Frostbitten

by moonglow_promenade

Summary:

Serana is trying hard not to fall in love. She’s still on the search to free her mother and has Lord Harkon's death to deal with. But resisting romance is difficult with Vorstag around. And especially so when she finds her crazed father arranged her marriage to the most powerful sorcerer known to Skyrim. Now, she must learn the darkest of magic to escape his wrath.

Chapter 1: Prologue: The Vast Land

Notes:

Cover art and introduction at the end!

3^rd of Hearthfire 4E, 200

For once in his long life, Lord Harkon was absolutely terrified. Not the kind of fear that releases butterflies in the stomach, but full-on terror that begs one to run. The portal before him, a shimmering purple field of swirls, had remained untouched for days. He opened it almost six days ago and let his contact know he was ready. Six days, but he could be here at any moment.

Harkon knew this and had nothing to pass the time with, so he paced. His servants were getting antsy. He could hear them outside this lower, private chamber, bickering and hissing at one another over whether they should bring him more blood. He didn’t think he needed it. Although, he is now wondering if he should. He needs to be at full strength if an attack takes place.

An attack he would never survive.

He feels his hands trembling in their clasped state behind his back. But promptly ignores it. The contact will be here soon, he can feel the growing clouds of power behind that very portal now.

Harkon has but only a second when the silver boot steps out. He tells himself to breathe when the man stands before him. He cannot show fear in a greater’s presence, it gives them too much power.

“I see you made it through alright.” He tries not to spit it out like he wants to. For that, the man before him would have his head cut off then reanimated whenever he wanted. Possibly during some disgusting and depraved act, not that Harkon was any stranger to them.

“The winds are not swift like I wanted them. I merely just received your letter, your grace.” Amusement tips the male’s voice. Harkon knows, without a doubt, he was bluffing.

He clenches his hands again, once, then twice, before he digs his nails in. It is such a challenge to bite his tongue over this wasted time. “Are you agreeing to our terms?”

The man’s head tilts. His ivory hair moves to cascade down his silver armor, the strands are as white as his own complexion. The bright eyes, still lit with the violet portal’s afterglow, assess Harkon with nothing but eagerness. “Yes. Although, I have a few revisions I would like to make.” He says silkily.

Harkon freezes in his place, staring at the man and facing him head on. This wasn’t what he was anticipating. But it could be much worse. “And what are they? I’m guessing they are more beneficial for you in the long run.”

The Altmer before him laughs, it’s strong and confident. There is no sign of weakness on him, Harkon knew that was who he was dealing with. But he didn’t know how powerful he had gotten. No…by the gods, there was no way Harkon knew he would be this strong. If he did, he might have second guessed himself on the decision to bring him here.

“Beneficial? Yes, but beneficial to you as well. Don’t worry, I am a good friend and the best of friends when I am given all that I want. Let me outline it and we can talk over it. Just two men making a deal of a lifetime.”

Harkon grinds his teeth. He can feel his fangs tearing into his lower lip. How ballsy of this man. How overconfident. He knew he was bargaining with something precious. “We shall see, when it comes to my daughter, I have some concerns.”

The necromancer laughs deeply, “I am sure you do. A father’s love knows no bounds…but trust me when I say, I will make this worth your while.”

 

---

 

Present day, 15^th of Sun’s Dawn, 4E, 203

The Soul Cairn had always been an empty place, but things were now changing. Sparse buildings loomed over the desolate land where shadowy souls now roamed. A swirling dark cloud was always up in the sky, never showing the passage of time, but adding to the suffocation of a static life.

The Soul Cairn had been this way since Valerica first stepped foot in it all those centuries ago. She never regretted it once, especially after seeing her daughter was alive and safe the day she came here. It was a bittersweet moment for her. Valerica never thought of herself as the kindest or most generous mother, but in that moment, she felt like she did something right.

A raven falls from the storm covered sky. Winds had been blowing in this land for days, signifying the changing environment here. Valerica holds out her hand to catch it.

“Careful, careful.” She murmurs as she toils with it. Grabbing the raven by the feet and spinning him around to find the note latched on it. The bird caws softly a few times but he seemed to know the routine by now. He was even less apprehensive about it than the last time.

Once Serana left and Durnehviir was able to enter Skyrim again periodically, Valerica thought she could use the opening on such a portal to send messages to people she knew around Skyrim. A few stray ravens were excellent messengers and once they had the method down, Valerica was able to find out all that is happening in the province.

She was lucky to have a few trusted friends to get insight from. Based on their observations she knew her daughter was safe and sound the whole time the Dragonborn was attempting to conquer Skyrim. The girl never had to fight that monster the whole time they were holed up in Castle Volkihar.  Instead, she was watching the battle from afar with a mercenary vampire. He was Molag Bal’s Champion, much like the Daughters of Coldharbour, but he has a closer bonding with the Daedric Prince.

Valerica was quite pleased with this turn of events. She never wished for her daughter to be in direct danger. She was also pleased to find she had no part in the killing of her father. Even though Harkon was the worst parental figure one could ask for, she didn’t want her daughter to take on that sort of emotional baggage.

But since the world has settled with the Dragonborn’s retreat, Valerica has heard of other rumors. Whispers that wouldn’t dare get to her without this method. She scours the note her raven brought to her, quickly. What she finds is worrisome. More so than the Dragonborn trying to take over Tamriel. This involved her daughter directly and it was all Harkon’s doing.

“What shall I write?” Balul, one of the precious few Nord skeletons asks her from his seat at a makeshift desk. She was surprised to find he was the first of her thralls to talk. She had been trying to perfect that part of necromancy for the better part of a millennia.

The woman pauses, “I don’t think a letter will suffice in this case. There are too many people who might find it, I’m not even sure this raven is trustworthy enough to get it all the way to my daughter.”

“But, your grace, shouldn’t she be alerted through any means necessary?” Balul asks. What a wonderful servant. He didn’t even ask her what all the fuss was about.

“No, I have my ways. I’ll send spells on this raven and infuse it with magic for what she needs to know. She would pay little mind to a note, but a zombie thrall will certainly keep her on her toes.” Valerica smiles at that. Even though her daughter loved books, she would not take the note for what it was. A warning. She would probably think it was an enemy attempting to scare her. How wrong she would be.

“What shall I put into the spell?” Balul ponders as he pulls out a parchment paper to inscribe the very magic that will save her daughter.

Valerica pauses, almost has to swallow that clenching feeling in her throat. This fear almost made her feel human again. “Tell her this, her father, without my consent, arranged her marriage. By year’s end she is set to be wed to none other than Mannimarco. Tell her she needs to come to the Soul Cairn, immediately.”

The Nordic skeleton, all brittle bones and a fragile, creaking stature, pauses with his quill over the paper. The dark ink drips slowly on to the page. “Mannimarco? I have not heard that name in so long.” His voice for once, held all the centuries he has been in existence. It is not an easy feat to make someone so jaded give such pause.

Valerica watches him disdainfully, “I’m sure you haven’t. I didn’t know he was still alive, or how he managed to get out of his last predicament. But know this, I will stop at nothing to keep him from setting his sights on Serana. If he does…”

“The effects would be devastating.” Balul finishes. He turns his head, such a slow movement, to stare at her with blue flaming eyes.

“Exactly.” She snaps, she didn’t mean to. She just wanted this note out quickly, “Now write and ready it. I have a feeling Durnehviir will be leaving soon.” She continues to pace, staring out from her poorly concealed form of shelter to the dusty land beyond. By the gods, the Princes, anyone, she would pray to anyone to save her daughter. She didn’t let Balul on to how much she was worrying. Nor, how urgent this is.

If the Sorcerer is once again free and promised Serana’s hand in marriage, there might be little to stop him. And Valerica is certain no one, not even the mercenary at Serana’s side could save her then.    

 

                                                                     

Notes:

Hello and welcome to the new story! I’m so excited to begin posting this after having it in my head for so long! Here’s a few important things:
1. This is meant to be a standalone story. You can read it before, after, or independently of the Storm of Skyrim series. It will have references to the other series, but it is not required if you haven’t read it, and it shouldn’t limit your enjoyment!
2. Vorstag and Serana’s journey will loosely tie them to the College of Winterhold questline. They’ll go through all the main quests there, but they won’t be described as in depth as the quests in Storm of Skyrim.
3. I will post at least once a week, probably on Sundays!
4. I drew and painted this image in Procreate. I wanted to do a piece with the characters in a basic Art Nouveau style with lots of patterns and easter eggs to the story!
5. Oh! And don’t get too comfortable with the first half of the fic, there will be a huge change-up halfway through. :) Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Part one: Frostbitten

A living nightmare, that is the life Mannimarco supposes he lived. For too long, he inhabited a body that was failing. A decaying thing. He knew the life of a Lich was long and very painful. The pain was earned. 

Immediately after the change, and one step closer to immortality, his skin was beautiful. White alabaster that was no different from any Altmer. A few years later, he noticed the first of the changes. Wounds would heal less quickly. When pieces of his flesh tore off it wouldn’t necessarily grow back…it would just sit there.

Then came the weakness, the one thing he didn’t have the foresight to notice. He knew there would be a price to this kind of immortality, there always was. Losing mobility, skin peeling, and living as a walking corpse was not something he bargained for.

That’s what made the second phase of his immortality so great. It was limitless. Endless. There was no threat to him now, barring one thing.

Nothing to think about at the moment. Mannimarco, now back in his youthful and fully intact body, brushes that thought aside with a dark smudge on the orb. The circular glass shines brighter, emitting a glow that bathed his face in a green light.

He moves his hand over the orb again, shifting the view. The Orb of Vaermina was…difficult to obtain. Extremely so. But it is well worth the price.

Mannimarco’s pale hand pauses right over the edge. He glances at it, almost distracted by the fullness of it. The last time he was in his body, the flesh was nearly gone. Almost taken down to the bone. Then, the picture in the center of the Orb catches his attention.

His bride was alive. She was breathing and smiling. At what, he didn’t know. He wished he did. He cared little for the romance of things, but after all these years, he has to admit, he has grown curious of her.

Her pale face is raised to sun, her youthful eyes crinkle with the happiness that only laugher could bring. Her golden gaze roams something Mannimarco cannot see. But he doesn’t have to. He knows now where she is going. To a very cold and very treacherous land.  The necromancer studies her face a little more. She’s not necessarily beautiful in the classic sense, but she has a charm. A certain endearing quality to her. It would be a shame for someone like her to freeze so badly her skin peeled off.

Mannimarco knew that feeling all too well. He lived it, for too long. He watches her face again and decides he will follow her path, all the way to Volkihar Castle and behold what she has in store. She doesn’t need him quite yet. The bargain hasn’t started yet anyway. Soon. Soon, it would.

Her smile fades. Making her look more doll-like. Beautiful. That was beautiful, her expression was of one who fell into deep thought often. Not something the necromancer has seen in a long, long while. He supposes the world is slowly decaying and rotting with a lack of imagination and education. At least his bride has the right mind about her.

Mannimarco pauses with his hand right over the Orb, about to allow it to rest, then he sees it. The person following her all the way to the frigid north. He’s a vampire, he appears to be young. But he could be any age. He could be far older than she is. Mannimarco studies the man for a moment. He is brash, loud, bold, uninteresting. Beautiful. Amusing.

His hand trembles, slightly. This is interesting, two vampires running around together, and not even bound to a coven. Hopefully, for this man’s sake, it will only stay interesting for a short time. Or else he might not like what will come to pass.

Chapter 3: Her Forgotten Home

The trees here are dying. In this land, the dark forms should be thriving so close to the end of winter. They’re pine, or as father liked to call them, glorious weeds. Serana gives them a contemplative look. It is possible her mother could help their state. If only they can get her out of her self-isolation on time. After running her hand along the bark and detecting the lifeforce in one of these trees, Serana finds it has little life left.

“Getting lost already? I thought you knew this place like the back of your hand.” The mercenary jokes behind her. She has to stifle a sigh. She finds she enjoys his bantering from time to time, but after so many months of it, it can grow thin.

Vorstag moves to stand next to her, the Nord man’s brow furrows when he lays a large hand over hers. He can feel the lifeforce just as well as she can. “This tree, it’s dying.”

Serana turns her head ever so slightly to watch him. He is pretty, for a Nord, very handsome. He has gold-colored eyes and very long hair that was always tied back. His tattoo he used to have is now fading with his new state as a vampire. She just sometimes wishes he would tone down the high energy. New vampires never knew when to relax.

“They’re almost all dead. Some are still alive though. I’m thinking mother can help me revive them.” She says softly, then she leaves his waiting hand to reach the edge of the dense forest.

There it is. Her family home blown to pieces. Even from this distance, she can see the rubble. She knew this would happen eventually but wasn’t sure how long the castle would last. In truth, she guessed it wasn’t her family home for a long time. Not after father inhabited it with his crazy ideas. Not after his death and when the Dark Brotherhood took it over for those few short months her and Vorstag were running around Skyrim.  

The Imperials did a very good job of turning this castle to ash. Serana supposes it was the only way to rid it of the Dark Brotherhood. But catapults that rained flaming projectiles from the sky was a bit of overkill, in her opinion. Now, there’s nothing left. The foundation still sits on the great rock in the middle of the ocean but the rest of it is gone. It’s a challenge to keep her mood from dipping. She remembers she had so many books in there, scrolls, ingredients. Things she wanted to keep. But since she never got the time to take them away before father’s prying eyes would find out…she just left them.

Now, watching the waves lick the crumbling castle, she supposes her prolonged young adulthood is just…gone. No more. She doesn’t have to answer to anyone. Doesn’t have to worry about being locked up underground for eternity. All she has to worry about is finding her mother.

A calming hand rests on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Vorstag says genuinely. He says it in such a melodic voice. Only one a good bard would have. It was no wonder he spent his downtime singing and playing the lute.

She shrugs, brushing his hand off. “It happens. I guess it was never meant to be.”

To be fair, she did wish to walk the halls again once the final villain in there was gone. When the Dragonborn was decimated and sent to another province. She thought she’d have this place back. But maybe she’s better off. Maybe then she would have been living in the past.

“Well, let’s get in there. I hope to all the gods that might be listening, and Molag Bal himself, that that portal to the Soul Cairn is still active.” She adds and scours the ground from afar. There won’t be much to traverse, and the portal might be inaccessible as of now.

Ever the optimist, as she is finding, Vorstag grins down at her. “We shall see, Volkihar. Let us traverse this mountain and ruins before we think on that. Don’t want to get ahead of ourselves now.”

She smiles a little at that. “I definitely hope so, at least it won’t be raining.” She peers up beneath her hood at the clouded sky. Vampires were better suited for running around after dark. But there are a few that make the daytime work. If it was overcast, as it was today, they were less likely to burn. Which is why Vorstag was walking around so confidently without something like a cloak to shield him. She was smarter about it. Her hood kept most of the assaulting sun from view. As much as she appreciates appetizing delicacies from time to time, she doesn’t want to end up like a roasted skeever today.

Thankfully, the boat they use to shuttle across the channel is still here. It’s small and never really held that many people. But then again, father never sent that many people away. She was still surprised the Dark Brotherhood left it after using the castle as their Sanctuary for so long. Maybe they forgot about it.

Vorstag, ever the gentleman, had her sit up front. She keeps her cloak tucked nice and tight around her so no water will splash on it. He grabbed the oars and began rowing. With nothing else to look at, she spies how his arms worked. He always seemed to have very prominent muscles as a human, so she was told, but now they look even stronger.

“Staring again Volkihar? I thought you were just getting over my looks and good charm.” He jokes. She averts her eyes quickly. She knew the joking would come around to her eventually, after so long together, and it did. To her absolute horror, in the past month or so, he’s been taken to joking about her appreciation of him.

She would catch herself sometimes, just staring off at nothing and find herself mesmerized by his face or his body. It was embarrassing. But since he was the only person she had to talk to, she couldn’t blame herself. Maybe now that the threat from the Dragonborn was over she could get out and meet other people.

But for now, not to be outdone she sent back something of her own. “Hard to look anywhere when you take up most of the boat.” She pulls her hood down lower for some semblance of privacy. She knows he can still see her glowing eyes.

“Oh, come on now! You know an excess of food won’t fatten us up.” He jokes, but his tone dips a bit, as if she hurt his feelings.

Serana finds herself flustered momentarily. “No, I…I didn’t mean it that way. I just mean your frame. You’re very large…” She trails off. But based on the amused glance he gives her; she’s finds she’s digging herself a larger hole. Wonderful.

The gray colored waves hold some sort of distraction. The lapping of the water melds with his on-tune whistling. Serana racks her brain of what song he might be singing this time. But then the bow of the boat scrapes onto land.

“Here we are, miss. Home sweet home.” He whistles again as he ties the rope of the boat to a nearby rock. She just stares. Lost in the sight before her. She can’t believe he can be so positive about this. It should lighten her mood…and it usually does.

But that pain comes back. Walking these halls again should bring back loving memories here. Serana should have had a better life here as a vampire. Instead, she was locked away since the Second Era. Some days she still remembers when the Alessian Empire was just a babe. There used to be nothing in Cyrodiil. Sometimes, she wonders what it would be like to walk those great cities Vorstag talks so fondly about.

It was jarring, to say the least, when she woke up and found all the Dwemer gone. Found out that the Empire had formed into as big a beast as it is.

“Volkihar, are you having flashbacks again?” Vorstag is looking at her expectantly from ten feet ahead. He was already scaling the rocks here. She thought he was making another joke, but she notices the concern on his face.

“A little. Not as bad as when we got near the Thalmor Embassy.” She says. In truth, it didn’t startle her that much. She was just surprised the High Elves got this far. She didn’t know they had the ability to expand like they did.

Vorstag gives a meek smile, “We don’t have to worry about them much now, Ulfric has it under control.”

She doesn’t dare tell him she’s seen these kinds of things play out before. Rebellions come and go. If the Empire were as vast as they say, then surely, they’ll find a way to squash someone like Ulfric Stormcloak.

Vorstag leads the way. Serana follows along slowly. She wanted to look around to see if there’s any signs of the portal falling through the foundation. It could have, those things aren’t very breakable. It would take a long time to get through the rubble to it. But her mother was worth it.

The man is silent for once when she climbs up next to him. He usually has some sort of quick remark for her. But he just seems sad. Serana follows his eyes and feel her spirits falling as well. The castle is completely gone. No trace left. She guesses that’s what happens when you launch flaming projectiles from your city. The foundations are covered in brick and other debris. She finds nothing of use as she sifts through it.

Vorstag was walking around too. At least he was helping. She pauses in her search, deciding she shouldn’t be so harsh on him. He was incredibly useful when needed. Her contemplation is broken when she sees feels a leather binding beneath the ash. The blackness falls away with her excitement, it was most certainly one of her precious books. But that too, is turning black with age and the former flame here.

“Find anything?”

“Nothing useful.” She comments. They scout the area where the portal should be in a very solitary part of the castle. Vorstag still wishes for some conversation.

“Your father built this place?”

“Nope. Conquered it like the Dragonborn did. This castle was built a long, long time ago. I thought you noticed with all the skeletons that used to walk around here?” Serana moves more dust and dirt. Nothing.

“I just can’t believe such a place existed without much knowledge…”

“Most literature on it was burned or discarded. Father was obsessed with his prophecy and would do whatever he could to make it come true. Even if it meant living in near isolation.” She sheds some light on the subject.

“I think I understand now, he didn’t want anyone else to find him?” Vorstag is rubbing his chin with that look of concentration on his face. Serana just watches him. Sometimes she found his strange mannerisms endearing.

“No. Especially the Dawnguard.”

“They weren’t the ones he had to worry about.” He finishes on.

“Nope.” She thinks back to her time with Eve, another vampire friend, here. She knew what Serana’s father did to her parents. And Serana was horrified to find he murdered them in cold blood. Father’s wrath knew no end, when he wanted something. Eve was lucky enough to figure out what was going on with in the castle. They went to the Soul Carin and met Serana’s mother before finding out the true cost of the prophecy: Serana herself. That was when Eve killed Lord Harkon. Serana thought she’d be sad about that, but he was never a good paternal figure to her. More like a…dictator or something similar.

“Here’s something!” Vorstag exclaims and crouches in the rubble. Serana pulls her cloak up to keep the silvery ashes from sticking to it. They’re hard to wash off and never looked great on black.

Vorstag is just moving the dirt around when she sees the hand moving around in the embers. Serana shoves him as hard as she can and without warning. He goes flying and crashing over the ground. His loud exclamation heard along with a few bones snapping. But she’s glad she did it. Before Serana stands a vampire. An old Dark Brotherhood vampire who must have survived this whole ordeal. How…

It snarls at her. Serana can’t make out any features, what race, or gender it is, even how old it is. The face is blackened skin and festering wounds. The teeth are elongated and eyes sharp. She tries to duck but the darn thing bites her in the forearm before she can really move.

“Serana get back!” She hears Vorstag racing to the fight.

But it was too late, Serana had fallen back into that panic she sometimes gets in fights. She was never that good at a bow and arrow or even a sword. She has an Elven Dagger, just in case, but prefers to lean on magic.

Serana calls a flame spell and the vampire screams with it. She’s sure it doesn’t like getting more heat after everything. It uses her momentum against her, however. Shoving her so hard she falls onto her back. The thing races along her slim body to snap its fangs near her neck.

Serana’s heart is pounding. She knew she made a mistake. She should have run and fought it from afar! Then, she could use her ice spells. She keeps her hands on its head, trying to keep it back from her, even with its fangs snapping in her face. Serana’s hands light up, she’s so close to sending a few ice picks through its head. Then she’ll see how it likes that.

It was forming in her hands. The sharp edges are blossoming along the creature’s face. She’s just about to send it through when the head comes crashing down. She screams as it falls on her and rolls off to the side. She’s left to spit out what blackened skin she can.

The body is ripped off her. Vorstag crouches next to her, his eyes look terrified. “What did I tell you? If there’s a fight you let me handle it!” He yells at her.

She’s still shivering with fright. Now all she wants to do is sink into the ground. She wishes a hole would open up here and claim her for another few centuries. Anything to get out of this. “I’m sorry. I saw what it was and didn’t want it to get you first.”

“Volkihar! What do you think I am? A mortal? I’m as strong as you and have far more fighting experience.” He drops his blade and sighs when he sees her trying to catch her breath.

“Here. Your face is bleeding.” He lays a soft hand on her head. A healing spell seals it up. She’s surprised how quickly the sting is gone.

But she doesn’t want his touch right now. She rolls out from under him and crouches to get all the ashes off her. So much for keeping her clothes clean. “Now that we know about sleeping vampires, we’ll know what to watch out for.” She gives a small smile.

Vorstag still has a look of concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

She has to swallow more of that embarrassment. He was never so concerned with Eve. He knew she could take care of herself. “I’m fine. Really. Let’s go look, I think the portal is this way.”

She feels him wanting to reach out again, but she just hustles past him before he can do it. “Might want to find a mirror, Vorstag, your hair is looking messy for once.” She tries for a joke. Anything to redirect his attention from her mistake.

His smile breaks out. That perfect and devious smile. “It’s not the first time it’s been a mess, you should see it after a good night at the Silver-Blood Inn.”

She doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t really want to hear about women sleeping with him. Talk about an unappealing topic. “Don’t want to hear about your conquests. Not when we’re looking for my mother.”

“Conquests? I meant bar fights.” He follows her, chipper and mood intact.

She sighs. Maybe she should have left him in the ash. They poke around for hours with this kind of sparring back and forth. But came up short. There isn’t anything here. Serana is down on her knees, moving as much ash as she can. “It should have been here.”

“Maybe it fell apart?” He asks near her. He has a warrior’s posture, his weapon out and at the ready. But Serana doesn’t sense any other vampires around.

“No. That doesn’t happen.” She moves her palms around. She should be able to feel the magic. It’s this pulsing in the air. Like something heavy is holding it down, she guesses it feels like a ton of humidity in a dry climate. Something weird and out of place. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Want to look down below? Maybe it fell into the foundation.”

She shakes her head. “No. I would still feel it. It must have crumpled up.”

He tilts his head, “Whatever does that mean?”

“It means, the portal is gone. It left the world. Only those in the Soul Cairn can decide when that happens. No amount of fire falling from the sky can make it do that. I’m guessing they didn’t like what was going on out here.”

He feels her mood. She doesn’t want to be pushed, and he doesn’t. He just helps her up. “We’ll think about it. No reason we can’t come back. Want to turn in at the Winking Skeever?”

She fixes a fake smile on her face. She doesn’t really want to go back there considering they spent two nights there already. She’d rather have a place with some peace and quiet. But she can’t say no. There aren’t any other options. “Sure.”

 

---

 

If one were to see the flagship bar of this city now, they wouldn’t have guessed a war raged just a few feet from this very Inn. In the springtime there was no way to enter the building without seeing crumbling stone and burned supporting beams. Now, it looked good as new. People are crowding the room. It’s hard to concentrate with all these hearts in here. Vorstag was the life of the party, as he always was. He’s over in the main dining room, banging his drum in time with the bard’s songs.

As for Serana? Well, she’s back in the corner. Resigning herself to the party atmosphere, she had her little book with her. One she bought from a Khajiit traveler. She tries to keep it hidden with her body hunching over it. She was just getting to the best part. She thought about heading to her room to read, but it’s not as fun there. Vorstag would just follow her. He’s always worried for her safety. As if assassins will target her after what happened with the Imperials. Serana reassured him she wants nothing to do with any of them, the Dark Brotherhood, Imperials, or Stormcloaks. So, she shouldn’t be a target.  

But she makes sure to appease Vorstag for the day. She sits with her book in the corner, he keeps a good eye on her to know she’s still breathing. With nothing to bring her spirits down, she flips another page and continues to read merrily. But the scraping of metal on wood has her pause. The man bartending had shoved a drink her way. “Thought you might want it for that.” He winks at her.

Serana scrunches up her nose. She had no idea what he’s talking about. She just takes a sip and nearly spits it back out. Mead. It’s disgusting, it was like sour wheat in her mouth. She never really liked it. After making sure the bartender isn’t watching her corner still, she lets the drink be and read the contents of this next page. She’s going through it quickly. She should have gotten more books but didn’t want to weigh herself down. She decides she’ll have to next time she’s out.

“No. No way!” Some invisible force tugs and the book goes flying out of her hands. She yelps at the intrusion. Leaning against the bar Vorstag, slightly inebriated, reads the cover then the page she was on. “I’ve been looking for Lusty Argonian Maid for ages! Where’d you find this beauty?” He flips a page.

If she weren’t dead, she would feel her cheeks flaming. As it was, she couldn’t really disappear into the crowd, but she could stop him from boasting more about her reading tastes. She snatches it back before he can yank it away from her again.

“I thought you wanted to play keep away.” He pouts a bit.

“That’s one of the perks of not drinking.  I keep my reflexes.” She puts the book away in her bag. Secretly, she thinks he might have let her keep it. He knew how embarrassed she felt.

He leans on his forearms, moving closer to her. “That book has a way with words. So much poetry to expose…among other things, I’m sure. Care if I borrow it when you’re done?” His eyebrows raise.

He was asking for it. There was no way he wasn’t. She grabs the almost full mug right in front of her and flings it towards him. He laughs but with those damn vampire reflexes, he ducks just in time to avoid the rain of alcohol. “Hey!” A Stormcloak soldier behind him yells.

Serana slinks off her bartstool and pulls her hood up higher. He won’t know it was her. “Did you just do that you scum?” He yells at Vorstag.

This isn’t good. She readies some ice spikes in her hands. No one will know her hands are glowing. But she doesn’t get a chance to raise them when Vorstag obliviously asks the soldier, “What’s it to you? You should calm down. You know that kind of anger isn’t something that’s good to keep about. My mothers had this way of calming themselves…a sort of meditation.” He goes on with his past life. Where he lived with his brother and traveling with a group of female healers. This was before he became a mercenary.

The Stormcloak wasn’t having it. “I’ll show you skeever.” He punches him so quickly, Serana knew it was a bad idea to drink around here. Vorstag’s large body comes falling back towards her. She yelps when he crowds her in. She’s literally pinned to the wall now. Wonderful.

“That wasn’t nice! I was going to show you the crystals they used but it doesn’t look like you’re interested.” Vorstag keeps going. This time, he dodges each blow the guy deals him. Serana watches with wonder. He’s so quick and he’s using that newfound speed to his advantage. He finally twists the Stormcloak around and has him pinned to the bar.

People scramble to get out of their way. She decides she should too, but seeing the other Stormcloaks converging on them, she can’t let him be by himself. She steps in their way and holds her now bare palms out. “Don’t hurt him. He didn’t do anything. We don’t want a fight.” The Stormcloak men are tall. Very tall and very well learned in the ways of a fight. If they go for her, she might have no choice but to kill them.

“What the hell are you doing? Help me!” The Stormcloak with his head plastered to the bar yells.

They converge on her. She thought her innocent act would stop them but good luck that’s been. She dodges them too, one is manageable, two, is more difficult. Another fist comes her way and she’s about to duck. But even with her speed she knows this will be a losing one. She’ll surely be clobbered in the face. A hand grabs snatches fist before it makes contact. The guy yells.

“Never knew mortals could make animal sounds.” Vorstag says behind her. He shoves the guy away from him and grabs Serana the collar of her cloak. Her hood is down but she guesses that isn’t a problem. They aren’t hiding their faces anymore since the Dark Brotherhood is gone from these parts. And the sun is down…

“Hey!” She exclaims when he pushes through the crowd, leaving the hurting Stormcloaks behind, all with his hand dragging her by the collar.

“I’m not some sort of dog!” She complains when he has her feet on the ground. He kicks the door open to get them outside. An older man, no doubt drunk and still drinking, rises from his relaxed posture. He hollers and holds his drink up to the two of them. “Thanks.” Vorstag says. No doubt with a winning smile. Serana just struggles in his hands. What kind of vampire was she to let this one push her around?

“Let me go!” She struggles from his hold. He drops her before she can get a good enough hold to kick him. They’re on the other side of the street, near some closed shops for the day. She’s just happy they at least had some privacy.

“Volkihar, what have I told you about bar fights?” Vorstag holds up a hand, showing one finger. “One, don’t intervene.” Another finger, “Two, don’t start them.”

Serana balls her fists. “I wasn’t the one who picked one.”

“Oh, was I supposed to fight you?” He raises a brow. She pauses, noticing his hair is ruffled. She guesses he wasn’t joking about that. “What? Something in my hair?” He brushes his hand over the length of it. She can’t stop staring.

“I,” She pauses, “No. Sorry. I just don’t like books being pulled out of my hands like that. They’re fragile and expensive.”

Vorstag crosses his arms and leans against the brick of the building they’re near. “I’ll buy you a new one. I have an ever-growing pile of septims from my recent fights.”

Serana shakes her head, “No, don’t use your money. Just don’t…pull them away from me and I won’t have to buy any new ones in the first place.” She moves to head back to the bar. There isn’t much else to say here. She might just go lie down and wait for sleep to take her.

“Hey.” He grabs her arm. She doesn’t want to turn around and have to face him. He’s too pretty in this moonlight. Too arrogant and too annoying to handle right now. “Are you hurt? Did you get hit at all?”

“Nope, I’m still shiny and new.” She tries to relax.

“I’m sorry about the book. I didn’t mean to joke…it’s just that you seem so pensive these past few days. I wanted to lighten the mood.” He says without a hint of his usual sarcasm.

“I understand. It’s hard seeing the castle like this. I don’t have good memories there, but I had good things there.”

“They can be replaced.” He tries for.

She shrugs, “Yes, but they won’t be the same. Those things were collected over centuries. If I can find copies there’s no way they’ll be the same as they once were.”

She has to look back at him. He was silent for too long. “You’ll find them. Even if they’ve changed, I know you’ll be able to complete your collection. Life isn’t really about material items, anyways.”

She starts, “Yes, but these are artifacts almost. Treasures. Things I want to keep.”

“Get new ones. Don’t get so attached.” He seems to shrug.

He doesn’t understand. Truly. He never had his old home burn down. Some of those things were invaluable. She’ll never get them back. And furthermore, she has no idea where the portal is. “I might turn in for the night.” She says before he could ruffle her feathers further.

“Alright, Volkihar. I’ll go play around in the bar some more.” He walks with her, trying to get ahead of he to hold the door open. It was so annoying sometimes. Like she had this constant shadow. “We’ll look for clues about the portal tomorrow. I’ll ask around. I know we’ll find where your mother is.”

She pulls her hood up. She needs some time alone time now, desperately. She just wants to go get through the crowd and up to her temporary room to curl up in the covers with her book. “I know.”

He doesn’t take offense. Just holds the door for her. He smiles, “Let me know how Lusty Argonian Maid is, but don’t tell me the ending. I don’t want it spoiled.”

She gives him a light jab with her elbow before entering the bar. “Maybe.”

 

---

 

Upstairs, in her nice and warming bed, Serana was reading quickly. She was almost to the best part. The maid was finally in the chambers. Finally picking up on what Crantius Colto was insinuating this whole time. Then she hears it. Something tapping on the window. She pauses, her hand just about to turn the page. This is abnormal for her. People don’t climb up a story to go knock on someone’s window. It’s definitely going to be some sort of immortal.

She puts the book away under the covers so it can’t be seen. Vorstag told her to get him if anything weird happened. That means she should race downstairs to bring him up here. But truth be told, she was tired of that act. She’s tired of feeling defenseless, like some poor maiden who can’t help but fall at the drop of a hat. She knows she was locked away for so long, but she was never that weak before, and she wouldn’t allow to be treated that way further. She readies an ice spike and slowly walks to the window.

The tapping is short and frequent. It doesn’t stop or increase in pace. Just someone trying to break in. Her hand curls around the strange velvet curtains. The thing is so close, she’s not sure if she would rather look through the window now or sneak around the back to check. Without much forethought, she snaps back the curtains and nearly yelps with what she sees. She never thought she’d see this person again. Not in this lifetime.

 

---

 

The mercenary was a smash hit. Playing every song born on this side of Skyrim, to those lesser-known gems performed across Tamriel. Everyone was salivating over it. Vorstag now had a group of probably over fifty people cheering him on. They all had good drink and food, so he was happy to oblige them. It was the least he could do after so much hardship here.

The snowy haired bard, Lisette, was also making her rounds. This was a wonderful surprise. Usually, she would croon every night to ten or so people. She always made good tips. Vorstag had worried her spirits would fall after the Stormcloaks took over. He feared she would be out on the streets begging, since he had seen her in that state once before, but that wasn’t the case.

She was on fire. The girl made sure to go to every table, make eye contact with every stranger who crossed her path, even took a drink or two at patron’s insistence. Vorstag has never seen her like this. Guests cheer loudly when she finished her final song for the night. There were soon demands for more. But closing time was coming soon.

You could feel it in the air, such a tension, the bartender, bards, and servants were busy assisting costumers with fake smiles plastered on their faces. They would nod and accept whatever came their way as long as they could get people out the door before three am. Sometimes, people were drunk enough, as Vorstag remembers from the Silver-Blood Inn, that all they needed was a little push to get them going. Other nights, it was liking moving a large boulder uphill.

He thought he might make himself useful, so the new vampire helped Sorex clean down some nearby tables. A sure sign to the groggy and cloudy headed patrons it was almost time to leave. The gruff Imperial, stone cold sober for once, was leaning over the table, right in the faces of two very inebriated and disgruntled Stormcloak men when he jerked his chin out to Vorstag.

“I don’t like that over there.” He mentions under his breath.

Vorstag has incredible hearing now, and the server knew it. So Vorstag follows his line of sight. At the other end of the bar Lisette was getting roped into something certainly shady by a group of men and one solitary noble woman. She was of great stature, dark hair pulled back severely from her head in a conservative style. Noble clothing that didn’t show a lick of skin aside from her delicate neck. The older Imperial woman made her middle age look beautiful, yet taxing. Her expression was one of determination and slight stress.

