Daedra were closing in. Ciirta's labored breathing was the only sound that broke the oppressive silence, a stark reminder of the life slipping away before their eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Inigo asked.

"We stand here, now, on the precipice." Rahel declared. "The Dragonborn will either return as the Cura you know; or as Lord Molag Bal."

"My friend is not a costume for your evil goat king to wear!" Inigo launched a futile arrow against the barrier.

The arrow clattered against the barrier, bouncing harmlessly to the ground. Rahel's eyes, once full of life and purpose, now showed a haunting emptiness. She seemed to be a puppet, her strings manipulated by forces beyond her control.

"Jacob, listen to me," Serana's voice cut through the tension, her tone firm yet compassionate. "We can't let Molag Bal win. We have to stop this ritual before it's too late."

Vigilant Jacob cradled Keeper Ciirta in his arms and began to try and cast a Healing Spell upon her, but no golden light emerged. "It is as I feared... Stendarr has completely abandoned me."

Jacob's eyes widened in despair as he realized the gravity of his situation. The once-powerful healer now felt like a hollow shell of his former self. He clutched Ciirta tighter, her pulse growing weaker by the second. The air in the cavern seemed to thicken, a heavy blanket of sorrow and hopelessness pressing down on them all.

Vilja quickly rummaged through her satchel. "Potion... potion... potion?" She found a red bottle. "Potion!" she exclaimed with the joy of one who struck gold. She wanted to pat herself on the back for having brewed a few Healing Potions before she'd gone to the Bee & Barb the night before.

She threw the potion to Jacob. "Give her that! It is a Healing Potion!"

Inigo looked at Vilja and winked. "See, Vilja? You do have your uses!"

Vilja beamed proudly. She never fancied herself a true Alchemist, but she had paid attention to her Mother's lessons as a child.

Jacob quickly uncorked the Healing Potion and poured it into Ciirta's mouth. The liquid slid down her throat, and for a moment, her breathing steadied. Her eyes fluttered open, and she coughed weakly, a small spark of life returning to her gaze.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jacob's eyes clouded over with tears. "I'm so sorry..." He embraced her tighter. In that brief moment, they were taken back to her younger years in Stuhn's Ravine. To a simpler time, when she was his young protégé.

Ciirta's eyes, though weak, held a glimmer of hope. She clutched Jacob's arm, her grip tight but trembling. "We... we need to finish this," she whispered, her voice shaky but resolute. "we cannot allow this to stand."

Jacob nodded, his gaze shifting to the ritual area where Molag Bal's dark energy pulsed rhythmically. The air felt thick with malevolent force, and the ground seemed to tremble under their feet.

Altano invoked prayers in the name of Stendarr and Rahel concentrated against Meridia's power with the force of Molag Bal's power. However, Meridia was unwilling to yield.

"Foolish mortals!" the Daedric Prince of Light's voice denounced their attempts. "Do you think yourselves powerful enough to dispel my influence?" Jacob's heart pounded as he watched Meridia's energy swirl and intensify. The once serene cavern now felt like a battlefield, the very air charged with conflicting magics. He tightened his grip on Ciirta, drawing strength from her presence.

Ciirta, her eyes reflecting the battle within, clenched her jaw. "We won't back down," she declared to her allies, her voice echoing with determination as she observed the nigh-unbreakable barrier that stood between them and their enemies. "Not now, not ever." She turned to Inigo. "Inigo, please, I need your help. You too, Serana. Illia, and Vilja."

"What do you need me to do?" Inigo asked.

Keeper Ciirta slowly stood up, her body wracked with pain. She tossed a key to him. "T-take that... to... to the vault in the Beacon. T-take... take the Staff of Magnus. The - the Staff Cura brought from Winterhold. I think you know what it is."

Inigo caught the key and nodded. "Yes, we know it very, very well. We had to go through Labyrinthian itself to get it."

"Of course!" Serana realized it, with a slap on her forehead. "The Staff of Magnus can absorb insurmountable amounts of energy."

