Author's Note: for this area, "VIGILANT Soundtrack - Tower of Sacremnor" - thanks for reading! :)
The group pressed forward through the tower, their footsteps echoing ominously in the vast corridors. The air was thick with ancient magic, and shadows seemed to writhe and dance along the walls. As they moved deeper, they encountered increasingly difficult challenges, including deadly traps and powerful Daedric guardians.
Cura led the way, her hands gripping her weapons tightly as she marched into the large, ruinous tower hub. The tower's ancient stone walls were etched with eerie, glowing runes that pulsed with a faint, otherworldly light. The atmosphere was thick with tension, as if the very air itself lived in torment in this unholy dimension.
The interior was a labyrinth of twisting corridors and grand halls, each one more foreboding than the last. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and tapestries that told the story of Molag Bal's dominion over the millennia.
The chamber was vast and imposing, with a throne of dark stone at its center. The air was thick with the presence of the Daedric Prince, and Cura clutched her Amulet of Stendarr tightly.
Sabrina reached over to Sir Amiel and intertwined her fingers with his, seeking some semblance of security for whatever lay ahead. Her pink eyes glowed softly under the black eye sockets of her Plague Doctor mask. She turned to him, speaking softly beneath the din of the battle. "I can feel it too, Sir Amiel. Something is... different about this place. It's as if the very air itself is corrupted. Even by Coldharbour's standards."
Sir Amiel's eyes, intense and alert, met hers. He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it, his face hardening. "Whatever it is, we must be ready. We have come this far. We cannot turn back now." The group pressed deeper into the tower, the air growing heavier with every step. The ancient corridors twisted and turned, each new chamber more oppressive than the last. In one particularly vast room, they encountered what appeared to be a shrine to Molag Bal - a grotesque altar hung above a hearth of fire. A large statue of him loomed above, hung upon a circular edifice with an ornate, roselike trim. His hands were folded over his heart, and his feet suspended over the pit of fire. It was a strange choice of design, to be sure.
"Fascinating..." Mary remarked, stepping forward with Korn by her side. "It's almost as though the Realm is mocking its Master, as well..."
Cura stood beside her, and looked upon the shrine. "It's... definitely not the kind of image I would associate with the Daedric Prince. Molag Bal with a broken heart?"
"I can't imagine what this place was like before it was corrupted," Sir Caius added, his gruff voice carrying through the vast chamber. "It seems almost... beautiful, in a twisted way."
Sir Torolf scoffed, his hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword. "Beauty is meaningless here. We came for a purpose, and we will see it through." Mirabelle approached Cura and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't sympathize with him, Cura. Coldharbour is a prison designed to torment its inhabitants by design. Molag Bal's ties to this realm were of his own making."
A familiar nasally voice spoke from around the opposite side of the mournful display. "Soon... it will all be over soon. A penance of thousands of years will be over today. All the captured souls will be released."
Cura, recognizing the voice, hurried around the Shrine, and was met with the ghostly form of Inquisitor Pepe.
"Pepe!" Cura called out in surprise.
Pepe's ethereal form flickered slightly as he turned to face her. "Cura! It's... it's truly you. You've made it this far..." His words held a note of wonder tinged with relief. He was wearing the same Alessian robes he had favoured in life, though now he was no longer a squidlike abomination to behold; but instead a Nedic man with a white beard, as Cura had seen him in some memories.
"Pepe, what's going on? How are you here? I thought..."
"Try as you might, but the madness can never be shaken off. You, who touched the Stone, should understand this by now." Inquisitor Pepe said plainly. "That Stone is the key to the gates of the soul. It's the bell of awakening that rouses the Oblivion inside."
Carcette stepped forward, joining her protégé. "Pepe, you speak in riddles. We need clarity, not metaphors. What do you mean by the 'key to the gates of the soul'? And how can the Stone be both a bell and a gate?" She crossed her arms, her posture firm, as she faced the Inquisitor.
Pepe's eyes glowed faintly, and he clasped his hands together, his robes swaying slightly as if disturbed by an unseen breeze. "The Stone..."
"Is the key to ascending to Aetherius." Mary interjected, speaking with the wisdom of Mara. "Its power will unlock the gate that Molag Bal intended to use." Her face was set in a somber expression, her voice subdued. "I know this because I felt the pull of Aetherius when I was transformed."
Pepe nodded sagely, his ethereal form flickering once again. "Indeed. Aetherius is the true opposite of Oblivion, where souls are meant to return when they leave the Mortal realm." His tone grew somber. "Molag Bal, with his immense hatred... has decided to flee to Aetherius and attempt to kill the gods."
Cura slammed her mace viciously against the Shrine. "I WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH A THING!" The shrine crumbled, its magical protections shattering under her fury. Around her, the other warriors, especially the Volkihar Vampires, flinched with alarm.
"Holy cow." Sabrina's eyes widened and she took a step back.
Carcette was shocked by Cura's sudden outburst, but she, and the other Vigilants, agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.
Mary stepped forward, her hands taking Cura's softly. "Cura, my child. Your anger is justified, but we must act with purpose, not rage." She placed a hand on Cure's shoulder, and a calming aura flowed from her.
Fura Bloodmouth sighed, "No; you should let her rage. Rage is good, at a time like this."
Varla agreed, and looked down at Mary. "Molag Bal really seems to have it out for the gods." The Man-Hunter's rough words carried a grim edge.
Mary's eyes flashed dangerously. "Indeed, he does. But that is why we must not succumb to anger, or vengeance. We must act with the love and protection of the gods themselves." Her hand tightened on Cura's shoulder, grounding her in place.
Cura remembered the warning Jyggalag had imparted where wrath and vengeance were concerned. "The Path of Balance." she reminded herself with a sigh. The ground trembled again, more violently this time. Everyone tensed, ready for whatever was coming. In the distance, a deafening roar echoed through the air, followed by a massive explosion that sent shockwaves rippling across the land. The very air grew thick with tension as all eyes turned to the source of the disturbance.