“I’ll go handle it.” Vorstag says, he tries to keep up a chipper tone as not to alert the others there might be another fight on hand. He certainly didn’t want to make that assumption too soon. Instead, he wades through the throng of people. Most are deciding which way to go for the night. Either in a room upstairs, or back out onto the streets.

“Come now, dear. You would love it. I know it. A girl like you must get around a lot here. But you’ve never had anyone like me before.” The noble woman purrs at Lisette. This doesn’t shock Vorstag, he knew Lisette to have many lovers over the years. Anyone from muscular woodsmen to the most delicate and lovely of women. She had good taste and made sure to keep herself out of trouble in these woods. There were too many people who liked to prey on those in these situations and Lisette was always smart about it.

That is, until tonight. Lisette seems cornered. Shocked into silence. Vorstag supposes it’s because of what this woman is insinuating. Lisette glances around at each face in her entourage.

“It’s not a hard decision…” The woman purrs.

Vorstag wraps a firm arm around Lisette’s shoulders. She leans into him. He can feel her relief from here. “Any trouble over here? Trying to get a room for the night? Might be good to grab one in the next few minutes before closing.” He flashes a bright smile to the woman. She looks utterly displeased.

“I do want a room for the night, actually.” She smiles as her eyes lock on Lisette. “Is this your pretty girl?”

Vorstag was jarred by her boldness, this kind of prodding was usually done by older and wealthier men who had too much time on their hands. Not a beautiful noble woman. But after the year he’s had, Vorstag thinks it might be time to stop leaning on such stereotypes. “Some nights, yes, some not so much. Tonight, she is though.”

The woman pushes on, “Might I be able to borrow her for the evening? She’s got the loveliest of voices, I would just love her company for a few more hours.”

Vorstag stopped paying attention to her. He glances around at the other men. All Nords, all dressed in high quality armor, yet all of them still had all their weapons on them, not just short swords that would be potentially necessary for a bar. They all carried large pouches. Not things a noble woman’s people would carrying in a party atmosphere.

“I’ll distract them. Just leave and come back tomorrow, I’ll tell Corpulus you had to go early.” He whispers in the woman’s ear.

She stands where she is. Vorstag clenches his jaw at this. She was almost as stubborn as his vampire upstairs. Which, he should go check on her soon. He worried about her mood, especially after witnessing for herself the Volkihar castle in such disarray. That’s not something one gets over easily.

“It’s fine.” She whispers back.

“Just go.” He urges again.

“I tell you what, you have a lovely face and build as well,” The woman looks him head to toe with the oddest of expressions, it’s the kind of leer he sees some men make all the time at Silver-Blood Inn. “Come to the room with us. We will have so much fun.” She smiles.

Her tone is mocking. Vorstag can almost certainly tell she wants nothing to do with their bodies. The question is whether she wants to steal from them, or to kill them. “It’s closing time and it sounds like all the rooms have been taken.” He says breezily.

Her eyes become focused. More heated. He knows what’s about to happen. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“It’s all you’re going to get.” Vorstag says, immediately. He was watching the men off to the side out of the corner of his eye. Some were fiddling with the hilts of their swords. He was ready to push Lisette behind him and fight in whatever way necessary.

Instead, the woman stands. She’s only about five foot four, so she won’t intimidate Vorstag with height in any way. She can still glare though. “I will take my leave for the night. Think on my offer.” She waltzes out of the bar without a care in the world.

“Are you alright?” Vorstag turns to Lisette when they’re far enough away to keep from hearing.

“I am, I wasn’t sure what she wanted, then she asked that…I…I don’t think she meant what she said. She wanted her guards in the room with us the whole time.”

Vorstag glances over his shoulder at their receding forms. “I’ve heard since the Stormcloaks have taken over here, there’s been Imperials and others trying to meddle with them. It struck me as odd that she was the only Imperial in the group. The rest were Nords.”

“You think she was going to have them kill us and frame it on the Nords?”

Vorstag shrugs. “I’ve heard worse things to gain political power. I just don’t understand why she thought bedding you was the best angle to get you alone.”

Now, Lisette has a sheepish look on her face. “Well, truth be told, I was looking at her a bit when I was playing. I thought she was pretty. But trust me, if I knew what kind of offer, she’d give I wouldn’t have even batted an eye.”

“Hm, that must be why…” Vorstag trails off. He feels something else in the air and it certainly wasn’t drunk people trying to find out where to pass out for the night.

“What is it?”

“I need to go.” Vorstag brushes past her. “Tell Corpulus or Sorex if you see them again. And try not to be anywhere alone the next few nights.”

Lisette has nothing else to say. If she does, he doesn’t hear it. He races through the crowd to get upstairs. He knows it’s coming from her room, by Mara, why didn’t he keep a better eye on her?

Her room is the first to the left, and the door is thankfully unlocked. He shoves it open.

Vorstag didn’t really realize how worried he was until he feels his hand shaking. It was itching to pull out his blade. On the other side of the room, sitting under the windowsill is Serana. She seems dazed but a quick look over her shows no blood or injury.

He moves across the room slowly and pulls the window down first. Then, he kneels next to the vampire. “Volkihar, what’s gotten into your head? Did someone come in here?” He asks gently.

Her eyes find his and sure enough they’re terrified. “Yeah, just someone trying to get in. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Vorstag laughs softly, if only to calm her, “Were you hurt? Do you know who it was? I heard Imperials are sneaking around this area.”

She blinks slowly. “Yeah, yeah it was one of those I think. And I’m fine. More tired than anything.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She’s safe. Although, her posture is still rigid. He’s seen many people over the years freeze up like this in a fight. She was a good fighter, but he supposes after so long underground, her skills are rusty. “Want me to stay here for the night? I just finished helping the bar close.”

Usually, the past few months, she’s said no to him. She would rather sleep by herself. Instead, she slowly blinks at him with those pretty eyes. “Would you? We don’t have to share the bed.”

Vorstag was prepared for this, he gives her a glowing smile and pats one of the long couches alongside the opposing wall. “There’s a reason I had you put up in the larger room. I’ll take this couch here.”

“It’s hard as a rock.” She mentions offhandedly.

He laughs, “All the better. Remember, Volkihar, I’m a mercenary. I’m used to sleeping in odd places.”

 

---

  

Serana couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard she tried. She stayed awake the whole time, especially when Vorstag began to snore. She just trained her eyes on the now closed window. She still shivers from that breeze, and her hollow eyes.

She thought Helsta was dead. Father’s former blacksmith no doubt died after the Dragonborn infiltrated the castle. She was sure of it. She had no idea that anyone would have escaped. But based on her decaying state, she might have been brought back from the dead.

Serana shivers further as she thinks on what Helsta told her. Father had far more tricks up his sleeve than Serana thought possible. Before she was brought out from her underground tomb, she now knows that father gave away her hand in marriage. He arranged her marriage. She was betrothed.

She remembers Helsta’s strong gaze, filled with fire as she glared at Serana through the window. Serana had an ice spike ready to impale Helsta in case she was after her for revenge.

“Don’t. Don’t kill me. I have a message.” Her voice was mangled in death. Serana guessed that’s what happens after decaying for long before revival.

“Go on, I’m listening but I won’t be for long.” Serana said sharply.

Helsta pulled herself further into the window, her very long nails scraped the sides of it, slicing into the wood. “I’m here…to save you…Harkon arranged your marriage. He told us that you would be married after the Tyranny of the Sun was completed.”

Serana’s heart kicked into in overdrive. Everything, the bar sounds down below, her book lost in the covers, even Helsta herself was slipping away. She sternly shook her head and told herself to focus. She could get out of this.

“Who? Who did father give me to?”

“Mann…Mann…” Helsta was struggling. Whatever spell brought her back to life was starting to fade. Serana quickly switches her ice spike to a necromancy spell, a basic zombie spell. If she has to, she’ll bring Helsta back from the dead again to get this answer, no matter how fickle it will be. However, it’s much, much harder to reanimate the dead after they’ve already been animated once before.

“Who is it?” Serana prodded again, but with a softer voice.

“Mannimarco.” The former vampire spit out, then her flaming eyes went rolling and she fell backwards from the window. Serana heard her hit the ground seconds later, but she didn’t register it.

Mannimarco, the Worm King. Serana heard his whispers before she was locked away. She thought he would be dead by now. He was an Altmer necromancer from the Summerset Isles, a very dangerous person from what she heard. And very, very powerful from the sound of it. If he was after her, then they had more troubles than just finding her mother.

Speaking of, Serana keeps her eyes on the window as her mind runs. Mother probably brought Helsta back to life. If it was anyone associated with Mannimarco, they would not have warned her. This is more reason to get to her mother as soon as possible. If the necromancer found out their plans…knew that her mother might have known and warned her…his wrath might just kill them.

Serana shivers again. She felt terrible not telling all this to Vostag but, based on how brash and protective he’s been of her in the past few months, she decides she wants to get more information before telling him everything. He just might lock her up again to keep her safe.

She shifts in her bed to stare at his face. He’s snoring softly, his mouth agape. It should be funny. It is. She just wonders if he would be able to take on what’s coming for them. In her bleak days, which came far too often, she sometimes found him fun to be around. She admires his strength and moral compass. Although, becoming a vampire might have been the worst thing for him. He seemed to be a sun worshiper in his mortal life, based on how tan his skin used to be. He was annoyingly energetic. Always willing to help anyone in need. And Serana saw how far that attempt to save everyone would go.

No, she was right to keep that information from him. If she told him, his good heart would stop at nothing to keep her safe. 

“Staring again, Volkihar? I’d say you wouldn’t be able to see me in this light, but how wrong I am about vampire sight.” Vorstag yawns.

Serana smiles slightly. “Want to use the bed? I’m about to head out.” She rises and shakes the covers to find her book that was hidden in them.

He gives her a look of confusion and moves his position for a better one. “Why? I’m quite comfortable here. Where are you going?”

“To get a new book.” She quirks and eyebrow and holds The Lusty Argonian Maid above the covers. “I finished this one.”

It works, the man breaks into laugher, “About time! I’ve been wanting to read it since I first saw you had it!”

“Here, take it.” She throws the book on her bed. “And sleep here, it can’t be comfortable there. I’m going shopping and I’ll be back soon.”

Vorstag seems confused but he soon moves to the bed and makes a bit of fuss on how she bent some of the pages. Serana just smiles to herself as she dresses in a long cloak and elbow length black gloves.

“And this part! Did you earmark all the best parts?” He’s now lounging in the bed, comfortable as ever and turning pages quickly. “This?” he points to a page, “This?” he points to another one.

“I didn’t but feel free to.” She ignores the rest of his bickering, now thinking it might be nice to have a few hours away.

“Don’t tell me you’re going far. Watch out for the Imperials, especially one with a crowd of Nords around her.” He warns sternly.

“That was oddly specific, but I’ll be fine.” She opens the door and gives him one last longing look. “Have fun with that.”

He grins, “Can’t wait to dive in.”

She shuts the door, but not before hearing a distinct thump on the nearby nightstand. Soon, Vorstag is snoring softly again. She figures the bed was a good idea. Anything to get him to sleep more soundly and not follow her like a second shadow. He won’t like what she’s going to find. Any research she can get her hands on will be worth it, as long as the books are still around here. She’s not sure if they were burned in the Stormcloak siege. But she’ll read whatever she can find. The more knowledge she has on Mannimarco, and his current whereabouts, the better.

Chapter 4: Spell Books

The Blue Palace was still open to Serana’s surprise. The light was shining on it just so, leaving the lavender deathbell flowers basking in the early morning glow. She resisted the urge to pick a few of them, she was never sure if guards would allow it but since the Stormcloaks have taken over she didn’t want to take the chance.

Instead, she brushes her hand over them and felt the glimmers of power resting in those petals. After a turbulent youth, her mother took to teaching Serana the art of alchemy. If anything, it was a bonding experience for the both of them. No matter how torturous it was at times. But now, Serana knew how to make anything from potion to using poisons on weapons.

There were soft whispers when she slipped through the door. Upstairs, she heard Elisif talking to her steward. Serana ignored the guards prying eyes and ascended the staircase. She wasn’t here for Elisif, instead she was looking for…

“It’s you. What are you doing here?” Sybille, the resident mage and the only vampire reigning in Elisif’s little group asks her. She stands in a pool of morning light, but her cloak and robes are enough to conceal her skin from the prying sun. Falk Firebeard stands behind her with a paler and paler looking Elisif at the throne.

Serana composes herself quickly. She knew Sybille wouldn’t take well to her presence, the woman had been watching the Volkihar castle for over a decade, she was certain. And after the recent events that took it down, she was sure there would be some blame placed on her.

“Looking for books. I don’t know where to go. I thought I’d ask you.” Serana says with the calmest of voices.

Sybille’s brow furrows, her golden eyes pierce Serana in such a way she wonders what sort of miracle kept her from father’s court. He had been yearning for mages to join before his mad quest to find all the Elder Scrolls.

“Come with me, I have a little library I can show you.” Sybille gives a quick glance to a fragile looking Elisif before leading Serana down the hallway.

When the shadows blanketed their forms, Sybille speaks softly. “If this is any form of an attempt at spying, know that I am well equipped to deal with you.”

Serana gives her a sharp glance, “No. Of course not. I don’t really care who is in the position of High King. I honestly don’t think Ulfric will keep his hold on the people for long.” She says nothing more on the matter. It was the truth.

“Hm. Did you fight in the war?” The vampire mage asks as she opens a nondescript door.

“No. I was hiding…I guess you could say. There were a lot of enemies at that time. It was better to wait it out.” Serana says. In reality, she tried to help as much as she could. She quietly followed Vorstag and his friends around the province where they were needed in the fight against the Dragonborn. Serana knew it took a toll on him. If anyone wanted to fight in the war, it was Vorstag.

Secretly, she was glad he never went.

“There’s a reason people of our state survive for so long.” Sybille murmurs. Serana wishes to say more, she doesn’t want this mage to think her a coward, but she’s silenced by the room they enter.

Bookshelves line the darkened walls of the little room. But only a few shelves still hold some colorful tomes. “I wish I could say we have more to choose from, but after the Stormcloaks came through, we lost a lot of literature.” The vampire says with a certain weariness and sadness.

Serana knew how she felt. “I did too.”

“Volkihar castle?” Sybille’s eyes appraise her in a new light. “I’m sure there were many treasures there.”

There were, with some books so rare, no other ancient library might have them. Serana shakes off her words easily. “Yeah. But what can I do? I’ll just have to get more.”

“That it is. I can sell a few books here if there’s any you like. But I hope you understand, some books are indispensable to this library and are not intended to be taken out of it.”

 Serana begins to purse over the options near her. “Depends on what I find.” She hears the other vampire start picking out tomes from another shelf.

“Remind me again, what are you looking for?”

She has to be mindful of her next words, “Oh. I was looking for a book, information I guess, on a sorcerer named Mannimarco.” Serana brushes her hands along some of the spines, there was a lot of dust in here.

An audible thump comes behind her. Serana spins quickly to see Sybille picking up some books scattered on the floor. “Sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say Mannimarco?” Her tone was worrying.

Serana moves to help her, she can feel the woman’s agitation as she approaches. “Yeah, just curious about him.”

“Curious? That is why you want to know more about him? The man hasn’t been spoken of much in centuries.” Sybille snaps up her pile of books before Serana can really help. So, she just crouches awkwardly. Pondering over how much to tell the woman. Certainly, she would hate to hear that the sorcerer might be back and ravaging the continent for his bride soon.

“I. Well, it’s for research. I was thinking about taking a history class and didn’t know much about him.” Serana lies easily. It seems to calm the other woman.

“I have nothing on him. If you want more information your best resource will come from the College of Winterhold.” Sybille says easily. She puts her books away, taking care with their placement and alphabetical order.

“Do you know anything of him?” Serana asks. She doesn’t really want to make the trek across the province so soon, not when she needs to search her castle again.

The silence stretches on while Serana waits for the vampire to finish straightening her books. “I was born a few years after the Warp in the West, which occurred in 3E 417 in the Iliac Bay region. My parents fled Highrock after the event took place, they wished for a better life for me. This was of course, before I exchanged my mortal life for that of the undead.”

“Warp in the West?” Serana asks, she now knows she’s far older than this vampire. Serana was still underground then.

“It’s also referred to sometimes as the Dragon Break. In short, it was a warp in time. It allowed many different trajectories of reality to merge together. Many different political parties and important figures each successfully completed their goal in obtaining the Totem of Timber Septim. This led to major political changes in the region du to this accumulation of power. One of those included Mannimarco’s ascent. He had been a powerful necromancer who had turned his sights to other ambitions. He became a Lich,”

“Wait.” Serana interrupts. “Sorry, what’s a Lich?”

Sybille was so wrapped up in her story she didn’t seem to be annoyed. “A Lich is when a necromancer becomes the undead, thus, granting them immortal life. Their body lives, however sparingly and their mind and movements are lost. Mannimarco was thought to be the first necromancer to successfully complete this. But we have since found other liches in earlier records.”

Wow. Serana was now thinking she might be over her head. “He did this during the Warp in the West?”

Sybille watches her with a steady eye, “No.” Her tone dips, “The Warp in the West and the events that took place allowed Mannimarco to ascend to that of a god.”

Serana freezes with those words. A god. Wonderful. But there was no way it was real. He couldn’t be in the ranks of Talos and Mara. But just how powerful will this sorcerer be? “Do you know anything else about him?”

Sybille just shakes her head, “I told you, go to the College of Winterhold and find Urag gro-Shrub. He can help you further.”

Serana just hopes her sudden anxiety isn’t obvious. To cover her flustered state, she begins to look around at other books. Sybille follows her with a worried gaze. “Is there anything else I could help you with?”

Serana tried to keep her shaking hand from showing by brushing it over the spines again. She grabs the first book her fingers land on. “Sure, I want this.”

“That? I didn’t take you as one for the school of conjuration, but I should have guessed.” Sybille’s tone is now as bland as the muted colors of the walls. All the tension of those questions are forgotten. At least she didn’t catch on to how much Serana’s heart was pounding. And that was a feat, vampires could hear almost anything in a building. Serana could even hear the cooks’ rattling pans and working away downstairs. There’s no way this slipped Sybille’s attention, but she never brought it up.

 

---

 

“Back so soon?” Serana thought she’d find Vorstag lounging in the bed still, but he was right there at the bar when she walked in. The bartender behind him gave her a pleasant smile. One Serana was sure to return.

“I needed to get a few books. How was your reading experience?” Serana asks as she finds a seat near Vorstag. Not right next to him, though, the man barely fit in the barstool as it was, and she preferred a bit more space than the usually crowded bar sometimes offered.

He grins at her behind his full mug of mead. “Wonderful. Although, I will say, it dragged a bit in the middle.”

“You thought so? That was my favorite part.” She jokes, knowing full well he hasn’t read it yet. She’s not sure if he truly wants to or if this is still a long running gag with him.

“I have more books to whet your appetite.” She pushes the stack ahead of her, down the bar. Making sure to avoid sticky surfaces and puddles of drink. She didn’t think it would be so dirty this early in the day.

Vorstag raises a brow, “Wow, look at the librarian you’ve become. A Dance in Fire, Book VI ah, I had forgotten about that one. I never finished Decumus Scotti’s adventures. You know there’s five more books before this? I only got to book three before a bandit foiled my reading attempts,” He prattles on and moves the book aside to see what’s below it.

“A Gentleman’s Guide to Whiterun, can never read that enough, although I’m surprised it was hanging around Solitude. An Explorer’s Guide to Skyrim, really, this is good material for those not familiar with this province. You might want to brush up on it some, it sounds like things have changed drastically around here since you were last awake.”

He meant to say it in an offhanded way, but Serana still glanced at him. She knew he knew how old she was and how long she was underground. But she thought he had forgotten, he never treated her as older. That was one of the things to get used to as a new vampire, your elders aren’t really…your elders anymore. They’re wiser and older, but they’re not going to shrivel up and die right before you. They’ll stay as strong as you are, they’ll stay as lithe and powerful as they were in their youth, they just have more experience to back it up. And that can be all the advantage someone needs.

Well, if they were in a fight. Serana is starting to think one of those tiffs might happen now based on how Vorstag is devouring the books. He keeps talking about each one as if he had an intimate bonding with it. So much so that Serana can’t help herself.

“Interesting. I thought I was the librarian here.”

He pauses, “Unofficial librarian. I’m the reader.”

“Sure, but you know what you’re talking about. Maybe you should lead me around. We need to go to the College of Winterhold after I check out the castle again.”

He rubs his chin thoughtfully, “There? Are you really clamoring for more books? We have more than enough reading material for weeks here.”

Serana thinks for a moment. She doesn’t want to let on to what she heard from that thrall yet. She doesn’t even have enough information on Mannimarco or even if he’s still alive. “I want to learn more conjuration.” She places the last book on the pile of six.

“My, my, that is an adept spell! Master level! Flame Thrall. I didn’t take you for one for the school of conjuration.” Vorstag grins and drinks the rest of his ale.

Serana just watches the book silently. She didn’t really either. She knew the basic zombie spells, but after hearing about Mannimarco, a powerful necromancer, she thinks it might be good to learn some of his tricks. “I just found it and wanted to try it.”

He salutes her with his mug. “I wish you luck. I once knew a man who was living near a terrible bandit encampment. Each morning, he would rise from his makeshift shelter and go scour the area for dead bodies. He would reanimate them. His goal was to keep servants with him but between you and me, I think he was just lonely. He wanted company. Every time I went through that area, I tried to give him some and I noticed he was slowly gaining new members. They had this dead look in their eyes. Quite scary to see if you weren’t expecting it,” He pauses for a deep breath. “One day, I made my rounds and found he had a little girl as a thrall. She followed him around like a puppy, very loyal and cheerful. It sounds like the bandits decided to kill her after her parents were gutted.”

His silence spoke volumes. “Why are you telling me this?” Serana asks him, slightly horrified.

For once, he’s at a loss for words, he looks down on her with an amused expression but there’s some pain and longing behind it. He clears his throat, “Because that girl should have lived for a long time. The man, his name was Lorred, took good care of her. She was the first thrall I ever met who I thought was a real person. Living, breathing, and with a soul. I never knew necromancy could do that. Even if it was an illusion, I thought he gave that girl the second life she deserved.” He peers down into his empty mug then shoves it across the bar.

A sudden chill brushes Serana’s arms. She shivers, that, was powerful necromancy. That is something her mother used to practice all the time. She tried to reanimate the recently deceased, even to bring them back to how they once were. She was never that successful. The thralls either went mad, or their minds were never the same.

“He lives out near Morthal, if we’re going to the College of Winterhold, we can talk with him if you would want.” Vorstag says. She knows he wants to go see his friend, and this could be a good opportunity for her.

“Yes. I’d like to. Let me go get this spell down, I need some time to read, then we can go check out the castle before we leave.” She smiles at him and begins to pack her books.

“Wait.” He places a pointer finger on the first book, A Dance in Fire, Book VI, “Can I keep this one? I still need to see what happened to Decumus Scotti.”

“Sure.” She leaves him with the books, bids her farewell to the bartender, Corpulus, then heads up the stairs. But not before looking back at Vorstag. For once, she saw something in those depths behind his normal cheery demeanor. And now, looking at him leafing through the book, she finds he looks thoughtful. He’s a good person, she thinks, he might be too good to stay with her based on what she might have to do. Reanimating the dead isn’t for the faint of heart, and even though Vorstag is one of the strongest people she knows, she’s not sure his kind and sometimes sensitive personality can withstand it.

 

---

 

Vorstag clutches another drink in his hand. He shouldn’t be drinking again at this hour, what would the other patrons think of him? But his memories wouldn’t allow it. He meant it when he told Serana of the girl, he never saw someone so lifelike in death. Her youthful eyes still held the same innocence she no doubt had as a six-year-old child. She still ran like one, still had the curiosity that only one of such an age can display.

He remembers the day he came upon her. He was watching her in the vast fields, ripe with midsummer heat. She was playing with the various insects she could find. Vostag couldn’t hide his smile then, he remembered his own youth, as a boy traveling the province. He was always so curious. So much so, that his mothers had to warn him of touching things that might bite him.

“Back so soon?” Lorred, a creeping man with a quiet demeanor, trudged up the hill to stand next to the mercenary.

“I had to make my rounds, have the bandits caused you any troubles?” Vorstag had asked. He was truly on a mission to dispose of one of them. Aenh Ehraenson had a bounty on his head for scalping a whole village near the Hammerfell borders. His client said there were whispers he went into Hammerfell to kill there as well, leading to many unsolved missing person cases. So, now he was just hiding out with other bandits before the urge to murder came back to him. Vorstag would make sure to put him down as humanely possible.

Lorred rubbed his balding head. “Not much movement, no. Two nights ago, they killed a family of three. A woman and her husband, then this girl here.” He motioned to the young, auburn haired girl racing through the grass.

Vorstag had to take pause, “She was killed?”

“Unfortunately.” Lorred tried to move the sleeves of his robes a bit. For such a thin man, he always seemed to choose clothes that were too big for him. “I heard the woman screaming before they cut her, the man was already dead when I saw them.  I saw them kill her too, a cut to the back. You wouldn’t see the scar unless you were looking for it.”

“You reanimated the parents as well?” Vorstag finally composed himself. His horror was threatening to burrow out of his chest. He was mortal at this time, before Molag Bal took him, so death only presented itself through those killed unjustly and those who needed to be hunted. His mothers used to practice necromancy with those recently deceased from disease. They never made it more than a few years, and unfortunately, they never were the same. He remembered those times clearly when the person would suddenly gain some self-awareness. They were like a Lich. His mothers were sure to kill those that presented such traits.

“No, the parents were taken by the bandits. I think they were trying to make some new hides.” Lorred’s voice was neutral, but Vorstag could feel the undertones of the truth. He decided then he would make these bandits pay dearly. “The girl is fine though, as you can see.”

She raced up the way, right into Lorred’s arms. “Papa!” She squealed then turned her gaze to Vorstag.

Her eyes, by the gods… they were blue, the sweetest of blue eyes that held so much innocence and life. “I’m safe.” She had said. “Papa brought me back, he saved me.” It sounded almost rehearsed. Vorstag couldn’t move. This was the very thing his mothers warned him about. When a thrall became self-aware, that was when they were the most dangerous, as the necromancer had little control over them. At that point, they were considered feral.

Lorred scooped her up and began humming some tune to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. “What’s your plan with this?” Vorstag had asked in a quieter voice. He had to let Lorred know they couldn’t keep her alive if she ran off. The populace of Skyrim wouldn’t take well with it.

“Keep her. I want her to live again. I want her to have a better life than she did before.” The necromancer kept humming to the girl.

Vorstag kept his silence. He wasn’t a good enough friend with Lorred to know if he harbored fantasies of having a child of his own. He just knew he had a good heart and wouldn’t hurt her. However, “You know what you have to do if she turns feral.”

Lorred never stopped humming, he glanced over the girl’s shoulder to Vorstag. All he did was nod. 

Vorstag clutches his mug tighter, takes another drink. He wanted Serana to see that. He also wanted to know if the girl was still around, it was a few years since afterall. Three, to be exact.

“Need anything else?” Corpulus leans over the bar, breaking Vorstag from his thoughts.

“No, friend. I’m done with this. And here, have a little more for your troubles.” Vorstag passes over a coin pouch filled with more septims than was necessary.

The older man with fire red hair took it a with a grateful expression. “Thank you, this means a lot. I can hopefully get more servants working here. We’re understaffed enough as it is.”

“I’m sure. Keep an eye on her too.” Vorstag motions over his shoulder to Lisette who was just cleaning her lute in one of the corner tables.

“I will, Sorex will too.” Corpulus looks back to Vorstag, “You heading off?”

The man takes another drink, pondering over how much to tell the bartender, “I am. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but you know me, I always come back around eventually.”

The bartender laughs as he wipes down the bar, “That you do! Well, safe travels then, I’ll be sure to keep a mug ready with your name on it.”

Instead of the usual banter that normally took place, Vorstag just smiled and nodded his goodbyes. He made sure to grab the book he barely looked at and take it upstairs with him. He did want to read it eventually, but at a calmer time when the memories didn’t threaten him.

 

---

 

The castle didn’t hold much at first glance, as they saw the day before. Vorstag let Serana wander ahead but he made sure to keep a good eye on the ashes covering the ground. He did not want to repeat yesterday’s events.

Seeing Serana taken to the ground in such a manner was another memory he wished he could forget. He wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he didn’t get to her in time. But she seemed alright. Almost too good after a vampire attack.

Vorstag moves some of the ashes with his boot, searching the ground. As a matter of fact, he was beginning to think she wasn’t as scared as she should be. It’s almost like the fear came and went. It’s either that she became more confident overnight, or something else had soothed her.

“Serana.” Vorstag calls to her. She’s on her hands and knees, searching relentlessly through the dirt on the ground. Her beautiful armor was already stained enough as it was. It was a shame to see it dirtied further.

“Yeah? See anything over there?” She looks up to him with her golden eyes. They’re rimmed in some black makeup women liked to use, Vorstag didn’t care much for it, but he had to admit it did bring out her eyes more.

“No. I was just curious, yesterday we ran through here so quickly, it was like you were terrified. Which I completely understand,” He adds quickly, when he went on missions with those less experienced than he was in fighting, he made sure to commend them for their courage. The last thing he wanted to do was make her fear worse. “But now, you seem calmer. I just wanted to know your tricks.” He smiles down on her easily.

She takes some time to rise and dust the ashes off her pants. “Yeah, about that.” She pauses, he can see the wheels turning in her head, “My mother has been sending thralls. She’s found a way to speak through the Soul Cairn.”

“Interesting. Have they said anything?” Vorstag muses. He heard about the Soul Cairn and helped Serana go through the very portal to it. He just never knew what it was like inside.

“Not much. Not much of interest. It’s why I want to find the portal to talk to my mother, she’d know.” Serana shrugs. “I guess there isn’t much here. Are you ready to go?” She asks Vorstag.

He pauses, thinking over their journey and who they might see along the way. “If you are, Volkihar, that’s all that matters. I only carry the things on my back.” He nods to her numerous bags they must take with them.

She sighs, ignoring the jab. “I bought a horse, so we’ll be fine.”

 

---

 

Serana admits, she was quite surprised when she found out Vorstag was not opposed to taking her bags by foot. She had a lot. Too much. She just found so many herbs and soul gems in Solitude, along with her books. They needed someone to help carry them and what better way than a horse?

She bought him at the stables, a white and black spotted stallion. He was beautiful and she felt he shouldn’t be relegated to baggage carrier his whole life. She figures she can sell him once they get to the College.

All the bags strapped to him makes him look so cumbersome, but she knows the weight combined is still much less than two people would be.

“Careful here, this is where the marsh begins.” Vorstag warns. He was feet ahead of them, scouting out the terrain so the horse could walk alright. Serana stayed next to him, she held his reins and pulled softly to lead him on.

“Do you have a name for him?” Vorstag asks.

Serana blinks. “I hadn’t thought of one, I figured if we were only borrowing him, then we might as well let someone else name him.”

The mercenary gives her a conspiring look. “Everyone needs a name, even we are with him for a short time.”

Serana doesn’t have much to say to that. She just stares out at the land. It’s dark here. The sky was still alight with the afternoon sun, but the heavy clouds made it less prominent. The trees reached for the sky, exposing their roots among the little soil here. Water ran through the dense underbrush. She heard the whispers here, some say that vampires, not father’s vampires, were hiding in the marsh. Below the ice and water to wait for some poor passerby.

“How about Phantom?” He pesters her. She tears her eyes away from the deepening water to shake her head. “Hm, tough crowd, what about Cookie? I like Cookie.” Vorstag keeps talking.

Serana’s brow furrows, “Cookie? I’d rather we name him something more…extravagant. How about Opal?”

“Interesting, interesting, is it because he shines like one?”

Serana sighs, “Of course…”

Her words are cut short when the newly named, Opal rears up. Serana grasps for the reins, trying frantically to calm him. Then she sees it.

A pale hand emerges from the ground, snaking around the horse’s back hoof before pulling. “No! Get out.” She flings and ice spike at it. The horse rears again and backs up, Serana lets go of the reins knowing there really isn’t anything she can do. He races off in the marsh.

Heavy breathing alerts her, she feels Vorstag at her side with his blade drawn. “We need to get him.” She says.

“He’ll be fine, he’ll stop running when the danger isn’t here anymore.” Vorstag murmurs, she follows his eyes and gasps.

Rising from the marsh are countless bodies. Vampires. Maybe fifteen in all. They don’t look alright. Their skin is peeling, their eyes are bloodshot or yellow tinged, some skin is gangrenous. They look more like zombies than something she would call her kin.

“We don’t mean any harm…” She starts.

They aren’t civilized. Father used to speak of people like these, he thought anyone who acquired vampirism outside of the Volkihar bloodline was tainted. People to shun. Serana always saw his rants as self-righteous and simple minded.

Her opinion might have changed if she met these vampires first. The first three finally reached shore, one barely had a foot hanging on, it dragged behind his leg showing the bone had been broken for a long time.

“They can’t be fast.” Serana whispers, she lights her hands up with ice spells, ready to send them forth.

“You would be surprised,” Vorstag replies. He was about to say more but they descended.

Five, ten, fifteen. All the vampires with their weakening and green tinted skin came racing forth. Serana screamed at the sight, when one barreled into her she could feel its flesh softening at her touch, as if just pushing on it would break it through. They were diseased. She doesn’t know why or how, but they smelled horrible.

The stench was rotting flesh. She pushes it before hit can get closer to her, its fangs are elongated and eyes completely devoid of anything but hunger. She sends a few ice spikes through his chest. He goes down but not before she’s swarmed again.

They were pulling her hair, tearing at her clothing, doing anything they could to get that precious blood. But little did they know that Serana had none of it. Vampires don’t feed from each other. They have to get it from humans or animals if they were desperate enough.

“Serana!” Vorstag yells over the fray of moans and snarls.

She has an idea. The vampires were pulling her down and it was hard not to struggle frantically. She calms herself, looking for anything, a bird, a rabbit, whatever animal around she could draw blood from. It would lead them away from her.

But there was nothing.

A vampire sinks her fangs into her back. Serana screams. She was throwing as many ice spikes as she could, even resorted to using her vampiric drain, but it never worked that well on the undead. She did have one trick, though.

They kept pulling her along the ground. She could feel the mud getting wetter, feel her skin sinking into the earth before they drag her into the water. The fangs and claws were receding. By the gods, they were taking her away somewhere. She doesn’t think. Closes her mind down and only keeps in her mind those words written. The ones she studied before.

It was a fairly simple spell from the look of it, but once the caster looked into the deeper meaning they found it was harder to cast. Serana didn’t even dare try before. She thought her power was too weak, far too weak at the time, but she has no choice now.  

Her hand lights up with the call of the Soul Cairn, at least that’s what she thinks it is. She never knew where this cursed magic came from. Her hand felt colder than ever with the purple light absorbing it. She grits her teeth as she calls it.

Calling into the void and bringing someone out was harder than she thought it would be. When reanimating the dead, you are bringing their soul’s back temporarily, but this. This is calling a new body into the world.

The landscape spins, it doesn’t help that she’s being dragged through the mud and can’t keep her head out of the water anymore. It doesn’t help that the vampires are clawing and nearly breaking her bones with every move.

But it helps when she appears.

She’s beautiful. Serana used to play with spriggans as a child, only after they were tamed, and she thought them to be the most beautiful creatures around. Their bodies were made of forest bark wrapping around them along with ivy. In between, a green and yellow glow would show their life force. Every time Serana walked among them she felt that they were one with nature.

This creature was different. Her body is wrapped in fire, the only substantial part of her are the black scales that line her body, showing her form and keeping her together. But that fire. It blazed to life when she saw the vampires attacking Serana.

She has little time to duck when the first firebolt comes her way. An inhuman scream sounds above her. She can feel the creature’s claws digging into her back before being launched off her. Serana can’t do anything but clench her jaw to keep the tears at bay. Gods, that hurt.

She keeps her head to the ground when she hears the rest. Scream after scream sounds with the growing flames. Serana can hear them whooshing above her head before making impact. Rough hands grab her by the arms and pull.