Without hesitation, Inigo rushed out into the caverns proper and climbed up from the trapdoor, and hurried into the Beacon. When he headed down towards the Vault, he unlocked it and gazed upon the collection of Daedric Artifacts: Azura's Star was there, as was the Mace of Molag Bal, and the Ring of Hircine, as well as the fascinating Staff of Ruunvald, and the Staff of Magnus.

"Cura, I am going to use what you collected to save your body." Inigo said with a nervous chuckle as his fingers wrapped around the Staff of Magnus' shaft. He could feel the immense power from within it.

As Inigo grasped the Staff of Magnus, he felt a surge of energy course through his veins, as if the very essence of the artifact was now a part of him. The power was intoxicating, but he knew he had to remain focused. He took a deep breath and turned back to the ritual area, his resolve strengthened by the staff's might.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group could only pray that Stendarr was on Meridia's side of this matter. The Vigilants were capable of freely utilizing the God of Mercy and Justice's power at will, but Inigo was certain that if Stendarr was watching, like the Gods claimed to be, that he would not allow Altano to use his power for such a wicked purpose. And not to desecrate the body of his most ardent follower. Serana's mind raced as she observed Altano's erratic movements, the disciple's face a mask of fervent hatred. The once-respectful Vigilant was now a shadow of his former self, controlled by the dark forces manipulating the ritual. And she knew, most of all, the evil that Molag Bal would inflict upon Nirn should he be released in any form.

However, seeing as the body of Cura was that of a woman's, she was certain Molag Bal would be irritated for not having the tools to do his second favourite activity aside from Enslavement. She shuddered as she considered it. Knowing the endless sadism of the beast, though, Molag Bal would find an alternate way to achieve that same effect.

Or, perhaps he would be so caught up with the power of a Dragonborn that he would fixate on creating storms to decimate the landscape instead. The world would literally become his playground.

The group watched helplessly as Rahel and Altano united in rebellion against Meridia, who refused to part from Cura's side. Her feathery wings formed a protective shield over the deceased Dragonborn.

Footsteps echoed from beyond the black doors and Inigo burst back inside, the Staff of Magnus in his hands. Inigo tightened his grip on the Staff of Magnus, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him as he strode up to the red barrier and began to try and use the Staff.

However, there was one small problem: he could not get the Staff to work. Inigo had never wielded a magickal staff before in his life. Even basic magic was something he'd avoided for most of his life. And now, when he finally had need of it, it refused to function for him.

"Damn it. Where is Lucien when you need him?" Inigo bawked in horror as his futile attempts continued to make him look foolish before friend and foe alike.

Suddenly, Illia's long, slender fingers traced the length of the Staff, and gently made contact with Inigo's hand as she took the Staff from him. "It's all right, Inigo; I can do this."

She began to focus on the energies flowing through the Staff of Magnus, and its gem began to glow in response, and a teal stream of energy emerged, shooting in an arc and blasting the red barrier.

The teal arc of energy from the Staff of Magnus struck the red barrier, causing it to shudder violently. The barrier, now weakened, began to ripple and distort, revealing glimpses of the ritual circle beneath. Altano and Rahel, caught in the chaos, struggled to maintain their concentration. Altano's eyes widened as he realized the barrier was failing, and he gritted his teeth, determined to push through the last vestiges of resistance. He tapped Rahel on the arm and gestured towards the Shrine of Molag Bal. When she turned around to behold it, he stabbed her in the back with his sword, "Molag Bal; I summon you, great Lord of Domination!" he declared. "Come in glory, and claim what is rightfully yours!" The ritual circle beneath the barrier began to glow with an eerie, malevolent light. The air grew thick with an oppressive energy, and the very ground seemed to tremble with the power of the Daedric Lord. Altano's eyes gleamed with a manic fervor as he continued to chant, his voice echoing through the cavern like a dark hymn.

