Chapter 3

Darkness

Liora whispered a quiet prayer as she knelt by the body of the now dead Falmer. "Kynareth, mother of wind and sky, carry this soul on your breath. Please…" she paused, her hands trembled, her voice breaking, "please forgive my hands that took its life. Let it find peace in your embrace, where no shadow falls. Guide me, please."

She then carefully dragged the body out of the chantry, covering it with snow. She laid a few branches of snowberries on top of the mound and said a short prayer for the dead falmer. The closest thing she could give it to a proper burial.

Even though her heart was heavy with guilt, a gnawing hunger was growing again. It wasn't blood she craved, but she couldn't name what this feeling was-what it was she was craving. It's the same sensation she had felt when Vyrthur had touched her. An unfamiliar longing for something. Gods what is wrong with me? A small part of her desired Vyrthur's approval, possibly his touch. Then she flinched remembering the night of her turning. The fear-the pain. No-I won't let him touch me again.

Liora returned to the balcony, despite it being the place her mortal life ended she thought it better than being in the chapel of ice. That and Kynareth's wind brought her some comfort. Her hands gripped the icy railing as the colorful auroras danced about the night sky. A sight she had never been able to see clearly before. As she stared at the wondrous colors, the guilt flooded her.

Why could she see this now? Why heal her? After everything-after the troll attack. Then it hit her-everyone was gone. Dead. In the most brutal way imaginable. She couldn't stop the sobs as she remembered Priestess Risene's hand, but her body gone, every crack and growl. The screams. The splatter of blood on the alter. Someone had pushed her, saved her. She didn't even know who.

I'm a coward, she thought. I should have helped. I-I could've healed them. If I hadn't been afraid I-I could've saved someone. No, I should've died along side them. She covered her mouth hoping to silence her cries not Vyrthur to hear her.

"Kynareth, guide me… please." A desperate prayer that she was not even sure the goddess could hear. Or if she were even acknowledged by her goddess any longer.

Vyrthur watched from the shadows, not missing the sobs from his newly turned fledgling. He could only assume her tears were out of self-pity. Weak, but to be expected and of little concern to him. It meant he was one step closer to dimming the light he'd been sent.

Auri-El sending him a girl with a name literally meaning light? The irony was rich. It was a cruel joke, but he would be the last one laughing. He would corrupt her, turn her into something the gods would never recognize.

She had done well today. Very well. He had watched intensely as her lips parted, her fangs piercing flesh, the way her eyes fluttered shut as she drank, the soft hum of pleasure she couldn't hide. Vyrthur felt a flicker of pride, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. Her light cracking, darkness taking over. The thought of her embracing her darker side excited him more than he'd like to admit. Her shame sweetening it even more.

But there was something about the way she had leaned into his touch earlier. Fleeting, but he noticed how it was almost as if it were out of her control.

When he tilted her chin and admired the bitemarks he had left on her neck he had imagined biting her again. To sink his fangs in her throat once more, drinking deeply. A part of him longed for that contact again. It had been centuries since he'd seen a soul much less had held one so closely. Not since his days as Arch-Curate, though his only contact with his initiates were formal. Any touch was only part of a ritual or blessing. He had blessed many, healed hundreds, given guidance and even granted salvation to those who Auri-El had deemed worthy. His life held a divine purpose.

Until the day he had let one of his initiates step closer to him. He didn't notice the red glow of her eyes or the sharp glint of her fangs. Her gaze was intense and unwavering as she asked him to heal her. He felt a pull towards her as he stood from his throne and stepped closer, unable to break away, despite only silence from his god. The woman took a deliberate step closer, putting her hand on his chest, never breaking the eye contact that rendered him speexhless. He had been shocked, it was improper-disrespectful for her to touch him like that, but their was a part of him that had enjoyed, even appreciated her touch. Before he could respond she bared her fangs and lunged at his neck. Cursing him for all eternity. He remembers the world fading in and out as he watched sun set for the last time.

Vyrthur stepped further into the shadows leaving the acolyte alone on the balcony. He was not the same mer as he was before. No longer does he feel satisfaction spreading Auri-El's divine light. Once his Tyranny of the Sun prophecy is fulfilled he will have his revenge. Until that day, he will darken every trace of light he can find. Vyrthur felt a wicked thrill pass through him as he imagined what Liora could be-what she could be capable of. He would use his little dove to commit every blasphemous act he could imagine against his former patron god. She's mine to corrupt. He imagined her blood on his tongue again. This time cold and sharp-a sign of her darkening. For now, he thought, let her stew in her misery. Soon his fangs would be sinking in her throat again, the thought giving him chills he hadn't felt in a millennia.