She screams. “Get away you freak!” Ice was now pouring from her hands, ready to take down her captor.

“It’s me! I need to get you out of here before she burns you alive!” Vorstag yells, he pulls her up. But she can barely stand. The pain in her back is too much.

“Here.” Vorstag picks her up, so she is cradled in his arms. The injured part of her back is centered between them, so it doesn’t hurt as much. Serana barely any time to register how gently he is holding her. Vorstag runs.

They gave chase. She could hear them close on their heels. Decaying things that were too fast for what their bodies showed. How looks could be deceiving. But through the wind whipping in her hair, Serana lifts her head from Vorstag’s shoulder to see the inferno behind her.

The marsh was on fire. Yellow and orange blazes burned through the drying grass. Some of it even laid on the water, Serana was puzzled over this for a second, until she saw the body burning up in the shallow waves.

Vorstag kept running. Serana kept watching. As the marsh receded from view, she saw her. Her savior. Emerging from the inferno. The Flame Atronach followed.

 

---

 

Opal wasn’t far off, as Vorstag had guessed. He stopped his running, Serana was still in his arms, such a sturdy and light woman. He could feel her musculature through her clothing. This woman was not weak. She had just fallen asleep, they had been running for quite some time but he was more worried it was because of the wounds.

A strong woman, decent in battle, that’s who she is. But those cannibalistic vampires took her down. Vorstag was even having a rough time with them. They kept going for his neck. It was hard to keep them away, especially with their tactics. At first, he thought they were slow, even in battle they kept their distance. But when he let his guard down, even for a moment, was when they struck.

He lays down Serana next to Opal who was just grazing on some nearby grass. The vampire girl in his arms moans when she feels the solid ground. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls out one of the numerous healing potions at his disposal. “Drink.” He pushes it to her lips.

She starts, slowly. Her eyes are scrunched up in pain, pain he knew too well. Then, her eyes peeked opened.

He felt it before she saw it. The heat at his back. He spins, fast enough to catch the creature before it would race off or attack. A sharp dagger held in his right hand.

The Flame Atronach just hovers there. Her hollow but bright eyes locked on the two of them. Even thought flames dance on her body, he sees there aren’t any held in her hands.

“She saved me.” Serana says with a hoarse voice.

Vorstag doesn’t loosen his grip on his blade not yet, “They can turn on you.”

“No, they can’t. They follow their master.” She objects.

Vorstag runs his tongue over his fangs, thinking. “That is what those scholars might say, but my mothers were different. Some dealt in conjuration, for a brief season. It didn’t end well. Creatures such as these can turn against you.”

“I don’t care, she saved me. She should stay.”

He wishes to tell her that he saved her as well. He carried her out here and gave her potion. He just looks over his shoulder to her. “How permanent is the spell?”

“She stays until I will her away.” Serana gives a slight smile through the pain.

Vorstag nods slowly and puts his dagger away. “Alright, looks like we have another in our company for some time. Too bad she has flames at her disposal, otherwise I’d have her carrying some of the load.”

Serana laughs, the sound like tinkling bells. Something untightens in Vorstag’s chest. She’s laughing, that means she is not in as much pain as she once was. And she will heal.

 

---

 

They were just cresting the same hill that Vorstag walked three years go. Last time he was here, he noticed he had a clear view of the bandit towers. Now, big holes broke into the rock formations, pulling the towers to the ground. Probably from a dragon attack. That’s the reason most buildings were losing their structural integrity nowadays. At least he couldn’t see anyone skulking about there. He didn’t feel like bandit hunting at the moment.

“I’m not sure. I can’t think of any good name for her right now.” Serana says behind him. He twists and looks over Opal’s head to see Serana sitting on the saddle, lost in thought. He bandaged her up the best he could, and figured blood and time were what she needed. Further behind them, the Flame Atronach trailed. Fire lit the fields up in its glow, burning some of the underbrush where she hovered, but no larger blazes burned. Her eyes were geared straight ahead. Straight on Serana.

This gave Vorstag an uneasy feeling at first. But he knows from his time with his mothers, the creature was only looking to serve her master.

“Jolly?” He tries.

Serana shakes her head, “Eve named her dog that. I don’t want a repeat name.”

“Star? Sun?” Vorstag wasn’t the best with names.

“I don’t know…” Serana trails off. Vorstag notices it when she does. A scratching noise in the belly of the nearby forest.

This was where Lorred had his encampment. At the time, he only had two tents. Now, Vorstag isn’t certain.

Opal stops. The horse just dead stops in his tracks. Vorstag nearly snaps the reigns he was carrying with the force of it. His eyes scour the mossy ground. That sound is louder. Something they might not want to fight. A bright flame becomes his companion as he notices the Flame Atronach to his right. She stares straight ahead, those daedric eyes on the forest before them. Her hands begin filling with flames.

Vorstag only has time to pull his short sword, not his axe at his back. The rustling was growing. He was preparing to give Opal a harsh command, just one, and the horse would race off with Serana for cover. But then it happened.

The girl burst forth from the underbrush. She is as beautiful as the day he first saw her, hair glittering in the bright sun above, eyes as sweet and innocent as he remembered. She races straight for him. All his instincts say to keep his weapon raised but in the presence of this immortal child, he drops his sword.

She leaps and wraps her arms around his neck. “Vorstag!” She squeals, kicking her feet at his chest. He wraps his arms around her, the hair on the back of his neck still at attention. “Is that?” Serana starts.

The rustling never stopped. It only grew distant. Another figure emerges and it takes everything in Vorstag not to pry the sweet girl from his neck. Emerging from the forest is a very different sort of thrall. A Nord woman, girl even, not even past her adolescence. Blond, straight corn colored hair. Tall, gangly limbs. Eyes like the rich tree bark surrounding them. It was the tearing flesh and the gangrenous smell that made Vorstag fear.

That, and the dark glimmer in her eyes. Her hands were kept at her side, but she only moves one to wipe away a piece of rotting flesh from her brow. It comes off clean.

Vorstag’s terror is now threatening to choke him. This was no normal thrall. Lorred, in the past few years has gone from merely curious to downright irresponsible. The girl before him was a Lich.  

Chapter 5: Entrance Exam

“What is it?” Serana leans further forwards in the saddle. Her back still hurt, making her wince. But it wouldn’t keep her from looking at the woman before them.

Vorstag seemed to be struggling with the girl wrapped around his neck. The Flame Atronach, who they had not yet named, was still pulling on her power. The woman before them had paused, her flesh still falling from her face. Just the forehead at this instant. Serana knew this girl’s skin probably used to be as pale and unblemished as her own. Now, it was a ghastly grey showing pieces rotting from her.

“Vorstag, Vorstag! You came back!” The girl squeals and unlatches her grip from the mercenary. He sets her down gently. Serana notices the tightness in his back. She thinks if he knew the girl would run back to the rotting woman, he would not have let her go.

She is scooped up by the zombie looking thing. Nuzzles her nose against the older girl’s. At least that wasn’t falling off, Serana notes.

“Vorstag? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Another figure emerges from the forest. An older, balding man with bright amber eyes and a soft smile greets them. His impossibly long robes catch in the grass as he sifts his way towards them.

“You made a Lich.” Vorstag says as greeting.

Serana’s hands freeze, just petting Opal’s hair back. A Lich. That is what they said Mannimarco became.

Lorred pauses next to the two girls, he rubs a hand over his head. “Yes. Yes, Vorstag, I’ve grown quite strong as you can see.”

The older girl just turns and takes the younger one away. Before disappearing into the forest, the smaller one sends a bright smile Serana’s way. “I like your pony!” She squeals.

That must be the thrall, Serana muses. She slowly pulls herself down from the horse to greet the necromancer.

“And what do I owe the pleasure?” Lorred looks to and from Vorstag and Serana, before his eyes linger on the Atronach.

“Just passing through,” Serana begins when she sees Vorstag’s words have failed him. She just notices he won’t tear his gaze away from that forest. “I’m interested in conjuration and necromancy. Vorstag said you might have some advice?”

Lorred flinches and pulls his eyes away from the Atronach. His slow smile is cat-like. More like a serpent, Serana decides. “You’ve come to the right place. Please, let me offer you room and food, follow me.”  

 

---

 

Vorstag clutches his mug, a rusting silver thing, tightly in his hands. He doesn’t want the others to see his trembling. The camp was more than that now, there was a whole city of tents here with fires dotting the clearings. The sounds of numerous conversations filled the night covered forests. Not all from mortal lips. The only mortal here was Lorred.

He’s more animated than Vorstag last saw of him. He sits on his rock, with his arms over his knees paying great attention to Serana. Vorstag barely paid attention to their conversation, something about the basics of conjuration and the right spell books.

He has to keep from looking over his shoulder where the Lich was. He can feel her breath on his neck, at least that’s what he tells himself. He knows she’s right behind him and that was far too close for comfort.

One of his mother’s, Sotur, spoke to him once about the Liches. The process of turning was hard. They were told to drain the life energy of another then redirect it back to their body. This takes much strength. So much so that their death occurs soon after the transfer, then, they rise.

A Lich is dangerous because they are without masters. They are the undead that necromancers seek to control, but they control themselves. Sotur whispered to him that day, since the other women didn’t want to hear of these tales, that a Lich is unpredictable and powerful. The final piece of the puzzle for staying alive and undead, is to be a master in the dark arts. The woman  behind Vorstag no doubt had enough knowledge to kill them where they stand.

Good thing he wasn’t mortal anymore.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lorred turns his attention to him. “Vorstag. I noticed your own change. I’ve been dying to hear what happened.” He rests his chin on a fist, eyes glowing with excitement.

It is a chore not to focus on the sounds of the forest. How the nearby conversations halted. As if they were listening in.

Vorstag clears his throat, “I was taken by Molag Bal as his Champion after I was killed. I was kept in his realm, Coldharbour for…I don’t even know how long. All I know is I woke up in the bottom of Volkihar Castle and was given back my free-will.”

Lorred was positively glowing. “And, and you never heard back from our Lord Molag Bal?”

Vorstag shrugs, he wondered this sometimes and thought about asking Eve to ask the Lord of Enslavement himself. But the vampire woman wanted nothing to do with him. She was adamant she would break her own bond with him. “No. I haven’t heard a lick of him since. In truth, I never spoke to him much, that I remember. He only commanded me. He taught me how to fight in this form.” He holds his hands out to show off his new body.

Lorred rises and walks over to Vorstag, all to take his hands in his impossibly cold ones. “What a gift. What a treasure. I have done the same for some of my own.” He jerks his head to the deeper part of the forest. “Back there, I have made another Lich. The rest are thralls from that bandit encampment. After a dragon attack, they started encroaching on my territory so I thought I would give them the choice.”

“And that was?” Vorstag asks, wishing to pull his hands away from the necromancer’s strangely icy ones.

“Either live and accept the gift of the Lich. Or die and be enthralled back to life.” He gives an easy smile, not at all concerned with how…wrong that was.

Vorstag eyes Serana, she’s listening but has her gaze elsewhere. Centered on the little girl now twirling in the mud. “How long do they live?” She asks.

Lorred pulls his hands away and spins around like a top. He was always an eccentric one. “Forever! Forever and ever if they wish. If they’re good at what they do. Surviving.”

Serana opens her mouth but Lorred stops her. “I have spell books I can give you. Many of them. But first, I want to show you two something.”

A pit forms in Vorstag’s stomach, he doesn’t like the man’s tone. “Sure. Just tell me, Lorred, how many of them lost control? Became feral.”

The man only rubs his balding head in a circular motion. Over and over again while avoiding eye contact. “Some. Not many. Not many at all. They were all dealt with.”

Vorstag stands, feeling the Lich moving behind him. As if mirroring his movements. He checks over his shoulder and finds the Flame Atronach where they left her. In the clearing, where she can’t burn anything precious. He knows she will not hesitate to defend them if something were to occur.

“Let’s go see this surprise.” He muses after downing the rest of his drink. The alcohol wasn’t good at all. It was quite dismal. But it was something.

 

---

 

Serana glances around at the forest. The canopy is so high, she has to resist the urge to crane her neck for any thralls hiding in the trees. Based on the trunks moving in the unfelt wind, there were some up there already.

They wove a path through the forest. Passing tent after tent. People laying about the ground or tending to a fire raised their heads as they passed. Most were older people, former bandits. They all had a vacant look in their eyes. Only following commands. Vorstag was right, only the girl whose hand Serana was holding seemed to be the only conscious thrall here. Her and the Lich.

The woman followed behind at a safe distance, as if she felt their apprehension. Serana didn’t care much if she was about, but Vorstag was always tensing. Always flicking his hand for his sword. No fight ever came.

Lorred seemed to be in control. Even though he was extremely flustered. He pulled his robes up like a woman would in a large dress and skipped down the path. “Oh, forgive my bad manners! This is Horwe, my other Lich.” He lays a hand on a passing man. He was in bandit armor, had a long blonde beard that was in desperate need of a trimming. His gaze tracked theirs and he decided to follow them too.

He has that ghastly grey coloring and skin peeling from his cheek. Maybe he shouldn’t trim his beard, Serana decides. She lets the man follow behind her with the other Lich. Vorstag already fell back to defend her.

“Watch them.” He whispers.

She shrugs, “I can deal with them if I have to.”

She didn’t ask Lorred what their weakness was. After mentioning their peeling skin, and seeing his horrified reaction to such a question, she decides it would be impolite to ask. They were like his own children.

The next clearing showed two thralls tending to a coffin looking structure. When they near, Serana is certain it can’t be anything but. The tomb was moss covered and the scrawling designs on it were of the ancient Nords.

“This. This is my next project.” Lorred purrs. He moves his hand over the lid, pulling the thing off and Serana has to keep from yelping. Inside, just resting, was none other than a Dragon Priest.

“By the gods.” Vorstag breathes.

“Pretty isn’t he? I found him not far from here, I had the thralls bring him in. He should be in a dungeon, that is how they get their power, from worshippers. It’s why I have thralls here day and night to tend to him. In a few days. That’s when I resurrect him.” Lorred smiles down onto the corpse.

“You know, they’re considered to be Liches too. The strongest of them all.” He murmurs.

Serana wishes to ask more of them. But Vorstag just turns with fury written all over his face. “Lorred. Do you know how irresponsible this is? Resurrecting a Dragon Priest? He’ll kill anyone in a hundred-mile radius!”

Lorred doesn’t cringe back from his harsh tone, he only nods excitedly. “Of course, I get more room to build my people. My city.”

This stops Vorstag dead in his tracks. “What? What are you doing Lorred?” He growls.

The man doesn’t feel the dangerous undertones of his voice, “What I have to do. No one wants necromancers around. We are nothing but…outcasts. The cities won’t take us. Windhelm used to be promising, if you can avoid the most prejudiced but after Ulfric’s victory that’s gone. The College isn’t helping either. They frown against those like us.” His eyes slide to Serana as if in warning to how people might treat her.

Little does he know she’s used to that kind of treatment. After rising from those dungeons with the Scroll she found herself nothing more than a pawn and outcast to her own family. This wasn’t much different.

Lorred continues, “This will be a city. A city of thralls. Liches. Whoever I might be able to conjure and bring back from Oblivion.” He smiles then falters. “Why are you looking at me like that? You should be happy!”

Vorstag just keeps his jaw set. He seems so distressed. Serana wishes to lay a hand on his shoulder. Instead of fighting, Vorstag just walks off into the forest. “I need some time. To think.” He calls back in a strained voice.

Serana lets him go. This was not the best time. “Lorred.” She starts, glancing back at the two Liches on the edge of the forest. They were whispering to each other and never tore their eyes off the path Vorstag took.

The man’s frantic eyes find hers. “Yes, what do you think of this? This plan? It’s perfect, there’s no way it could fail.”

Serana almost stutters, she composes herself and thinks over her words before saying them. “I think it will work, Lorred. It’s not why I’m here though. I wanted to ask about Mannimarco. If you knew anything of him?”

The man pauses, his eyes widen. “Mannimarco. The first Lich. He ascended to godhood long ago. What of him?”

“Is he still around? How powerful was he?” Those desperate questions come plunging forth.

Lorred watches her with a new interest. “He was an adept student and an ambitious man. Very, very ambitious. There is no other figure worthy of such respect. You do not know of his history, do you?” He gives a slight smile.

Serana shakes her head. She would sit, but she wants the answers now. Wants to give into her instincts and flee this terrible place. She knew thralls and Liches were not all bad but there was some sort of energy here. It wasn’t good and she is starting to suspect it’s coming from that very coffin.

Lorred fires off, “Mannimarco, after establishing the Cult of Black Worm in the Dragontail Mountains had set his sights to join the ranks of the gods of Oblivion. He became embroiled in court politics of Iliac Bay and came into the contact with an agent of the Blades. During this time, he foresaw the return of the Mantella from it’s hiding place in Aetherius. He promised this agent he would bring the Totem and return the Mantella to Nirn.”

Lorred pauses when a distinct cry comes from the forest, soon after, a scurrying sound approaches. A shadow moves in the trees before disappearing. “Forgive them. They are antsy. Anyways. These plans were derailed on the 10^th of Frostfall, 3E 417 when the Warp of the West  occurred. During this time, many factions were attempting to gain the Totem of Timber Septim. This resulted in the distortion of time where all factions simultaneously gained possession. They all achieved their goals. One of these factions was Mannimarco, who soon after, completed his apotheosis, resulting in the creation of the Necromancer’s Moon. Now, necromancers consider him a god and pray to his altars strewn about Tamriel. Offering souls to darken soul gems, giving them a new sort of power.”

Serana takes in all this information, so much information. So much she had missed being underground. “I…wow. He’s up above now? He’s hovering over us as we speak?”

“You could say so.” Lorred gives her an easy smile.

She shivers. Right now, the man betrothed to her by her father could be watching her every move. Waiting, for when she was most vulnerable to show up. “Can he…go back into his mortal body?”

“He is now a god so I can’t see why not.” Lorred snaps his eyes to the dark forest behind them where a keen wailing sound was just starting. “Forgive me, I can have time to talk more on Mannimarco later and your studies. I must…attend to this altercation.” He picks up his robes to wander over to the sound. Leaving Serana to look down on the corpse of the Dragon Priest, wondering just how this Mannimarco will present himself. And more importantly, what kind of bargain her father struck.

 

---

 

There was no more talk of Mannimarco, or anything that concerns necromancy. Lorred was staunchly embroiled in a fight between the thralls. Something over food, as it always was with animals. Serana guessed they weren’t much different from the beasts that roam on all fours.

Instead, she tried to sleep. Tried to get some shut eye in one of the numerous tents. She could see the warm glow of her Flame Atronach outside. She was just wondering what to name her when she drifted to sleep.

And was promptly woken with a hand to her mouth. She resists the urge to scream and rolls over, with a dagger in her left hand and an ice spike forming in her right.

“Shh. It’s me.” Vorstag whispers. His kind eyes find hers in the lightening darkness. She moves back so his large hand falls away.

“What is it?”

He jerks his head to the forest, “That thing out there. That corpse. We need to dispose of it.” He whispers, so quietly she can barely hear him. She wonders how much the Liches can hear.

“Why?” She has to ask.

“Lorred isn’t the man I knew, he’s gone insane.” Those words were too important to be whispered so but they couldn’t risk their voices carrying.

“Why not talk to him?”

He shakes his head, “I tried. He won’t listen. We need to dispose of that thing before he resurrects it. If he did…” His eyes find hers again with potent fear in them.

She understands. She hasn’t come across a Dragon Priest before but based on what she has heard, to let it go out in the world would be devastating to any nearby villages.

“How do we do it?”

“Follow me.” Vorstag grabs her hand to pull her from the tent.

 They wade through the moss and crusty dirt as silently as possible. Not a soul stirred in these early morning hours. All the fires were long past extinguished. She was actually surprised no one was keeping guard.

The clearing was up ahead, right where that coffin would be when a small hand slipped into her free one.

“Where are you going?” The girl asks.

Serana flinches. “Nowhere. Go to bed.” She whispers.

The girl doesn’t lower her voice. “No. I’m not tired. I want to pet the pony.” She tightens her hand.

Vorstag gives Serana a stern look. They were just weaving through the numerous tents, where all thralls and possibly the Liches, slept.

Serana nods to the girl. “Keep quiet and I will.”

That shuts her up. The girl is content to stare off into the forests, as long as her hand stays in Serana’s.

They break into the clearing. Only birds sing, the wind blows the tops of the trees. In the center, the resting coffin is unattended, waiting for its master. “Could you do something for me? Let go and go back to bed for one hour? Then we see the pony?” Serana asks the girl kindly, knowing there’s no other way to get her out of here.

She just stamps her little foot on the ground. “I want to see it now!” She squeals. This thrall certainly had awareness and hadn’t moved past her turning age in intelligence.

Serana puts a finger to her lips. “Shh, shh. One second.” She turns to Vorstag. “What…”

Her voice dies with Vorstag’s raised double swords. Behind it, floating above the coffin is the skeletal figure of the Dragon Priest. They have a second to size each other up, then the first blast comes their way. Serana leaps and rolls, holding the little girl in her arms and shielding her from the worst of the effects. It was that power. The Dragon shout that the Dragonborn used to use so much.

The girl screams, Serana turns with an ice spike blazing in her hand. She flings it in time before the Dragon Priest sends another wave at Vorstag. He moves, twisting and turning with a blade in each hand to slice at the Dragon Priest. Serana shoves the girl behind her and snipes the Priest with all the ice spikes she can.

How did it come back to life? Lorred was supposed to do this days from now. Days. Something must have happened in their slumber.

As if carried by the wind, the words came and went from her mind. Serana has to blink, pause between blasts of power to make sure she caught it.

Anything for you. You called and I answered.

She couldn’t tell if the voice was masculine or feminine, it was just words. Like thoughts in her head. She keeps flinging all the power she can into the Priest, who was dealing stronger and stronger blows at Vorstag. The mercenary has his teeth clenched. Serana watches the creature. If he had a beating heart, she could rip his throat out. Instead…

She calls the vampiric drain power she almost never uses. She doesn’t wish to, it felt like cheating sometimes. But now, it was perfect. The spell of red tendrils casts its net on the Priest. He screams with it. Serana can feel his life force just floating across the way to her. She is absorbing it. Feeling it. This creature is strong. Too strong.

“Vorstag!” She yells, wishing to tell them they had to leave now. This creature is way too strong.

The blast hits her like a wall. She goes flying over the clearing to smack into a tree, the thing is rattling, as if shaken to its roots. Her bones, all of them almost, are broken. She crawls across the way, seeing that Dragon Priest peering over the head of the girl with innocent eyes. She does nothing but stare it down.

“Vorstag.” Serana groans as her bones mend. She won’t get there soon enough. Not in time to save the girl.

Fire flies over her, sails across the clearing and setting the world into a new light. The sun was just rising, bringing on the dawn of a new day along with this firebolt. It flies right to the Dragon Priest, who turns his attention from the innocent thrall to the Flame Atronach.

Dawn. That is what she will name her, Serana decides. She breaks out into a grin as she pulls herself to her knees, then crawls until she can stand. All to race over and snatch the girl from the oncoming firebolts.

“Get to cover!” Vorstag yells over the fray. He was just wielding his blades so they were inches from the overwhelmed Dragon Priest.

Serana backs up and up, holding the girl in her arms. She needed to help, but she didn’t want to endanger the girl further. Instead, she smacks into something rough. Something towering and unpleasant smelling. She looks up just in time to see the grim face of the Lich.

 

---

 

Vorstag almost had the damn thing in the ground. That is, until the Flame Atronach came in. The firebolts were hard to work around but they did distract the villain from Serana. Vorstag dips and swerves, avoiding each blow and giving one of his own. It’s not until he hears the high-pitched scream that he realizes there is a different fight in this clearing.

He spares only one glance over the Dragon Priest’s head to see Serana in combat with the male Lich. He is advancing on her with a sword drawn, skin peeling with each ice spike she sends his way. Serana keeps backing up with the screaming girl behind her.

He grits his teeth again. Wonders if the Flame Atronach can handle the Priest while he saves Serana and the girl. Instead, another blow hits him right in the stomach. He loses all breath and his footing, falling to the ground.

Blow after blow, wave after wave, of air comes smacking into him. Breaking his bones over and over again. He roars with the assault and pulls on all his strength to stand. Bones still broken, but instantly healing, he pulls himself up from that hole and up on the coffin. He flings his blade right through the neck of the creature. That should do it, please gods, let that be it.

The sword lands home, sticking out the neck on either end. The Priest stares him down and raises his hands again. Vorstag’s heart was just sinking when another firebolt comes sailing and engulfs the Dragon Priest’s head.

He didn’t know what would happen when it died. Just that it would, well, be dead. He wasn’t anticipating the blast. The body explodes, sending shards of power through the clearing, enough to make the forest shiver.

Vorstag goes sailing feet away, he’s lucky enough to have the momentum to roll. But that was perfect because the Lich was just going for Serana again. Vorstag twists, just so he can send his other blade right to the man. However, he sees the crafty woman already beat him. An ice spike sticks right through the mans’ eyes. He wavers in place.

“Good job.” Vorstag says and scrambles over to Serana, anticipating the resounding thump of the body. Instead, the Lich keeps coming.

“I don’t know how to kill him.” Serana keeps shoving the girl behind her.

“You can’t. Not really.” Lorred says from behind them. Vorstag turns, his heart in his chest, to see his former friend watching them with an amused expression. “Liches are nearly unkillable. They have one weakness, just one, it’s why people like the greatest necromancer ascend. As a god they are unkillable.”

Vorstag takes in this information. Wondering, if the man before him is wanting to do the unthinkable. Apotheosis. Only a few select people have made that ascent and succeeded. He readies his sword, but the man only raises his hand.

“I don’t want to fight. I don’t wish any harm and I would rather you just leave right now.” His eyes are earnest. “Horwe, come.” The Lich, with ice spikes still riddling his person slowly walks over to Lorred.

The necromancer tsks. “Crafty people. If I were none the wiser, I’d say you were bandits.” He begins melting each ice spike with a hand of flames.

“They killed the Priest.” Horwe groans. It’s almost like his vocal chords were rotting already.

Lorred sighs dramatically. “I know. I know. Now I have to find another one.”

“Stop this.” Vorstag pleads. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want another Dragon Priest on the loose. Just let it go. Live here with this camp and stop trying to hurt others.”

Lorred looks up from his task. “What would you pay me?”

Vorstag nearly balks. Out of all the years he knew the man, he never knew him to be greedy. “Five hundred septims, is that to your liking?”

Lorred pretends to mull it over. “Yes. That, and you promised my dear Petunia a ride on the pony.”

The girl squeals in excitement. Vorstag finds Serana’s gaze over the clearing. She seems as confused as he felt. But if he didn’t have to kill another friend today, he considers it a good day.

 

---

 

Dawn, the Flame Atronach, is hovering at Serana’s side. The flames lick her skin and clothing as she sets the small girl on the horse. Petunia loved it. Her face filled with so much joy and amazement as she dug her hands into the soft mane that Serana almost believed it. That this girl was nothing but an innocent creature brought back to life. What she saw in that clearing was far different. She has no doubt this girl screamed for Lorred and watched the Dragon Priest, only to turn his attention back to Serana. She didn’t exactly help the vampires in there.

But Serana couldn’t stomach her getting hurt. It was the principle of the thing.

“Where are you riding off to?” Lorred asks behind her. Vorstag at his side and the woman Lich. She hasn’t stopped glaring at Serana, not once, since they left that forest.

“Not sure.” Vorstag lies easily. “Wherever the wind blows us.”

“I want a pony.” The girl demands.

Lorred rubs his head, “We’ll get you one, I haven’t tried my hand at raising animals yet.”

“It’s easier than all this, trust me.” Vorstag claps the man on the back. “We’re going to be off. I’m assuming our bargain will remain?”

Lorred gives him a pained smile, “…yes. I will not wish ill will on the living surrounding this area. And you, will leave this camp alone.”

Vorstag nods, approaching Serana and pulling the reluctant girl from the reigns. She squeals. “Sorry but we can’t dally around here. We must be going.” He pulls himself on the saddle and motions for Serana to do the same.

She pauses. She hasn’t ridden with him like this before, only once but that was at the height of the Dragonborn’s reign. She doesn’t have time to think it over, though, she grabs his waiting hand and pulls herself up on Opal. Dawn burned behind them, Serana could swear she was glaring at Lorred as much as the Lich was glaring at them.

“Good luck…” Lorred scoops the girl up, kisses her cheek, and watches the two of them. “Remember what I told you, Serana, use all the basic books first. And, oh, yes, I remember now. The apotheosis was a blessing. A difficulty but the man was strong willed. It’s why he made it over to the other side.”

Serana just nods and Vorstag pulls the reigns, taking them away from this cursed place. “Don’t force me to step foot on this hill again.” He warns Lorred.

The man nods still surrounded by the dead. “I will abide by that, Champion of Molag Bal.”

 

---

 

They were silent for some time. She didn’t really feel like talking and neither did he. It wasn’t until mid-day when they took a break for sustenance that they spoke. “I didn’t know it would be like that, I’m sorry.” Vorstag tells her.

Serana licks her lips. The travelers nearby were as appetizing as one would think. They had poor choice of food and even less water in their system, so their blood was…muddy. Gross. But they needed it. The travelers now slept soundly and would awake none the wiser that two puncture wounds had just healed on their necks.

“It’s alright. Do you think that he’ll listen?”

Vorstag shrugs, tension radiating from him. She watches with softening eyes, pondering over whether to tell him. She forgot how kind he was. How good he was and what lengths he would go to protect her. She doesn’t want to subject him to whatever trap her father set up for her.

“We’ll see. I just puzzle over his last words. Apotheosis. What was that about?” His golden gaze finds hers.

She takes a deep breath. They were only a day from Winterhold now. She could take Opal by herself and had Dawn to defend her if there were any bandits. Come to think of it, it might be best to let Vorstag go. He could go monitor the situation with Lorred and keep any more monsters from unleashing.

“About that. I got a message from my mother. My father has done something, he struck a bargain before I was brought out from my slumber. I need to find her to talk about it. I don’t want you to come along if you don’t want to. It might get…dangerous.”

He raises an eyebrow, from his lounged position, laying back on his forearms he almost looked relaxed. “Go on. What was this bargain?”

She sighs and lets it out in one breath. “I don’t know. I won’t know until I talk to her. All I know is my father arranged my marriage with Mannimarco. The necromancer turned god. Her thralls said to watch out for him, that he’ll be back for me.”

She could have said she wished to sever her own head and replace it with a melon that could talk, and it would have been less shocking. Vorstag just stares at her openmouthed. “Mannimarco? What use would he have of a bride?”

She shakes her head, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him. That’s another reason why I need into the College. I want to learn more magic.” She stares down at her bare hands. Thought of the power she could wield already. “I need to know more, if he’s coming back. I don’t want this.” She admits. Her father dictated her life for so long. Forced the vampire change on her. Even though she appreciates her new form and wouldn’t want anything else, her life was never her own. And the last thing she wanted to do was marry a stranger.

The sound of rustling weapons and muffled boots comes to her. She snaps her head up as Vorstag lays a hand on her shoulder. “We better get going then and get you to that College.”

“You’re leaving?” She asks. Hoping he will but a small part of her wishing he would stay.

His answering smile is as sunny as ever. “Never. I’ve never met someone as powerful as Mannimarco, save for the Dragonborn I guess, and Molag Bal. I am oh so curious what he’s like.”

“But what about the danger? The risk…the waiting.” Serana stares at him. She wasn’t expecting this.

The vampire squeezes her shoulder. “I’ve been living in danger my whole life and that library is going to hold a lot of books to read in the meantime. I wanted to see what other titles the author of Lusty Argonian Maid might have laying around.”

She laughs her shock away and promptly helps him get their gear ready. “I’m not sure if they’ll have those kinds of books there but we can check.”

He just pulls her up in front of him on the saddle. She feels his strong arms settle around her waist before pulling the reigns. His breath tickles he neck, when Opal sets off. “Even librarians have dirty minds. I’m sure there’s some around there, even if I have to pay Urag gro-Shub for it.”

Serana only laughs.

 

---

 

He didn’t let her see, but Vorstag was panicking over Serana’s admission. Mannimarco, one of the most powerful figures to walk Tamriel, was set to marry her. He knew as little as she of the man, but whenever he was spoken of, it was in the quietest of whispers. As if even in the dead of night the necromancer would hear. The night they spent out in the tundra, after Serana fell asleep soundly in her tent, Vorstag looked to the sky.

He looked to the stars and the moons. He knew it would be hard to see the moon that orbits the planet of Arkay, nearly impossible but if he remembered correctly there was a phenomenon called “The Shade of the Revenant”. A time where lights would flash in the sky, blessing all necromancers near their four temples. He just couldn’t remember when that time took place.

He scours his memory. Going over everything he knew from his mothers about necromancy. There was something missing there. Something they never told him, not out of ignorance to his curiosity. But something deliberately kept from him.

The world revolves on a poinpoint. He stares at one spot in the frozen tundra, all cold earth and frost, until she wakes him.

“Everything alright?” She has her small hand on his shoulder, he only turns to stare at it. He never realized how many of those rings she had on before. He briefly wonders if they have a meaning but soon shakes away those thoughts.

“Just thinking over everything.”

“If you don’t want to come…you don’t have to. I can take care of myself.” He can feel Serana shrug behind him.

He stares at that point again, the pieces coming together. This man, Mannimarco, struck a bargain with Lord Harkon. Whether that bargain was advantageous for the late vampire or not is not yet known. But he knows he can’t leave her by herself. Even if the necromancers were not as powerful or terrifying as his mother’s made them out to be…he just can’t leave her.

“Don’t be silly. I was just thinking over how to make money here. The Frozen Hearth might need a new bard.” He gives an easy grin. Slipping easily back into his jovial personality. Even though his mind is still running with thoughts.

Necromancers have an army of the dead at their disposal.

Thralls are not always in their control.

Pledging yourself to conjuration requires losing a piece of your soul.

Those things are what his mother’s told him. The question remains how much of their souls are left. He spies her golden eyes, staring at him shyly. As if wondering why he wanted to come along.

When he was stuck in that endless forest in Coldharbour, after waking up, he asked Molag Bal one thing. He looked to the Prince of Enslavement, the tall and towering beast with a sharpened and scaly face and asked, “Is my soul tainted?”

The only reply: “Not yet, boy, not yet.”

He stares at Serana and her beautiful face now. To leave her on her own would hurt him further, would hurt her further. He can’t allow her to fall into that darkness that so many necromancers have already been lost to.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks quickly.

She smirks, “I thought you needed some sleep, or is your new state of employment keeping you up?”

“Nonsense, I’ve had enough sleep.” He laughs and moves to the tents to begin taking them down.

She follows along, “You sure? You don’t sound well rested.” Damn her, Vorstag turns his head to her skeptical expression. She has one eyebrow quirked and a look of contemplation.

“I’ll be fine. Help me here, I may be strong, but I can’t carry all these things on my own.” He reminds her.

The woman only smiles at the dismissal but thankfully helps him without another word. He keeps quiet but glances at her hands filled with many rings, wondering how long it will take her to learn the art of Conjuration.

 

---

 

Winterhold had a blizzard blowing through. The snow fell in droves, nearly covering Opal’s eyesight and kept Vorstag hunched over in his cloak. Serana was behind him, holding on so gently with her arms around his waist, he feared she wasn’t there once or twice. Vampires can’t exactly freeze to death but they damn well could feel like it. He knew the Flame Atronach was somewhere behind them, probably suffering worse than any of them.

He clenches his teeth again as another ice searing wind blasts through. Opal bows his head against it. “Should we take a rest?” Serana asks, her teeth starting to chatter.

He looks to the right then to the left. They are surrounded by a bar and Inn and various houses and shops. They should be able to see them, they’re not ten feet from them but the white keeps shrouding them in winters cloak.