Rahel's body slumped forward, her lifeblood seeping into the ritual circle, mingling with the dark energies. "Rahel...!" Vigilant Jacob cried out, his voice drowned out by the screeching of the shimmering barrier. Jacob's voice was a desperate plea, but it was lost in the cacophony of the ritual circle's awakening. His eyes, once filled with determination, now reflected the pain of betrayal from one of his most loyal apprentices, and the gravity of the situation. He lunged forward, his sword raised high, but it was too late. The barrier had collapsed, and the dark energies from the Shrine of Molag Bal surged forth, consuming everything in their path. Inigo leapt in front of Illia, shielding her against the onslaught of dark energy, while everyone else was blown backwards. A great ring of fire formed, lining the circumference of the chamber, and only Altano stood there, before what appeared to be a black dragon with a goatlike face.

Cura's body appeared to have vanished, but it was apparent that something had gone horribly wrong due to the interruption of the dark ritual.

Altano lowered his head before the Dragonlike form of Molag Bal. "Yes, my Lord! I have corrupted so many souls for you. Please, grant me a place in your realm!" he pleaded with the corrupted summon.

The Faux Dragon of Molag Bal, a creature of unholy power, regarded Altano with a cold, calculating gaze. Its black scales glinted ominously in the burning flames, and its goat-like eyes burned with malevolent intent. The air around it pulsed with dark energy, causing the very ground to tremble beneath its massive form.

Altano's voice quivered with fear and anticipation before the Draconic Molag Bal reached down and grabbed him in its maw, and throttled him about in the air, tossing him aside like an old ragdoll.

Altano crashed into the Altar with a painful thud, and slumped down.

"I despise incompetence..." the dark voice of Molag Bal cast a pall over the room as he turned his face from the foolish Vigilant.

A crimson mist spread across the floor where Altano lay broken. The flames around the altar intensified, turning varying shades of red and orange. The echoes of Altano's muffled groans faded into the darkness as Molag Bal's wrath turned to the remnants of the group who dared to defy his dark ritual.

Inigo stood steadfast, his grip tight on the hilt of his crossbow, the metallic click of loading another bolt barely audible. The Draconic Molag Bal's dark gaze fixed upon Vigilant Jacob. "Child of Stendarr... kneel before me and obey. Surrender your soul to me and I promise you a swift death."

"N-never!" Vigilant Jacob shouted at him. His voice echoed through the cavern, reverberating off the ancient stone walls. Molag Bal's laughter shook the very foundations of the chamber, a chilling, guttural sound that seemed to come from a place far beyond mortal realms. The dark dragon's eyes, like two blazing stars of malevolence, bore into Jacob with an intensity that made the air around him grow colder.

"Then so be it." Molag Bal declared, his voice resonating with ancient power.

"My friend is going to kick your scaly backend!" Inigo laughed at the Daedric prince. "You are here, trying to run from her because you are a coward!"

The faux Dragon form of Molag Bal's laughter boomed, reverberating through the cavern like a distant earthquake. "Coward?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You dare to call me a coward, little mortal? I am the Prince of Rape, and Domination. I am not one to be underestimated."

"Eugh. What's most disturbing is that you seem proud of that mantle." Vilja sneered. She quickly turned to Inigo. "H-how do we beat him?"

"In his desperation, Altano and Rahel failed. It is a fake; a mere morsel of his power." came the voice of Meridia. "Fight him with all you have, and Cura will do the rest in Coldharbour." As Meridia's ethereal voice faded into the cavernous expanse, the room seemed to tremble with the weight of her words. The dark, towering figure of Molag Bal loomed overhead, his eyes ablaze with an unquenchable thirst for souls. The air became dense with his malevolent aura, as shadows coiled and twisted like serpents come to life around him.

The cavern, once a dampened sanctuary, now felt like a crucible of raw power and ancient evil. Molag Bal's gaze, a piercing void, seemed to suck the very light from the air. His baleful presence was a palpable force, a malevolent storm that threatened to consume everything in its path. Even as a failed fragment of the Daedric Prince, it brimmed with his wicked nature.

Inigo, standing resolute despite the oppressive atmosphere, drew his weapon, the Enhanced Dwarven Crossbow glowing with the faint light of Daedric power. It hummed with latent energy, the bolts within shimmering with an eerie glow. He knew that he was going to need to use more than just mere arrows for this fight. The air around him seemed to crackle with tension, the very walls of the cavern watching as if waiting for the inevitable clash of wills. He locked eyes with Molag Bal, his grip tightening around the crossbow, and his eyes darted to the party gathered behind him.