The Army of Order moved with haste, and Cura beckoned Carcette, Savos, Mirabelle, Sabrina, Sir Amiel, Sir Torolf, Sir Caius, Sir Ralvas, Sir Henrik, Varla, Mary, Korn, Maram, Aria, Abbot Silorn, Atima, the Gray Prince, Melus Petilius, Bourlor, Gloriel the Valkyrie, Vingalmo, Orthjolf, Fura Bloodmouth, Stalf, Salonia, Hestla, Rargal Thrallmaster, Garan Marethi, Feran Sadri, Minorne, and the Vigilants of Stendarr to follow her through the door to the east. They walked past Inquisitor Pepe, who watched them go silently.
Once the group was out of earshot, the old Priest sighed, "Good luck, Cura... may Akatosh protect you."
The group emerged from the door into a massive chamber, its walls adorned with glowing runes and ancient carvings. The air thrummed with magical energy, and the ground shook beneath their feet. The ceiling was impossibly high, stretching into darkness where the light of the runes couldn't reach.
Cura's eyes swept the chamber, taking in every detail. At its center stood a massive pillar of swirling, opalescent energy, pulsating with power.
The walls began to shiver and gray crystals began to form, growing out from the moisture of the ceiling above. The Knights of Order began to assail the Daedric forces and Shambles within the corridors themselves.
Cura motioned for the group to follow her. "Ignore the fighting - follow my lead!" she called out desperately as she used Spellbreaker to block a stray bolt of lightning fired by a Dremora Mage. The chamber was a battlefield of magic and chaos as the Daedric army engaged the Knights of Order in a fierce melee. Dremora Mages hurled bolts of crackling energy while Knights wielding blessed crsytalline weapons struck back with precision and indifference.
Cura's group pressed on, the oppressive atmosphere heavy with the clash of metal and the screams of the wounded. As they navigated the treacherous terrain, a massive earth tremor nearly knocked them all off their feet.
The hallways grew more and more crystalline the further in the group moved, the sandstone ruins being overtaken like abandoned buildings in a forest. The group emerged into a vast chamber where the oppressive atmosphere of the ruins was replaced by an eerie stillness. The air was thick with magical energy, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. The ceiling was impossibly high, stretching into darkness where the light of the runes couldn't reach.
At the end of the adjacent wall stood a massive pillar of swirling, opalescent red energy, pulsating with power. A lift of sorts, crafted with the whirling red powers of Coldharbour awaited the group. Cura turned to her allies, "We'll go up in shifts; I'll go first. If it's safe, I'll toss a Magelight back down."
"Yes, be careful; there's no telling what rests above." Mirabelle cautioned her.
Carcette waved it off. "She's going to be fine. Don't worry about it."
Cura stepped onto the whirling platform, gripping her mace tightly. The magic hummed around her as the lift ascended, the oppressive energy of Coldharbour growing stronger. As she reached the upper level, she found herself in a circular chamber, its walls pulsing with an eerie red glow.
The center of the room contained an altar-like structure, upon which rested an ornate crystalline key. Small runes along its surface seemed to hum with mysterious power. She turned back around and watched as the lift descended. True to her word, she cast a Magelight in her hand and hurled it down, allowing it to stick to the lift itself.
As the lift returned to its place, the group waited in anticipation. As soon as the Magelight came into view, relief washed over them.
In response, the group began to file onto the lift, all the while keeping a close eye on the hallways around them.
It took a few minutes per round, but eventually all of the assembled members had gotten safely to the top floor. Cura, now surrounded by her companions, turned to study the key. The runes along its surface shifted and changed, occasionally emitting a soft hum. "Jyggalag has the tower now, I guess." The chamber's silver light flickered, casting strange shadows on the key. Her companions, led by Gloriel and Sir Caius, gathered around her. Carcette, ever the voice of reason, spoke up. "If the key opens something, it could be dangerous. We should approach with caution."
Sabrina, her Daedric dagger ready, stepped closer. "I think it's probably to that door, over there." She gestured towards a large pair of double doors on the wall adjacent to them. "I can feel something... powerful coming from there. Should we be worried?"
Savos Aren shook his head. "Yes, and no." He placed his hands on the small crystal pedestal that the key rested upon, and Mirabelle joined him. Their gazes fixed upon Cura, and she leaned in with them. "It all comes down to this, Cura. What you've gone through the Deadlands for. What you've come to Coldharbour for."
"What we've been urging you towards from the moment we'd encountered you." Mirabelle said with a wistful gaze.
"You mean... it's there? Right beyond those doors?" Cura's eyes widened with wonder and surprise. "The... the... the Adabal?" The word hung in the air, heavy with significance. The key on the pedestal began to pulse with a soft, ethereal light, as if responding to the mention of its purpose. Around the chamber, the magical energy intensified, causing the air to crackle with unseen power.
Savos and Mirabelle exchanged a meaningful look, their faces grave. "Yes, Cura. The Adabal is there. The very artifact that could tip the scales of this war, and alter the fate of Tamriel."
Vingalmo stepped forward, his jaw hung open with amazement. "The Amulet of Kings? Are you absolutely certain of it? The sign of the Emperor itself?" He immediately exchanged a mutual glance with Orthjolf, who was just as flabbergasted as he was.
"This lass...?" Orthjolf could scarcely believe it himself.
Carcette took Cura's hand gently. "Dear Cura... this is not going to be easy for you; from this moment onwards, your life will forever be changed. Nothing will ever be the same again. Nobody on Nirn will ever see you the same way." The lift hummed behind them once again, and Inquisitor Pepe emerged, and walked towards the double doors. He hung his head in sorrow. "Alessia... Alessia... I am so sorry."
"Wh...what can we expect beyond there?" Sir Amiel inquired, his voice betraying his anxiety.
"The body of our lady Alessia. Grave-robbing is his specialty. Even without their souls, the bodies of the powerful serve him as useful vessels." Inquisitor Pepe's voice cracked lightly. "Even dead saints are useful in death. Or perhaps I should say they're useful only in death... I hope you'll be the same." he snarled with contempt. His eyes held a deep-seeded anger towards the idea of her going forward to meet his exalted Saint Alessia's corpse.