The Inn would be good. Come to think of it, he could use a rest, a good long rest before they walk the ten minutes to the College of Winterhold. They could take some time. He could convince her to turn around. Keep her sanity and her pure soul while they dealt with Mannimarco in another way.

A piercing light makes up his mind. Ahead, the blue and white magelight was bobbing closer and closer. His hands tighten on the reigns. He could turn away now and tell Serana this was no good. He could tell her the college was closed, down on their luck, anything to keep her from…

“You there, travelers. Are you in need of assistance?” Faralda, the Altmer sorcerer was pulling on her own hood. Her yellow eyes were fierce as he last remembered them.

“Yes, looking for entrance into the College of Winterhold.” Serana speaks for them.

The Altmer turns her sharp eyes to the vampire. “What is it you wish to find within?”

Vorstag held his breath, wondering what she will disclose. If they started talking about the great necromancer, word could get back to him. “I’m looking for answers, I need to learn more about Conjuration.” Serana says honestly.

Faralda studies her, even with the snow bearing down on them, it is hard not to squirm under her assessing gaze. “The Dark Arts? It is not…exactly encouraged here. But Phinis Gestor would be who you are looking for.”

He feels her shiver behind him. “I should add, we helped in the fight against the Dragonborn. I am Serana Volkihar from Castle Volkihar.”

If the Altmer was surprised she didn’t show it. “You are? Well, we certainly provide assistance to those who helped aid the Listener and the Harbinger. I just ask that you pass one exam. If we are to offer you help, I need to see what you can offer the College. Not just anyone is allowed inside. I need to see some skill in magic, a small test if you will.”

“What do I need to do?” Serana chatters.

“Follow me, we can’t perform any spells in this blasted weather.” Faralda turns, holding her hands out to Vorstag. He does nothing but hand her the reigns to allow them to be guided closer to the towering structure. He can barely see it through the snow but when he has…it is beautiful. Such a shame to have a beautiful palace of sorts bordering such a poor town. He feels he can barely make out of the peaks and towers of this castle-like structure when Faralda stops.

“Here. If you may, I would like you to show a standard spell for one skilled in Destruction.”

Serana slips away from Vorstag, and lands on her hands and knees. “It’s so cold. I can show you an ice spike?”

Faralda watches her rise. “No, I would like you to cast a Firebolt. It is fairly easy to learn if you have not.”

“I don’t know that kind of spell.” She dusts her hands on her armor. The poor girl was nearly frozen over. When Faralda gives her a book Vorstag leaps from the horse, “Is there a stable here?”

“That way.” Faralda jerks her head. “But I will take your steed over once I get you across the bridge.”

The pages turn, slowly at first before Serana has nearly gobbled up the whole book. Vorstag just stands there, shivering and glancing at the bridge. How in Mara’s name does she think they’ll be able to get across in this weather? One can barely see a few feet before them.

“Alright. I got it. I think.” Serana pulls up her right hand, already burning with the embers of a firebolt spell. “Ready?”

Faralda holds a hand out to allow her, “Be my guest.”

Vorstag wasn’t paying much attention. He has spent many, many years amongst mages. So it was a shock to him when the firebolt when soaring over his head and crashed into one of the nearby structures. A wooden one.

He flinches with the impact but races ahead before Faralda can get there. A tiny fire on the roof. He thought the storm would take care of it.

“A moment.” Faralda holds out a hand, sending some sort of ice spell that way. It suffocates the slowly growing flame before it can do more damage. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Serana says behind her.

Vorstag wishes to pull her into a hug and say she did fine. Although it was amusing to witness. His lips were quirking into a smile.

“A mistake. You made a mistake and thankfully, it was easy to fix.” Faralda turns from the building, fixing Serana up with a glare. “If you have the patience and time, you will be able to practice these spells and I’m sure you’ll get some hang of it.”

Vorstag wishes to interject, to tell this woman just how spectacular and talented Serana is when he sees it. The glowing flames that hover over the ground, the seemingly shy position Dawn has taken up. She’s certainly cold but the ice and snow has not extinguished her. Not one bit.

“If you just follow what the professors say and…” Farlada trails off, her hands light up with ice spells of some kind. “There’s a Flame Atronach.”

“Wait! That’s mine. I conjured her.” Serana steps in the way of whatever magic she was about to cast.

The sorceress pauses. “How long ago?”

“Days. It’s permanent.” Serana keeps up the defensive position. Dawn only moves closer to warm her.

“Well. It seems you are adept in the school you wish to learn more of.” Faralda relaxes, the snow still coating her and building up on her cloak.

“I am a vampire.” Serana begins.

“Follow me.” Faralda gives one more look to the Flame Atronach before motioning to the steep path. The Altmer leads them on the bridge. It’s winding, there’s snow and ice coating it to which Faralda burns off. She keeps a magelight above her, so they know where she is at all times. Vorstag kept his sights on Serana, ready to pull her back or even dive for her if she were to fall.

But she didn’t. It’s as if she grew up here in the way she gracefully moved across the bridge. One look down and it was a whiteout. Although, Vorstag knows at the bottom of this structure are jagged rocks and crashing waves. A very, very long way down.

“Here we are.” Faralda stops at the end of the bridge. She stares up at this beautiful palace of mages. A place of purpose, of learning, of fighting, and danger. “The College of Winterhold.”

Chapter 6: Part two: Magnification

The Orb showed him everything. Anything he could ever wish for. He only used it to watch her and her journey. Very perilous so far. Very, very dangerous. It is a good thing she has that other vampire with her. He’s saved her a few good times. Mannimarco thinks it might be nice of him to thank him when he finally meets his bride.

As for the College of Winterhold, it is the best place for her. Now, all she has to do is grow her power. Become a creature no one would even go near. The College kept out most necromancers, frowned upon it, but behind closed doors they were more than accommodating at times. It was more so for their reputation that they keep hushed about it.

Mannimarco paces around the small, circular table that held the Orb. Watching it from every angle. His hands clasped behind him, he pulls on a finger, feeling it. It won’t budge, it won’t tear. The skin is nice and healed. He smiles slightly, he is no more a captive to his old body.

The Orb shows many things. He can almost direct it from his mind but instead chooses to wave his hand over it, pursing through the images. There. The man was fiddling with something, something mundane, but he would be asleep soon and that was the time to strike.

He has patience, eons of it. Mannimarco just watches this man move throughout the day. What a sneaky creature. He actually gained the College’s trust, and no one knew yet, not a soul. When he was good and tired, laying down in his poor excuse of a janitorial room, Mannimarco entered his mind.

The mist was hazy as it usually was. He wasn’t as adept at creating a dream architecture as others could, but he could at least create some comforts. He leans back in his chair, one of those obtuse and puffy ones that allows a person to sink into it. And watches.

The man was lost, wandering through the mist as if there were a path leading straight to the necromancer. He would see him soon enough. “Who are you, where is this?”

Mannimarco bites a nail, he used to have a bad habit of chewing on them, and on second thought. He didn’t want to start it again. He only rests his chin on a fist. “Ancano, I thought you were smart enough to know what this is.” He purrs.

The man freezes, his robes swish around him in the non-existent breeze, that is how much he startled him. Amusing. “Who said that? What do you want? I knew the Dreamweaver was behind this.” He snaps, his posture shows confidence but his eyes dart around the place.

“Dreamweaver? No such thing here. I have a quest for you…more like a bargain I struck without your input.” Mannimarco informs him. He loves it when he sees Ancano get a good picture of him. Absolute horror fills his face as he gets closer and closer.

“A chair, sit, relax and I will go over the terms and conditions.” Mannimarco muses.

Ancano doesn’t budge an inch. He just stares at Mannimarco open mouthed. Like a gaping fish. The necromancer moves forwards, his stark white hair spilling over his shoulders as he eyes the man. “I will put it to you straight. I know what kind of puppet you are to the Thalmor, I know what you are doing at the College. I will let you have your time in the sun with them. Just so there isn’t…a little accident and you are found out I have a request.”

The man sits, at least, but his breathing is erratic. “Mannimarco. The Worm King.” He wheezes.

The Worm King only lifts a delicate eyebrow. “Don’t wear it out. If you don’t want someone to accidentally send a letter of your intentions to the Arch Mage, I would like you to keep a little eye on someone.”

The Altmer is pale as a sheet. Even the white mist around them had some life to it. “Does that sound to your liking?”

In all honesty, Mannimarco thought this would go worse. He’s had people try to fight him before. He’s had them call him names, spit in his face, attempt magic against him and well, those people don’t end up too well. But the gaping fish before him only watches with hollowing eyes. He knows the danger he is in.

“Who?”

Mannimarco’s grin is devilish. This is perfect. Instead of watching her through an Orb day and night, he will have someone on the inside. “A girl. She is entering the College as we speak.”

“And you will tell no one? You will not dream weave your way into another’s nightmares?” Ancano inches forwards with a nervous air.

“Not at all, not unless you make a mistake.” Mannimarco lounges back in his chair, lazily. “What do you say, Ancano?”

He has no choice. He has no escape and no way to defend himself. The Altmer looks around Mannimarco, at any possible weapon and finds none. His eyes finally lock with his. He bobs his head, slowly. “Y-yes. We have a deal.” 

Chapter 7: First Lessons

“Our new members are housed her in the Hall of Attainment.” Mirabelle Ervine gives the tiny room a once over. A small bed greets the three of them along with a drawer, wardrobe, desk and a small nightstand. “Unfortunately, we only have one bed due to capacity, and since you, Vorstag, are not enrolling in the College, we have no need to provide other rooms. It seems you two are well acquainted with each other, so one room should suffice.”

Vorstag gives her a tight smile, if only not to laugh. It was quite funny that they found themselves in this predicament. He knows if Serana wishes it, he’d sleep on the cold ground without complaint. But it would be nice to rub it in a bit.

“Can’t have our scholar here without the best the College has to offer.” He runs his hand up Serana’s back.

He sees that evil look she gives him before addressing the Master Wizard. “That will be fine, thank you. And these robes will be helpful.” She nods to the robes and hood left in her hands.

Mirabelle gives a slight smile. “I am glad you are happy with the accommodations. If they aren’t to your liking, there is an Inn just inside Winterhold.” She reminds the mercenary.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He nods to her.

“Very well then, lets get you to your first class.” Mirabelle addresses Serana, “Initially you’ll be learning from Tolfdir, one of our most esteemed wizards.”

They begin the long walk back out into the cold and around the College. The Master Wizard gives no passing glance to the Flame Atronach who follows their trail. Vorstag watches her, as she enters the blistering snow covered landscape and doesn’t so much as flinch. Smoke softly rises from her skin where the snow touches.

“Marvelous,” He murmurs to himself. Mirabelle kept prattling on about the history of the College, but he was so caught up in the marvel before him, he couldn’t bother to listen. He wished he did. The history of Skyrim was something to pay close attention to.

He tears his eyes away from Dawn when a small hand slides into his. Serana doesn’t glance his way. She pays close attention to Mirabelle and keeps a polite smile on her face. Diligent student already. Vorstag lets her lead him on, feeling the slight warmth and comfort from her hand in his.

The Hall of the Elements was vast. It held not only the main classrooms but many halls and stairwells to other parts of the College. Including the Arch Mages quarters and the vast library this place was known for. Vorstag didn’t know this building held so many secrets.

“Tolfdir is likely already addressing the new Apprentices. Go on in and if you have any problems, let one of our senior members know.” Mirabelle parts with.

Serana nods, the girl was seemingly lost in thought the whole time. So, Vorstag takes the lead. He pulls her along, while keeping a good grip on her hand. “Are you awed by this place?” He asks.

“What? Oh…yeah. It’s more than I expected.” Serana glances over her shoulder.

Whatever had gotten into her? Vorstag’s brow creases, he knows it has something to do with the dark sorcerer who brought them here, but he doesn’t have the time to bring it up.

“Welcome, welcome! We were just beginning. Please, stay and listen.” A jovial older Nord greets them when they enter the main classroom. Four other students send bored looks their way.

“As I was saying, the first thing to understand is that magic is, by its very nature, volatile and dangerous.” The Nord, Tolfdir continues, “Unless you can control it, it can and will destroy you.”

The other students don’t even blink. They seem as if they want to get on with the show, but Vorstag remains concerned about Serana. Her gaze is still unfocused and dazed. She needed to be listening to this. The most important skills were being taught early.

The mercenary tugs on her hand, “Hear that, Volkihar? Magic might turn on you if you can’t control it.”

She slowly blinks up at him. “Right. I heard.”

He wants to make sure she gets it into her head. Not once or twice, but as many times as it takes so that she understands exactly what she’s dealing with. Before he can open his mouth again, some smart student beats him to it.

“Sir, I think we all understand fairly well. We wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t control magic!” One of the Nord students interjects. Vorstag gives him a harsh look but Serana only nods in agreement.

“Of course, my dear. Of course. You all certainly possess some inherent natural ability. That much is not being questioned.” Tolfdir continues, “What I’m talking about is true control, mastery of magic. It takes years, if not decades, of practice and study.”

“See?” Vorstag shakes her hand again, waking her from her trance.

“I understand.” Serana hisses back.

“But listen, he said it could take decades to master.” Time we don’t have.

“So what? You want me to ask him about Mannimarco and see what he can do about it?” She snaps, as if on instinct.

The room quiets. The other students look at them a bit more curiously and Tolfdir turns. “Is there something you wanted to ask, my dear? I know you entered late but…” He trails off.

Vorstag can feel the heat of flame behind him. The professor was no doubt watching as Dawn entered the room. The Flame Atronach stops next to Serana, with her blazing eyes on her.

“Are you well versed in magic, my dear? If so, we can enroll you in a higher level course.” Toldfir begins with wide eyes.

She shrugs, “I know as much as the others here.”

Dawn, without any prompt, reaches out her hand and strokes it down Serana’s dress, leaving a trail of flame. Vorstag jerks Serana behind him, violently. He begins batting the flames away.

“I’m okay.” She laughs. “It doesn’t hurt at all. It doesn’t burn me.”

“No, it shouldn’t.” Toldfir comes a bit closer. He runs a hand over his chin as he studies them. “Lesser daedra are tightly bound to their caller. Any spells sent this young lady’s way should not hurt her as much as it would an enemy.” He pauses right before them. “Do you know what power a Flame Atronach wields?”

“Sort of. I called her a few days ago. I’m still learning.” Serana says sheepishly.

The old man’s face fills with concern and Vorstag knows he was right. Even a professor teaching the basics knew how dangerous this all was. Vorstag moves to the other side of Serana. Right between her and Dawn.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. Eagerness must be tempered with caution, or else disaster is inevitable.” The professor addresses the crowd.

He can feel her flinch next to him. Vorstag keeps a calming hand on her back. “It will be fine.”

Serana’s gaze is still vacant. Suspiciously so. “I hope so.” She whispers.

“All right, let’s settle down. I suppose we can try something practical...” Tolfdir sighs. The others must have gotten eager, especially after seeing the Flame Atronach in their midst. “In continuing with our theme of safety, we’ll start with Wards. Wards are protective spells that block magic. I’ll teach you all a ward, and we’ll see if you can successfully use it to block spells, all right?”

Serana’s head snaps up. “Can I help demonstrate?”

The professor’s eyes filled with kindness, turn to her. Such a lovely man. He must have the patience of a priest to handle all the unruly students fidgeting behind him. “Of course, do you know how to wield one?”

She gapes a little, “No.”

The man smiles and gives her a knowing look. Vorstag knows, instantly, that this man will be good for Serana. He knows she wants to learn to wield these powers to the greatest extent and this professor will be calm and patient with her. Vorstag will just have to help her be patient with Tolfdir.

 

---

 

Serana takes a deep breath after Tolfdir goes over the spell. It was simple, almost too simple to be able to defend oneself so well. She blinks the haze from her eyes again as Tolfdir holds his own ward to the waiting class. The air shimmers around him in a protective bubble. His lips keep moving behind it as he makes eye contact with every person in the room, making sure they understand.

She can’t hear what he’s saying, she only remembers what happened when they first walked in here. Mirabelle, the Master Wizard was in a tense conversation with someone else in the courtyard. Some Altmer. He was rude, snobby, just your average Thalmor from the looks of it but when he turned his gaze to her.

She froze.

Those eyes were so startling and so engulfing it was hard to pull away. After Mirabelle took them around on their tour she saw and heard someone. It was like a cloud had formed in front of her. Sometimes she could see the faint image of a man. Another Altmer with paling, almost sickly, skin and snow-white hair. Other times she would hear the faint whispers of a lover’s caress.

You are in the right place, my flower. If you knew how to wield such power, you would have no need for this cesspool. But as it is, I am happy you have the chance to learn…even one spell will do you good.

It grew fainter and fainter as time went on. That voice and image left her until she stood before Tolfdir with her hand at the ready.

“Alright, dear, I am going to send a spell at you, and you are to block it with the ward. Here we go.” He begins. She can see the spell flaming in his hand.

Serana holds up her own, calling the fragments of the spell fairly easily. The ward simmers around her. She prays she will be able to hold it the whole time.

It felt like a solid minute with how long it took. But she supposes it only took seconds. One moment, the ward was before her, the next… the firebolt was flying, soaring through the air in a ball of flames before crashing into her ward. Serana grunted with the impact, noting that she slid back a few inches. That’s when it happened.

The firebolt not only got absorbed into the ward and kept there, leaving fire dancing around the air. It also sent out something terrible to the others. A shocking booming noise entered the room. Serana gasped and pulled down the ward immediately, pulled down the power that seemingly leeched into her skin.

The others stood on the far side of the room. Vorstag and Dawn included. They all stared at her with various looks of shock on their faces.

“My…what a show. I have not seen a spell go like that in some time.” Tolfdir lowers the larger ward he had over the crowd and hesitantly steps forwards.

“What was that? Was that normal?” Serana asks.

“Sure as Oblivion didn’t look like it.” The Nord student proclaims.

She notes that Vorstag looks like he wants to bash the man’s head in. Tolfdir pauses, “I will need to consult the history books, but I know this is a rare occurrence. Thankfully, everyone is alright.” He turns to the crowd behind him. “I think perhaps we’re ready to begin exploring some of the various applications of magic throughout history. The College has undertaken a fascinating excavation in the ruins of Saarthal nearby. It’s an excellent learning opportunity. I suggest we meet there in the morning and see what awaits us inside. That’s all for now, thank you.”  

The others leave as soon as they are dismissed, probably to go enter Winterhold for drink or fool around with some spells in the courtyard. Vorstag only comes over to take her trembling hands in his. “Are you alright?” He asks in a calm voice.

She nods. “I don’t know what that was…”

“Dear, what is your name?” Tolfdir walks over in an unhurried fashion with his hands clasped behind his back and a look of curiosity on his face.

“Serana Volkihar.” She says immediately. People would know who she was sooner or later around here.

His eyes widen just a bit. “Volkihar. Of Volkihar family. I am sorry for your losses.” He nods.

“I am too.” She says.

“That was quite impressive, that demonstration you gave just now. I have not seen many mages be able to master such things in such a short time.” His gaze passes over her companions. “And this is your boyfriend?”

“Friend.” They both correct at the same time.

“I’m Vorstag,” He holds out his hand for the professor to take. Vorstag’s eyes light up with joy and he has that godsdammed smile on his face, that one he always shows around bar patrons. “I’m here for moral support.”

“You’re doing a good job so far.” Tolfdir gives him a slight smile in return. “I am probably going to retire early tonight to begin some research, I can look into this some if you want.”

“Please do.” She says and briefly wonders if she should tell him about that strange vision she had when first entering the College. But quickly discards it. It faded quickly and it wasn’t too unusual. It could very well have been just one of her fantastical daydreams.

“I’ll see you two bright and early tomorrow then. I suggest you wear those robes. They help quite a bit with magic casting.” He nods to the pile of clothing in Vorstag’s hands.  

“I’ll be ready.” She smiles at him.

“Very well then,” He nods, taking in the both of them. “I don’t want to see either of you getting in trouble so no magic on the main grounds or in the town of Winterhold.”

Vorstag’s grin widens even further, “That won’t be a problem.”

 

---

 

Her head was pounding. A roaring headache was coming her way again. All she could do was keep from staring at the flame for too long and it would go away…eventually.

“Feeling better?” He asks before laying a warm cloth on her forehead.

Serana blinks up at Vorstag. “How much did I drink?”

He pauses, mulling over his words. “Hm, probably four or five mugs. When I say mugs, I mean twice the size of a normal glass. You had a lot.”

Gods…she couldn’t help it. When Vorstag said he was going to the Frozen Hearth to play a round of music she couldn’t help but want to come along. She should have gone up into the library and studied some, if anything. But there was this creepy feeling about the place she couldn’t shake. She wasn’t sure if she ever would. That first impression she got wasn’t the best…

“I’ve never seen you drink like that. I thought you hated alcohol.” Vorstag tells her gently.

The cloth was removed, and he slowly pushes a glass of blood to her. She takes it reluctantly. “Just needed something to take the edge off.” She says.

“Of what?”

“Here. This. Everything. I was going to just lay it all out for Tolfdir, why we’re here, what we’re doing but I don’t even know if he’d believe us.” She downs the blood and lays back into the soft pillow. “I’m not even sure I believe it. It’s too strange. A necromancer thought to be dead coming back for me as his bride?”

“If your mother sent a thrall then it was definitely no accident.” He leans his forearms on the side of the bed and rests his head on it. “I say we get up bright and early…” He backtracks when he sees her expression. “Or, tomorrow night, we skip the revelry at the Inn and do some research in the library.”

“Good idea,” She sighs, her head still pounding.

There’s a moment of silence, sort of awkward, but also a sort of normal silence before Vorstag breaks it. “I better get some shut eye too. You wake me if the headache gets worse?”

“And where do you sleep?” She watches him in confusion. There weren’t two beds and the storm outside would make it nearly unbearable to get to the Frozen Hearth.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Down here, with the skeevers and cockroaches.” He points to the flimsy rug on the ground and the chill cobblestones.

She knows he would do it without much complaint. As he told her before, time and time again, he’s slept in more uncomfortable places. But she wouldn’t have it. Not after how he helped her get home tonight.

“Here, this bed looks small but there’s enough room.” She rolls so she’s on the far side, at the very edge. Next to the many shelves and drawers littered in soul gems.

He gives her a questioning look. “And how will we sleep soundly Volkihar?” His eyebrow raises.

Her heart leaps to her throat. “Gods, no. I’m not saying that we do anything…” She trails off when she sees that smirk.

He laughs. “You snore. That’s what I meant.” He plops down next to her unceremoniously. “Loudly.”

She jabs him with her elbow. “Turn off the light. We need some good sleep if we’re headed to Saarthal tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He reminds her, and once that flame is blessedly extinguished, he lays next to her. They lay there, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. Well, maybe she was wrong. Maybe this bed wasn’t as large as she thought.

Even though it was slightly uncomfortable she found sleep was grabbing her swiftly. “Vorstag?” She asks in the darkness that fit around them like a cocoon. It felt easier to talk to someone like this. Without having to watch their face and wonder what’s going on in their head.

“Hm? Want me to sing you to sleep?” He asks dreamily.

“No. I just wonder. Why did you follow me here?” She says it so softly, it should be a whisper.

She immediately regrets that question. He takes far too long to answer. They sit in silence for a few, very long minutes, before he says a word.  

“You’re just a funny little creature. I want to see what kind of trouble you get in and then figure out how to get you out of it.”

Serana swallows hard, she wasn’t really sure what he’d say. Or, what she wanted him to say. But that was answer enough, she supposes. Her headache and sleep tinged mind didn’t allow her to think on it further. Like heavy clouds reaching out and blanketing her mind, things become foggy. She fell into sleep’s embrace without another thought.

 

---

 

Vorstag wasn’t lying, not really. He meant it when he said she was funny and got herself into the oddest of situations. He’s seen that firsthand these past few months. But her question did make him pause. Why? Why has he followed her this whole time when he very well could have let her go? All so he could go back to Markarth and play at the Silver-blood in for the rest of his immortality?

He hears her breathing move to something deeper. Something sturdier and something that will allow her to heal from the damage she did to herself tonight. If he was honest with himself, he’s grown a liking to her in the past few months. He’s had fun wandering Skyrim with her. And seeing how bad she was with a sword. He guesses he does want to help her where he can.

Furthermore, if this Mannimarco was back and on the loose, who knew what destruction he could bring? Skyrim was still reeling from the last villain, what if he wasn’t around to stop the next one?

But as the night wears on and he hadn’t gotten any sleep he wonders. Maybe he just enjoyed her presence, the sound of her voice, the way she fought back with half-hearted quick remarks. It wasn’t like verbally sparring with Eve, that girl was a firecracker and knew just what to say to keep you on your toes. But Serana, she had this innocence about her. Like she was always flustered and startled that he even took the time out of his day to pester her about her hair or reading material.

He didn’t know where any windows were in this place. He should go look around and make sure he knew where all the exits were to this fortress. But the sound of her soft breathing kept him stable. Soon, the interior of the Hall was filling with the first rays of light and that was when he finally found sleep.

 

---

 

“Hey. Hey, we’re going to be late.” Someone shakes him roughly. He growls at the intrusion of his blessed rest and the pressure disappears.

Someone’s stomping through the room. Walking to the wardrobe, then back, then pacing. Then, finally, that someone grabs him. He reaches behind him, grasping for the dagger he always keeps close but stops when he sees Serana.

“Get up.” She pleads frantically, shaking his shoulddrs. “We’re going to be late!”

“Ugh, what time is it? By the gods.” Vorstag rubs his eyes only to see Serana dressed head to toe in her new robes. “Wow, you look stunning.” He says half-heartedly.

“For a mage, sure,” She throws some of his armor at him which he is quick to catch. “We have to go now! The others left about a half hour ago.”

“Sorry.” He grumbles and rises to place his armor on quickly. They both fell asleep in their clothes so there wasn’t much changing that was involved.

“You’d think I wasn’t the one who drank all night.” Serana blows out a breath when Vorstag finally grabs his weapons.

“Sorry, I got distracted.” He races to get ahead of her to get the door but she’s right there.

“Feel like running?” She turns to glance at him over her shoulder.

He sighs, not one bit liking the thought of getting wet boots and pants in this high snow. “Lead the way Volkihar, I’ll be fast on your heels.”

 

---

 

Opal was fast as the wind, faster than she thought possible. She decides she wants to get him some good treats for the night. Maybe some carrots. He loved carrots, and the poor thing needed it after how hard they ran him to Saarthal. Vorstag, baby that he was, complained about running after the storm that came through. Serana changed her mind then and thought it might be good to let their horse stretch his legs.

Thankfully, it wasn’t far from the College but it was far enough that the horse was out of breath when they walked up the numerous stairs.

“And here we all are. Shall we step inside?” Tolfdir nods at her, not even berating them for their tardiness. She gives a meek smile back.

The other students give her a wary look, but she thinks it’s because of Dawn who was now behind her and glowing in the bright sunlight. She wondered where she stayed while they slept last night. It couldn’t have been far.

“All right, please stay close to me while we’re inside. It should be safe but it’s always better to be cautious.” Tolfdir explains.

“Hear that Volkihar? Means no running off.” Vorstag whispers to her.

“He was looking at you as he said it, he meant it for you since you’re not here to learn.” She shoots back.

He laughs, “You wound me. And on the contrary, I am here to learn many things. I am just as much a student as you.”

She smiles but keeps any quick remarks to herself. She had forgotten how much the mercenary enjoys exploring old ruins. “Come on then, there’s going to be a lot to learn down here.” And she grasps his hand to pull him along with the others.

 

---

 

It was hard to keep up with all the information Tolfdir sent their way with her hand in his. Vorstag was more worried about when she’d pull away and if it would be on her own accord or not.

Poor Tolfdir here didn’t seem to be…well, an expert at traversing these depths. Vorstag, out of instinct, made sure to keep a good eye on any shadow that moved and every coffin they passed. Thankfully, the few corpses that rose were quickly dispatched by the professor or one of the other students.

“Sacked by the elves in the infamous ‘Night of Tears,’ not much is known about what happened to Saarthal.” The professor continued as if a snarling draugr didn’t just try to stab him. “Ah, this is an exciting opportunity for us. To be able to study such an early civilization and the magics they used…”

His voice echoes out into the cavernous room they enter, ringing back a thousand voices. Vorstag looks over and around them to find the room has many pockets. Lots of hiding spaces and lots of mazes. Serana keeps a good grip on his hand and jerks when she wants him to stop.

“What do you want us to do, Tolfdir?” She asks him.

Vorsag glances around. He saw when the other students wandered off, but he thought they should stay with Toldfir.

“Ah, Serana. Hmm. Why don’t you see if you can assist Arniel Gane? He’s one of our scholars, here working on cataloging our finds.” He rubs his chin, “I also have to say, I did a little research last night on that spell you performed and unfortunately, I couldn’t find much on it. We might have to dig a little deeper.”

Serana keeps a cheery smile on her face, only reserved for strangers she wishes to please. “It’s no problem, we’re going to do some research tonight and figure out more of it…hopefully. We’ll go find Arniel Gane.”

“Good to hear! I expect Arniel will appreciate some help in locating any additional magical artifacts here in the ruins. Any enchanted items will do; the usefulness of the enchantment is irrelevant. If you find anything, the class can look it over.”

This Arniel fellow was a little way up the path, and quite grumpy, but he quickly set them on their way to find whatever artifacts they could.

“Here’s a ring.” Serana pulled her hand away from Vorstag’s to grasp the artifact, they had quite the collection so far. Just little trinkets and bits of jewelry found lying on the dusty ground.

“Tolfdir will be happy.” Vorstag muses, he takes his eyes off Serana for only a few seconds, taking the ring she found and putting it in his pouch when he hears it. A snapping of chains, iron bars come crashing down before he could get through. The dammed cavern on the other side held Serana in.

“By Talos! I should have known these traps would be about.” Vorstag exclaims and pulls on the bars. “Serana, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” She comes around the corner, looking a little shaken but holding and amulet in her hands. “What happened?” 

“The bars came down can you find another way out? Or a lever? There’s usually another switch in case someone made a mistake and got caught inside.” Vorstag remembers this, he’s gotten caught in far too many traps in his time in tombs. Thankfully, this one didn’t include poisoned arrows.

“What in the world! How did you get in there?” Tolfdir races up to Vorstag. The man stands a good foot below him, but he still has a sturdy build. Vorstag even spies a dagger on his person. Maybe he was too harsh in his quick assessment of the professor before. He did not come unprepared.

“I just found this amulet and took it off, then this happened.” Serana mentions.

“Really? Perhaps the amulet is important somehow. Is there some ways you can use it?” He asks.

“Um, let me put it on and see…” The woman does just that. Then, Tolfdir grabs Vorstag’s arm. He points.

“Do you see that? Some sort of resonance on the wall. It must be connected to the amulet!” He continues exclaiming his astonishment over such a thing. But Vorstag has his head against the bars, trying his best to peek through and get a good look at just what Serana was doing. She just had to look in all the corners and she’d certainly find the lever for the way out.

In an instant, the bars detach. “By Talos!” He yells again and jumps back in time before the iron scalds him.

Tolfdir just laughs and pats his arm. “Good reflexes, young man. Let’s go see what our Volkihar friend has found.”

They turn the corner all to find Serana gaping at a giant hole in the wall. “Was that there before?” Vorstag asks.

“No…it just blew open.” She says and pulls at her robes.

“Hm, this appears to lead somewhere, let’s see where it goes.” Tolfdir takes the lead into the maze. Vorstag looks to Serana who just shrugs. She seemed alright. A little shaken but no worse for wear.

He smiles, “You heard the man, after you.”

 

---

 

Serana didn’t let the others know how bad the ordeal with the amulet scared her. When those bars closed down and the doors were sealed, leaving her captive, she was certain something would happen. Maybe Mannimarco would finally show up, maybe her father would rise from the dead. She knew it wasn’t an accident though.

Tolfdir continues his lecture, marveling at the little details in the room. Serana keeps off to the side, letting Vorstag look around for anything that might jump out that them. That’s when it happened. It’s always when it happens, when she thinks she safe and sound.

The air moves, bringing color and light together until the room is all but devoid of it. An older man stands in the center, dressed in fine mage robes. Serana looks to Vorstag, then to Tolfdir, both are frozen in time.

“What did you do?” She demands from the man. All the while she pulls on her power, ice fills her hands.

He stops her, “Hold mage, know that you have set in motion a chain of events that cannot be stopped.”

“I know about him.” She grinds out.

He doesn’t even blink. “Judgment has not been passed, as you had no way of knowing. Judgement will be passed on your actions to come, and how you deal with the dangers ahead of you. This warning is passed to you because the Psijic Order believes in you. You mage, have the potential to prevent this disaster.”

Serana freezes, “What of Mannimarco? Can you tell me of him?”

The man pauses, his head tilts and he gives her the oddest of expressions. “You have become quite powerful, know to wield your power wisely.”

There wasn’t anything that changed. The man was there one moment then gone the next. In his wake, the colors came back and Tolfdir and Vorstag stumbled forwards. “I swear I felt something rather strange just then.” Tolfdir says.

Serana looks to her companions. “I saw a ghost or apparition. He spoke to me.”

Vorstag goes still as a board. She knows what he is thinking. “He wasn’t anyone I recognized, he had an elaborate robe and said he was with the Psijic Order.”

She can feel Vorstag’s relief from here. “The Psijic Order? Are you quite sure about that? That’s very odd.” Toldfir asks, “The Psijics have no connection to these ruins. And no one’s seen any of their order in a long time.”

“What is the Psijic Order?”

“They were a group of mages with a history that pre-dates the Empire. Very powerful, very secretive. No one has seen them in well over a hundred years. They vanished, along with their sanctuary on the Isle of Artaeum.” The professor tells them.

“Behind you!” Vorstag pulls Serana to the side and lunges with his sword at the ready. She falls to the ground but quickly leaps up, pulling on her magic. Flames fly over her, blasting into the draugr. Killing all the undead before they can rise.

Tolfdir is panting, his hands alight with his own spells. “Good thing that Flame Atronach is around. Let’s keep going, there has to be more to see.”

 

---

 

They wandered for awhile. Vorstag kept at attention and ready to kill whatever came their way. Lucky for him, there were many enemies left in this crypt. Eventually, Tolfdir decided he wanted to stay behind in the most dangerous place possible, Vorstag thought. It was the belly of the tomb and held more coffins than any other room.

Vorstag was more than happy to push ahead. He slices another draugr’s head off before lunging for the next one. Serana was at a good distance and throwing spells from where she stood.

“I thought you were here to learn magic.” He grunts as another undead comes flying his way with a blade at the ready.

“I am, we just got…well, we got distracted.” Serana tells him, she throws another ice spike before switching to a firebolt.

Dawn was at Vorstag’s side, taking the brunt of the enemy forces. She threw firebolt after firebolt their way, until there was nothing but ash.

“I feel something up ahead. Don’t you?” Serana pants next to Vorstag.

He pauses, wondering how she knew that, but doesn’t push further. “Let’s go see what this thing is.”

It turned out to be something incredible. Tolfdir found them just as they were making their way around the bend. Vorstag still had blood all over his sword and armor, fresh and dripping, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he was awed. Before them a glowing blue monstrosity of an orb sat. It shimmered like it had iridescent skin as it turned. Vorstag hasn’t seen anything like this before, not in all his time in dungeons.

“I never imagined we’d find something like this.” Tolfdir gasps.

“What is it?” Serana walks to stand next to him.

The man doesn’t seem to hear her, “Why is this buried so far within Saarthal?”

Vorstag sees them before they do. Draugr spill into the room with snarling faces and weapons at the ready. Vorstag doesn’t hesitate, he jumps into the fray and begins to swing. Each hit takes down another opponent or wounds them enough that they stay down. The mages keep good cover fire from above.

The mercenary groans as he pulls his sword from another pathetic husk, “Give me a real challenge. This isn’t enough.”

“Not a good enough workout?” Serana questions as they come down the steps in a more civilized manner.

Vorstag grins at her, showing his fangs. “They provide little of a challenge. I’m more adept now.”