"Let's show him what we're made of."

Vilja swallowed hard. "I only hope we aren't made of snow."

Illia narrowed her eyes. "No; only the most frigid of ice." In one hand she held the Staff of Magnus, and in the other, she begun to charge a Frost Storm.

Serana held two bolts of lightning at the ready, and stared down the mere fragment of her defiler.

Keeper Ciirta, though dazed and limping, drew her sword once more. She huffed and heaved as she stared at the faux Dragon before them. Sweat beaded on the sides of her head. She'd spent her life hunting smaller packs of Vampires, and now she was faced directly with their source: the demonic father of Vampirism itself.

Vigilant Jacob, whose heart had long been robbed of him, stared down his old adversary, donning guilt as his mantle and sorrow as his shield.

The air crackled with the weight of impending conflict as the Daedric fragment of Molag Bal sneered with contempt. His voice, a low, rumbling growl, echoed through the cavern, sending shivers down the spines of the gathered heroes.

"You dare to challenge me again?" Molag Bal's voice reverberated, each word laden with ancient malevolence. "Your Mara cannot save you this time. She is weak - a wolf without fangs."

Inigo scoffed. Mara protected them underneath Windhelm; she guarded Serana from Molag Bal's influence back then. And it's not like it was only her: they had Stendarr and Meridia watching over the battle, as well.

Molag Bal, in his blind love of dominance and violence, failed to see that his own bloodthirst was blinding his rational mind.

Inigo briefly turned to look at Serana and gave her a reassuring nod, before posing a serious question: "If we fail, do you think maybe the Doom Strider will be better for Tamriel by comparison?" Inigo mused to himself as he focused on the foe directly before them. He aimed towards the faux Dragon's forehead with an Exploding Bolt of Frost.

"It's only a fragment of Molag Bal," Serana expressed. "their failure prevented the true beast from fully materializing in our world. If we can't stop him, we could never have stopped the Doom Strider to begin with."

The cavern around them seemed to darken, shadows lengthening and twisting as if alive. The Daedric fragment of Molag Bal's form flickered with an unholy light, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly fire. He raised a clawed hand, and from it, tendrils of dark energy snaked towards the heroes, seeking to ensnare and crush them.

Vilja, her breath coming in ragged gasps, raised her hands and invoked the power of the elements.

The ground beneath them trembled as Serana summoned a fierce storm, the air crackling with electric energy. Lightning bolts illuminated the cavern, casting an eerie glow over the darkened surroundings. The Daedric fragment of Molag Bal sneered, his malevolent gaze flickering with frustration at the sudden change in weather.

"Pathetic," Molag Bal's voice growled, the cavern resonating with his words. "Your attempts to challenge me will only lead to your demise." He lunged forward, his gaping maw reaching out towards the Vampiress. The storm Serana summoned intensified, the thunder booming within the cavern, causing bits of ceiling to rain down. The Daedric fragment of Molag Bal recoiled, momentarily blinded by the blinding flashes of lightning. But his malevolent crimson eyes soon adjusted, and he continued his assault.

Vilja, her voice rising above the tempest, loosed an arrow into the beast's face. Thankfully, not being a true dragon, its flesh was less durable. She continued to keep a distance and plugged the beast with arrows.

Inigo fired an Exploding Bolt of Frost into Molag Bal's hideous face, causing his head to recoil backwards.

Illia's ice formed a wall in between the group and Molag Bal, and she channeled the Staff of Magnus to attempt to draw power from the Daedric being. The cavern reverberated with the clash of magical energies as Illia's Staff of Magnus hummed with ancient power. The staff's runes glowed brighter, casting an ethereal light that illuminated the stormy cavern. Molag Bal's eyes narrowed, his malevolent gaze locking onto the source of the disturbance.

"That power... Magnus. I know it." Molag Bal's voice boomed, echoing off the cavern walls.

Keeper Ciirta lunged forward and struck the faux Dragon's long arm, drawing black blood from it. Molag Bal responded by striking her, sending her reeling backwards.