"What do you expect me to do?" Cura grunted with frustration.
"Do what you've been doing all along. Destroy it. You can't do anything else anyway." Pepe's words hung in the air, heavy with both resignation and challenge. The chamber's atmosphere grew oppressive as the magical energy intensified. The key on the pedestal began to pulse with a brighter, more insistent light, its runes now glowing with an eerie, ethereal radiance.
Savos stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards the key. "Cura, this is the moment we've been preparing for. What you do here will echo into eternity. And... if it comes to it, I am sure Alessia will forgive you."
The air grew thick with tension as Pepe's words hung heavy. Cura's gaze fixed intently on the pulsing key, its runes now glowing with an almost hypnotic intensity. She felt the weight of Savos' statement settle upon her shoulders, his words echoing the enormity of the task ahead. The magical energy in the chamber intensified, crackling like lightning in the air, as if nature itself sensed the pivotal moment about to unfold.
"Forgive me?" Cura sighed. She hoped she didn't have to slay Alessia to obtain the Amulet. She searched the faces of her army for reassurance.
Mary and Korn stepped forward. "We trust in you, Cura. Whatever needs to be done, you have our full support."
"Cura," Carcette's voice cut through the charged atmosphere. "If it comes to it, I will hold back Alessia with everything I have, while you secure the amulet."
The tension in the room reached a crescendo as Savos moved closer to the door, his hand still outstretched. He placed a palm on its surface and lowered his head. "I feel a few different things there... not just the Amulet."
Cura nodded, "Then... I'll go. Just me. Stay by the door." She commanded her allies.
Varla barked, "Are you crazy? You don't know what Molag Bal has planned! You think he'd just happily leave the Amulet there? It's obviously a trap!"
Cura held a hand over her chest. "It's okay. I'm never alone."
Savos' face grew tense, and he spoke with quiet conviction. "Cura... I don't think Alessia is the one we should be worried about." He turned to face you, his eyes reflecting concern and a deeper, darker knowledge. "There are... other forces at work here. Forces I'm not sure even I understand. And if you go in alone..."
His words hung heavy in the air, unfinished.
"A small group, then. I don't want everybody going in there and possibly getting annihilated." Cura compromised. "Who wants to volunteer?"
The chamber fell silent as her allies processed her words. Varla stepped forward, his scorched hand already on his sword hilt. "I'm coming. Someone needs to watch your back."
Savos raised his hand, his brow furrowed in thought. "I'll go as well. My knowledge of the Daedric might be useful."
Mirabelle also nodded. "I feel it's only right that I should come, as well. After all, Savos and I were appointed to bring you here. Let us see this through to the end."
Mary and Korn exchanged a glance before stepping forward together. "We're with you, Cura. Whatever is in there, we face it together."
Varla spun around, "No, Mother! No."
"Yes." Mary said with a firm nod. Korn barked by her side.
Maram and Aria were about to step forward, but Mary shook her head at them both. "Keep Atima and Abbot Silorn safe."
Cura nodded solemnly at the volunteers. "Very well. Varla, Savos, Mirabelle, Mary and Korn, you're with me. The rest of you, guard the entrance and prepare for any Daedric retaliation." She turned to face the door, drawing Dawnbreaker from her waist with a soft hum.
Carcette's voice rang out, thick with emotion. "Be careful in there, Cura. Laza is going to show up again."
Cura smirked, "Somehow I figured he would. Thanks for the warning."
As Cura's group approached the runic chamber door, the air hummed with a palpable energy, the crystalline terrain beneath their feet shimmering under the intense magical emanations. Varla, sword drawn, took the lead, his voice low and gruff. "Let's get this over with. I don't like the feel of this place."
Cura inserted the Key into the door's lock and pushed it open. She, Varla, Mary, Savos, Mirabelle, and Korn walked through.
Once inside, they found themselves in a vast, circular rooftop plaza lined with circular seats, coated in runes that glowed a faint purple. At its center stood a massive pillar, pulsing with ethereal light, and suspended in the air. A barrier maintained by several Soul-Shriven Alessians shimmered in the condemned ampitheatre.
Mary stepped forward, and nodded to Korn. With great focus, she began to manifest a powerful golden light between the palms of her hands. Then, with a thrust to either side, the golden light exploded in a pulse of shimmering light, which reduced the Soul-Shriven to dust and dispelled the barrier.
Varla's jaw hung open as he watched his Mother's display of Aedric Power. It seemed that the closer they'd gotten to the Adabal, the more influence Mara had gained. Cura descended the stairs of the ampitheatre towards the pillar at its heart. The body of Saint Alessia was indeed there, the Amulet in her hands, laced around them both.
"S-Saint Alessia!" Cura gawked, recognizing the woman in the horn-hooded blue and red robes within a shimmering column of red energy. As Cura approached the body of Saint Alessia, she could see the delicate features of the woman who was once the revered founder of the Aedric pantheon. The amulet, its golden chain intertwined with Alessia's fingers, glinted under the ethereal light, emitting a faint hum that seemed to resonate with the very air around it.
Alessia seemed to not notice Cura; rather, she seemed to be kneeling forward in contemplative prayer. As Cura headed closer for a better look at the Amulet of Kings, a sudden chill ran down her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she could feel an inexplicable sense of dread wash over her.
"CURA, WATCH OUT!" Savos Aren cried out.
Varla dashed forward, his joints crying out as the flame-fused steel clenched them in place.
The air crackled with energy as Volar the Deathbringer, in his Daedric armour and black hooded helm materialized behind Cura, his spectral form coalescing from the very ether. The Reaper's eyes flashed with malevolence. "It is remarkable you've managed to get this far. But you will go no further." He clutched his scythe in both hands, his hollow eye sockets lighting up with red inner fire. "I can't let you go to my lord. This is where you meet your end."
"FUS RO DAH!" Cura blasted the reaper backwards immediately.