Tolfdir stops before the thing. Vorstag watches as the blue barrier falls to nothing, leaving the twirling orb in it wake. “What is it?” He asks the professor.

“I have no idea! This is amazing. Absolutely amazing. The Arch-Mage needs to be informed immediately. He needs to see this for himself. I don’t dare leave this unattended. Can you return to the College and inform Savos Aren of this discovery?”

Serana gapes, “I, yes we can. But I have some questions…”

“My, what is this?” Tolfdir interrupts. He holds out his hands for Serana’s. She gives him a questioning look before she notices it. Vorstag’s eyes widen.

On each of Serana’s forearms are glowing lights. Like purple and white runes embedded in her skin. They have complex swirls with various imagery within. Snowflakes and stars.

“How much power were you using?” Tolfdir asks her.

“I…I don’t know. A lot? Not that much? Just enough to help Vorstag.”

“Did you do this to yourself?” He asks her, but his sharp gaze pins her, making Vorstag squirm.

“No.” She shakes her head, “What is it?”

“Something that only the most powerful of us can do. This is set to amplify your power. Are you sure you or anyone else did not perform this spell on you?”

Serana is at a loss for words. “I don’t know. I was underground for so long…the memories just blend together sometimes.”

“I have a lot to research then.” Tolfdir whistles. “Quite a lot. Go tell Savos Aren of this discovery.”

“Will they go away? Are they harmful?” Vorstag asks for her.

Tolfdir looks between them. “They’re meant to amplify power, they won’t hurt the mage casting spells.”

He can see Serana squirming. She has something to ask but just can’t yet.

“Go. Go. We can talk later.” Tolfdir hurries them along. Serana looks to Vorstag and he jerks his head to motion to the exit. There isn’t anything else to do but head back to the College.

 

---

 

She felt defeated. Instead of getting answers, she only had more questions. So many questions. Looking into Tolfdir’s excited eyes, she couldn’t just launch into a flurry of questions about Mannimarco or the Soul Cairn. One thing at a time, she told herself.

Good thing the Arch-Mage was just upstairs, as expected. “You are new here, are you not? I have noticed you, but we have not spoken.” He raises his head from a book he was reading at a tableside.  

“We haven’t. I’m Serana Volkihar.” She says with a strained voice. There was so much to tell him.

He looks up and she marvels at his beautiful eyes before he speaks, “I am Savos Aren, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I am quite content to see nearly any aspect of magic explored and investigated here.” His eyes drift over Dawn who hovered on the edge of their circle. Vorstag kept close to Serana.

“But I do not and will not approve of any research or experiments that cause purposeful harm to your fellow members of the College, are we clear?”

She grinds her teeth. “Yes. I need to speak with you about Saarthal.”

“Please don’t tell me another apprentice has been incinerated.” He begins.

“We found a sort of orb. It glows and hovers, it’s, it’s incredible.” She says, and she meant it. In all her years walking Nirn, she’s never seen something like that. Something that large and complex shouldn’t just hover and move like that. It didn’t seem completely mechanical, either.  

“I…see. I trust that Toldfir will provide a more specific explanation.” He pauses, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Since Tolfdir and I are occupied, I would ask if you could do some research on the subject?”

As if they didn’t have enough to research already. “I can. I have a question though.” She gets out before he can stop her.

“Yes?” He finally looks up from his book, giving her his undivided attention.

“Do you know how to access the Soul Cairn? Someone very important to me is locked in there.”

“The Soul Cairn is an untouched magic.” He says without missing a beat. “It’s part of necromancy since it is technically a way to summon daedra and deal with spirits. Not to mention potentially dealing with Molag Bal himself. It is something the College would allow but would still frown upon.”

As if that helped anything. Serana just nodded and turned on her heel, ready to go tear through the library down below for anything she could find.

“Talk with Urag gro-Shrub. He might have a few books or articles you would find to your liking.” She hears behind her. She turns but only finds the Arch-Mage is once again lost to his book.

“Let’s go.” Vorstag who hovered at the edge of the room while she spoke, holds the door for her all with a bright smile on his face.

 

---

 

“I might have something, but it will take some time to acquire.” The Orsimer man looks down his nose at Serana.

“Anything you can find would help us.” She reminds him. If only she could spur him on further but he was too busy this night to go looking.

“Tomorrow after my lunch break, I’ll have some time. Tell me the names again.” He brings out a quill and some ink to write the titles down.

Serana bites her tongue but goes on with it. “I don’t have anything specific. Just whatever you can find on Mannimarco and on the Soul Cairn.”

“Interesting, interesting. Are you working with Phinis Gestor?”

“Sort of.” She’s not sure how much she should tell him.

“Speak of the daedra.” Urag laughs and nods behind her. She peeks over her shoulder to find none other than the professor of Conjuration himself.

“I’m checking in for the night.” He waves to them both before settling down with a book at one of the various tables in the circular center. Vorstag sat at the one right across from it, his head resting on the table. She felt terrible after he got such horrible sleep and told him as much. He only reassured her it wasn’t because of their cramped situation last night that he couldn’t fall asleep. Yet, Serana didn’t know if that was the truth. Just the way he said it…

She said sleeping in the bed while she was here would be good, but he refused. He wouldn’t leave this library until she did.

“I’ll let you know what I find tomorrow.” The Orsimer moves to his solitary chair behind the counter and opens his own book.

“Thank you…” She has little left to say. Stumbling over her thoughts she makes the decision. If the opportunity was here, she might as well learn all she could. And since Tolfdir was busy with his own research, there was no one else to consult.

“Excuse me.” She smiles down at Phinis when she reaches his table and nearly flinches at his gaze. It wasn’t the very dark circles under his eyes that were so startling, but the hollow look within them.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if you had a moment? I have a few questions about things that I am desperate to find answers for.” She pleads.

He slowly sets his bookmark in the thick novel he was reading, as if to show her just what she was interrupting. “Go on.”   

That crushing fear was weighing her down. Not knowing what’s happened to her mother, her only living family. Not knowing when Mannimarco will come to Skyrim. Not knowing if tomorrow they will be hunted or sent out on another mission. She has one chance to grab this professor’s attention and she wasn’t going to squander it.

“My name is Serana Volkihar of Volkihar castle. I, well, I have a lot going on. My mother is locked away in the Soul Cairn and she told me, urgently I should add, that Mannimarco is hunting me. I came here to get a chance to get back into the Soul Cairn to free her and to learn more about Conjuration. I need to know all that I can.” She doesn’t pause for breath and finds herself gasping at the end of it.

His eyes are wide. Shocked. Phinis Gestor stutters but finds himself at a loss for words. He only waves to the empty seat across from him. “Please, sit down, Serana. I won’t need to retire to my room for quite a few hours and it sounds like you and I have a lot to talk about.”

 

---

 

He flinched in his dream. Maybe it wasn’t his dream. It was that dammed time spent between sleep and waking. Waiting to fall asleep while your mind was active enough to conjure its own daydreams. But not enough to fall into a graceful and fulfilling rest.

Ancano shifts to his side, thinking that might be a better way to sleep. He clutches his amulet from Arkay, he bought it from a passing Khajiit traveler the other day. It was said to help with spirits and dreams but he knew little of Arkay’s influence on such things. So he couldn’t say for sure if he would help him.

There’s been no time to go into the library to get such information, either. Mirabelle has had him on his toes the whole time he’s been here. The hoops she makes him jump through…sometimes he wishes he could call in the Dark Brotherhood and deal with all of them. Then, it wouldn’t be such a hard fight.

That nagging feeling came back, as it has the past few months. When the Dragonborn was reigning terror down on the citizens of Skyrim…oh, it would have been the most wonderful time for the Thalmor to get a grasp on this place. It would have been harder with Ulfric. But with a new Emperor that was no better than a puppet and restored Imperial forces, it would have been easy. If only they didn’t make an enemy of the Dragonborn so early on. The gravest of mistakes.

His mind shifts again. Thinking of tomorrow’s events and just how he was going to speak to the newcomer. He saw her and immediately recognized her. Even though he had never seen her face before. She was beautiful, as the Altmer said she would be. Skin pale as the snow, eyes bright like amber glinting in the sun, hair fit for a raven. There was no mistaking that was Serana Volkihar.

And it appears she noticed him too.

He toils with those thoughts before sleep finally pulls him under and puts his doubts to rest. The mist parts again. He knows he has the amulet good and clutched in his left hand, but it looks like it was doing no good.

In the haze, he sees the throne with the great necromancer seated upon it. Those bright eyes brim with frustration and he clutches the edges of the armrests with such strength.

“Have you spoken to her?” His words are clipped. Skipping any formality in greeting.

Ancano gives a mockery of a bow. Then thinks better of it when Mannimarco’s hands clench tighter. “I have not. Do you wish me to? She seemed to recognize me when I saw her.” Ancano nearly spits. He was more annoyed that he was back here than he was scared…which was refreshing to say the least.

The necromancer’s lips thin. “Not yet. If you bump into her do not hesitate to say something. But don’t seek her out.”

The silence is heavy. Ancano shifts on his feet. “Why did she recognize me? I am not in any books or any posters or such things she would see me. Not many people in the province know my name or appearance.”

Mannimarco looks on him with new curiosity. That is, before a devilish grin breaks out. “It is nothing to worry about Ancano. It is quite good. It means my spell is working. And if it is affecting her that much in one brief glance, then things should run quite smoothly from here on out.”

Ancano shifts again, his left hand clenching the vacant air. “You don’t need me anymore, then?”

The necromancer laughs. “Oh no, quite the contrary. I’ll need you now more than ever. Get ready because the next few weeks shall be very busy for you.” He grins again. “Sleep well, I’ll see you in the next night and will have further instructions then.”

He jolts awake. His sheets are soaked with sweat, even though the room wasn’t as cold tonight. His heart was leaping out of his chest, and he clenches his left hand again. Only to find nothing to hold onto.

When Ancano looks across the way he sees it. The amulet torn to pieces and orange and red beads scattered across the far wall. It was more of a warning than a blessing. A stern one.  

 

A/N: Thanks for all the support and views! I’m going to try to edit and get the next chapter out on Tuesday or Wednesday!

Chapter 8: Hitting the Books

“Of all the great necromancers of our time, Mannimarco was the bravest, the most powerful, and by far, the most careless.” Phinis Gestor starts.

“Why is that?” Serana has to ask. Her hands are gripping the table so hard she feels she might break it.

The professor watches her with those dark eyes of his. “In his youth he decided to pursue magic, by doing so, he became a member of the Psijic Order.”

She stops him right there, “He was with them? Tolfdir was telling me about them. I had a vision with one man from the Psijic Order in it, do you think…was that him?”

“You would know if you saw Mannimarco.” Phinis steeples his hands before his lips. “He has hair that grows pale white, sometimes even seems translucent in the moonlight. He has sharp eyes and I’d imagine now his skin would not look quite well. He would seem alive but dead at the same time. Even though he ascended to godhood, truly, no mortal is meant for such a thing.”

Her heart was beating out of her chest. There was so much to take in. “Okay. So, he entered the Psijic Order, then what? He started raising the dead?”

“Precisely. He was fascinated by the secrecy surrounding necromancers. You must understand, even near the dawn of time, those kind were still…not tolerated. There is a reason it is called dark magic. For Mannimarco, his descent into the darkness started when Vanus, another student, found him trapping and enslaving souls. Eventually, the leaders of the Order found out about his studies and exiled him to the mainland.

“That did not stop Mannimarco in his tracks. He continued, day and night, to wield his magic and continue his research. This attracted dark wizards and witches to him from near and far, thus creating the Order of the Black Worm. They also gave him magical artifacts and through those artifacts he absorbed the dark energy and became what is known as a living corpse.”

“A Lich.” Serana breathes.

The professor nods, “Good to see you know your terminology. No, that was not the time he made that change, he just absorbed power then. In his pursuit of knowledge, Mannimarco came under the service of Molag Bal. The Daedric Prince tasked Mannimarco into tricking the Five Companions into performing a ritual that would weaken the barriers of Nirn and Oblivion. This would allow Molag Bal to invade Tamriel, and merge Nirn with his plane of Coldharbour.”

Phinis pauses, as if looking through his memories, “Instead, Mannimarco wished to trap the Prince and absorb his essence.” Serana gapes at this revelation. How…stupid of him.

Phinis grins, “As you can guess, that didn’t go over well. At all. After his plans were thwarted, Mannimarco was taken by Molag Bal to be tortured by the undead in Coldharbour. He eventually escaped. Back in Tamriel Vanus was waiting for him and engaged in a long and challenging battle. Seeing he needed a way out, Mannimarco turned himself into a Lich and escaped his fate of death at Vanus’s blade, leaving him to go into hiding. This is where things get…tricky.”

“How so?” Serana asks, she’s leaning across the table just so she can make sure she hears every word Phinis tells her.

“While in hiding, Mannimarco continued to manipulate the political field in the provinces. At this time, he had amassed so much power and knowledge he was a highly sought-after man. But in 3E 417 the Warp in the West occurred, splitting the region of Iliac Bay into separate and simultaneous timelines. Mannimarco at the time, was in possession of the Totem of Timber Septim and the Mantella, and he created the ripening conditions for his apotheosis, or better known as, his ascent to godhood. He is said to be a celestial body of a far away moon that orbits a distant planet, this is known as ‘Necromancer’s Moon’ or ‘Revenant’ in some circles.

“Others believe Mannimarco lived in an alternate timeline as a mortal and reigned over a niche cult who wished to overthrow the Mages Guild in Cyrodiil. If you ask me, I think it was one of your average blokes who took advantage of the prestige of Mannimarco’s name.” He sighs, “Alas, the man is dead so there is no true way of knowing, but I suspect you are not being hunted by a mortal.”

He lifts his eyes to her golden ones. “Why, is he hunting you?” He asks softly, “What did you do to attract such attention, Serana Volkihar?”

She almost recoils at his tone. “I didn’t do it. My father did. He was obsessed with some prophecy, so much so that he made my mother flee and kept me locked underground for centuries. I wasn't exactly dealing with someone rational."

"And this man called upon Mannimarco, for what?”

“I don’t know.” She says, frustration boiling in her chest. “I don’t know but the only way I can find out…I think, is if I find my mother. She’s locked in the Soul Cairn, and I need to get her out. I can’t find another portal for it though.”

“Hmm what a peculiar situation. Precarious, even. I might be able to help your predicament. Not only that, but if you have the coin, I could personally tutor you in the art of Conjuration.”

She relaxes, a little. “I would appreciate that. Whatever we can do.”

He holds his hands out, the black sleeves of his robes flaring to the ground. “Look around, we have a few hours. Might as well begin some research.”

Serana gives a cursory glance to the room at large. Rows and rows of bookcases full of all the information they might need. “Where do I start?”

Phinis Gestor only pushes the book he was reading towards her, “You might want to begin here, Souls, Black and White. This overviews soul gems and their uses. Me? I will go ask Urag gro-Shub if he knows of anything that might be towards our liking.”

Serana brushes her hand over the embossed cover, glances at Vorstag’s still sleeping form and opens the cover to begin her long night.

 

---

 

Dawn came too soon, sleeping in a chair facedown on a table didn’t help matters either, but he honestly has slept in worse places. Vorstag opens his bleary eyes to the bright room. Many candles surrounded the little alcove they sat in, and many books piled high. On his tables and on theirs. He turns his head with his mane of hair flying around him to see Serana deeply entrenched in a new novel and the somewhat disturbing looking professor reading across from her.

“How long was I asleep?” Vorstag asks.

Serana jolts, as if she was broken from a trance. “Hours. A long time. Enough time for me to read all these.” She motions to the pile next to her.

“You read all that? There must be ten to twelve books in there!” Vorstag sits up, he thought he had an abnormal taste in books but this girl…

“No, no, I skimmed and skipped over things that weren’t relevant. I just needed a few passages, actually.” She turns back to her book. “Phinis is going to help us, I told him everything and he even said he’d help me learn some Conjuration.”

Vorstag’s chest tightens at that. He turns his gaze to the professor who is now looking at him curiously. “Necromancy?”

He doesn’t even blink. “Necromancy is a part of the school of Conjuration, not the only discipline. I will teach her far much more than raising a corpse.”

The words didn’t quite reach his lips. To sit here and suddenly accuse a man he didn’t even know of trying to taint Serana’s soul would be…well it would be paranoid. He didn’t know for certain what kind of magic she would learn, and if the College of Winterhold felt comfortable employing Phinis, then he must have some good attributes.

“Wait. Damn it.” The vampire woman swears, leaving Vorstag and Phinis to look at her with equal expression of shock.

“Quiet in the Arcanaeum!” Urag gro-Shub yells from his desk.

She winces. “Sorry. I just, I forgot we needed to do that research for Tolfdir, for the Orb he found.”

“We’re in the right place for it.” Phinis turns another page.

Vorstag stares down at his hands. He was starting to get that craving for blood. Just the beginnings of it. But that could wait. “I could do it, if you two are researching the other subjects.” He offers.

Serana smiles at him. Such a dazzling sight. He almost loses his breath. “If you don’t mind that would help us so much.”

Phinis nods. “If we can get through a few more books here I can begin your tutoring. I don’t have a class until later in the day to teach.”

“Then it’s settled.” Vorstag stands, feeling the stiffness in his back start to release. He makes his way to the waiting librarian.

“I know what you want. Word travels fast around here. Discovered some big mystery, huh?” Urag gro-Shub asks in the deepest of voices.

“You would be correct.” Vorstag tries to grin and turn on that charm. But that luck wasn’t on his side today.

The Orsimer’s face scrunches up. “Well, you don’t even need to ask. No, I don’t have anything for you. Not anymore, anyway.”

Vorstag blinks, “Whyever not? Are we not in the largest library Skyrim has to offer?”

Urag breaks into a fit of laugher, “You would be right if were not for Orthorn. He stole a number of books when he went off to Fellglow Keep to join those summoners. Some kind of peace offering. I think one of those volumes may have had some relevant information. If you want them, you’ll have to talk to Orthorn.”

It was starting to sound like this “research” was right up Vorstag’s alley. “I’ll get it done.” He tells the Orc.

“I’ll be back Serana, I found the books we need but it’s going to take a little detour.” Vorstag lays a hand on her shoulder, she lifts her head.

“Where? Whiterun?”

“No, even better, Fellglow Keep.” He says with amusement.

Concern fill her eyes. “Wait.” He tells her before she says anything. “You know I need a good fight and any crypt walkers down there won’t provide it.”

“Don’t risk your life for some book though, we can find others.” She begins to close hers. But pauses. “I guess, if you really want to you can try to find them. I don’t want to hold you back.”

He wishes he could cup her cheek or brush some of that lovely short black hair from her face. He settles for a smile. “As long as you’re here learning I’m happy. It’s what you need. Let me go use this rusty blade and I’ll be back in higher spirits. I’m well rested enough as it is.”

She gives a glance at the chair he knocked out in. “I guess so.” She laughs, “Just be careful.”

“I will.” He wishes to even brush her hand, but she turns back to her book and to do so now would seem strange. Even more so with Phinis’s prying eyes on him.

“We’ll probably get through a few spells by the time you get back. Good luck in Fellglow Keep. I haven’t been there in so long.” He drawls and turns his gaze back to the page.

Vorstag laughs it off but wishes to get out of there as soon as possible. With one last lingering look to Serana and her pensive expression he waltzes out the door and nearly collides with the Altmer who seemed to always be skulking about.

“Excuse me.” He tries to brush past, but the tall man blocks his way.

“You. I need to ask you something.” His voice is clipped and snooty, how most Altmer were. “You and…your friend were in Saarthal, yes? It has come to my attention that something was found there.”

Something whispered to the mercenary not to trust this man, “There might have been.”

The Altmer sneers, “I know full well that you have. Please, do not insult my intelligence. Tolfdir is still there now, is he? I shall expect a full report when he returns.”

It was odd he kept prying. “What does this matter to you? Are you a higher up around here?” Vorstag has to ask.

The man ignores that last quip. “Something was discovered in Saarthal that was significant enough that Tolfdir sent two new members of the college, alone, to deliver word. That sounds precisely like the sort of thing that should matter to everyone. Especially me….” He trails off, and studies Vorstag head to toe. “Thank you for your help, you may go.”

Vorstag shakes the awkwardness of the encounter away. He gives the Altmer a tight smile. “Be seeing you, then.” And he’s off.

 

---

 

She read the line four times, her eyes were glazed, her head fuzzy. Serana should have slept sooner but since Phinis was still plowing through as many books as he could, she figured she should keep reading as well.

Now, she wishes she went to her room for some sleep.

“Excuse me. I just talked to your friend out there…he seemed to think that it wasn’t common knowledge that you found something down in Saarthal.” She looks up and wishes she didn’t.

The man she saw talking with Mirabelle yesterday was before her. His angular face is sharp in these shadows, his eyes keep hers pinned. “We did. But Tolfdir is handling it.” It is an effort not to let her fear show in her voice.

“I see. I heard he was caught up there.” The Altmer thankfully, turns his gaze from her to notice Phinis. “I never thought I’d see you here at this time, don’t you need to go raise another corpse?”

“Cool it, Ancano.” Phinis drawls, his head still in the pages. “I’m helping Serana here with some work she’s been after.”

The Altmer blinks. “Work? Why what are you studying?”

She freezes, she’s not sure what to say. “Just looking over things. I wanted to learn about old necromancers and soul gems.”

“Do you now?” He crosses his arms and she could swear his face morphed. Instead of sharp angles and yellow tinged skin, she saw softer features with pale skin and white hair.

“Which is your favorite? There are many figures to look up to.” He nearly snaps. As if agitated by this conversation. If anything, it looked like he wanted to leave more than Serana did.

“I…” She’s at a loss for words. By the gods, the man seemed to morph into the very one she was searching for. It wasn’t like he actually did. She just saw this new person superimposed on him.

“Mannimarco, if you might be wondering.” Phinis Gestor breaks the tension.

Her heart is in her throat. “I’m just curious.” It seems the other figure, the one with long white hair and crystal-clear eyes was staring right at her. Ancano was droning on about something. She couldn’t hear him anymore. He had his eyes closed in concentration, just talking, but this other man… it was like he could see into her soul.

“I think I need a break. Go rest my head some.” She gets up, already dizzy with the haze closing in. 

“Certainly. We can practice after lunch. Take some of those books with you, if you want.” Phinis tells her.

Serana mindlessly grabs a few and brushes past the Altmer. She knew it wasn’t him, but she could swear the other figure ran his hand down her shoulder. When the doors of the Arcanaeum close firmly behind her, she breaks into a run.

 

---

 

Fellglow Keep should have taken about a day to get to due to it’s southern location. But Vorstag was incredibly fast now. He raced through the open fields, letting the strong breeze blow across his face and tangle through his loose hair. He leapt over rock and critters until he saw the towering peaks coming to meet him.

They were on him in an instant, just a few straggler bandits. Vorstag tore through them with his teeth, getting his fill of blood for the day before entering the keep. These things tended to be winding and confusing because they pre-dated some modern structures. So, there were many hiding places for each and every skeleton.

He sliced through their necks when he found them. One by one, they fell, until Vorstag remained panting in the center of the dead. “Give me something better.” He mutters but continues on.

The next few rooms held a bit more of a challenge. Mages and their conjured pets.

One screams in his face as she lashes out with electricity. Little does she know; he’s dealt with worse storms before. He slices through her chest before she can electrocute him further. The other mages begin to rally around him and close in. All with spells glowing in their hands and malice in their eyes. He glances at each face, sizing up how he was going to do this…

Quick as possible, he swings his sword in an arch, spinning in a circle with his newfound speed. Enough speed to slice through each mage before they could send their power at him. He grunts when he pulls the sword from one of the jerking bodies. That right there, was a better challenge.

“You there! Let me out. They’re going to do awful things to me.” A male voice pleads.

Vorstag pauses, finding a row of levers, no one seemed to be hiding around here. “Where are you?”

“In this cage. There’s a lever right in the center. Hurry before more of them show up!” Vorstag has no choice but to trust the voice. He pulls on the lever directed of him.

“Ah, thank you for saving me. Who knows what they’d have done to me if you hadn’t come along.” Someone seemingly like a College of Winterhold mage steps out. Vorstag lowers his sword. This must be Orthorn.

“Where do you keep your books?” Vorstag gets straight to the point.

“The… the books? Oh, I see. I thought perhaps… Well, I thought you’d come for me. But yes, the books. The Caller will have them. She was most interested in one of the volumes. Although not interested enough to keep me from being locked up.” He grumbles.

Vorstag assesses him. Aside from a few bruises and dirt caking his face, this man was probably only suffering from dehydration at most. “You should get yourself to safety. There’s an exit that way.” He motions to the door he just came through.

“Don’t you need my help?” The man broaches.

Vorstag tightens the grip on his blade and runs his tongue over his new fangs. He can hear many hearts up ahead. It would be easier if he could go in alone, that way this man wouldn’t be in any danger. From the mages, or from him. “Trust me. I can more than handle myself. Get back outside, I should be seeing you in a half hour if things go well.”

 

---

 

She was still tired, but Serana could only sleep for a few hours. She needed to learn about this Conjuration school. Dawn hovered in the doorway, her flames signaling to Serana that Phinis was finally free after lunch. She shifts in the bed, feeling it to be so comfortable when she had it to herself.

“Is he ready?” She asks Dawn. The professor was clever and thought he could have them send messages to one another through the Flame Atronach.

Bright orange flames light up the daedra’s hands. That was sign enough. Serana sighs. “Let me get my cloak and I’ll meet him.”

The Hall of Countenance wasn’t far off from her living quarters. The bright early morning sun greeted Serana in the worst way possible. She made sure to have her hood up nice and tight. Inside, Phinis was sitting near his bed, head still in a book.

“I’m here.” She says half-heartedly.

He glances up. “Ah, it seems our little experiment with the Flame Atronach worked well. I never thought them to be fully sentient beings.”

“There’s something new to learn everyday.” Serana shrugs. Her eyes were still bleary and her head was still fuzzy but she would do whatever Phinis wanted.

“Since I finished my lecture early, I thought we could get a head start. The College isn’t…very appreciative of those who practice magic on the grounds. Especially the magic we might be casting. I thought we could go down to the tundra, just outside of Winterhold and practice there. There wouldn’t be another soul around and if your creature were to get away, I could nullify them immediately.”

She thinks on it, the sun was intense…but if there was no other way. “Let’s go.”

He laughs, “Your enthusiasm is infectious. Here. Take these books and if you can, read along the way.” He passes her a few and grabs his robe. She has no other option but to follow him out into the open with the blistering sun.

A good half hour later, Phinis was still talking. “Those are the major principles of the school of Conjuration. Especially when summoning the daedra, they are potentially dangerous. But softer spells, such as summoning a bound sword are not as risky.” He glances back at her. “My, I forgot. How is the sun treating you? I know your kind abhors it.”

She clenches her jaw, it was hard keeping her hands covered, especially since she forgot her gloves. “Fine. If my father had his way, there would be no sun.”

The man only laughs softly. “What a travesty that would be.”

She seems to think he doesn’t know how close they were to that. One day the sun would be here, the next…gone. Or, at least, that’s what father told her. He didn’t take into account how all living things were dependent on the celestial star so close to the planet. He would never listen her logic.

“Here. You read those books?” Phinis stops in the coldest part of the tundra. The road stretches on for miles in either direction with nothing but the frozen ground and the sky to meet them.

“Yes. Bound Dagger, Conjure Boneman, Revenant, and Conjure Dremora Lord.” She sounds off.

The professor shifts from foot to foot. “Yes. I wanted to see where your skills were. Ironically, I didn’t want to give you a master spell just yet, but you did perform one with this Flame Thrall here.” He nods to Dawn. “I wanted you to try one from each level: novice, apprentice, adept, and expert. We’ll see how you do. That will give me a baseline of where I need to start with you.”

Serana shrugs, “Alright, I guess I’ll start with the dagger.” She thinks back on those pages. What she read and how the wording was placed. She only has to think one phrase in her head before she feels the hilt of a dagger appear in her left hand. She glances down to see a translucent looking blade.

“My, that was quick. Even the most seasoned of mages have some trouble with that spell early on.” Phinis applauds her. “Are you ready for the next one? It’s a basic conjuration spell but I want you to cast it between me and you.” He motions to the ten feet that separate them. “That way, I can banish him if he gets…feisty.”

Right. Conjure Boneman. Shouldn’t be too hard. Serana quickly pushes away the dagger with her mind and holds out her hand, pulling from the world of the dead.

“Good. Keep it right there and keep building on your power.” Phinis pushes her. The dark spectral orb was slowly growing in the dead space between them. She closes her eyes, just for better concentration when she hears the distinct creaking of bones.

Her eyes flick open, before her stood one of the bonemen mother was always so fond of. It’s head swivels to her, with flaming eyes and blackened bones. The thing creaks as it begins to walk to her. She feels the heat of Dawn behind her.

“No. Not you.” Phinis says quickly and he throws some sort of spell at the boneman. One second, he’s there. The next, he’s gone. “Your Flame Atronach was about to attack it.”

Serana glances back at Dawn, finding her flames to be higher on her body. “Why? I summoned them both.”

“But they can easily get out of your control without proper training.” Phinis reminds her. “Most novice mages have this problem. It’s just interesting because you can summon them without much effort. It’s going to be controlling them that will be more difficult.”

“What do I do? Just bark out commands at them?” Serana asks.

The professor pauses, “No. You need to make sure you keep the invisible tether between the two of you tight. It’s like a leash on those you conjure. You can influence their actions, slightly, with your mind. But if you send them out to fight for you, it will be harder. You’ll have to let them do their own thing, then when they’re back with you, you retighten the leash.”

Sounded complex to her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Next.” Phinis holds out a hand and Serana has to keep from jumping when the body of a boneman lands at her feet. Good and dead.

“Reanimate that with the Revenant spell.” Phinis tells her.

She nods and tries it. The spell flies from her outstretched hands into the thing. The bones seem to absorb it like a plant absorbs water in a drought. It rises, creaking bones folding over one another.

“Magnificent.” Phinis breathes. “That spells is at an adept level. I’m impressed with your aptitude on this.”

Although that wasn’t the only thing that was interesting. Serana glances down, she can’t pull her sleeves up to check but she can see the lights glowing beneath the fabric. Those runes Tolfdir was talking about were bright even in this sunny environment.

The boneman disappears without further advancement. “Good. Now, for the final spell. Conjure Dremora Lord. I will stand back here again in case it goes awry.”

Serana takes a deep breath. This was going to be far harder to cast. It would probably take all the energy she has left. “Alright. Here goes nothing.” She says and holds out her hands.

The spell was cast. She could feel it emerge from her being. She could hear it hit the ground but nothing happened.

They wait.

“Try again. Sometimes these things are tricky. Take a moment to think about the spell before casting it.” Phinis directs her.

She clenches her jaw, thinks back on the power she’s wielded, how it feels to float through her body and emerge from her palms. It sometimes felt like a living thing trying to wiggle free. That’s how it felt now.

More like a maggot burrowing under her skin.

She cries out when the spell releases itself and hurls to the ground. Instantaneously, the dremora lord stands before them, decked out in shining armor and with a snarling face that was red and black. He stands there.

“Marvelous! Good. Good.” Phinis paces around the creature. “Not a problem at all, no missing limbs, no chinked armor. He’s perfect.”

Phinis was a mortal, with mortal senses, that means he couldn’t smell more than the average human. Serana, however, could smell this thing’s rage.

“I smell weakness…” The dremora lord snarls before lunging towards them. Phinis jumps out of the way before it can cleave into him with his sword.

Serana ducks, feeling Dawn above her begin to throw firebolts towards the thing. “You will bleed!” The dremora lord yells.

“Over here, Serana!” Phinis scrambles over the snow to grab her hand and pull her.

“What do we do!” She yells over the sounds of the clanging of sword and flame.

Phinis gives a fearful glance at the battle. “Run! Run now.” He shoves her.

She didn’t want to leave him but she could hear, could feel the bloodlust in the dremora lord behind her. “Run! I’ll deal with him.” Phinis yells to her.

She glances back, just once, and finds Dawn and Phinis both holding off the dremora lord with spells of fire and ice. The thing’s gaze was only locked onto her though, that’s the look of intensity most predators give their prey. She runs.

The ground seemed to be more slippery than ever before. She raced across it, trying to keep her balance but also keep her skin from the raging sun. When she was far enough away she fell, panting, beneath the shade of a large rock. She pulls back on her sleeves. The runes were bright. Blazing purple and white light embedded in her skin.

Do not mind the servant. Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon are not in the best mood with me. That must be why he wants to hurt you.

She glances this way and that. Hearing that voice. It wasn’t coming from anywhere here in the open fields. It was in her mind.

They know I branded you. They see my seal on you, sweet Serana, don’t fear. I will make sure that daedra has a horrible time in Oblivion. The voice chuckles.

She clenches her jaw. “Mannimarco.”

She wanted a response. A simple “yes” would have been good enough for her. But all she hears is the howling wind and the distant sounds of battle.

 

---

 

Twelve mages down…one to go. Vorstag finally opens the door to the inner chamber and sees the woman in robes standing before him. “So, you’re the one causing all this trouble. How nice to meet you.” She addresses him.

“Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not here to harm you. I am just looking for the books from the College.” He says firmly.

“So you’re just one of Aren’s Lackeys? That’s disappointing. You would show real promise.” If you were a magic wielder. “You come here, kill my assistants, disrupt my work… You’ve annoyed me, so I don’t think I’ll be giving you anything.”

Seasoned warrior Vorstag was, he could see her fear. She just kept it well hidden. He holds his blade out, showing all the blood drenching it. Drenching his armor and fouling his teeth. “We both know you won’t have a chance to get out of here alive. Let me leave with the books and there won’t be anymore trouble.”

She pauses, he can hear her heart racing from here. The only thing for her to consider was whether the books were worth more than her life. “Fine.” She snaps. “Take them and be gone. Never return here, or else you’ll face my full wrath.”

“Very well then,” Vorstag smiles, and it only makes the mage shudder.

Hours later, he was just traversing the frozen wasteland, almost to the College and ten pounds heavier. There were far more books than he thought possible. How the man got away with it without being found sooner, he didn’t know. When he emerged from the Keep, Orthorn was nowhere to be found.

“I will see you bleed!” A horrid voice snarls across the frozen wastes.

Vorstag’s brow furrows. He breaks into a jog and over the horizon he sees a wounded mage, and a daedra fighting off a Flame Atronach. But it wasn’t just any Flame Atronach. Dawn.

He almost, almost drops the bag of books but waits until he’s closer. He then pulls his sword from its strap on his back and comes raining down on the dremora lord before him. “Mortal! I will see you bleed!” The thing yells out again.

“You would be mistaken, I’m no mortal.” Vorstag bares his fangs, and the blade comes searing down on the daedra. He cleaves nearly in two before falling to mist.

“By the gods, thank the gods you came. Just in time.” Phinis lays panting, one hand over his stomach.

“Here.” Vorstag kneels down to perform a simple healing spell. Slowly, realization dawns on him. “Where is she? Was she with you?”

Phinis points northward. “I told her to run to get to safety.”

“Take these.” Vorstag hands him his bag of books and breaks off at a sprint. He could scent her. That soft smell of lavender and honey. For some reason she smelled like honey, even though he knew she never ate it or came near it.

“Vorstag.” She calls out.

He nearly skids to a halt and turns to find her crouched under a rock. Her sweet face peered up at him but her eyes…they were blood red.

“Are you okay?” He kneels next to her. “Your eyes...”

“I know.” She whispers. “I heard him, and he hears me.”

 

---

 

It turns out she was fine. She didn’t have many wounds on her. Just a few scrapes that were easily stitched up with a healing potion. Her eyes eventually went back to normal, and those runes painting her skin faded.

“Why does that happen?” Vorstag asks that night. They didn’t have another place to sleep and he certainly didn’t want to fall asleep in the library again. So, they laid shoulder to shoulder again.

“I don’t know. He said something about branding me.” She whispers.