Vigilant Jacob caught Ciirta before she could go flying into the Ring of Fire. The cavern's air grew thick with tension as Molag Bal's malevolent laughter reverberated through the stone walls. The storm Serana had summoned raged on with her furious focus, bolts of lightning illuminating the Daedric fragment's gruesome form. His crimson eyes blazed with an unnatural fire, reflecting the tempest's fury.

"Jacob," Molag Bal's voice cut through the chaos, his words dripping with contempt. "A fleeting moment of resistance is all you have managed."

Vigilant Jacob grit his teeth and gently lowered Keeper Ciirta to her feet. He placed his hands on her shoulders, "Ciirta, I have always been proud of you," he began. "I remember the first day I met you; you were small and helpless, and left in the wintry mountains..." His reminiscence began to hint at something deeper as they stood before the raging flames.

Ciirta, her eyes wide with an almost feral determination, clutched Jacob's hand tightly. "Master Jacob," she whispered, her voice trembling but steady, "I will not let you down. Not now, not ever."

The storm around them intensified, the roar of the tempest blending with the crackling of the flames. A stray bolt of Lightning struck the ground nearby, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield.

Vigilant Jacob smiled and nodded, "I know you won't. You never have." He placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "Do you remember that day, when we stargazed under the aurora? The time I'd told you of Aetherius, and where the gods dwelt, above its veil?"

Ciirta's eyes softened, a moment of serenity breaking through the chaos. "Yes, Father Jacob," she replied, her voice laced with a mixture of nostalgia and determination. "I remember it well. It was a night that changed everything for me. You spoke of the balance of the world, how each action ripples across the cosmos, and the responsibility we carry as Vigilants. We operate under the watchful eye of the gods at all times."

Molag Bal's laughter echoed louder, more mocking. "Foolish mortals."

Vigilant Jacob squeezed her hands tightly. "Do you remember how I looked back then?"

Keeper Ciirta chuckled. "Of course; your hair was brunette, and your armour bright and steel."

"Remember me as that man." Jacob said before releasing her hands and heading to face Molag Bal directly.

"Father Jacob, what are you doing?" Keeper Ciirta's eyes widened with fear as he released her grip and began his death march.

As Jacob stepped forward, the storm around him seemed to intensify, the frigid winds of Illia howling with a chilling ferocity and the lightning bolts from Serana flashing streams of light around the area. The Exploding bolts from Inigo and arrows from Vilja pushed the Daedric fragment back, with nowhere to escape to in the small cavern.

Molag Bal's presence loomed larger, the Daedric Prince's dark aura seeping into the very air. The ground beneath their feet trembled, as if the very fabric of reality was being torn apart by the clash of divine and demonic forces.

Vigilant Jacob walked, unabated, through the onslaught.

"Jacob, you are no match for me." Molag Bal snarled through the vicious attacks on his person.

"I am no match for you, devil," Vigilant Jacob spat before revealing something in his pocket: a small fragment of a Red Stone. "but I'd wager you recognize this."

The Daedric Prince's eyes widened. "You - how? How did you extract it from your heart?" Molag Bal's voice trembled with a mixture of rage and astonishment. The cavern around them seemed to pulse with dark energy, the shadows writhing like living serpents. The Daedric Prince's eyes glowed with an eerie light, a manifestation of his immense power.

"You have always underestimated the power of faith and the resolve of the Vigil." Jacob declared, his voice unwavering despite the torrent of attacks. "Some time ago I'd gouged it out myself. It was incredibly painful, but being undead, I knew I would survive it."

He narrowed his eyes and turned from the Red Stone fragment in his hand back to its master. "It's time to make amends for my terrible mistake." He held it up, "Gods of Aetherius, I call upon you! This fell stone, which has condemned countless souls to eternal torment, I beseech you now; destroy it! Destroy it for good and all!"

As Jacob's voice echoed through the cavern, the air grew thick with anticipation. The shadows around them seemed to quiver, as if sensing the impending change. The Daedric Prince, Molag Bal, sneered, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Your petty prayers mean nothing." Molag Bal growled, his voice reverberating like thunder. "But very well, let us see if your faith is strong enough to save you."