Cura's Shout sent the Reaper stumbling backwards, but he quickly regained his footing, an eerie chuckle emanating from beneath his helm. "Impressive. But you'll have to do better than that to defeat me."
The Reaper began to advance, his movements fluid and predatory as he circled around Cura, his scythe leaving glowing red trails in the air. Cura recounted her previous fight against Volar. She was able to defeat him without her Dragon Soul before. She was not worried about facing him now. Especially with Savos, Mirabelle, Mary and Korn by her side.
The white wolf sprinted forward, and leapt onto Volar, sinking her holy fangs into his hand. As the white wolf Korn latched onto Volar's hand, the Reaper let out an unearthly howl of pain and rage. "Filthy beast! I'll send you to the depths of the void!" Volar wrenched his arm back, flinging Korn away like a ragdoll. The wolf tumbled across the ground, yelping in pain as she skidded to a stop, her fur singed and smoking.
"Korn!" Varla grit his teeth ferociously and rushed towards Volar.
Volar the Deathbringer turned his attention to Varla, his hollow eye sockets glowing with an eerie red light. "You dare to attack me, mortal? I am a Herald of Oblivion, a being of immense power and cruelty. Your pitiful weapons and feeble strength mean nothing against me."
Varla lunged at Volar, his Sword flashing in the air. "I don't give a damn who you are, you Daedric bastard. You're gonna pay for what you did!" Volar the Deathbringer easily sidestepped Varla's desperate attack, his movements almost too quick to follow. With a contemptuous wave of his scythe, he sent Varla sprawling to the ground, his sword clattering away across the obsidian floor.
"How pathetic," Volar sneered, towering over the fallen werewolf. "You actually thought you could harm me with that rusty hunk of metal?" Mary stepped closer to Varla and, with an outstretched hand, blasted Volar with holy light. Mary's divine intervention struck Volar square in the chest, the radiant light exploding against his dark armor. The Daedric Herald stumbled back with a snarl, more enraged than injured by the holy assault. "You meddlesome hag," Volar growled at Mary, his hollow sockets flaring with infernal energy. "You may have saved your mutt, but you'll regret this interference."
"Not as much as you will." Cura said sternly.
Savos froze Volar's feet to the ground with a Frost Spell, and Mirabelle created a wall of stone between him and Mary and Varla.
Cura rammed into Volar with her shield from behind, causing him to fall to his knees. Volar the Deathbringer struggled against the Frost Spell's icy grip, his skeletal hands clawing at the frozen ground. With an inhuman roar, he shattered the ice around his feet. Before he could regain his balance, Cura stepped onto his back and pressed Dawnbreaker to his throat.
With a practiced slash, Cura slit his second vertebrae. The Herald of Coldharbour, Volar the Deathbringer, shuddered as Dawnbreaker parted his spine, holy light erupting from the fatal wound. A final rattling groan escaped his skeletal jaws as the last spark of necromantic energy fled his desiccated form, and he slumped to the obsidian floor in a heap of ancient armor and dust.
His voice, crinkling like the falling of dead leaves, whispered one last time before his body was entirely vanquished:
"I don't understand... why did Lord Molag Bal... why did he..."
"Allow it?" Cura completed his fragmented thought, her grip still tight on Dawnbreaker's hilt. Around her, the army of the living watched the last vestiges of Volar the Deathbringer crumble into the dark stone, his once intimidating presence reduced to motes of dust.
"I couldn't tell you," Cura repeated softly, a frown creasing her brow as she stepped back from the Herald's final resting place. "but I know what I came here for."
"Remember what Carcette said." Mirabelle reminded her.
Cura watched as the red barrier around Saint Alessia dissipated, "Yes; I know. Laza. From somewhere..." She looked around, wondering if he was going to come in by the door across from her. It didn't matter. She needed the Amulet of Kings.
"Saint Alessia... can you hear me?" Cura asked the venerable woman softly. Even if this were her body, Cura knew that Alessia had to be in there somewhere; after all, she'd reached out to her many times during her imprisonment in Coldharbour. "It's me, Cura; I have saved your son Belharza. I have returned that Elder Scroll to him. I have come, as you requested." She knelt with Saint Alessia, in prayer. She began to meditate with the Dragonborn Empress of old. Through Cura's bond to her, the Empress received a glimmer of her soul and, seeing the purity in Cura, granted her audience with hers.
The ethereal being of the saint reached out to touch the amber glow around her own soul. "The Last Dragonborn," she began, "may your Line last until the end of the Kalpa... may your blood grow strong, and may Tamriel prosper in your hands." Alessia's body, with shaking hands, held up the Amulet of Kings between them, its red diamond glimmering in the silver light from the skies above. "Cura, take it." Alessia whispered, her voice soft but strong. "You have earned this." She gently placed the amulet around Cura's neck, the warmth of its magic seeping into her soul. "Go forth, Dragonborn. Protect my descendants, our people, and all of Tamriel."
The door behind them opened, where Inquisitor Pepe stood watching the spectacle. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open as he watched Saint Alessia bestow the Amulet of Kings upon Cura. The rest of her allies began to pour in to witness this as well.
As soon as the Red Diamond made contact with Cura's body, it glowed with a sacred crimson light, which enveloped her. With the Amulet of Kings around her neck, Cura felt an overwhelming surge of power course through her veins. Her eyes flashed with determination, and she stood up tall, towering over the crowd.
"It is done!" Savos Aren proclaimed, joy spreading through his heart.
Mary and Korn applauded Cura first, and Carcette approached her and knelt before her. Sir Amiel, Sir Ralvas, Sir Henrik, Sir Caius, Sir Torolf, and Varla followed suit; her loyal Knights. Sabrina removed her mask, and lowered her face. "The... the Amulet is real..."
Everybody else followed suit, bowing before the Chosen of Alessia. Cura stepped forward, holding her hand up to stop their reverence. "Stand up, my allies. I am no goddess, and this is no coronation. We have a battle ahead of us, and it will be long and arduous."