“Brand you?” His brow furrows. “Can such a thing happen?”

“I don’t know. Phinis was going to research it.”

“He’s staying up at the library again?” He asks.

“He can’t sleep. I’m not sure if I’d be able to after dealing with that evil creature out there.”

Vorstag wishes he could give her some more comfort. Anything. Instead, he lays there. “I could sing for you.”

“I’d just kick you then.” She laughs.

“I suppose so. Maybe some reading would help?”

“Gods. Books. I’m so tired of books.” She groans. “But they’re helping me. I know now more than ever. Watch.”

Vorstag shifts his head so he can see her outstretched hand and nearly flinches when she calls on a spectral blade. It glints in the candlelight as she moves her hand side to side. “Impressive, Volkihar.” Vorstag whistles. “Just don’t stab me with it.”

“I’ll try not to.” She laughs and calls it away from her.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Vorstag asks after some silence.

She pauses to consider. “I’m not sure. More research and safer spell casting. I’m going to see what Phinis knows about these runes. Tolfdir seemed to know more but…”

“He’s busy.”

“Extremely so. I feel like we need to help with that too. The orb thing down below. Maybe Mannimarco has something to do with it.”

He was starting to hate that name. It was too wordy and too pretentious. “We’ll find out. I might get some shut eye. Good night, Volkihar.”

“Night Vorstag.” She seems to smile and soon, falls into a deep sleep.

Vorstag watches the ceiling. Hears her soft breathing again. He wonders how he would feel tonight if he had gotten there too late. Phinis could have been killed, and then the daedra might have gone after Serana. Maybe, instead of taking another detour, Vorstag decides he might want to stick around the vampire some more. If only to save her from her own spells.

 

---

 

“Nothing. I told her nothing. I only asked.” Ancano snarls.

“Is she suspicious of you?” The necromancer asks again. Nearly yelling. He’s more horrifying than he’s ever been. He paces along the small room in front of the golden throne, hands balled into fists and a grimace on his face. Ancano swore he saw his face change once, from this ethereal elven face to something…daedric.

“No. She is not. She just confirmed that they were researching you. Her and another professor.” He gulps.

Mannimarco’s sly eyes find his. “Research? Good, I presume?”

Ancano is absolutely certain that is not the case. He would bet all his life savings and his position at the College right now that Phinis and Serana were looking for a way out of this deal. “It appears so, your grace.”

Mannimarco grins, finally letting the daedra inside rest. “Encourage them, then. You know a bit about me. Take her on a tour. Something, anything to get me on her mind again.”

His hands start to tremble. How in Nirn was he going to achieve that? Religion was never his best suit, and the last time he tried to appease a god didn’t work, but now he will pray more than ever. “I will try.”

“Do. Don’t try. Trying is for people who never truly believed in themselves. They don’t have the determination.” The necromancer snaps. “I will see you tomorrow night. If you want a good go at it, I suggest you find her right when she wakes up.”

“I will…” Ancano trails off as the mist slowly wafts in. Soon, it covers his view of the evil creature before him, and the mist begins to envelop him.

When he opens his eyes, he thinks to himself. This is something he could tell the College about. Certainly, some of the older ones would know some sort of spell to break this tether to the necromancer but…no. That won’t do. It would only aggravate Mannimarco further and it would put his standing at the College in a precarious position.

Ancano turns in his bed. Just to stare at the door and have a better chance at waking up at dawn. He has no other choice so he might as well make this tour memorable.

---

 

A/N: Sorry for the late posting! Things got incredibly busy last week but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)

Chapter 9: Good Intentions

“Volkihar, someone is here to see you.”

That melodic voice wakes her. She was just roaming her forgotten home in her sleep. Trying to memorize the hallways and painting she had. She was certain one of the most famous ones that went missing in Cyrodiil centuries prior was there. With a glimpse of it, she had felt a searing rage. Her father was responsible for the destruction of her home. No one else.

“Hm?” She turns, finding herself still weighted down by sleep. Serana’s tangled hair falls over her face. “What time is it?”

“A little past five thirty in the morning.” Vorstag comes to the edge of the bed and brushes some of that hair from her face. “The man is adamant he sees you.”

Well, if that’s the case… Serana stands and pulls on her armor, so she looks somewhat presentable. She wanders to the door and finds the man is knocking once again. “Who is it?” She pulls it open slowly.

And promptly slams it shut.

“What is it?” Vorstag is behind her. He lays a hand on her shoulder, she knows his other is reaching for a weapon.

“Ancano.” She says. “I don’t want to talk to him…he’s…somethings off about him.”

“I’ve noticed.” Vorstag tightens his grip.

The Altmer on the other side clears his throat. “If you don’t mind, I would just like to speak to you for a moment.” He says in a strained voice.

No way in Oblivion was she going to open that door again. She puts her hands on it, just so he doesn’t push it.

“There’s a back exit. We can climb to the roof and leap off the other side.” Vorstag whispers in her ear.

She almost took that offer. She’d rather just walk around with Vorstag until they had to see Mirabelle anyways. But the next words she hears give her pause.

“I have some information on Mannimarco. I know you were quite keen on the subject. I took some liberty into digging into his past some.”  

She bets he did. “What kind of research?” She asks.

“Open the door and I will tell you. I have to show you, so we’ll have to walk a bit.” He tells her.

She glances over her shoulder to see Vorstag watching her with hesitation. “If you wish. But I’m going with you.”

“As long as my friend can come along.” She calls through the door.

A scuffling of feet and a flustered heart. “Fine. Fine. Bring him. Just, hurry. I’d like to show you all I can then we can go our separate ways for the lectures today.”

“He’s antsy.” Vorstag breathes into her ear.

“I know.” She says it just as lowly. “But if he has information I would like to know.”

She relaxes, just steadies her quick breathing and pulls open the door. She’s thankful she took that time, Ancano has a completely fake and almost grotesque smile plastered to his face. “Ah, good. There you are. I want to assure you, I have nothing but the best of intentions.”

“Let’s go then.” She waves a hand in front of her.

The man turns on his heel, signaling them to follow. It was odd, it was as if he were as anxious to be around them as she was with him. She watches his back for a moment and finds that weird feeling never coming about. There isn’t an image of another man on him.

She doesn’t dare let her guard down though.

The walk wasn’t far, just to the edge of the courtyard, near the Hall of Elements. They were actually nearing the corner when Ancano stopped in front of the brick wall. “You’re showing us the edge of the building?” Vorstag asks.

She wishes to jab him with her elbow but she has the good grace to keep her composure.

“No. It’s not there. Here.” He waves a glowing hand on the wall to remove the glamour. Showing a shimmering purple field of light in its place. “Come with me.”

“I don’t want to go in there.” Serana eyes that portal.

He gives her a bored look. “It’s a hallway. I’m going to show you pictures of Mannimarco’s overtaking of necromancy, then it will spit us out on the other side just in time for you to find the Master Wizard.”

“I’ll be here.” Vorstag grabs good hold of her hand.

She smiles back at him. “Alright. If anything weird happens…”

“I will be expelled from the College. Do you really, really think I’d chance that?” Ancano glares at her. “No? Good. Now follow me.”

 

---

 

It was a weird feeling. This hallway didn’t exist in reality, that’s as much as Vorstag knew. It was some sort of grand illusion, but it was good. Wall after wall of cobblestone held a picture of the necromancer himself. Each one left a bad taste in Vorstag’s mouth.

They started modest, showing Mannimarco in his early years, learning to wield magic, much like Serana was now. Then, they moved forwards, each conquest proving to be grimmer than the last. Mannimarco becoming a Lich. Fighting his friend. Eventually, they come across a peculiar piece of artwork.

“This was Mannimarco’s apotheosis, when he turned to godhood.” Ancano recites.

Serana leans in, closer to this painting to study it. It was a far away shot, showing the necromancer flying high above the Iliac Bay and leaving a beautiful tower behind. “He flew there?”

“It’s the only way to complete the apotheosis. It’s a complex process where one melds with the power of the gods. Or so I am told, there isn’t much research on the subject since it is a very rare occurrence. Some are even skeptical that one is ascending to such heights.” Ancano sneers at the painting.

It was odd. Again. Ancano seemed to be enjoying this tour as much as he would enjoy plucking out his own toenails. “Do you have family ties to him?” Vorstag asks, curiously.

“What? No. No of course not.” Ancano seems to sweat. His eyes dart around here and there.

“No worries.” Vorstag holds up his hands. “I just didn’t know how you acquired all this knowledge.”

“Years of minimal research on my own. It was a minor curiosity I had in my youth and after hearing Serana’s interest in it, I decided I wished to tell her more.” He glances down at the vampire who was a good foot shorter than him. “Why are you interested in learning all of this?”

She freezes but lies easily. Smart girl, Vorstag didn’t even trust this man. “I just wanted to know more about him. I’m practicing Conjuration and soul gems were a part of it. I didn’t know if he had anything to do with them.”

“I see…” Ancano has those shifty eyes again. “It appears our time is over. We need to enter the Hall of Elements and continue on with our day. I wish you two a good afternoon and evening.” He turns quickly without looking them in the eye and begins to open the portal.

Around that time, Vorstag saw it. An amulet of sorts had fallen from his pocket. It had a bright green and blue tint and was tied together with a black string. He was ready to pick it up for the man, but Serana stops him.

She tugs on his hand and gives him a knowing look. Clever girl. She bends down and snatches up the amulet before the Altmer can guess what happened.

“Here we are, good day you two.” Ancano gives a slight nod and walks away with clipped steps.

“Weird.” Serana watches him leave.

“Very odd. Did you get any new information from all that lecturing?” Vorstag asks.

She shakes her head, “Just the bare minimum. Maybe this will help.” She holds up the amulet she swiped. The center of it was a glowing green skull. “Have you seen anything like this before?”

Vorstag studies it closley. “I have not, it has something to do with necromancy, maybe we can ask Phinis. Speaking of, are we seeing him today?”

“After we talk to Mirabelle and Tolfdir. I wanted to get more headway on creating another portal to the Soul Cairn. I know Tolfdir might be able to help.”

“If he’s not still obsessed with the orb.” Vorstag jests.

“He might be.” Serana pulls him along into the classroom. “Or he’s…by the gods…” she trails off.

In the center of the room hovered that large orb. It’s green and blue outer coating reflected light into the room, leaving everything in its unearthly glow.

“Ah good to see the both of you! If I didn’t have your help, I would not have been able to bring this here.” Tofdir exclaims from the other side. He greets them with a cheery smile.

“Good to see you’re back in one piece.” Vorstag takes the lead, the other man laughs.

“That I am! Have you two found anything useful?”

“Urag told me one of the books I found was a good place to start. Something about the ‘Night of Tears’,” Vorstag begins.

“Is that the one about something buried beneath Sarrthal? Something that men and mer fought over?” Tolfdir puzzles, “I’ll have to make a point of re-reading it. I don’t recall the details.” He looks back to the orb. “I just can’t seem to tear myself away. Whatever this is, its beauty is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. If you’d allow me to indulge myself for a moment, I thought I might make a few observations…” The professor begins to pace around the giant centerpiece and rattles off information.

Vorstag glances at Serana, he knows she’s just itching to ask Tolfdir about the Soul Cairn but is biting her tongue due to his rambling. It would feel rude to interrupt…

“There you two are, I’m afraid I must intrude. It’s urgent that I speak with your associates immediately, Tolfdir.” Ancano moves through the shadows of the far room to address them.

Vorstag watches him. He doesn’t even look at him or Serana, and he seems far less distressed than he was before.  

“This is most inappropriate! We are involved in serious research here!” The professor brazenly exclaims.

“Yes,” The Altmer drawls, “I’ve no doubt of its gravity. This, however, is a matter than cannot wait.” Ancano stands right before Tolfdir and stares the man down.

“I’ve never been interrupted like this before…”

“Tolfdir, can I talk with you real quick?” Serana butts in on the conversation. She glances at Ancano. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” She says as sweetly as she can.

“We need to leave as soon as possible.” Ancano calls after her, then he turns to Vorstag.

“Let her be.” He tells the Altmer.

Ancano watches where Tolfdir and Serana stand. She’s so excited, she ‘s moving her hands in exaggerated motions. Vorstag can hear just fine, he knows she is asking about the Soul Cairn but decides not to take in the details. “What do you need from us?” He quietly broaches the topic with Ancano.

“I’ll show you, now.” He says darkly when Serana comes back. “Follow me, you two. Someone from the Psiijic Order is here and wishes to talk with you, urgently.”

“What’s it matter to you?” Vorstag pushes.

“If it’s a problem, then I will need to report it to the Aldmeri Dominion.” He lies easily. Vorstag can feel it.

They have no choice but to climb the nearby steps and follow the Altmer into the Arch-Mage’s room. All to find a man decked out in the most extravagant of robes. He watches them even though he already had a large crowd of College members before him. It was like a blink of the eye, one moment, the man was staring at Vorstag, the next, he was looking at the ceiling. Whatever happened?

“I understand.” Serana tells him. Vorstag shoots her a glance, but she just looks at him. Just one look and he knows it would be better to ask her later.

 

---

 

She was frozen in time. Just like under Saarthal. “The situation here at your College is of dire importance and attempts to contact you as we have previously have failed.” The man begins. “I believe it is due to the very source of our concern. This object…The Eye of Magnus as your people have taken to calling it. The energy coming from it has prevented us from reaching you with the visions you have already seen. The longer it remains here, the more dangerous the situation becomes. And so I have come here personally to tell you it must be dealt with.”

Serana blinks at him. “I don’t understand, what does this have to do with me? Does it have to do with Mannimarco?”

“That name…” The man’s eyes seem to glow under his hood. “Do not. Speak that name.”

Ice fills her core. “He’s hunting me.” She tells him.

“It is not my concern. The man is an outcast and should remain that way. You have to understand, you set this chain of events in motion in Saarthal. The Psijic Order does not typically…intervene directly in events. My presence will be seen as an affront to some within the Order. As soon as we have finished, I will be leaving your College.” He pauses, “I’m all too aware that my arrival has aroused suspicion, especially in Ancano, your Thalmor associate.”

He could say that again. Serana was still reeling from his immediate shut down of the topic of Mannimarco. Too many things were happening at once and there was no way they were all coincidental.

“My Order will not intervene directly. It is up to you.” He prods.

“I…I still don’t understand the problem.” She tells him.

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

Her head was spinning. “So what do I do?”

“Unfortunately, the future is as obscured to us as it is to you. The overwhelming power of the Eye makes it difficult for us to see. I fear I have already overstepped the bounds of my Order. But I will over this: seek out the Augur of Dunlain here in your College. His perception may be more coherent than ours.”

“Alright.” She nods. “Where is he?”

“I am unsure.” The man says, honestly. “He is somewhere within the College. Surely one of your colleagues must know his location. I am sorry I cannot provide you with further help, but this conversation requires a great deal of effort on my part. I’m afraid I must leave you. We will continue to watch over you and guide you as best we can. It is within you to succeed, never forget that.”

The world snapped back to normal. Serana almost fell forwards with the abruptness of it. Ancano was already questioning the man from the Psijic Order relentlessly. Serana just looked to Vorstag and nodded to the door. Thankfully, after all this time together, he understood.

 

---

 

“He just…shut you down when you asked about Mannimarco?” Vorstag asked incredulously. Serana kept her head down and hood up against the cold. It was getting frostier the further they descended into the Midden. It took a little while to find it but after running into a flustered Tolfdir, he directed them to look under the College for Augur of Dunlain. Poor guy must be freezing.

“He did. I tried to ask him again but he wouldn’t let me get a word in. He just shoved all this information at me and let me go.”

“Hm, it’s almost like this artifact from Saarthal is a distraction.” Vorstag muses.

“You know, I think you’re right.” She stops on the bridge they were walking on.

“I don’t mean we should leave. I mean we will talk to this Augur Dunlain but keep an eye on things.” He reminds her.

She looks up to him. “It could be. I asked Tolfdir about the Soul Cairn. He said it would be…difficult. But with enough time and effort we should be able to open it up. Come to think of it…”

“What?” He questions.

“Maybe this guy will know more about it.” She pulls her hood down tighter and begins walking again with a sense of purpose.

 

---

 

“Your perseverance will only lead to disappointment.” The voice behind the door warns. Vorstag grits his teeth. He’ll break open the door if he has to, but he wishes this guy would be more cooperative.

“Let us in! I’m Serana Volkihar of Castle Volkihar. My father was…” Serana trails off as if thinking on her words. “My father was Lord Harkon.”

“Still you persist?” The voice seems astonished. “Very well, you may enter.”

She seems to sigh in relief, but Vorstag kept a good hand on his blade when the door opened. On the other side was something incredible.

A blue floating orb. Like a soul, hovered before them.

“I am which you have been seeking.” The voice booms. “Your efforts are in vain. It has already begun.”

“What has?” Serana pleads.

“Those who have sent you have not told you what they seek. What you seek.” The voice continues.

“They are being the vaguest they can.” Vorstag chimes in. “What is the matter and why are we here?”

“Like others before you, you blindly follow a path to your own destruction. The Thalmor cam seeking answers as well, unaware they will be his undoing. Your path now follows his, though you will arrive too late.”

“What person?” Serana asks.

 It’s like he doesn’t even hear her. “Your path differs from most. You are being guided, pushed towards something. It is a good path, one untraveled by many. It is a path that can save your College. I will tell you what you need to know to follow it further. You and those aiding you, wish to know more about the Eye of Magnus. You wish to avoid the disaster of which you are not yet aware. To see through Magnus’ Eye without being blinded, you require his staff. Take this knowledge to the Arch-Mage.”

The light begins to dim, but stubborn woman she is, Serana asks it. “What about Mannimarco? Is he a part of this?”

That might have been the wrong question to ask. The light, slowly dimming, suddenly blares with a fireball in the center that seems it might explode. Vorstag begins to pull Serana behind him, but she keeps her feet planted.

“What about him? Do you know him?” She yells into the inferno.

“You are cursed by him. Hunted. I wish to have no contact with him. Know your paths will collide. However you handle it is not up to me.” The light flares further when Vorstag hears Serana yelling even more. The howling wind in the room snatches her words away, leaving Vorstag without knowledge of what she said.

All he remembers is waking up face down on the ground. The room was cold and dark now, damp. “You okay?” Serana pants. She lays a hand on his back.

“I…gods what was that?” He raises a hand to his head and slowly rises to his feet.

“I don’t know. No one will tell me.” Her voice breaks with frustration.

He looks down into her sweet face. He can see those bloody tears brimming. “Hey.” He runs a finger to catch one of the tears. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t know if we can. It’s all riddles and no substance! Not even the books are helping.” She cries.

He knows she’s about to break into sobs and he’ll do anything to stop it. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just know I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you.” He promises.

“Why? Why? I’m not your family.” She cries. He can see her begin to tremble.

“I want to help you. I wouldn’t let anyone else be taken by him.”

“No one else?” She pauses and he wishes he could pull his hair out. She might take it the wrong way.

“No. I mean. I would help anyone in this situation but you’re more than anyone. You’re special.” His tongue wasn’t forming the words he wanted, and she looked so confused. For once, the normally charismatic bard couldn’t form a sentence.

She starts to pull away, the shock evident on her face but he couldn’t leave her with that. By Oblivion, he was so foolish, but he had no other option. No other way to tell her how much he cared for her. Without another thought he leans down and kisses her.

Kisses her with such abandon. Gods, he wanted this from the very start. After he got to knew her a bit more. After she joked with him. He secretly wanted this but never really thought he could have it.

It was awkward enough, it was almost a clashing of teeth but she stopped him. Her lips meld to his and she pushes towards him. He almost sank into the embrace, and the tentative relief that she returns his affections, but instead he quickly pulls away.

Her large eyes stare up at him in shock. She just standing there, frozen. “Forget about it.” Vorstag says immediately and turns on his heel. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He wondered how stupid he truly was. That was the worst thing he could do and now he had to lead her out. He couldn’t run away from the awkwardness, not yet. By the gods, she didn’t even really return it. She did a bit, he thought, but she just stood there.

Deep down, he was hurt she didn’t call after him. Didn’t lay a hand on his back to stop his quick ascent out of the Midden. Instead, he was left to his own thoughts.

 

---

 

Her lips buzzed. Serana was still so shocked she hasn’t said a word yet. Based on Vorstag’s rigid posture, he wasn’t feeling too great about what he did. But what could she say?

She was surprised but secretly wanted more? She wasn’t expecting that, but it might have been just what she needed? She wanted to broach the topic, but the current situation kept her attention.

They needed to find the Staff of Magnus, open the Soul Cairn and escape the clutches of Mannimarco before he came looking for her. The weight of the pressure felt heavy on her shoulders but she pushes forwards. She figures she will be forgiven for not talking to Vorstag that instant. Surely, he would understand…   

She remained in that daze until they were standing right in front of Savos Aren. “We have information for you.” Vorstag talks for her. She blinks up at him. Remembering his lips on hers.

“Really? And what might that be?” Savos asks them.

“Well, we need to find something called the Staff of Magnus.”

The Arch-Mage pauses, “Well…I’d certainly love to have such a powerful staff, but I’m not really sure that any of us need it.”

“We believe it’s connected to the orb we found.” Vorstag pushes.

“And how do you know this?”

Vorstag sighs, “We spoke with Augur of Dunlain.”

“And he specifically mentioned the Staff of Magnus?” Savos Aren asks. “I’m impressed with your initiative. Of course, someone will need to follow up on this. Something as specific and ancient as the Staff of Magnus…I’m not sure we’d ever find something like that. I seem to recall Mirabelle mentioning the staff somewhat recently. See if she can tell you something about it.”

He dismisses them and they’re left to the silence.

“She’s probably downstairs in the classroom.” Vorstag says.

Serana grabs his arm. “Wait. I…” She wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you for everything back in the Midden. Comforting me. I needed it. It just feels like this weight holding me down.” She says, earnestly.

He seems to hesitate under her touch but soon, he looks on her as he usually does. With humor and excitement. “Come now, Volkihar, you thought I’d be leaving you in the dust here? When all this excitement is going on?”

She laughs. She appreciates the easing of tension. But she’s not sure if he’s putting another wall up.

“Let’s go. Mirabelle has to be waiting for us.” He tells her and turns. Her heart flutters at the thought, but she pushes through that fear and leaps forwards. Vorstag bristles, as if surprised, but she just smiles up at him as she folds her hand in his. As it should be.  

 

---

 

Mirabelle wasn’t as helpful as Savos Aren made her out to be. She only told them how powerful the Staff of Magnus was, how important but how mythical it seemed, and where she thought it might lay. In the ruins of Mzulft. Out in the valleys near Windhelm.

Vorstag hadn’t been there in so long. Possibly when he was a teenager. He watches Serana’s expression. She became pensive, yet again. He told himself he wouldn’t leave her, not after when he went to Fellglow Keep and found her nearly dead in the frozen fields. But here…if she stayed with Tolfdir and Phinis, worked with them on opening the Soul Cairn, he could deal with the brunt of the danger in Mzulft. She wouldn’t have to step foot there.

“I’ll go to Mzulft. I’ve been there before.” He quickly adds. She turns to him with widening eyes.

“Why? I want to go with you, you shouldn’t go alone.”

He knew she’d say that, and he knew just what to say back. “There’s too much to do. As you said, Mannimarco and the Soul Cairn come first. I can help the College in these matters while you further our goals.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She only pulled her hood up when they went out in the bright afternoon light. “I want to send Dawn with you.” She tells him.

He doesn’t dare tell her the Flame Atronach might be more of a distraction than a help. “That’s fine.”

“And if you don’t come back in three days…I’ll come looking for you.” She warns him sternly.

He only laughs. “Ah, Volkihar. It takes a day to get there and one to get back. You might want to expand your timeline.”

“Five days.” She amends.

“Deal.” He watches her. He sees the sadness beneath the surface. “Hey,” He lifts her chin. “Perk up. You get to get ahead in your studies, and you get the bed all to yourself for a few days.”

“And what do you get?” She watches him with those keen eyes of hers.

He shrugs. “Time away from all the astute scholars, some fighting here and there and most importantly, no snoring from my partner.”

She smacks him in the shoulder. “I don’t snore!”

“Yes you do, Volkihar.” He laughs. “I think you’re going to miss my bedtime stories and wake up calls.”

“I won’t.” She growls and stomps off, but he can feel the amusement toiling beneath the surface.

 

---

 

Serana knew why he prodded her. It was to lessen the blow of his absence. Well, he’d have to do better than that. In truth, she would have fought more to go with him if she weren’t so exhausted. Instead, she watches him wave before his departure with Dawn right behind him. Serana waves back.

“Worried about their journey? I can send more thralls with them.” Phinis tells her.

She shakes her head, “I don’t think that’s necessary. I don’t know if it would help.”

“I suppose. They could turn…” He looks down at her with those dark eyes of his. “Speaking of, how are your studies?”

“Fine. I haven’t practiced much since the other day.” She tries not to think on it.

“I could have Faralda help us. As the professor of Destruction, she might be the most useful if the thralls turn on us.”

She considers, “Actually, I was hoping we could work on the Soul Cairn. I want to open that portal as soon as we can.”

Phinis nods. “Why not both? I have all day free and I’m sure I can drag Tolfdir away from his fascination with that orb, even just for a few hours.”

“That works. There’s some ingredients and herbs I’ll need…”

“Try Savos Aren’s garden. He wouldn’t mind if you looked there.” Phinis tells her.

Her brow furrows. “Really?”

“Sure. Whatever you need, we are at your disposal.”

Phinis’s words should have calmed her, but as she moved through the elaborate garden in the Arch-Mage’s quarters Serana couldn’t help but think she was missing something important. The amulet she swiped from Ancano burned in her pocket. Meanwhile, she was waiting for another word from Mannimarco. Now that he’s spoken to her, she wonders why he hasn’t spoken again. Unless he physically can’t.

It was like another soul was in the room. She couldn’t smell anyone as she picked some deathbells, but she could feel them. She glanced around. Half-expecting Mannimarco’s shade to be there. Instead, something caws above her.

Her head snaps up and she jumps back just in time to see the raven drop its letter. It should have just flown off, thinking on it, she’s not sure how it got in this room in the first place. But the bird swallows itself up in a purple orb.

There’s no way this wasn’t from mother. It was just like her to do something like this. Her heart is still racing but she scrambles across the way to pluck the note from a tangle of thorns. Serana’s hands tremble as she opens the carefully creased paper. She has to keep from gasping at the contents.

He knows where you are, and he will be there soon.

 

---

 

A few days later, Vorstag finally was in Mzulft. It was somewhat difficult getting entrance, but he was actually happy Dawn was here with him. She sniped all the enemies she could from afar while he used his bow and arrows. Right in the ruins, he found exhaustion creeping in, so they slept there for the night. Well, he did. He wasn’t really sure if the thrall could sleep, and he didn’t ask.

Sometimes he talked to her, but mostly he stayed silent. She never said anything back, so it was like he was talking to himself. The next day, they set out to search the belly of Mzulft and find all it had to offer.

He ducks as another firebolt flies above him. It sails right into a Falmer that was trying to rearrange it’s bow to kill Vorstag. Good for him. He leaps over the fray and tears into a Falmer with his dagger and throws it into the one with electricity. There was always a mage Falmer in the group. Contrary to popular belief, these creatures did have a sort of hierarchy. He thought he might look that up next time he was in the College library. It would be better than sleeping on the table.

Fangs latch onto his throat. He hadn’t felt that in so long. He pulls the Falmer from him and with his newfound strength and flings the creature against the wall. It falls down with more than a few broken bones.

He stands panting. Dawn circles the room and kills off any stragglers she can. Vorstag searches the bodies around him but soon climbs the steps to one of those gilded doors. “Come now, Dawn, we don’t have much further to go.” He calls, “I can feel it.”

He throws open the door only to find another. Instead, this time, when he pushes on the door there’s a voice on the other side. “Gavros? Is that you? I’d almost given up hope.” The voice sounds relieved. “Let me get the door…”

Vorstag doesn’t have time to find cover, the door swings open and on the other side stands a mage with hands filling with flames. “Who are you? Where’s Gavros?”

The man he saw in the begging. “Unfortunately, Gavros is dead.” Vorstag begins, worried about what this man might think.

“It was the Falmer, wasn’t it? Curse them! They’ve ruined everything!” He complains. “If Gabros is gone, there is no hope. He was supposed to return with the crystal…without that, all our efforts are wasted. And you. If you’re here for treasure, or wisdom, or anything. I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.” The man continues to ramble. Talking about a crystal and the way they traveled here. But Vorstag only focuses on that small key piece of information. A crystal. He saw something like that on the way in.

“I seem to have found some focusing crystals, could that be what you were looking for?” He interrupts the man.

“You found…how in the world…that’s it! That’s it! I don’t know who you are, but you may have just saved this little project… speaking of, who are you?” He asks.

Vorstag thinks on that question. “I’m from the College of Winterhold.”

The man’s face seems to fall, from what Vorstag can see in this dim lighting. “You are, are you? Savos wouldn’t even grant us an audience when we came to you. But now you came here expecting something from me? I don’t like this much, but I’ll tell you. You saved my skin, so maybe I could overlook the past for now. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

Vorstag follows diligently, with one last look at Dawn. He finds she follows along closely. The man doesn’t even notice her, he just prattles on about what they were working on and how the crystals work within this labyrinth like room.

Vorstag gapes at it. The soaring ceiling isn’t really a ceiling. He was in some sort of contraption. The Dwemer were very, very intelligent people. It was a shame they were eradicated. These historical findings were the best glimpses into the Dwemer the modern world had. 

He was directed to help refocus the crystals in the center, which would then move the light just so. Vorstag found himself sorely disappointed when the man who was named Paratus had nothing for him but a map of Tamirel on the wall and a spouting of riddles.

Vorstag almost, almost, wanted to rip his throat out for his arrogant demeanor and the waste of time. Instead, he turned and walked right out of Mzulft with Dawn on his heels. All while the man continued to talk.  

“Sorry Dawn, it looks like our time adventuring is not done yet. We need to find this Labyrinthian as soon as we can. But first, let’s not keep our lady Serana waiting.” He sighs, sheathes his blade, and begins the long trek back to Winterhold.

 

---

 

“Why is he here?” Ancano sneers.

The shadows move in the mist before him. A dark laugh meets him. “Why, Ancano, don’t let old emotions get the best of you. Quaranir here is quite adept at what I need.” Mannimarco says from his throne.

Ancano glances at the man in robes. This was the very monk he took Serana and Vorstag to see, Quaranir wouldn’t tell him a thing of why he was there in the Arch-Mage’s quarters. But now? Now, he has the audacity to be here and in the presence of Mannimarco?

“I brought him here.” The necromancer reminds him.

Ancano snaps out of his haze. “For what?”

The sorcerer hasn’t even moved, hasn’t turned his head to acknowledge Ancano, not once. Mannimarco leans forwards in his throne, “That is not your concern, Ancano. I am making a deal. That is for me to know.” His smile was…oh, it was evil.

Chills run up Ancano’s spine. “What shall I do now?”

“Now? Now, you do what you were planning before I came and ‘muddled your plans’ I think you know what that is.” Mannimarco goads him. Ancano glances at the sorcerer again. If he knew what he had planned for the College.

Mannimarco flicks a hand at him in dismissal. “Go. I have no need for your presence.”

“But. What of the amulet?” Ancano asks.

Mannimarco watches him. “Good job with that. Now that she has it in her pocket I will know where she is at all times. She doesn’t know you know it’s gone?”

“No, sir. I won’t say a word. I’ll be too busy for it.”

Mannimarco gives him a tight smile. “I’m sure you will be. Go. Walk back into the mist and you will awake. I have business to attend with Quaranir.”

Ancano gives them both one last look. One heated one at the sorcerer and a more…respectful one to Mannimarco. Maybe he did get more out of this bargain than he thought. He laughs softly to himself. Quaranir here might not be as lucky. Hopefully, not. Ancano walks through back into the mist and feels the coolness seep into him.

When he wakes, he feels refreshed and renewed instead of fearful and stressed. He watches the light play on the ceiling, just basks in the glory of the day. Today was ripe for the taking. Everything he laid out so meticulously was about to come to fruition. As long as no one got in his way.

Chapter 10: Containment

The sun graced the College of Winterhold. Bright, white light, seared down onto the fortress-like structure and made it seem…warmer in a way. Vorstag had thought he’d miss that sunshine more. Sometimes he holds a hand out to the soft beams of light, just to check if it still burns. Unfortunately, it does, but it never burns never as bad as it burns Eve or Serana.

It was probably because he was a vampire who was very different form the others. One graced by the Lord of vampires himself. Champion of Molag Bal. He never got much information from the Daedric Prince. He never was taught to fly with the gifts he had, he was just pushed out of the nest and expected to survive.

 Maybe there were some perks to that title, he noted with dark amusement. He took his time traversing the bridge to the fortress, Dawn at his heels. He looked around curiously when the courtyard came into view. He was gone for exactly five days. So there was no way Serana would have left to find him, whether she was joking or not. But she was nowhere to be found.

He checked their room and found it completely barren. Only the sheets were slightly ruffled, as if someone slept in that bed the night before. At least she was getting good sleep. He thought he would go check the Hall of the Elements then maybe the library. She was sure to be holed up there.

Wrong again. She was right in front of the classroom, her shoulders hunched over and arms crossed. She looks at him in surprise and longing when he walks in. An expression that makes his heart leap.

“I’m back.” He gives her the cheeriest of grins. Thank the gods he didn’t stutter. “But I have bad news, the Staff of Magnus was not there. It’s said to be in Labyrinthian.” He spies Mirabelle and the Arch-Mage at the door. And further on, a swirling blue light, barring them from entering.

“Troubles for another time, I suppose.” Mirabelle gives him a grim look. “I’m not sure what’s happened but someone is casting a spell in here to keep us out.” She nods her head to the lecture hall.

“It’s Ancano.” Serana says, solemnly. “I can hear him in there.”

“Did he do anything to you?” Vorstag asks, instantly.

“No. I’m just not sure where Tolfdir is.” She pleads with him with her eyes, saying don’t say too much.

He obliges. “I don’t care what it is, I want it down now!” Savos yells. “I want to know what he’s doing in there.”

“Very well.” Mirabelle gives him a dissatisfied look but holds out her hand to break down the spell with one of her own.

“I don’t know what he’s doing but he won’t get away with it.” Savos mutters. “Help us through this wall, will you two?” He asks them. His sharp eyes linger on Vorstag’s armor and weapons strapped to his belt and back.

Vorstag doesn’t know too much in the way of magic, but he does call flames to his left hand and pulls out a short sword with his right. Serana holds up her hands, flaming with fire and ice. They both fling their magic at the wall while Savos sends electricity that way.

Too soon, the wall falls and the others flood the room. Vorstag is fast on their heels. He extinguishes his magic and focuses only on his weapons. As he slowly inches around the orb, he finds Ancano is throwing all his magic at it.

“Ancano! Stop this at once! I command you!” Savos yells into the flurry of wind.

“Don’t go near him.” Mirabelle warns.

That does not stop Savos Aren. Even with a dark laugh from Ancano as warning, he pushes forwards He waltzes right up to Ancano and the rest of the world turns to light and air.

 

---

 

Serana woke up today worried about Vorstag and worried about the Soul Cairn. They were so close in building the portal and getting the ingredients right. Tolfdir said she just had to get the spell and runes around it placed just right.

That was all she was thinking about today. She never thought she’d be waking up again on the lecture hall floor with a worried Mirabelle in front of her. “Wake up. I need you on your feet. We’re in trouble here.” She shakes her knee with a cold hand.

“I think I’m alright.” Serana moves her arms and legs. Fingers and toes. Nothing seemed to be broken.

“Ancano is doing something with that thing…the Eye. We can’t stop him! I haven’t seen Savos since the explosion. He must’ve been blown clear, and he may be injured. I need you find the Arch-Mage, and I need you to do it quickly. Get moving!” Mirabelle commands.

Rough hands pull Serana up and along with him. “Doing alright, Volkihar?” Vorstag asks.