"In the name of Akatosh, in the name of Kyne, in the name of Mara, in the name of Stendarr, in the name of Arkay, in the name of Julianos, in the name of Dibella, in the name of Zenithar, in the name of Talos, and in the name of Shezzar..." Vigilant Jacob clutched the red stone tightly in his hand and thrust it up into the air. Immediately, flames began to emerge from it as if in protest, burning his hand. "Destroy this abomination!"

The flames engulfed the red stone, consuming it with an intense, blinding light. The cavern around them seemed to shudder and tremble, as if the very fabric of reality was being torn apart by the raw power of faith and divine intervention. The shadows that had once writhed like vicious serpents now recoiled in terror, retreating into the depths of the cavern, pulling themselves seemingly into the walls.

Molag Bal's eyes widened in shock and rage. "No! This cannot be!" The faux Dragon scrambled against the storm that held him back, and attempted to attack Vigilant Jacob, whose entire body was becoming engulfed in fire, as well.

"It's over for you, Molag Bal... I just needed to get you in the same room with me..." Vigilant Jacob closed his eyes as the fire began to swallow his hand which was wrapped around the stone. "Threefold are the masteries of Stendarr. I sound the horn in his name. May his shield protect me always from harm."

The flames engulfing Jacob's hand intensified, transitioning to a dazzling, otherworldly white. Light emanated from his hand, projecting complex patterns onto the cavern walls, drowning out the desperate glow of the fires of Coldharbour and forming a halo around his crumbling figure. With eyes shut and a resolute expression, he channeled all his energy into the divine intervention he was invoking.

Molag Bal's fury was unabated. "You will pay for your insolence, mortal!"

"Same to you, lizardface!" Vilja said with a loud laugh, her voice overcoming the storm. She pointed at Molag Bal's Draconic form, which began to flake away at the chest, embers rising from his form.

"What foolishness is this?!" the Daedra exclaimed with surprise. The cavern around them trembled violently, the sound of cracking stone echoing through the air. Molag Bal's form began to waver, his draconic body disintegrating further with each passing moment. The flames that engulfed Vigilant Jacob intensified, their brilliance casting shadows that danced on the cavern walls.

His flesh peeled off, unveiling his skeleton underneath, and the bones began to disintegrate before the eyes of all present.

Molag Bal wailed in anguish as his temporary form also began to dissolve. He stood on his back legs and roared into the ceiling as ashes collapsed from his wyrmlike form.

Serana's eyes gleamed with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. She had witnessed the Daedric horrors that Molag Bal was capable of, but to see him so utterly vanquished brought a profound sense of closure to her. All that was left was for Cura and Jyggalag to go to work on the fiend in his own home world.

Inigo's fingers instinctively tightened around the grip of his crossbow, now empty, as he took a moment to observe the aftermath of the fight.

With one final cry, the fragment of Molag Bal's power exploded in a blast of dark energy, his ashes so thick and heavy that they coated the walls and floors, as well as the heroes, and doused the mighty ring of fire that surrounded the arena.

Vigilant Jacob, now a skeleton, collapsed to his knees, and turned to dust himself before his robes touched the floor.

Keeper Ciirta watched with a gasp of horror, and a profound spear of loss penetrated her heart. The cavern, once a battleground of elemental fury, now lay in a state of eerie silence. The remnants of Molag Bal's dark energy still lingered in the air, casting a pallor over the scene. The heroes, covered in the thick, ashy residue, stood in stunned silence, their breaths heavy with the aftermath of the intense battle.

Serana, her eyes reflecting the dim light of the cavern, stepped forward with a graceful yet determined stride. Serana's crimson eyes scanned the cavern, taking in the remnants of the battle. The once-roaring flames had dwindled to smoldering embers, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the acrid smell of ash and ozone, a stark reminder of the clash that had just transpired.

Inigo, his face smeared with grime and sweat, turned to Serana with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "It's over."

Keeper Ciirta collapsed to her knees before her mentor's dust-covered robes. "Oh, Father Jacob... why...?"

Inigo stepped forward, his gaze shifting between the ashes of Jacob, and Ciirta. "He sacrificed his life to put an end to Rahel's scheme. I do not know much about that Red Stone, but Cura knew that it was not a good thing."