At that instant, a loud cracking noise emerged from the skies above; Laza came hurdling down the pillar above Alessia. The body of the Saint closed her eyes and looked downwards as one of his swords met the back of her neck. Cura gasped at the sight of Alessia's lifeless body tumbling down the pillar. Time seemed to slow as Laza's sword severed her head cleanly, and it bounced down to rest at Cura's feet, eyes still open and face frozen in a solemn prayer. The rest of the Saint's body fell lifelessly to the chamber floor below.
Inquisitor Pepe's spectral eyes widened with horror and he covered his mouth with a terrified gasp, recoiling against the wall. next to the entrance door
The noise of the impact startled Cura, and she looked up in disgust. Crystals began to shoot up from the ground as Laza used the powers granted to him by Jyggalag so long ago to try and kill the Dragonborn. Cura's mind reeled at the audacity of the act, and she rushed to meet Laza head-on. Sir Amiel joined her, along with Sir Henrik, and Gloriel. Cura's heart pounded as she sprinted towards Laza, Dawnbreaker blazing in her hand. The air crackled with energy as the ancient sword hummed with power, ready to strike down the traitorous knight. Sir Amiel and Sir Henrik flanked her, their weapons drawn and eyes filled with determination. Gloriel, the Valkyrie, soared overhead, her spear glinting in the light of the crystals.
"Laza!" Cura shouted as she charged, her voice echoing through the chamber. "You dare desecrate the sacred remains of Alessia? For this, you will face my wrath!"
The ground trembled beneath her feet as she closed the distance, Dawnbreaker singing a song of righteous fury. Sir Amiel and Sir Henrik matched her pace, their armor gleaming as they raised their swords in unison. Gloriel swooped down from above, her spear poised to strike.
Laza sidestepped Gloriel's spear, and was struck by Sir Amiel's claymore. As Cura and her allies charged towards Laza, the ampitheatre erupted in a cacophony of clashing steel and arcane energies. The once tranquil sanctum now pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly light as the crystals Laza had summoned continued to grow, threatening to engulf the entire area.
Sir Torolf, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust, leaped into the fray with a mighty roar. The air crackled with energy as Cura and her allies converged on Laza. Dawnbreaker blazed in Cura's grip, its holy light a stark contrast to the eldritch energies swirling around the chamber. Sir Amiel and Sir Henrik flanked her, their swords held at the ready, while Gloriel soared overhead, her spear poised to strike.
"Laza!" Cura bellowed, her voice ringing out over the chaos. "You brought this on yourself!"
Laza spun around, slashing Cura across the chest, which scratched the golden cuirass underneath her white robes. She reached forward and grabbed him by the armoured neck and leapt onto him, Dawnbreaker poised to strike in her right hand.
Laza snarled, "I will not allow you to stop me, Cura!"
Hearing his voice for the first time was shocking; he sounded like a young man - a hint of normalcy that betrayed his silver crystalline appearance.
"I will end this blasphemy and save the Divines!" she shouted back. Cura used a Lightning Cloak to electrocute the Dremora Lord and Laza.
Laza staggered back, his crystalline form flickering from the electrical onslaught. The otherworldly energies swirling around him seemed to intensify, pulsing with an eerie, ethereal light. With a guttural snarl, he lashed out at Cura, his blade clashing against her Dawnbreaker in a shower of sparks.
"Foolish mortal!" Laza hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Molag Bal is mine! I will have his head, and I alone!"
Cura parried his next strike with Spellbreaker, and Korn bit his leg, throttling him and causing him to lose his balance. Cura fired a Ball of Storms at him. The ball of violet lightning, at such a short range, gave Laza little time to react.
The spell caught him off-guard, the electricity crackling across his crystalline body. He stumbled back, momentarily stunned by the electrical surge. The otherworldly energies swirling around him pulsed and flickered in response to the sudden assault.
"Curses!" Laza snarled, his voice distorted by the static coursing through his form.
Sabrina intervened, her poison-tipped dagger glinting in the brilliant silver light as she lunged for his neck. At the same time, Melus, the Gray Prince, Vingalmo, Orthjolf, Stalf, and Hestla scrambled towards the assailant.
As Cura's allies surged forward, Laza lashed out with a burst of telekinetic force, sending the vampires and the others flying backwards. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and armor, momentarily incapacitated.
Laza's eyes narrowed as he focused his attention back on Cura. He thrust his sword forward, and Carcette intercepted it with her warhammer. She pushed forward, knocking him off-kilter. "You will not touch her!"
Laza snarled in fury, his crystalline form pulsing with eldritch energy as he grappled with Carcette. With a burst of unnatural strength, he shoved her back, sending the knight sprawling. In that instant, he lunged at Cura, his blade flashing silver in the eldritch glow.
Cura reacted on pure instinct, her Dawnbreaker and Mace meeting Laza's swords in a clash of holy light and eldritch power. Before she'd even realized what she was doing, Cura was dual-wielding weapons for the first time in her life. Cura's eyes widened as she felt the familiar hum of Dawnbreaker in her right hand and the comforting weight of her Mace in her left. The holy light of Dawnbreaker flared brightly as it clashed against Laza's eldritch blade, sending a shockwave of force rippling outwards.
Cura gritted her teeth, pouring all her strength into holding the line against Laza's onslaught. "Meridia, Stendarr, be my strength!" she called out.
Carcette, still on her feet, charged forward again. She swung her hammer with all her might, aiming for Laza's back as he grappled with Cura. The hammer connected with a sickening crack, and Laza cried out in pain, stumbling forward.
With a swift crack, Cura snapped Laza's head to the left with her mace. As Cura's mace connected with Laza's head, the man-turned-Daedra let out a guttural cry of pain and rage. The force of the blow sent him staggering to the side, his crystalline form pulsing with eldritch energy.
Carcette seized the opportunity, charging forward with her warhammer raised high. "This is for Jyggalag." she declared, bringing the hammer down in a mighty arc. Laza, still reeling from Cura's strike, barely managed to raise his own blade in time to deflect Carcette's hammer. The blow still sent him to his knees, and he let out a choked gasp, his crystalline form flickering and distorting.