“Yeah, just a little bit dazed.” She admits, she pauses, getting lost in his dazzling eyes. He sets her down gently and she has to resist the urge to step away from him. To be so close…he was distracting.  

“Dazed is fine, just don’t get confused.” He laughs, if only to ease her nerves. He grabs her hand and pulls her along with him. They wander the room but find no one else about, so they go to the courtyard.

“By the Nine…” Tolfdir exclaims. He wanders up to them with a shocked expression on his face.

“Tolfdir! You’re fine.” Serana pulls out of Vorstag’s hold to go see the professor.

“What happened in there?” He asks with worry in his eyes.

“It’s Ancano. He’s done something with the Eye.” Serana tells him. She wonders how Toldfir feels, she never really got his opinion on the Altmer. And knowing the sweet professor of Alteration, he probably didn’t harbor any unkind feelings for him.

“Is he responsible for this? The Arch-Mage, dead?” He asks. Serana’s chest tightens at that revelation. “There’s more.” Tolfdir continues, “Something’s happened to Winterhold. It must be whatever Ancano did. You need to get out there and make sure it’s safe. Quickly now! Quickly           I’ll find Mirabelle and see if we can’t put a stop to this.”

Serana glances down and sees it. The Arch-Mage’s body. She swallows hard. “Vorstag.”

He sees it too. “Just keep walking. Remember, Winterhold needs us.”

The world was a haze of commotion and lights until Serana and Vorstag found Faralda on the bridge. She commanded them to follow her, immediately and in the town, Serana found some sort of daedric curse had been set free. Glowing orbs floated around to terrorize Winterhold. It was up to her and Vorstag to kill them.

Good thing they were adept at that.

It didn’t take long, only twenty or so minutes. Once Vorstag pulled his sword free and Serana lowered her flaming hands, they gave each other a look and without word, walked back up to the College. Faralda stayed behind to deal the carnage.

“Is everything out there alright?” Mirabelle greets them.

Serana stops, feeling the growing ache in her legs. Maybe she got more banged up than she thought. “All the bad creatures are gone.”

“Wish I could say the same for us.” Mirabelle sighs. “Tolfdir and I can try and keep this contained. You need to get your hands on the Staff of Magnus. Now.”

Vorstag nods. “We’ll head off to Labyrinthian right away.”

Mirabelle blinks rapidly. “Wait. I must not have heard you right the first time. Are you sure? The Staff is there? That can’t be a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Serana asks.

“The Arch-Mage. He gave me something a little while ago. He told me it was from Labyrinthian and that I would know what to do with it when the time came. I think…he meant this for you then. I’m not sure why but there was something very personal about it for him. I think you should take this amulet. It belonged to Savos. But I think it would do you the most good now.” She hands it to Serana. “Take it and get out of here. Bring back that Staff before Ancano brings the whole College down around us.”

“We will.” Serana promises and follows Vorstag out to the courtyard. “How long to get to Labyrinthian?”

“A few days. It’s near Morthal.” Vorstag pauses, “Are you up for this? You can stay…I’m not sure what else you need for the Soul Cairn.”

Serana shakes her head. “Tolfdir and Phinis are busy with Ancano, I’ll go with you.”

Vorstag just gives a brief smile and grabs her hand to pull her along. “Alright, Volkihar, but run fast. I need to make sure you keep up with me.”

Some sort of tension began to loosen in her chest. She laughed along with him but showed him just who he was challenging.

 

---

 

“Mirabelle was right, this place is a madhouse.” Serana grunt as she throws another firebolt. It took a few days, as Vorstag predicted it would, but it was fairly easy to get into Labyrinthian. They just had to avoid the few frost trolls patrolling around. And the ghosts.

“We’ll make it through, Vokihar, just keep raising all that you can.” Vorstag swings his broadsword over head before slicing through a draugr.

“Doesn’t help if they’re torn to pieces.” She mutters.

Vorstag just gives her a charming smile. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep them in one piece next time.”

“You better.” Serana casts a spell, bringing a new form to life. A familiar. The wolf-like creature howls before racing into the next room to tear into their enemies.

“Learning a lot.” Vorstag whistles.

“As much as I can.” She beams a smile at him and races into the next room.

“Wait.” Vorstag sees it before she does. “See the energy over there?”

Serana peers through the dark room, the only light to greet them was emitted from a Dragon Priest. “So, one of those again.” She says, darkly.

“We can fight him from afar. Can you raise more?” He looks over to her.

 She only grins. “I can raise the worst Oblivion has to offer. I just need to make sure I banish them at the right moment.”

A quick few spells and soon some rickety bonemen were walking over to where the Dragon Priest hovered. When he sighted them, he began blasting them with his power. The same power Vorstag was nearly killed by in Lorred’s camp.

The mercenary nocks and arrow in his bow and pulls tightly. He didn’t want to waste too many arrows. So, he has to make it count.

The Dragon Priest was growing increasingly anxious, flinging all the power he can at the numerous bonemen that kept coming his way. “Keep bringing them forth, it’s working.” Vorstag whispers.

Another spell cast was the only acknowledgement he got from Serana. He waits. When the Dragon Priest moved right into his sight, he let the arrow fly free. A keen screech echoes through the cavern. Vorstag ducks, along with Serana, when the explosion of power happens. But they’re far enough away it doesn’t do much besides rattle their weapons.

“Come on. Keep your eyes on the shadows, I’m not sure if anything else is here with us.” Vorstag reminds her.

They creep through the room. And thankfully, the only other creatures with them were Dawn and the familiar Serana called. All the bonemen fell to dust after a short period of time.

“There.” Serana breathes. She races up and it takes a lot of effort from Vorstag to not warn her to touch that Staff without him. But she does, and nothing happens.

“Here we go. Now we can get home.” She smiles at Vorstag, and he returns it.

 

---

 

A few tricky corridors later, they were almost to the exit. Serana could feel it. She keeps the Staff of Magnus held tightly in her hand. The next room they enter, she lets out a breath of relief. No deathlords in here.

Instead, they find a man donned in robes much like the Altmer mage back at the College. “So, you made it out of there alive. Ancano was right…you are dangerous.” He holds two ice spells in either hand. Vorstag moves just so he was in front of Serana and she backs up to get a better view of the potential enemy.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take that Staff from you now. Ancano wants it kept safe…oh, and he wants you dead.” The Altmer man smiles in the most disturbing way.

“You picked the wrong people to kill.” Vorstag says, unceremoniously, and plunges his blade through the Altmer. Serana gasps at the brashness of it. She saw Eve fight a few times, in a very dirty manner, killing all those that fought and who didn’t. But this guy, he barely pulled his hands up to cast a spell. He could have been reasoned with.  

“Let’s go.” Vorstag nods to her. She watches the man’s body crumple to the ground but says nothing. Only follows the mercenary out of the labyrinth.  

 

---

 

Winterhold was alive with people for once. Serana watched everyone emerge from the Inn and their various shops and homes to gape at the College. They had good reason to. The swirling winds Ancano had summoned were howling along the bridge.

“What do we do?” Vorstag asks her.

She studies the winds. They could walk through it, but even with vampire strength there was no way they would be able to stay on the bridge. They could scale up the side of the foundations, however.

Don’t be silly. I allowed you to get that Staff, so you might as well use it. The voice, or Mannimarco, speaks in her mind.

She goes rigid at the sound of his voice. But he was right. If what saved the College was in her hands, then she should use it. “Stay behind me.” She says to Vorstag.

He does as directed and she hears Dawn further behind him. She thought…maybe she had to say something. Like casting a spell. But just holding the Staff up parted the winds.

“By Talos.” Vorstag whispers.

She laughs, “This Staff is more powerful than we thought.”

“Seems like it, hopefully it’s enough to deal with the traitor in there. I’ll stay next to you the whole time.” He reminds her.

With that thought calming her, she races ahead across the vast bridge and soon, they break into the Hall of the Elements.

“You again!” Sneers Ancano, Serana flinches. He looks ghastly. He keeps his hands outstretched before him with a continuous stream of power running from them. His skin is pale and sweat streams down his face from exertion. His eyes glow with madness. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? You think I can’t destroy you?” He yells over the magic blaring through the room. “The power to unmake the world at my fingertips and you think you can do anything about it?”

Serana has to compose herself when they round the orb and find Ancano throwing all his power into it. His eyes and expression were positively mad. He was insane.

A firebolt goes sailing over her head, she turns, thinking it was Dawn, instead she finds her professor. “Tolfdir!”

“I’m here. And I’m going to help you stop this monster.” He yells. He has on the most beautiful of robes, enough to give him power in destruction magic.

“Ugh, you. All of you. All of you just had to help her!” Ancano sneers. “If I didn’t have you in the way, this would have gone much more smoothly.”

Serana wishes to ask him more. What that shade of Mannimarco was, why he took them on a tour of his life and legacy. But Tolfdir keeps her focused. “The Staff! Use it on the Eye!” He yells to her.

"Even now you persist!” Ancano yells at them. Before Serana can do anything, Ancano sends a spell through the room, paralyzing both Vorstag and Tolfdir and sending them to the ground.

She looks down at the Staff grasped tightly in her hands and finds the light from the runes shining through her armor. The light doesn’t stop there though, it snakes up to the Staff so it is now engulfed in purple and white light.

Ancano goes back to throwing electricity at the orb but she wasn’t done yet. Serana holds up the Staff, calling as much power as she can to it and sending it all forth from her being. It was harder than she thought. There was a resistance against this kind of magic, it was almost shoving it back to her. The orb begins to move and take shape into something else.

“You!” Ancano flies at her. She only has time to react defensively. She can’t save him even if she wanted to. She turns and launches whatever magic was from the Staff into him. He screams, so loudly since he is so close, she fears her eardrums might burst. But soon he falls dead to the ground.

“Serana.” Vorstag calls to her. She turns to find him just standing and helping Tolfdir up. “I knew you could do it!” He cheers her on.

Serana looks down the dead Altmer. Her hands were trembling but…she did the right thing. He couldn’t be allowed to live after everything he’s done. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” She mutters as she moves to greet them. “What do we need to do now?”

“I’m not sure. Ancano is gone, but whatever he’s done to the Eye doesn’t seem to have stopped.” Tolfdir nods to the orb. “I will show Mirabelle and we will discuss where to go from here.”

It was still swirling and changing shape before their very eyes. Serana glances down and still finds the Staff, and her arms, are glowing.

“Is that from the Staff?” Vorstag asks her.

“I think so. I’m not sure.” Serana says.

“Your magic and skills are quite adept.” Tolfdir compliments her. “Have you tried opening the Soul Cairn by yourself?”

Her head snaps up. She never thought…“You think I could?”

“Well, I was puzzling over it and it makes the most logical sense that you would be able to open it. Without any other spell or incantation. You have the runes placed and the ingredients stirred. I don’t see why you can’t try.” He gives her one of those cheery smiles.

She’s flustered now. Why didn’t she think of it before? It does, it makes perfect sense. “I’ll be back. I need to go!” She yells and races out the Hall of the Elements, Vorstag right behind her.

“Good luck to the both of you! Don’t hesitate to call on me if you have questions!” Tolfdir waves them off.

Serana only yells back a short “thanks” before racing into the Hall of Countenance and up the spiraling stairs. “Wait, Volkihar.” Vorstag calls. “Where are we going?”

“I placed it up here, it was the only place we could put it without Mirabelle interfering.” Serana keeps good pace and once outside, in the darkening skies, she stares down at the makeshift portal. The frame was perfect, only a slight dusting of snow was left on it from a previous storm. Below, the runes were burned into the ground and her ingredients were placed in a bowl on the nearby pedestal.

“Are you sure you want to do this now? We haven’t gotten much rest. We might need it.” Vorstag warns.

“I want to.” She says, remembering her mother’s face. She’s almost forgotten her father’s by now and doesn’t want to wait another day to see her mother’s again. It’s been long enough already.

“Place these ingredients in when I say so.” She commands Vorstag.

He only looks down on her with softening eyes and smiles. “I will. Be careful.”

She paces around the portal, slowly, and closes her eyes. Please let this work. She prays to whoever is listening.

No one answered but no one had to. “Do it now.” She nods to Vorstag.

He turns the bowl in his hands, letting the ingredients fall into the portal field. And then Serana burns brighter, like a star.

She points the Staff of Magnus right in the center and focuses all her magic on the portal. Please, let it work. She prays. Please.

The purple light burns so brightly, it was almost white. Serana almost closes her eyes but decides to watch the light. It sears her retinas and when the power finally fades and she sinks to the ground in relief.

To have all that power expelled…it took it out of her.

“Damn it. It didn’t do a thing.” Vorstag walks over to her but she catches her breath when she sees it.

Nothing. There was nothing in the portal, the flowers and herbs were scattered on the ground and the runes were still burned into the floor, still inactive.

“Why didn’t it work?” She croaks.

Vorstag kneels next to her and rubs her shoulder. “Maybe you’re spent from that fight with Ancano.”

“I need to see her.” She cries. Vorstag watches her with a soft expression. “I know. We can try again tomorrow. You need to rest.”

She wanted, with all her being, to try again. But he was right. A little rest would do them good. Especially after the non-stop trek to Labyrinthian and back.

Vorstag just holds out his hand and she takes it, allowing him to pull her up from the frosty ground. “Alright?” He asks her after her unsteady standing.

“Just a little lightheaded. I’ll be okay.” She reassures him.

“I can carry you.”

She pauses. She should just walk but… “I’d like that.”

Vorstag smiles, “Look at me, carrying a full-fledged princess around.” He picks her up and cradles her form against his chest. She feels his muscular arms aren’t even straining to hold her, Staff and all.

“I’m not a princess, remember.” She laughs.

“You are to me.” He says, offhandedly.

She clutches the Staff to her more tightly. That…that had to be one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever said to her. “Really?”

“Of course.” She expected him to say something snide like, I wait on you hand and foot and follow you everywhere. But the man surprises her. “I knew you were special from the start, when we first met. I know we’ve only gotten to know each other during difficult times. When we were at war with the Dragonborn and fleeing for our lives, not sure what the next day would bring. And every time those challenges threaten to bring me back down…you helped me keep stable.” He keeps his eyes on the path ahead of them. They were almost to the Hall of Attainment. Almost to their room.

She lays there, in his arms, shocked. “How did I do that?”

He ponders, “You kept me smiling, kept me laughing. That was what I needed. Gave me someone to look after, I guess.”

Her cheeks warm at that. “I’m no damsel in distress you know.”

He laughs and slowly sets her down at the front of the great door. “I know. I’m not either, but I’ve needed help before and you came to the rescue. Gods…” He runs a thumb along her cheek in a caress. “I didn’t know you had such power. You, my dear, are no damsel.”

Maybe it was the aftereffects of battle, the shock and exhaustion, but Serana couldn’t hold back her emotions anymore. Not one bit. She immediately threw her arms around the mercenary before her and pulled him down to her. He went without resistance. Falling into her embrace. She kissed him with such passion. All that emotion she felt for him over these past few months came rushing out. It was like she bottled it up and didn’t really know she had it.

He pushes the door open and walks them into their room, all with his hands on her. On her back, running up her shoulders and down even lower. She keeps her lips on his, feeling the softness of them and teasing them with her tongue. Soon, he lowers her to the bed.

She pulls him down, running her hands up and down his armor. Gods…it was as if she could get drunk off of one person. And all they’ve done so far was kiss.

“You okay with this?” She asks him as he begins to move his armor.

“Are you?” He quirks a brow.

“I…I’ve wanted this for awhile but I’m now just realizing it.” She tells him.

That stops him in his tracks. Instead of taking off the armor, he lowers himself, kisses her until she’s drunk and needy for more, then pulls away slowly. “Serana Volkihar. From the day I first saw you, I knew I was going to have you. Not as a lover, not as a one-time thing. I want you. For as long as I can have you.” His eyes burn into hers. Forever.

That seemed to be the one word that was hanging between them. She thinks back to her time with him. How he helped her through Skyrim when she wandered it like a lost fawn. Helped her now, with finding her mother. And thinking of anyone else…anyone else she could have and keep as a lover or friend. She wouldn’t want anyone else.

“I want you too. I never want to leave your side.” She vows.

That was all he needed to hear, apparently. He pulls her to him and they begin twining with one another. Teeth, lips, and hands all over each other. Vorstag moves his hands against her, pulling on her clothing and jewelry. He seemed to want her completely bare. She let him take those precious things off her. Her rings, her armor, the amulet that Ancano was so foolish to drop. She barely glances at it as he drops it to the floor.

Vorstag moves across the bed to her again. She was still halfway clothed, just as he was, but they couldn’t take it anymore. Vorstag runs his hands along her, from her hips, slowly up her back, before curling his hands around her face. His lips find hers again and by the gods, she’s lost. Serana has an instant to think between the moments of intoxicating haze of him. I’ve found my home.

 

---

 

Like a sign from the gods above, a bright flare crashes into the portal. Lighting, blazing and quick, strikes the frame, coaxing it to life. Finally. The flimsy makeshift frame and snow dusted exterior shines, lighting up the center.

He steps out. Walking between worlds can be…difficult and painful at times. But he ignores it for now. It doesn’t hurt as much as what he’s about to do.

He’s about to break his bride’s heart.

Mannimarco pulls his robes out of the snow and walks, with sharp, purposeful, strides down the stairs. No one looks his way and that is not from sheer luck. He made sure to have a spell nice and tight on the inhabitants of the College of Winterhold.

It takes some restraint not to kill them when he sees them. These kinds of people recoil at those as powerful as him. They would do whatever they could to kill him. That is, if they had the means.

He smirks but that humor is short lived. Especially when he’s right in front of their room. He shoves open the large iron door, sending it slamming against the wall of the Hall of Attainment. The rustling stops. As it should. He slowly walks around the way, giving them time to make themselves decent. Not that they got far, from what he could see.

“Serana, sweet Serana.” He greets her with a slight smile. He wasn’t happy with this. Wasn’t happy with her right now, but he had to show some sort of endearment on their first meeting.

She watches him with the widest of eyes from that painfully small bed. Her armor is scuffed but not torn from her.

“Don’t you dare.” The vampire man with her begins. He blocks her from Mannimarco’s view, his fangs are bared and his right hand clamors for a sword.

“Testy one.” Mannimarco licks his lips and throws a firebolt at that sword, sending it across the way. The vampire only lunges for the necromancer, fangs extended. “Enough!” Mannimarco holds out his hand, grasping the vampire man by the throat and throwing him against the stone wall. All the pathetic beast can do is struggle. Mannimarco tightens his grip on him. Not even the most powerful of vampires could break out of his grasp.

“Stop! You’re hurting him!” Serana pleads. She slowly moves off the bed with her palms up. “Stop.”

Mannimarco’s dark eyes move to hers. “Or what? Why should I let him live? He wanted to ravage you.”

“No…” She stops herself. She’s holding her tongue. “I was…making a mistake but it was mine alone.”

The man seems to stop his struggling against the wall. How nice.

“Is that so? You know I’m not here to be embroiled in a petty feud. I’m here for you.” Mannimarco reminds her.

“I know.” She says, still looking him in the eye.

Mannimarco smiles, his white hair slides over his armor as he moves closer to the man flailing about on the wall. “Should I be done with this maggot then? Kill him here so you don’t ever have to see him again?”

“No.” She says, plainly.

The necromancer tightens his grip further, sending the man into a full on fit. “Drop it.” He commands her.

Serana drops the Staff of Magnus, she was pulling up to her, and she thought he didn’t notice. “Don’t fight me and I’ll let him live.” He makes the offer.

Her eyes dart to the vampire on the wall. Calculating. Mannimarco isn’t pleased with that. She wants this creature to live. He pulls on the spell further and digs his fingers into his throat.

The man bucks and thrashes, his strength brings dust and rock down from the wall. Mannimarco had to admit, he did put up a good fight. He just wants to see how far he can push him…eventually the pressure will allow blood to spill.

“I’ll go with you.” Serana blurts out.

The man falls to the floor, his head on his chest before he slowly sinks down. Serana looks as if she wants to help him but she thinks better about it. Mannimarco watches her. “Are you sure? Be absolutely certain, it will be hard to bring you back to this plane of existence.”

“What options do I have?” She asks. Poor dear, she’s trying so hard not to gawk at the man on the ground. Her eyes remained on Mannimarco. He gives her a calm smile.

Stalling. That’s what she was doing. “I cannot let him live. I only will if you are not in the same realm as him. If you wish for us to stay in Skyrim, just say the word and I’ll be done with him.” His hands fill with an inferno of fire just to show her how much he means it.

“I’ll go. Just let him be.” She says softly.

Mannimarco is disappointed, yet again. He was hoping she would have bonded enough with this province she that wanted to stay. How unfortunate. “Fine. Follow me, we have a ways to go before we get there.”

 

---

 

Serana takes one last longing look at Vorstag. By the gods, she wanted to tear into Mannimarco with all her power, kill him for what he did to Vorstag. But she knows if she did, he could kill her lover.

“Serana.” Vorstag’s eyes meet hers. They’re desperately pleading with her. She watches his body, how weak and fragile he was under Mannimarco’s control. Even with the Staff of Magnus, they would not have a chance.

Even as her heart pounds, it is close to breaking. She memorizes Vorstag’s lovely face. His soulful eyes. The beautiful mouth and hair. “I’m sorry. I can’t risk you. I’ll look for her.” She promises him, thinking it was better not to mention her mother in the necromancer’s presence.

“Please.” Vorstag pleads, he tries to move but appears to be too weak.

“I’ll see you again.” She promises. And with that, she walks out the door after the necromancer, leaving the newfound string to her heart in pieces on the other side.

 

---

 

He can’t let her go. He just can’t. After being thrown against the wall and left with numerous broken bones, Vorstag shouldn’t be moving. He should get a healing potion and alert Mirabelle. But then he might lose her.

In this room with her so close to him, so perfectly fitting against him, he poured out his heart to her. He was shocked but overjoyed to find that she returned those sentiments. Now that he found someone like her…he couldn’t lose her.   

Vorstag leaps up and grabs the Staff of Magnus from where Serana left it. Before he races out the door. He also puts on that strange amulet from Ancano. He’s still not sure what in Oblivion it does, but anything will help. Then on shaking and still healing legs, he races up to follow them. Their scent is still fresh, leading up the staircase to where he and Serana were hours before.

“Stop!” Vorstag yells.

Mannimarco, the evil creature, looks over his shoulder. He has Serana by her hand and they were just at the edge of the now active portal.

“Or what vampire?” He growls in amusement.

Vorstag didn’t know how to use the damn thing, all he knew was to point and shoot. He holds the Staff from him and prays. Mara, Talos, help me.

A searing light goes shooting from it. It crashes into Mannimarco but it is as if he was made of stone. A deep laugh escapes him. “Try better next time.”

Vorstag didn’t even blink. He only had one moment to look to Serana, see how worried and frightened she was, before the magic came sailing back into him. It was like being hit by a tree while riding your horse at full speed. The momentum was so powerful, it sent him sailing through the air and falling to the cold ground below.

Snow floats around him as he blinks out the haze. With the still healing bones…he could barely move. But he had to try, by Talos he did.

“I would stop while you’re ahead.” Mannimarco drawls. Vorstag flinches from the proximity. It was as if the necromancer was by the portal one moment, then by his body the next.

He leans down, his snow-white hair falling on Vorstag’s armor, and he whispers. “Don’t do that again. I commend your bravery, but it won’t end well. You have bigger problems, anyways. You might want to find the Master Wizard. Soon.” He chuckles.

Vorstag snatches the air, trying to grasp a handful of that cold white hair to smash the necromancer’s head in. But he was gone.

No. No. No. Vorstag groans as he pulls himself up. A quick healing spell helps things…somewhat. He races to the pillar where the portal was and without further thought, he uses his strength to carve out holds for his hands.

Slowly but surely, he scales the wall. He didn’t want to risk the few precious seconds it would have taken to run inside and go up the stairs…but when he arrives, he finds the portal is dead.

His heart is leaping out of his chest. It should still be alive. Portals don’t close that quickly. What was it Ancano said about Mannimarco?

He was a god. And gods can do things that bend time and space if they willed it.

Vorstag falls to his knees, sobs threatening to burst through him. She went with him. Out of some stupid sense of honor. She wanted to save him, and he didn’t even get to tell her it didn’t matter. He would rather be tortured by Mannimarco in whatever way. Just as long as she got away from him.

He sits there in his desperation. Trying to think of a way out, a way to stop him. Then he remembers. Mirabelle.

The mercenary once again, leaps from the great height to land in the courtyard. He races across the small path to the Hall of the Elements and bursts through the door. What he finds isn’t what he expected.

His breath catches. His heart sinks even further.

On the other side of the room, right in front of the still glowing orb stands the man in those elaborate yellow robes. The one from the Psijic Order who would only speak to Serana. And to his left stood a great beast towering a good four feet above him. Long, ropey, muscles shone in the bright blue light. His dark skin was like spilled ink that wrapped around the creature like thin paper, the bones of his face were prominent. Weapons kept tight against him. His eyes were horrible. Evil things filled with a promise for the worst to come. The gargoyle-like creature smiled.

“Good to see you again, boy. I was told you were in these parts. And I thought I would take a little break out of my busy schedule.” Molag Bal grins, showing his ever-sharp fangs. “I’ve come to request the services of my Champion.”

Vorstag’s heart drops. “I can’t. I’m not bound to you anymore. You set me free.” He reminds the Prince of Enslavement.

The Prince tilts his head, those terrifying eyes glare down at him. “And you think I wouldn’t revoke that? I made you. I own you.”

There was nothing left to do but run. Instinct took over, like a fleeting bird his chest, it told him to run. He scrambles across the room, feeling every second it took and every beat of his feet on the ground.

And it was useless. Sharp claws dig into his shoulders, rake down his back and plunge into his armor. “No!” Vorstag yells as his grip on one of his dagger’s falters. It falls to the ground and recedes as his form goes up, up into the ceiling. They should have hit it and broken through but instead, something pulled them along to somewhere else.

A chasm of sorts, just the wrong side up. Upside down. Just like Coldharbour.

One of the darkest planes of Oblivion beckoned Vorstag. And he could do nothing as it swallowed him whole.

Chapter 11: Part three: Reunited

It was surprisingly easy to retrieve his bride. Mannimarco kept his hand in hers as he led her into his realm. She was terribly quiet, but he knew she would be after such and ordeal. She kept her hood up to cover that pretty face of hers, but Mannimarco didn’t mind.

He would see her as often as he could while she stayed in his palace. “I would like to set some ground rules.” He tells her, “First, I am not here to harm you, you can do what you wish here. Secondly, I would like to make sure we at least have two meals a day together. I will have blood supplied and ready for such things. Third, I would like you to relax. This isn’t as serious as everyone has made it out to be.”

Her hand goes rigid.

His eyes find hers. “Do not think of me as a monster. I know what they’ve told you and they’re wrong.”

“How would I know?” She asks, in an icy tone.

“You will get to know me over time.” He promises her. And that was the truth, all he wanted from this, before their vows were to be said, was to have some time with her. He’s grown quite the liking to the little vampire, but she hasn’t had the chance to be in his presence. To truly understand who he was.

“Then what? You force me to marry you?” She snaps. Her eyes blaze with that fire he was becoming all too familiar with.

He gives her a few moments of silence before answering. Enough time for her to think on what she’s said. “I will hope by the time we are to be married you have changed your mind. Instead of seeing me as some despicable creature, you might find me as someone who would be worthy of the title of husband.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just resigns herself. She will come around eventually. Mannimarco just pulls her along, up the gravelly path and finally to the open fields. He can feel her shock when they pause on the tall hill.

Below them, resting along the rolling grassy fields sits a looming estate. Like a large snake, it winds around the hills and crowns them but didn’t take away from the view. Beyond them, he can see the jagged cliffs rising in the distance along with the dancing rainbow of color up above. This land had an odd liking for color and light. One day, the clouds would refract all kinds of colors, as if there were a million suns up in the sky. On others, the day would be as bright and blue as a summer sea.

As for his palace, there were only three stories and one tower. But the gardens were extremely well tended to. Lakes and ponds kept immaculate. The interior held many, many sprawling rooms that would more than accommodate the both of them. One couldn’t see another soul for days if they wished.

But he knows that won’t be the case with her. She won’t need that much convincing. A few short weeks here will have Serana changing her mind. 

Chapter 12: House of Roses

A/N: So sorry for the long wait for this chapter! Life got in the way of writing, like it sometimes does, and my creative motivation was lacking. I felt if I rushed just to hit a deadline it wouldn’t be as enjoyable to write or to read. I plan to get back to writing this fic this week and will hopefully be posting again weekly or bi-weekly! Thank you for your patience and understanding. :) Content warning: gore and graphic violence.

 

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She walked through the grand gardens in a haze. If she were thinking clearly, she would certainly marvel at the vast flower fields that stretched beyond her sight. They were filled with different species and dotted with a rainbow of colors that spread out in each direction. A warm breeze greeted them when they stepped onto the estate. She should be warm. Instead, her head was fuzzy, and her feet were numb. Her hand was ice cold in Mannimarco’s.

All she could think about was Vorstag. He came back for her, even with his broken bones and mangled body. He fought through it. All to save her.

She has to hold back tears, thinking of the power that was thrown at him. That fall. He would survive, gods, she hoped he did. But she wasn’t sure what he could do after. Mannimarco made certain to close the portal swiftly after they stepped foot out of it.

All that stood before her was this sprawling estate with a sky so blue it shouldn’t be real. “What is this place?” She didn’t wish to speak to her captor. She would rather hole herself up in a room, preferably a library, and figure out how to build another portal to the Soul Cairn. She made sure to watch Tolfdir and Phinis’s directions closely as they demonstrated its creation. So, she knew how to make it. She just wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get the right ingredients.

“A little slice of Aetherius.” He murmurs. Serana tilts her head. She wasn’t sure she heard him right, he had to be joking.

“I’m sure.” She whispers while taking in more of the sights. They were just walking onto one of the paths that entered the vast gardens. Wisteria and other plants soared overhead, leaving them basking in a tangle of periwinkle and magenta colors that draped down from above. It left a sweet lasting scent. Leaves shielded the ever present and assaulting sun from sight. Serana quickly checks her hands. It was too bright here and she was too careless, she didn’t even have any gloves to cover them with.

Mannimarco pauses next to one of the ornate fountains that dot this landscape. She barely glances at it and finds the marble carving in the center depicting an Argonian she doesn’t recognize. Out of the weapon they held over their head, water spouted to trickle down the fountain.

“When I say this is a slice of Aetherius I am being genuine.” He notices what took her attention from him.

“H-how?” She asks, gaping at such a thing. Only the gods were known to walk that plane.

He smirks. “They took me for a fool. They never understood what the apotheosis truly meant. Many people, mages and other Altmer, thought I merely became a celestial being and left it at that. No one thought it was real.” He looks around at the blooming pink flowers and purple flora.

Her mouth went dry. It was like she swallowed a handful of chalk. “You’re a divine? One of the nine, or ten?” Serana corrects herself.

His strange pale eyes watch her. “No. They would not accept such a creature as me into their pantheon. I am a lesser god. They didn’t take into consideration that I’ve earned my keep, so I carved out a very small pocket from a realm of Aetherius.”

Serana looks around again and she starts to see it. The scent of the fields and flowers were a little too potent. The sky was incredibly blue. The sounds were…unnatural. “Well, then what is this place called?”

Mannimarco smiles and it is the perfect look of tranquility. “I call this land, Amaranth. The concept of Amaranth is extremely complex and I have many books that might shed some light on the subject. At it’s basic form, Amaranth is said to be the being who dreams up the new world. And that is what I achieved in my time. Not many people can say that.”

Wow. This place, and its inhabitant, sound more like the Cloud District, she thinks. A land of pompous and insufferable people.

“Come now, I have more to show you.” Mannimarco strolls along, at least he had his hands in his pockets. Serana keeps a safe distance from him. “Do you know much about apotheosis? It’s also known as the Walking Ways.”

She shakes her head but realizes he can’t see. “Just the bare minimum, you…well, you fly into the sky and become one with the gods.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound, if he weren’t so terrifying. “Ah. How adorable and quaint. The process is a little more complicated. You have to want it. You have to want to survive the ascent. There are many people who have tried this in our history and only a few greats have made it. Timber Septim became the god Talos after death. Reman Cyrodiil later on was known as the god Reman. The Hero of Kvatch became Sheogorath. Well, his is a little more complicated than a mere ascension…” He trails off. “But many have tried and fallen from the sky. More failures have taken place than successes.”

Serana studies him. How…brave and stupid of him. “What made you think you’d be able to make it through?”

“Because I was meant to be. I knew from when I was very young, I was destined for something great. I had tried for many years to become a powerful being through other means and this was one of the last options I had.” He stops.

Serana does as well. She still marvels at her surroundings. They were now standing in front of a large fountain, almost more like a bathing pool. The short pond spread out for ten or so feet before meeting up with another elaborate sculpture. She squints a little, just so she can see past the glare of the sun staining the shining white marble. And notices…

“That’s Lord Harkon.” Her breath leaves her. She moves closer, but not close enough. When the edge of the marble wall hits her shins, she pauses. This couldn’t be real.

Before he can hold out a hand to her, she pulls up her cloak and steps into the water. It was shallow and easy to wade in. The cool water lapped at her feet as she made her way to the center. By the gods…

Harkon was sitting on his throne. Next to him, stood her mother in all her glory. Well, after seeing her now, Serana knows she is not depicted accurately. Here, she has a more…conservative and uptight look about her. It’s not what she wears, but how she holds herself.

And below them both, kneeling at the foot of the throne and facing the viewer, was Serana herself. Her face was exquisite, more so than what she sees in the mirror, she thinks. She didn’t have that straight of a nose or that high of cheekbones. But watching the statue and the look on her face, Serana glances down.

Dread fills her. The statue version of her was depicted to be holding petals that fell from the flowers surrounding her parents. Instead of petals, though, a black substance was pouring out of her hands.

“Get back!” Mannimarco snaps at her. She hears the sloshing of his feet before she feels it. The black substance hits her and she falls backwards. Her legs have locked into place, she can’t move them, not even if she were to fall back.

Rough hands grab her by the armpits and pull her back from the monstrosity before her. She thrashes. There was no way she was going to let him take her anywhere, not in this state. “Get off me!” She screams.

“I’m helping you.” He growls into her ear. His white hair had spilled over her shoulders and head. He was so close she could feel his heated breath on the skin of her neck. But she could do nothing as he pulled her back to the water’s edge and over the marble step.

She begins to breathe more quickly. Her arms and legs are still locked, along with her spine. She can’t even twist her head to see the daedric creation she was looking at. Mannimarco sits on the edge and pulls her to him.

“Give it a minute. It will go away.” He tells her.

Her breathing was as shallow as the water. “What was that?”

Mannimarco looks down to her, his face was angelic in this light. It brought out the sharp planes and soft lips of his. “A trap. It’s so anyone who I invite in here cannot get to the center of the fountains. I have many of them and they all have this kind of alarm system.”

“What…” Her lips were buzzing. She has the instinctive fear that they might go next. Then, she wouldn’t be able to talk.

“I set that up so anyone who gets into the fountain won’t be walking away without my help.” He studies her. “There is something important going on here, as you’ve probably guessed. In the center of those fountains are statues depicting real people. Inside those statues are a piece of their soul.”

She freezes, it wasn’t that poison keeping her from uttering a word now.

He seems to take notice, a soft smile spreads across his face. “In my long time here, I have made many bargains with many people. While they are being completed, as insurance, I take a piece of their soul. No one is to tamper with it but me. They rest in those statues and are set free once the bargain is complete.”

Her heart was in her chest. He had a piece of her soul…and her father, her mother. “He’s dead.” Is all she manages to get out.

He nods, slowly. “And he is suffering a great deal in a plane of Oblivion. He has this little piece of his soul left. I guess you could say it is keeping him from suffering a worse fate. Most Daedric Princes don’t like to play with tainted souls. Once our bargain is complete, I will set him free to be whole again.”