Keeper Ciirta was inconsolable. She tucked her face into her knees, and mourned the loss of her father figure.

In the dimly lit cavern, the flickering flames from the smoldering remnants of the dark ritual cast eerie shadows on the rough stone walls. The heavy silence was only broken by the occasional crackle of the dying embers. Serana's gaze met Inigo's, both of them sharing the gravity of the moment.

"It's a tragic end, but it was the right one." Serana finally spoke, her voice resonating with a deep, sorrowful undertone.

"How can you say such a thing?" Keeper Ciirta's voice was brash with anger. "You didn't know him!"

Serana shook her head, "You're right. I didn't; but at least his death was a meaningful one."

Illia clenched her chest, understanding Keeper Ciirta's pain. She nodded in agreement. "Serana is right. He died preventing a possible Daedric War on Nirn."

Keeper Ciirta's eyes welled up with tears, the weight of her loss pressing heavily on her shoulders. She looked down at the ground, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The cavern, once a battleground, now felt like a tomb, a place where the echoes of the past lingered in the air.

Inigo stepped closer, his voice soft and comforting. "Ciirta, he may be gone, but you are alive because of his sacrifice. And possibly us, as well."

A soft groaning from an ashbank nearby caught their attention. Keeper Ciirta slowly pulled herself up and wiped her tears away before approaching it with Inigo.

Inigo looked down into the pile of black cinders, seeing Altano laying their, broken and defeated.

"You... traitor!" Keeper Ciirta barked at Altano.

"Ohhh... Ugh..." Altano groaned weakly, his eyes fluttering open as he struggled to comprehend the scene before him. "Ciirta... forgive me..." Altano murmured, their voice hoarse and strained. The once-disciplined disciple now lay in a state of utter defeat, his body battered and bruised from the final confrontation with Molag Bal. His spine was fractured and he was unable to move.

Inigo stood beside Ciirta, his expression stern. "Forgiveness? You are responsible for what happened here. Do you really think you deserve that from her?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

"N-no... I don't." Altano shuddered, his mind clouding over.

"Why did you do this, Altano?" Keeper Ciirta asked, her face marred with sorrow and disgust.

"After... the battle in the Pale, I... I... heard a voice whispering to me... so sweet, I couldn't help but obey..." he choked. "I gave in to temptation... I'm sorry..." Memory of the sharp pain in her back struck her, but the Keeper of Stendarr's Beacon elected to be charitable. It was as Vigilant Jacob had said; anyone could be corrupted by Molag Bal.

Keeper Ciirta sighed and massaged her brow. "Rest in peace, Altano. Stendarr be with you." She drew her sword and cut his throat, putting him out of his misery. The cavern echoed with a final, sorrowful cry as Altano's life slipped away. Inigo stood rigid, his gaze fixed on the lifeless form. The air felt thick with the weight of betrayal and loss. The Vigilants had lost two brothers, and the shadows of the Daedra seemed to loom larger in the darkness.

Ciirta sheathed her sword, her eyes scanning the cavern for anything else.

A large pile of ash coated the altar, where Cura's body had lain previously. When Inigo walked over to it and dusted off the cinders, there lay Cura underneath like a diamond in the dirt.

Meridia had hidden her form from Molag Bal's sight, and guarded her from the ashes.

Inigo, his face etched with relief and gratitude, knelt beside Cura. "Thank the gods." he prayed softly, looking up to the cavern ceiling. "And you, as well, Meridia. Thank you for protecting my friend from those ne'er-do-wells."

The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the cavern walls as Inigo gently brushed the ash from Cura's face. Her eyes, once bright with the power of the Dragonborn, still laid still and unresponsive. Yet, despite her physical form, her spirit remained resilient, buoyed by the protective will of Meridia.

Inigo's breath hitched as he clutched her hand, his grip tight with hope.

Serana was surprised by the sight of it, as did Vilja.

"That was too close for my comfort," Vilja complained and raised the very valid question: "what would have happened if Molag Bal successfully possessed her body? I shudder to think of it."