All around them, the battlefield had descended into chaos. The crystal spikes shot up everywhere, and safe spaces were becoming harder and harder to find.
Atima shrieked as a sharp crystal needle shot up beside her. Sir Caius grabbed the young Khajiit and pulled her away from the danger. Sir Caius quickly scanned the battlefield, his eyes searching for any sign of Laza. The Daedric entity had vanished amidst the chaos, leaving only a trail of shattered crystal in his wake.
"Where did he go?" Sir Caius growled, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. He could feel the heat of battle coursing through his veins, the thrill of the fight igniting a primal hunger within him. Varla roared, "THERE!" he thrust his finger into the air, where Laza had leapt. The crystal knight intended to drop down upon Cura, but the Man-Hunter was diligent. The crystal knight hovered for a moment, his form shimmering in the air. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he plummeted towards Cura, his crystalline sword poised to strike.
Cura's eyes widened as she realized the danger. She raised Spellbreaker, bracing herself for the impact. The sturdy shield sang as it met Laza's crystalline weapon, the force of the collision sending shockwaves rippling through the air.
Fura Bloodmouth leapt forward, cutting into Laza with her sword with deadly resolve. Hestla and Rargal came upon him from his left and his right, the three forming a triangle around the enemy. As the battle raged on, Cura found herself dodging and weaving through the forest of crystal spikes that had erupted from the ground. She could hear the grunts and cries of her fellow warriors as they too fought to stay alive amidst the deadly terrain.
"Stay close to me," Cura called out to those nearby, her voice carrying over the cacophony of the fight. She swung Spellbreaker in a wide arc, knocking away a crystal spike that had sprung up beside her. "YOL TOOR SHUL!" came her Fire Breath Shout, which consumed the floor in front of her, as well as Laza in a whirling inferno.
Laza howled in agony, his crystalline body beginning to crack and fracture from the intense heat. Fragments of crystal shattered and skittered across the floor like deadly shrapnel, forcing Cura and the nearby Vigilants to leap back and dodge for cover.
Savos dove and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being sliced to ribbons by a hail of razor-sharp splinters. Mirabelle cast a large barrier in front of the larger group, guarding them against the deadly glass. "He sure is persistent, isn't he." she sneered.
Carcette cast a Healing Spell on Sabrina and Sir Amiel to halt their bleeding, and Varla dashed past them, sticking his swords into Laza with a brutal thrust. "Just... die already!" The battle raged on, a chaotic dance of steel and magic. Varla's swords pierced the crystal knight, but the demonic entity merely shook off the wounds, turning his attention to the Man-Hunter. With inhuman speed, Laza lashed out, catching Varla across the torso with a backhand swing of his crystalline blade.
Varla grunted in pain, staggering backwards as blood welled from the gash. Maram and Aria curved around him, Maram's maul crashing down upon Laza.
Laza staggered back from the onslaught, his crystalline form cracking and crumbling. The relentless assault from Cura and her allies was taking its toll on him. He snarled in fury as his vision began to blur.
Sir Henrik and the Gray Prince engaged him up close, bashing him with their shields. Sir Ralvas leapt overhead, bringing down his own warhammer upon his head, while Aria's rapier pierced the center of Laza's chest. The battle raged on, a chaotic whirlwind of clashing steel and surging magic. Laza, the vengeful warrior, stumbled and staggered under the relentless onslaught. His crystalline form, once pristine and unbreakable, now cracked and crumbled with each blow.
Cura, her eyes blazing with righteous fury, tracked his movements with great focus. Laza slipped out from the crowd and rushed towards her, the crystal of his armour chipping off his flesh, revealing a partly-human face underneath. He roared and lunged forward in a last-ditch effort to kill the Dragonborn, when suddenly...
"FEIM ZII!" Cura Shouted, and her astral body became ethereal. Laza's swords passed through her and he stumbled, tripping on the crystal stalk behind her. He fell forward, and hit the flat steps of the ampitheatre. The crystal knight Laza lay prone on the bloodstained steps, his once-pristine armor now shattered and cracked. He groaned in agony, his human features visible through the fractured crystal. The relentless assault from Cura and her allies had taken its toll, leaving the vengeful warrior broken and defeated.
Cura stood over him, her ethereal form shimmering as she prepared to strike the final blow. Cura's eyes narrowed as she gazed down at the fallen knight. His crystalline form, once a symbol of his power and invincibility, now lay in ruins at her feet. She could see the pain etched across his face, the anguish in his eyes as he struggled to rise.
"Laza," Cura said, her voice cold and unyielding. "I am willing... to offer you a chance. Come with us, and-"
The proud Knight grunted and leapt upwards for one final strike, but Cura twisted her head to the right, her instincts reacting quicker than her mind could fathom. His sword grazed the left of her neck and her left trapezius. In an instant, Cura's mace crashed into Laza's shattered helm with a sickening crunch, obliterating the remainder of his head. His broken body slumped lifelessly to the blood-soaked steps, twitching sporadically as the last vestiges of life fled his ruined form.
A stunned silence fell over the amphitheater as the assembled warriors stared at the aftermath of the gruesome spectacle.
Sir Caius covered little Atima's eyes and held her close to himself.
"Nice shot." Sabrina remarked with awe.
Carcette leaned on the handle of her warhammer. "Just like Jyggalag predicted." Cura cast a Healing Spell on herself to mend her injuries, and her gaze turned upon the decapitated, disgraced body of Saint Alessia, and then back at Laza, and then at the door across from them all. "If he was this desperate to kill me here, that must be where Molag Bal's Throne room is."
Cura turned around to face her assembled company, her voice ringing out with grim determination. "We've won a great victory here, and the light rests at the end of this tunnel. Molag Bal himself waits beyond those doors, and I intend to put an end to his schemes once and for all."
The Vigilants, the Volkihar, and companions rallied around her, their resolve hardened by the harrowing battles they had endured. Sir Caius stepped forward, his hand resting protectively on Atima's shoulder. "So... we're going to go in and fight the Daedric Prince."
Gloriel gulped lightly, as did the assembly of Vigilants and Carcette.
The former Keeper of the Vigil turned to face her brothers and sisters in arms. "This is what we signed up for, Vigilants. It was always our duty to guard Tamriel against the forces of the Daedra. Molag Bal, being so brazen, intends to try and breach into Aetherius, and attempt to slay Stendarr himself! We cannot stand by and permit such blasphemy."
The Vigilants all exchanged wary glances; were the notion even possible, there was little they could offer in the hopes of averting such a fate.
"And Mara. I... hng... I won't... stand for it..." Varla clutched his bleeding side in agony. Mary began to mend his wounds.
The assembled warriors and mages looked to Cura, their leader, for guidance. The road ahead was perilous, but they had come too far to turn back now. Cura's gaze swept over her companions, taking in their determined faces and the glint of steel and magic at their sides. She knew they were ready for whatever lay ahead.
"I don't think he can." Cura said, her voice steady and clear. "Even if Molag Bal could defeat one of the Divines, there are Eight more, as well."
Cura strode forward, her armor clanking with each purposeful step. She reached out and grasped the ornate handle of the massive door, her fingers curling around the cold metal. With a grunt of effort, she heaved the door open, the ancient hinges groaning in protest. Beyond lay a long, extensive chamber, its walls pulsing with an eerie, otherworldly light. Dead Knights of Order and Dremoras lay strewn about the floor and torn standards blew in the limp breeze coming in from the broken vaulted ceiling above.
Statues of hooded praying skeletons lined the walls, parts smashed off and dust raining down from their eyes; a mournful farewell to the home they once knew.
Cura led the host above a flight of stairs, maintaining a wide berth to give the others a chance to flee should they desire it; she, however, would not. Her mace and shield were gripped tightly in her hands, hanging to the sides as each purposeful step closed the distance between her and the empty Throne at the end of the hall.
Upon the throne, a Red Stone sat.
Inquisitor Pepe spoke up again, as he walked up beside Cura. He sounded hopeless; exhausted. "Is it... is it not enough yet? Must you be the one to do this? Graymarch will end everything, anyway."
"Pepe, step aside." Cura ordered.
"Won't you listen to the old man for once? I'll say it again, stop. There's nothing good waiting for you here." the old Priest pleaded with Cura. "Here there's only decay, no mysteries, no miracles. Every effort ends in vain here."
Cura sighed, "Where is Molag Bal?"
As Cura strode forward, her boots echoing in the cavernous chamber, the assembled warriors and mages followed close behind. The air was thick with tension and the hum of magical energy emanating from the pulsing walls. Cura's gaze locked onto the empty throne at the far end of the hall, the red stone atop it seeming to throb with malevolent power.
Inquisitor Pepe, his voice tinged with weariness and despair, spoke up once more. "He is here, and he has gone to Aetherius."
The collective blood of all present ran cold upon hearing these hopeless words.
Cura furrowed her brows. "Here, and Aetherius?"
"You broke him." Inquisitor Pepe explained. "Your Dragon Soul; its presence here caused a series of Dragon Breaks, and tore this Realm apart. Molag Bal is no exception. See for yourself." He led Cura around the throne, where Molag Bal lay on the floor, holding himself in a pool of blood.
"Stop... please... stop..." the Prince of Rape pleaded.
Inquisitor Pepe sighed. "If you, Dragonborn, kill him now, and consume the Stone... it will never end."
"I came here for one thing, and one thing only." Cura's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of the broken Daedric prince, her grip tightening on her Mace's hilt. The screams of the tortured souls that still echoed through the chamber, a testament to Molag Bal's cruelty, fueled her desire for vengeance. But as she stepped forward, she felt a hand on her shoulder, holding her back.
"Cura, think carefully," Mary warned. "listen to your heart; your true heart. Is it vengeance you desire, or justice?"
Cura hesitated, glancing back at Mary with a pained expression. The Priestess's words struck a chord within her, and she knew her friend was right. This was not about mere vengeance, but about protecting the innocent and upholding the virtues of Stendarr. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what needed to be done.
"Molag Bal," Cura declared, her voice ringing out through the chamber. "your time is over. Your reign of terror, your violation of the realms and their inhabitants, ends today. In the name of the Divines, I am here to restore balance and set right your wrongs."
Molag Bal pleaded once more, "N-no... please..." he turned to Mary, "Mara... please... I'm... sorry..."
Mary turned her face from the Daedric Prince with disgust, and Korn walked away from him, as well. Neither would help him; especially considering the evil he'd wrought for millennia.
Cura's eyes flashed with a mix of disgust and pity as she regarded the pathetic sight before her. The once-mighty Daedric Prince, now reduced to a whimpering, injured husk, was hardly the formidable foe she had expected. Yet, even in his weakened state, she knew the threat he posed was far from over.
She glanced back at her companions, taking stock of their readiness.
"Put him down like the disgusting dog he is." Carcette said plainly. "Deliver him Stendarr's Justice."
Cura nodded grimly, her resolve hardening. She stepped forward, her Mace held at the ready, the weight of her duty as a Vigilant of Stendarr settling upon her shoulders. The other members of her party, from the hardened warriors like Sir Caius and Sir Torolf to the Vampires fell into formation around her, their weapons drawn and their faces set with determination.
"Molag Bal," Cura intoned, her voice ringing with authority. "Stendarr's mercy be upon you, for the Vigil has none to spare."
With that, she decapitated him with a brutal swing of her mace. However, rather than his body slumping to the floor, he burst into flames, head and body all, leaving behind a small pool of ashes.
Sabrina paused, and stared at the pile of ashes. "So... that was it? That was the dreaded Daedric Prince of Domination? Nah... that couldn't be..."
Cura and her companions stood in stunned silence, staring at the pile of ashes that had once been the mighty Daedric Prince Molag Bal.
The room was thick with tension and a sense of disbelief. Carcette was the first to break the silence. "That was... easy," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and disappointment. "I expected more of a fight from the Prince of Domination."