Inigo's knuckles whitened as he held Cura's hand, his eyes never leaving her face. The air in the cavern seemed to thicken.

Serana stepped closer, her eyes scanning Cura's still form. "Let's return her to the Beacon." she turned to Keeper Ciirta. "And maybe place competent guards around her this time?"

"They had no reason to suspect Altano." Keeper Ciirta explained. "It was likely him and Rahel who worked towards stealing her body. With them now dead, I don't think much of a threat remains... but we will be vigilant."

The whispering caverns had grown silent as Keeper Ciirta, Inigo, Serana, Illia, and Vilja navigated the treacherous paths back to the Beacon. Inigo cradled Cura's body in his arms as they walked. Each step felt heavy, as if the cavern itself bore the weight of their recent struggle. The memory of Altano's betrayal still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint echoes of Rahel's ritual and the sorrowful sight of Jacib's sacrifice.

Inigo's resolve hardened with each step, his grip on Cura's form tightening in silent determination. They reentered Stendarr's Beacon, met with surprised glances from the other Vigilants as Inigo lay the Dragonborn back on the bed she'd been removed from.

Colette Marence shuddered. "I felt an earthquake earlier... what happened?"

"Molag Bal happened." Vilja said plainly.

Vilja's words hung heavy in the air as Colette Marence stepped forward, her eyes wide with concern. "Molag Bal? Did he... did he attempt to destroy her?"

Inigo nodded solemnly, his voice tinged with barely-contained anger. "He did, in a manner of speaking. But we were able to stop him, thanks to Meridia's intervention and Vigilant Jacob's sacrifice."

Serana moved to stand beside the bed, her gaze never leaving Cura's face.

Keeper Ciirta appeared distracted. Her nose ran and her cheeks were stained red. She turned her face from the others. "Please... I wish to be alone for a time." she requested to her subordinate, Vigilant Vidkun.

"O-of course, Keeper." the burly Nord moved aside for her to descend further into the Beacon. He knew that she and Vigilant Jacob were close.

The caverns of Stendarr's Beacon resonated with the sorrow and tension that had enveloped the Vigilants. The flickering light from the candles offering a mourning vigil for the dead; each flicker a reminder of the fragility of life and the strength of one's sacred resolve.

Inigo slowly stood back from Cura's body and cleared his throat. "Gods, I miss the days when it was just us hopping through Ruins."

Serana's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Cura's still form. "She's strong, Inigo. She will pull through this. I both can and cannot believe the audacity Molag Bal had, trying to possess Cura's body."

"He must really be frightened of the Dragonborn." Illia mused. "I can't imagine why else he would try to attempt to either destroy or possess her mortal body."

Colette Marence walked over and placed a hand on the nightstand beside Cura's bed. "I knew she was a special person the moment I laid eyes on her. Back when she was a kid." she chuckled, "It was a brief moment, and she was sent by Carcette to deliver me a parcel - but even then, I could sense something. I wasn't sure what at the time."

Inigo's expression softened as he looked at Colette. "It's funny how life brings us together, isn't it? I never imagined I'd be standing here, talking about Cura's strength and resilience with all of you." He smirked sadly. "I figured I'd be at the end of a rope, suspended over the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea with sharp rocks below me."

Serana, her eyes still fixed on Cura's still form, shifted slightly, her gaze reflecting the flickering candlelight. "She's a beacon of hope, Cura. It's no wonder Molag Bal wanted to snuff it out."

"I guess that's why Lucien calls her 'Candle?'" Vilja poked fun at the silly nickname.

Inigo chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the crackling of the candles. "Yeah, Lucien does have a way with names. But it's fitting, isn't it? Cura is like a flame, burning bright even in the darkest of times. I cannot wait to see her again. Just wait until she hears this juicy little story."

Colette nodded, her eyes showing a mixture of sadness and determination. "We need to find a way to keep that flame burning. For Cura, for ourselves, and for the future of this world."

The group nodded in unison. They resolved that they would spend the night at Stendarr's Beacon, and then head to Winterhold to check on the state of it. For now, they were worn and frazzled, and merely required an opportunity to rest their weary legs.