Sir Caius nodded solemnly. "Indeed." Savos Aren grunted with annoyance, "I rather like this better. Were it not so, he would have been far, far worse."
Cura regarded the ashes with suspicion for a moment before walking ahead to see a large seal on the floor bearing the sigil of Oblivion. Before it, a hole where something is to be inserted. "This must be the portal to Aetherius from Oblivion."
Mary wasted no time; she walked around the throne, and faced Inquisitor Pepe, the man who'd burned her at the stake in life. "Pelan, this is your last chance. You don't have to die here by the Graymarch." Mary's voice was calm and measured, but there was an undercurrent of steel beneath the surface. "I know you have no love for me, but I ask you to reconsider your actions."
Inquisitor Pepe's eyes clouded over with sadness. "I... I deserve my fate, Mara. I do. For what I did to you, and to many others... I can never forgive myself..."
Mary reached forward and took his hands into her own. "Pelan... are you remorseful for your actions?"
Inquisitor Pepe blinked, taken aback by Mary's sudden tenderness. He looked down at their joined hands, feeling the warmth of her touch even through the coldness of his undead flesh. A tear rolled down his cheek. "I... I am. I truly am. I see now the horrible wrongs I committed, both in my betrayal of the Aedra, and my embrace of the Marukhati Doctrines. The torment I inflicted on innocents like you... it haunts me." His voice cracked with emotion. He turned to Cura and pointed to the Red Stone seated upon the Throne. "That Stone... you know what it is, and what it was used for. It was a sham, a fake." He turned to Mary, "Only the Aedra can destroy it. If any mortal touches it they will become corrupted by it."
Mary groaned, "I could only destroy a fragment of it, Pelan. This Stone is accursed unlike anything Nirn has ever known."
Varla stood by his mother's side, where he recalled her encounter with a fragment of the Red Stone before. When she'd consumed it, she destroyed it, though it caused her and Korn incredible anguish.
Korn growled in response as she stared at the demonic artifact.
Cura stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the sigil on the floor. "We can't afford to hesitate. We need to act now, before it's too late." She turned to her allies. "This is our ticket out of here. The Red Stone should open the portal."
Cura's voice reverberated through the chamber, echoing off the ancient stone walls. The Red Stone, pulsating with a malevolent energy, seemed to mock her every word. Her companions, each with their own burdens and histories, gathered around her, their expressions a mix of determination and trepidation.
Sabrina, her once fiery spirit tempered by the trials of their journey, nodded resolutely. "We've come too far to turn back now, Cura. Pop that sucker in the hole and let's get out of here!"
Sir Amiel chuckled and massaged his brow as Sabrina's haughty words resonated in him. "I second the sentiment, Dragonborn."
Fura Bloodmouth also added, "I'm ready to go back to Solitude. Join up with the Legion again."
Gloriel stepped forward and looked upon the Dragonborn with joy, "Champion, you have given me so much in such a short period of time... I'd thought my fate was consigned to death here in Coldharbour, but your kindness... and Lady Meridia's will... have granted me another chance to live. I can never fully repay you."
Cura's eyes softened at Gloriel's heartfelt words, the Valkyrie's determination evident even in the dim light of the chamber. She nodded, her gaze shifting back to the Red Stone.
"We all have our roles to play in this, Gloriel," Cura replied, her voice steady. "But right now, we need to focus on the task at hand. The Red Stone is our only hope for escaping this place."
Inquisitor Pepe grabbed the Stone before Cura's hand could touch it. "I will do it. You are the Chosen of Saint Alessia. Your hands don't need to be tainted further by this Stone."
Cura watched Inquisitor Pepe step forward, his frail hands clutching the pulsating Red Stone. His face, a canvas of deep wrinkles and worry lines, seemed to bear the weight of centuries. The frail old man lumbered to the gateway and he inserted the Red Stone into the slot before it.
The ground immediately began to break up and whirl into a vortex of light in many vibrant colours. Cura's eyes lit up, as the light reminded her greatly of the Portal to Sovngarde she'd opened at Skuldafn.
Mary's eyes lit up, and she took Atima's hand, and Melus Petilius' hand as well. "It's time," she said softly to the two of them. "it's time to go home, to Aetherius." Korn weaved around her, barking and squealing with joy.
Melus' heart swelled with joy, and Atima's eyes widened with wonder as they saw, for the first time, the way to peace.
Vingalmo and Orthjolf exchanged glances. "Could this really be a new beginning for us?" Vingalmo asked.
"Depends on what you plan to do." Orthjolf responded in kind.
Hestla was skeptical. "How do we know it isn't gonna destroy us, going in that light?"
"Because it's shining on us already and we're fine." Minorne replied frankly. "Whatever the gods decide to do with us... they'll do it." She glanced at the Vigilants of Stendarr nervously, recalling how she'd used and abused them in the past. Surely Stendarr was not going to let that go simply.
As the light swirled around them, Cura felt a sudden surge of energy course through her veins. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and the air buzzed with an electric anticipation. Inquisitor Pepe stood resolute, his frail form illuminated by the ethereal glow emanating from the Red Stone.
"This is it," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the roar of the vortex. "This is your ticket to the better afterlife."
Carcette turned to Inquisitor Pepe. "And what about you? You're not going to stay here, are you?"
Inquisitor Pepe nodded, "Yes. I am. I will accept my fate, whatever it may be."
Carcette closed her eye in thought for a moment, an idea coming to her. "Give these to Jyggalag. Tell him... tell him that it is a gift, from Carcette." After all, her fate had been avoided. She figured that perhaps she could pay that second chance forward. With haste, she undid her gray cape, and her Eyepatch. "Keep it warm for me, will you?"
As Carcette's cape and eyepatch landed in his hands, Inquisitor Pepe's eyes reflected a mix of sorrow and resolve. He nodded to Carcette, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Carcette. Your kindness will not go unnoticed."
The energy around them intensified, and Cura could feel the ground trembling beneath her feet. "Everyone, hold on!" she called out, her voice echoing in the chamber. The Vigilants scurried into the portal with her, and her allies, and the lot of them were whisked away into light.