She blinks, and slowly, moves her fingers. Feeling was coming back at a snail’s pace. “My mother.” Me. She wants to say, but she can’t get the word out.

“Ah, yes. Valerica. She was not a part of the bargain, but your father wanted to show his gratitude to me. He gave me a piece of her soul for safekeeping.”

Horror slowly creeps its way up her spine. She wanted to jump out of his arms and run all the way back to that portal. Anything to get home.

“And you. I’m guessing you know a part of your soul is here.” He smiles, it’s meant to be charming but it only looks grotesque in the way it contorts his face. “Your father made this bargain with me, binding your whole family to Amaranth. But don’t worry, sweet Serana, I know it doesn’t hurt. I’m guessing you wouldn’t have known a piece of you was missing until now.”

She didn’t feel any different. He was right on that. Feeling comes back to her arms and legs and she pulls away from Mannimarco so quickly. All she had to do was race back to the portal and get through. She could do it. Just a simple spell, the other ingredients be dammed.

But he ensnares her. His hands lock onto hers when she pulls away. The strength in them keeps her from pulling as hard as she can.

“Serana. I know sounds horrific, but it is a common practice among my kind.” He reminds her. She looks at the gravel below her feet, willing them to carry her away. “It doesn’t hurt anyone, and it doesn’t affect their lifespan. It only allows me to gain what I need. That is the truth of it.”

“What do you do if the bargains don’t work out?” Serana almost spits out.

He pauses in consideration. The warm breeze met them again, ruffling their hair and her cloak in the air. “Fear is sometimes a greater motivator than any form of torture. I don’t have to tell them what might happen. It could be terrible, or it could be harmless. What I am telling you is that they are safe, as long as they sit in those statues.”

Her breathing turns ragged. “What bargain did you strike with my father? Why do you want me?”

He looks to her again. Gods, his face is gorgeous. Soft, sharp eyes on an angular face, skin as pale as the moonlight. Hair as white as the snow she left behind. But she knew what kind of creature lay underneath.

“I think you’ve had enough revelations for one time. Come, you must be tired and hungry. Allow me to accommodate you.” His voice was deeper, rougher, she knew he didn’t want her to pry further.

She would have trembled before in his wake. Now, she stands tall. “I drink it myself. You don’t feed me. You don’t tell me where to go. I decide for myself.” She says firmly.

His eyes glimmer in delight. “Whatever you wish for, Serana. I am here to accommodate your every need, remember that. I will not harm you.”

He releases her hands and that flimsy fantasy of running to the portal is gone. It was born out of an instinct to survive. She now knows running won’t get her anywhere. But if she plays along and allows Mannimarco to help her, she will find a way. And once she gets out of here, she will stop at nothing to find the mercenary.

Her heart beats strongly, but she was beginning to realize it was still empty. It has been this whole time until she found that other piece back in Winterhold. She was timid the whole time her and Vorstag were together. She wasn’t quite sure if what she was feeling was real. But those few blissful moments with him…she had him. She had it. And now with an empty heart she knows with certainty she was meant to be with him.     

 

---

    

Vorstag gasps. That nightmare that kept him in a cocoon, played before his eyes over and over again, it was real. His heart thunders in his chest with that realization. It was real. Serana was in his arms, she finally allowed herself to show him what she was feeling. They were perfect. He felt like a longstanding puzzle that was missing that last piece. Never empty and drained…just missing something. He finally felt that click into place, in his heart, in their small room, in that cramped bed. Then she was torn away so brutally.

Mannimarco was going to die.

He promised himself that, in this dark and dense forest he woke up in. A cold place with no light to pierce it with any hope. He breathes in again, allowing the ice shards he feels to settle in his lungs. At least, that’s what it felt like.

But no, this was not the cold forest he woke up in the first time. He was in a thicket of thorns and in the deep shadows that covered this place, he saw the outline of roses. Soft and beautiful. And littered in thorns.

He struggles. The spine of the thorns was so close to him. The stems and roots of these bushes were so long that they crisscrossed over his body. There was no other way out. No one would come for him. This was his first test.

“Fine then.” He growls, still immobilized.

He pushes with such strength the thorns covered roots begin to crack when his muscles strain. He can hear it but the by the gods, he can’t feel it. All he feels is the thorns digging in further and further into his fragile skin.

The scent of blood permeates the air, his blood. He can smell it and it’s not enticing in the slightest. He just has to push through. Even while the pain sears his skin, he thinks of Serana’s elegant face. Her tantalizingly soft lips, her deep and soulful eyes, the way they softened when she saw him.

She was in his arms at last, then torn away. He would not allow it to happen again.

He pushes through and lets out an inhuman roar when the thorns hold tight. They snake along his skin, biting into him further with each move he makes. The force of them pulls him back to the earth. He lets out a breath, a soft, pathetic, squeak of exhaustion.

And lays for a long while before he tries again.   

 

---

 

Serana swirls her goblet of blood. It was…tangy. Some strange taste to it. She wonders where it came from. She sits on the edge of one of the ornate couches that bless this room.

The interior of the palace was magnificent. Pale colors of yellow and blue, some pink but mostly white blended together. She sat on a very pretty pale blue couch while Mannimarco took the white chair across from her. He drank and drank all the blood that was offered. More so than she was.

Blood still stains his lips, when he sighs. “Are you still hungry?” He purrs to her over his goblet. It wasn’t suggestive as one might think. Based on his heavy-lidded gaze, he was merely contented.

“Not really.” She tells him and keeps the goblet on her lap.

He pouts, “Come now, are you sad about what happened in the gardens?” He laces his long fingers under his chin, goblet all but forgotten on the nearby table.

Her eyes flicker to him. “No. I am just bored. I wish to find a library, books. Do you have those?”

He grins, “Of course, I know how much you love your books. Follow me.”

He takes her through the long corridors, filled with many ornate paintings. They depicted various images. Only a few had Mannimarco as the subject, the others featured landscapes of Tamriel or static objects like flowers and fruit. Serana marveled at them as they passed by and wished to linger some more, to drink in each and every detail.

Another time, she decides. For now, she must get to the library and find all that she can on the subjects of Aetherius, soul trappings, and giving Mannimarco enough time just to turn his gaze away from her. Then she could focus on the portal.   

There was a grand marble staircase lined with golden bannisters that led them up from the proper entrance. The door they first entered was from the back of the house. This entrance led out to another thriving garden and beyond to a gravel road that reached another hill. If this door wasn’t so ornate, and this staircase wasn’t so large, Serana would think the road led to nowhere.

“Where does that lead?” She nods to the road just outside the door. Her hand clutches the banister, but she doesn’t start the ascent until she gets an answer.

Mannimarco gives a very bored look at the door before quickly saying, “A warp in the sky. It’s like a portal but only I can pass through. It is the proper entrance here. The portal I took you through led us to the back gardens. But, in my opinion, they are the most magical.”

She turns her gaze away from that devious smile of his and forces herself to put one foot in front of the other. All the way up the steps. In another grand hallway, with windows that let in the brightest of light. No paintings up here until they reach the end of the hallway.

“This, my sweet Serana, is all you will need here.” Mannimarco moves before her, with his long arm he’s able to get the door handle before she can. She decides to let him have his time of showmanship.

In a flurry, he pulls on the door and Serana has to keep from gasping. She slowly enters the cavernous room to stare. Stare and stare at all the rows of books lining the walls from floor to ceiling and lining the bookshelves that spread out from the center. Even above, the books towered along each wall up the probably forty feet of this domed room. The light fell in from above, showing her there were stairs and rooms up above to get to the bookshelves higher up.

Every color of each tome was bright and beckoning, every page smelled new. She even saw little alcoves embedded in the walls and seating arrangements laid around sparsely. If one wanted to hole up for days and never be found, this was the place to do it.

One thing snagged her attention. Two things, actually. In the center of the room, there was a circular desk much like the one helmed by Urag gro-Shub in Winterhold. Behind it was an immaculate woman, she was older, had fine lines and white hair pulled back in a severe cut. Her eyes were sharp, and her clothing was a black dress.

Her hands were clasped before her. Serana could scent her before she noticed there was no heartbeat. “Don’t worry about Sorlod here, she will only help you if you need recommendation or can’t seem to find the latest bestseller.” Mannimarco whispers to her.

“She’s a Lich.” Serana gapes. Her heart was beating faster, remembering those that Lorred had in his captivity.

“A well behaved one. If you look, you’ll notice it truly isn’t just me around here. I have many servants who breathed their last living breath centuries ago. Now, they get a second chance at life in my service.”

A shiver skitters up her spine. How creepy did this man have to be? But the Lich doesn’t hold her attention for long. Serana now gapes at the large fountain behind her. The water didn’t spread out nearly as much as her family statue did. It was more like a tiny pool surrounding the statue. In the center was a man depicted, holding a book and holding one hand out to the room at large. He was an Altmer like Mannimarco, although his robes were very plain. His face joyful in his youth. This was the only place in the great room where the light did not touch. Something up above, in the great domed windows, didn’t allow it.

“Ah, here is the resting place for dear Vanus Galerion. What a shame…” Mannimarco lays a hand on the edge of the marble holding the water in. Water trickled out from holes in Vanus, all along his body. As if someone impaled him with a few ice spikes and he was now leaking.

“He’s in there?” She asks.

“Wholly.” Mannimarco grins up at the statue. “I’m sure you know of our history. Our rivalry. When he died once and for all on the battlefields, I made sure I was around to snatch his soul up before some other god could. Now, Vanus lives out his days watching the people mill about here.” He laughs, “There aren’t many. Vanus did enjoy his studies.  He spent so long in the libraries I told him one day he would watch books decay. How right I was.” He knocks on the marble. As if giving a sign to the living soul inside. Serana shudders.

“Is the water poisoned here too?” She has to ask.

“Hm. Yes. But it’s no poison that would alert me. It would just kill the person entering the pool right away.” He stares down at her. “But I’m sure no one would think of that. Who would want to free Vanus anyways?”

It was a clue.  A little piece to the puzzle of what made this man tick. Out of all the people and statues, he had his most dreaded enemy in this most heavily guarded room, from what she could see. Looking at the perimeter, she noticed many bonemen and draugr standing at attention. If one didn’t look too closely, they would think they were mummified remains. But she could see the haunting aura around them. The glow in their undead eyes.

“Enough talk of that. How about you find something to read? Something to your liking and I will show you to your room.” Mannimarco smiles down at her with his hand clasped behind him, giving her the space she needs.

Very well, then. She turns and slowly makes her way into the jungle of books. She didn’t want to be too obvious with her choices, so she chose conservatively. “Is this place open at all times?” She asks conversationally as she browses each spine.

“Yes. It will be open day and night, except for dawn. It is closed for the hour when the sun rises.”

“Why is that?” She ponders.

A laugh greets her. “None of your concern, sweet Serana. Just know not to spend an all nighter here.”

She files away that information for later. There was something he didn’t want her knowing and she wasn’t going to pry. Not when it would rouse his suspicions. Her hand brushes a tome. The Children’s Anaud.

“I’ll start with this one. I’d like to see my room as I am getting tired.” She wasn’t exactly lying. Sleep was fogging her brain. The sun has probably a few more hours before it sets.

“The Children’s Anaud. An interesting choice, that speaks on creation myths. If you wish, I could drone on about Padomay and Anu but I’m sure you would much prefer the more eloquent wording of the anonymous author.” His tone drips with something. She can’t quite place it, but it’s not too kind.

“I’m honestly very tired. It just hit me walking in here. I can leave this and come back later for other books.”

Mannimarco studies her. She prays that he doesn’t know what’s going on in her head. It would be so easy to piece together. She should have said she’d rather spend time in here, looking over all the books. But then he would be a second shadow to her. He was adamant to show her the room she will be staying in. So, she’d rather get it over with now.

“Follow me. I’ll take you to your room at once.”

She was tired and the feeling of heaviness in her limbs and crust in her eyes was a surprise. This day took more out of her than she thought. Maybe that’s why she asked the question she did as they wandered the halls. “Why do I have runes on my arms? When I cast a spell they glow.”

Mannimarco, who was walking steadfastly ahead of her, stops. “Is that so?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Let me see them.” He tells her.

She has no choice, his tone was alarmed. But once she pulled back her sleeves and bore the runes burned into her skin, his shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s normal. You’re powerful and this helps it.” He turns and continues to find her room.

“No, wait! I had someone,” She wasn’t going to tell him about Tolfdir, “tell me that these have to be either cast upon me by someone else, or myself. I never did this.”

“It’s a gift. Enjoy it.” He thoroughly shuts down the subject of conversation. She opens her mouth to keep pushing, to get anything out of him. She knows he has a part in this. But she bites her tongue.

It would be unwise to push at the moment. Not if she wanted to avoid suspicion. Thankfully, Mannimarco pushes open one of the doors to their left at the end of the long hall, inside…it’s magnificent.

A large room greets Serana, with silk curtains made of the lightest pink. Her bed is framed with an elaborate white bed canopy, detailed with little ruffles and bows. It’s large and sits in the center of the room. The light from the window and nearby candles keeps the room lit. A nightstand, large wardrobe and a doorway to a bathing room complete the package. She notices a small bookshelf that sits barren.

“As you can see, there is room for improvement. I want you to decorate this room however you want it. Add whatever books you want.” Mannimarco’s eyes rest on the bed. “If things are not to your liking, please tell me and I will have my servants re-arrange things for you.”

She was so tired, it was a chore to keep listening to him. His hand runs up her back to her shoulder. She nearly shudders from the touch but keeps her composure.

“Sleep. Rest. I will see you in the morning.” He tells her. She knows he wishes to lean down, just so he could kiss her on the cheek. But she keeps her distance. He doesn’t seem to take offense, only ghosts through the room and slowly shuts the door behind him.

Serana’s head is spinning with all she learned tonight. But she doesn’t want to think on it further. Instead, she falls belly first on the soft, cloud like bed and falls soundly asleep in a matter of seconds.

 

---

 

Stinging tiny wounds, like a million papercuts dot his skin. It was as if he were thrown in a pit with a bunch of saber cats. The winds howls, making them just hurt further. They burn with each step he takes away from the thicket. But Vorstag finally breaks the last of the roots. Blood runs in tiny rivers, coating his body, streaming down his arms and legs. Even his face.

He groans when he pulls his left foot free from the snarl of thorns. The forest of roots left behind, he turns to find the rest of the woods. Those same woods he woke up in the first time.

The evergreen trees tower over him like sleeping giants, waiting for him to make the wrong move. The very tops swayed in the wind but the trunks were strong. This forest grew so that it was a dense maze in the interior. It was very, very hard to traverse. But he had no other way of getting to the other side.

Vorstag grits his teeth and pulls his short sword, so it was at the ready. And he takes that first step. The light leaves him, in its wake sits a cold land with so many shadows, it’s hard to see through. Vorstag uses his other senses, his sense of smell, mainly. He can scent other beings on the other side of this dense forest and that is where he needs to be.

He can also hear them.

“Is he here yet? Have you seen him?” One of the daedra asks with brimming excitement.

“No…maybe he didn’t make it. I knew Molag Bal chose only the weak.” Another one sneers, “If we’re lucky maybe he won’t find the body and we can take it for ourselves…”

Vorstag stops listening. He has to suppress the shivering he was feeling. Fear was an ever-growing presence in his chest. He had to get through these trees, into the larger part of Coldharbour, and he would be free. As much as he disliked the Prince of Enslavement, he would not allow his daedra to tear him limb from limb. No matter how much they promised to do so.

He keeps moving, around the large trunks and under low hanging branches. He thought he was being careful, but in a forest such as this it is hard. Vorstag feels a twig snap beneath his foot. He stops.

“Hear that?” One of the waiting Dremora crows.

They’re sick looking things. Blue skin, white eyes with graying skin around the face. Like zombies but worse in a way. Vorstag didn’t wish to meet them so soon, so he stays put.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” One of them calls. Vorstag moves his head, just a millimeter and he notices he can see through a large gap in the trees. Perfect. He has a good view of the two Dremora and they look just as he thought they would.

“He’s not a cat.” The other whispers. His eyes rove around the forest edge, his hand fiddles with his dagger.

The other Dremora gives him a lecherous grin. “I wasn’t calling him.”  

Just then, Vorstag feels it. The breath on his neck. He slowly turns his head and beholds the creature behind him. A Daedroth. Tall, muscular, and menacing, the humanoid reptilian creature opens its maw.

It was a strange sight, Vorstag mused, a man with a crocodile head. What a way to die. Those sharp jaws come crashing down on him.

With his heart in his chest Vorstag moves. He leaps into a nearby tree and hears the Daedroth ram it with his shoulder. Good thing it couldn’t climb.

“Ah! There!” The Dremora crows. “Dragon found something! Something scurrying about.” He laughs and follows them along the tree line.

Vorstag reaches for another branch. If he can get high enough and leap away from the things, he can get to Molag Bal on his own. He feels the next branch, so close. His fingertips just grasp the edge when something wraps around his calf.

He yelps as he’s dragged down. He slams into the ground with such a force it would have killed him if he were human. He scurries back, kicks out at the damn Daedroth can’t get him.

Think quick, think quick, he tells himself and in the nick of time he pulls. A nearby branch jams into the trees above him, leaving him with room to escape the Daedroth. Its teeth come down and can’t clamp past the branch.

He roars. Vorstag scrambles to his feet and runs. Full out races out of the forest.

“Hey! Where are you going?” One of the Dremora stops him with a blade at his chest.

Vorstag ignores it, his fear now a wild animal. He leaps over the daedra and races down the cold cobblestone path.

It was darker here. The light that came through was murky. Like swimming in a swamp and trying to open your eyes. Vorstag keeps watching the horizon. As long as he can see that boundary between sky and land he knows he will find his way home.

Coldharbour was larger than he thought. This area was…more like a pocket to the outside world from his understanding. In the interior, there were cities and full-on palaces that mimicked what was found on Nirn. It was just more…daedric. In all the ways one would find possible.

His heavy footsteps are the only sound on the cobblestone street. He pauses for breath, he didn’t really need it, but oxygen can help a vampire after extreme exertion. Especially after so long without enough blood.

“Thought we’d let you walk there yourself?” Something whispers in his ear.

He turns, quickly as possible, with a blade at the ready and comes face to face with a Winged Twilight. The daedra of dreams, they tended to be messengers for Azura. This one had blue and gray skin, eyes red as blood, and bat like wings that kept her lithe body afloat. Her legs seemed humanoid and reached out into clawed feet. Her arms were nothing more than a shuttle for long wings. Feathers adorned her head. This was all Vorstag could assess before he was scooped up.

He yells into the wind as four other Winged Twilights latch onto his arms and legs to pull him racing up to the sky.

“Put me down!” He yells, he panics when he sees his sword clattered on the ground.

“I have it.” The first Winged Twilight smiles back at him and leaves to retrieve the sword.

They carry him over the vast land. It is pointless to thrash and buck, he wasn’t getting out of their strong grasp on him, and he needed to conserve energy. He kept telling himself that. Let himself calm his breathing. When they were closer to ground, he would fight back.

Vorstag looks down, seeing Coldharbour teeming below him. It was gruesome, even when seeing familiar sights: The Hollow City where those from Nirn dwell, the daedric ruins, and the numerous wayshrines dotting the land. His sight was soon obscured by the clouds.

He grits his teeth as the burning sensation returns to his skin. He was told, a long time ago, from a wanderer who had stumbled into the Silver-Blood Inn for the night that Coldharbour was strange. The ground was sludge, the sky was burning, and the air was freezing. So far, almost everything he said was right. He said it was so dark sometimes that it was hard to see here. That monsters roamed the land waiting to find prey to tear into. And everything was absolute chaos.

 He was wrong on two things. Sometimes, the ground wasn’t just sludge. And most of the time, this place had more order than certain parts of Markarth. As if to hammer the point home, the Winged Twilight’s suddenly drop from the sky. Vorstag watches as the ground soars closer and closer. The burning clouds leave them behind and now they’re just a bag of bones and blood falling through the sky.

He nearly screams when he sees where they’re heading. They’re falling so fast they were certain to be impaled just like everyone else. Below them, sits a palace that was more like a colosseum. Vorstag only saw it once in person, when he was lucky enough to travel to Cyrodiil with his brother. Now, the Imperial Palace isn’t as grand as it was then. This one isn’t shining with the light from above and the prosperity of a teeming kingdom.

This Imperial City was covered in blood and littered in bodies. On almost every piece of the building bodies were staked through and still bleeding. It almost looked like a building of corpses. That was, until they got closer.

The City is built in a series of rings and Vorstag thought they were headed straight for the center, instead they fall right at the entrance. He barely has the time to catch his breath before the Winged Twilight creatures shove him to the ground and keep him held down in the sludge.

Cold, wet, and putrid dirt cakes his face and hair. He can feel it leeching into his skin. It was better than the burning but it didn’t help the cuts he had.

“Finally. Took him far too fucking long.” A dark voice greets him. It’s low. Guttural. Vorstag keeps his head down.

Something grabs his hair and pulls. It’s not his whole hand, it’s too large for Vorstag’s head, but the ends of his fingers are tipped with talons. Vorstag wishes to close his eyes, but he doesn’t. He watches as the ghastly face of Molag Bal comes into view. “What were you doing all that time in the forest? Struggling?” He grins, showing sharp teeth tainted with blood.

Vorstag can’t stop panting. “I would have been here sooner if your minions didn’t come for me.”

Molag Bal laughs, “Ah, they were told to find you. I needed to show you something.”

The talons digging into his back and arms leave him and only Molag Bal drags him by the hair. Over the sludge. Vorstag bites his tongue as each stone he hits makes his body ache. Here, in Coldharbour, he couldn’t heal as quickly as he could on Nirn. He didn’t know why, but he hated it.

“Look.” Molag Bal shoves him forwards with that hand still curled around his skull. Vorstag glances around the Palace entrance. All he saw was more of the same. Bodies scaling the walls, dripping with blood and giving off a putrid scent. He winces when he sees exactly where those spikes were impaled. On the most sensitive of organs and most were piercing right through the neck. Some were even impaled through their whole body, through one end, and out the mouth.

“So?” Vorstag tries to make his voice strong.

The Prince’s breath brushes his neck as he leans in closer. Vorstag can feel his fangs graze the base of his throat. “You are my Champion and I have three tasks for you. You will hate them, little moral vampire you are, but you will complete them. Or else, you spend the rest of your days just like these souls.”

Horror rises in his stomach. Bile forces it’s way up his throat but he holds strong. He breathes heavily with the realization. These people were still alive. Breathing or not, they knew where they were and felt everything that had happened.  

“Don’t act like that. They deserve this fate, boy. If you knew what they did…I know you’d impale them yourself.” Molag Bal drops him and Vorstag falls to the dirt face first. It was almost like the sludge was trying to pull him in, like quicksand. He almost wishes it would.

“I have one thing to request.” He chokes out.

“Hm.” Vorstag winces as he feels a large, monstrous foot push on his head. The pressure increases as the Prince speaks, “What is it? You aren’t in the position for requests…I should impale you for even asking. But since you have been gone for so long and aided in defeating the witch, I’ll let you ask.”

“I need to kill Mannimarco.” Vorstag coughs out. Dirt and putrid liquid was entering his mouth and nose with each breath.

The pressure releases, Vorstag gasps when he can finally breathe. The air was horrible. It smelled of rotting flesh, but it was better than his face in the dirt. Rough hands grab him by the shoulders and yank him to sky. He cries out as the talons rake his skin. But he halts when he sees his face.

The daedric skull with flaming eyes is staring back at him. Sharp teeth keep extending until they’re dripping in blood. “You will not speak that name around me.” Molag Bal snarls in his face.

He’d shudder if he could. As it was all Vorstag could do was thrash his legs while the Prince of Enslavement held him. “That man is dead and being tortured in this land as we speak. That is the price he pays for crossing me!” His guttural voice sounds.

“He’s alive. He took someone very special to me.” He shouldn’t have said it. But he had to get the Prince back on his side. Wrong choice.

The Prince pulls him closer, his mouth opens wider, until his flaming eyes are boring into Vorstag’s. All he had to do was take a bite and Vorstag would be without a face. “I am corrected. The man who brought you to me said you were not in the right mind. You are not the Champion I claimed.” He drops him.

The air seems to catch him before Vorstag falls back to the earth. He nearly sinks into it. Molag Bal turns, now back in his usual form. Yet, it was no less terrifying. “You need to be reforged. Before your first task, you will have training and I know just the right people for it. Follow closely. We don’t have time to wait.” He begins walking with the Winged Twilights flying around him. No doubt all the way to his palace.   

Vorstag can’t catch his breath. The panic is threatening to break in. It’s not the fact that he’s stuck in Oblivion with the threat of being impaled alive hanging over his head. It’s not the fact that he has to serve the Prince, probably until the end of time. It’s that the Prince doesn’t believe him. He won’t help him. He helped Eve.

But Molag Bal was threatened then. If the Night Mother had her way, there would be no Oblivion. And from what he’s heard of Mannimarco, whatever he did to Molag Bal made him his primary target. He just didn’t understand how Mannimarco could be here. Unless, he was mistaken.

He opens his mouth, just to tell him that thought. That he saw the hateful, evil Altmer right before his very eyes in the College of Winterhold. But every time he pushed was another moment he risked being put on the stake. And he couldn’t find Serana from there.

He keeps her face in his mind’s eye as he gets up. Breathing heavily with the smoky cold air and the putrid dirt, he watches the black clouds blot the sky, showing any change in the weather. Based on the wind blowing through whatever storm was coming their way wasn’t going to be a pleasant one. Not at all. He watches as Molag Bal recedes in the darkening distance. And takes his first step to follow him.

 

Chapter 13: Dawn Comes Calling

A/N: Warning, graphic violence.

 

She jolts awake. The sun was leaking in through the tightly closed curtains, not that they did much to conceal it. They were made of a long and white streaming fabric that floated around on a silent breeze. Serana sits up. Her bed was draped in a canopy, one of those beds where the curtains could close and offer more privacy. But she wanted to see her room. She wanted to be able to notice if someone was entering.  

She curls her hands around the soft blanket that was draped over her last night. She didn’t feel it, didn’t even hear him or whoever came in to do it. And she didn’t wake up when she wanted, right before dawn to go hunting in the library again. Now that the sun was rising it was going to be closed for the hour.

With that thought in mind, she slowly leans back in bed and folds herself into the soft pillows. Thoughts of Vorstag, his beautiful face come crashing back and with it, a sharp pain in her heart. She had him. He was hers and she was his. And he was taken away. Serana stares at the door for a long time. Wondering when the man who took her will come calling for her. If he opened the door, could she merely send an ice spike through his face? Would that do anything to keep him away from her as she made her escape?

When a harsh scraping sound comes from outside the door, she knows it would not. She pulls the covers tighter when a bright light glows from the hallway. Serana shifts so she’s lying flat on the mattress. If she closes her eyes, maybe he won’t bother her…

“Serana, sweet Serana, look who I found.” His deep voice sings. She hears the door creak open.

She couldn’t help it. She opens her eyes and halts her breath. Right next to Mannimarco, standing with flame lighting her person, is Dawn. At first, Serana is relieved, that is, until she sees the smug smile on Mannimarco’s face. 

“How did she get here?” Serana asks. Better to let him know it was her Flame Atronach.

When Mannimarco, her captor, ghosts into the room, she rises from the bed to stand next to it. Almost wishing she had a glass, or even better, a sword, in her hand. Mannimarco stops dead in the center of the room, his dark robes swaying around him, and waves to her thrall. Dawn floats forwards at his command.

“Hm,” Mannimarco strokes his chin, studying the creature next to him. “She must have followed through the void I created between worlds. When the bond is this strong between thrall and conjurer, these things tend to happen. But worry not, I fixed it. I’m just pleasantly surprised at how powerful you are.”

Serana pauses, feeling her heart beating faster. “What do you mean, fixed her? What did you do?”

Mannimarco lays a hand on Dawn’s head and runs it down the side of her face. The flames lick his skin but don’t burn it. Nor, do they engulf it in flames. “I broke the bond between you two. She won’t be a nuisance for you anymore. When first learning magic, choosing a spell that’s so complicated will take a lot of energy from you. Even after you conjured her.” His eyes graze over Serana’s form, still clothed from the journey yesterday. “She was lapping the strength from you.”

“She wasn’t.” Serana interjects. She feels she needs to defend her friend. Meanwhile, her heart was racing so fast she could feel it beating through her chest.

“She was.” The man before her says sternly. He stares her down. His smiling face in complete contrast with the harsh look in his eyes. “But don’t fret, you won’t be lonely. She’s going to stay with you while in my home. Be a good companion and make sure you’re safe.”

And make sure Serana can’t find a way to escape. He didn’t need to say those words for her to know. The look in his eyes was enough to tell her that.

But she could get around it. She would. Growing up, she had to learn how to tiptoe around father’s rules. So carefully that he wouldn’t even think she was doing anything that went against his will. Over the years, her ability to sneak around and not get caught only became more adept. Until she was stuck underground. Now, she’s rusty.

It seemed it was time for a little practice.

Serana smiles, one of those angelic smiles that her mother always was so fond of. She wasn’t Lord Harkon’s daughter for nothing, and she wouldn’t put those long years under his thumb to waste. “That’s a lovely idea.”

 

---

 

Vorstag’s mouth bleeds when his fangs sink into it. His head smacks against a large rock, breaking it on impact. The creature flew at him again. He couldn’t pass out now. He rolls and jumps, able to find his footing easily. He dodges the blow sent his way. The Xivkyn who was swinging the blade snarls in his face. Black, fiery substance lands and Vorstag can feel his skin burning.

Gods…he knew Molag Bal would send whoever he could after him and today was no less challenging. In an attempt to bring Vorstag back from the brink of what he called depravity, Molag Bal has made sure to bring in daedra of all shapes and sizes to test his might. Every day, Vorstag was tasked with fighting the daedra to the death in the small arena set up in Molag Bal’s quarters.

Vorstag backs away as another blow lands. The other Xivkyn was circling him. They were human-like daedra and from what Molag Bal said, they were a fusion of Xivilai and Dremora, two other daedra. Not that Vorstag cared. He only wanted to get out with his head intact. He swings his blade, a black rusty one and cleaves it into the approaching daedra.

It’s spits up something fowl, sending it Vorstag’s way. Before he can blink, he hears the other creep up behind him, hitting him so hard in the head he sees stars. A quick shove to the back and Vorstag goes sprawling on the ground again, his head hitting another rock.

Don’t pass out, not yet. He keeps telling himself. He blinks and rises, but too slowly.

“Weak. Weak. Get up! I didn’t make you my Champion to watch you flail around in the mud.” Molag Bal yells from his throne. Above the small pit called the arena soared tall ceilings of black and blue brick. It reached so high, when Vorstag first entered the room, he could only stare. He didn’t know such a marvel of architecture could withstand the test of time. For a few short years, certainly, but eons?

That earned a quick slap to the face from Molag Bal. He was then flung into the pit. Thrown in with nothing but a flimsy dagger and what little armor he had on to fight the first of the creatures. It was a flesh atronach…and Vorstag wished to never think on it again. He only prayed Serana never conjured one. It was ghastly looking, too large of a body with one soul tethered to it.

“For the love of all divine, to your left.” Molag Bal sneers from his throne. Vorstag thought the throne would be ornate and overly lavish in riches. But it turned out to be a seat made of bones. Nothing pretty, but nothing too obscene.

It’s something Serana would laugh at. If Vorstag told her what the Prince of Enslavement usually lived with and did with his time, she might find it amusing. The thought of her fuels him. Even though it’s been weeks since he’s seen her, by his estimate,

Vorstag rolls when the daedra charges him with a sword raised. Vorstag keeps low to the ground, crouched down in a squat, since this daedra was going high with his hits. He dodges each one and spins just so he can find the weakest part in the armor.

Right below the base of the head. The daedra snarls that fowl substance but Vorstag plunges the blade through his neck before it can get on him. The daedra falls dead. One more to go.

“Better.” Molag Bal laughs.

Vorstag finds him. The other daedra, decked out in some of the most powerful armor on the other side of the arena. He bares his teeth at Vorstag, showing them to be stained black and white before he charges. The mercenary was prepared for it. He dodges, spins, and hits him right in the head where he was weak. The daedra’s eyes roll back, the horns on his head nearly scratch Vorstag when he falls dead to the ground.

Vorstag stands panting and exhausted. This was his fourth fight today and there was one more to go. Some days, he had three fights but the daedra were more powerful and harder to kill. Then other days he was fighting seven different daedra at different times. He wishes he could say those days were easier…but sometimes Molag Bal throws him a curve ball. Sometimes those seven fights were the toughest he’s ever had. Good thing he was immortal.

He looks up to his Prince, his body battered, bruising, now bleeding, and falls to his knees. “Am I ready?” He bows his head to the Prince. He now knows that’s what he likes.

There is no sound. Usually, Molag Bal was quick to dismiss him. “No, tomorrow you will have a tougher fight. So, rest up.” He would usually say with a mocking smile.

Today, he only heard the sharp scuffling of feet. Only smelled the sickly scent of those decaying before him and the earthing smell of the mud beneath his knees. Something falls into the pit with him.

His heart freezes. For a second, he thinks he pushed too far. Maybe Molag Bal thought his biggest challenge would be fighting the Prince himself. But when he raises his head, he doesn’t see the Prince of Enslavement ready for battle before him. Instead, he finds a young Brenton girl, maybe only twelve. She’s bleeding and nearly as bruised as he is. Her eyes are frantic as she watches Vorstag. She’s wearing nothing but rags and dirt.

“This is your final challenge.” Molag Bal sits back in his throne. Vorstag can hear the bones creaking with the weight of him. “Kill the girl and you win. Only then are you truly my Champion.”

Vorstag snaps his head up. “Where is she from?”

The Prince glares down at him and picks one of those bones. One from a forearm it seemed. It was so small in his hands it merely looked like a stick. He bites the end of it, breaking off a piece and leaving a sharp point at the end. He throws it down into the mud.

It falls with a spat next to the girl, sending more water and dirt on her. She looks as if she were about to cry. “Does it matter, vampire? She came from somewhere in the overland. I sent my best subjects to retrieve her. Now, kill her and be done with it. Your tasks need to be completed soon.”

Was he…nervous? Vorstag watches him again. “I won’t do it. She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t care if you tell me she killed someone, she’s a child. She doesn’t deserve this punishment.”

 Molag Bal leans forwards in his throne, his fingers curl around the skulls at the end, giving enough pressure that they crack. His flaming eyes hooded by his dark eyelids glare down. “What sort of crime must she have committed for you to do this? Kill her. I told you to. If you don’t you stay in this pit tonight and sleep until your next fight in a few hours.”

The thought of another long, harrowing fight, makes his knees weak. He only wanted to enter his quarters and sleep in his own hay bed. It smelled, it was covered in bugs, but it was better than the floor. But staring at the trembling girl before him, now starting to cry so hard she was shaking, kept him standing. “I won’t.” He throws down his sword.

The girl collapses in relief. Molag Bal just stares. It was not a good thing to see no reaction from him. A gnashing of teeth. Spitting vile and cruel words, by Oblivion, even just a slap to the face would assure Vorstag that the Prince accepted this defeat. But the empty eyes staring down showed something else. He grins. “Very well.”

Something should have happened. A horde of Winged Twilights should have flown in to pull him away to prepare him for the next fight. Instead, glowing light appears on the far end and before Vorstag can move, he notices her.

In the shadows of that light sits Serana, as beautiful as he left her, sitting chained in a chair. Her eyes are utterly fearful. She thrashes about, her lovely hair flying over her face. “Vorstag! Help! Vorstag, what is this?”

His heart breaks staring at her. Every instinct in his body says to run to her as she thrashes in the seat. But he keeps his feet rooted in place. It wasn’t her. There was no way it was her. Mannimarco would not let her go so easily.

“What do you think of the love of your life at my mercy?” Molag Bal stands and prowls the perimeter of the arena. His macabre form shades Vorstag of the dim light above, each step seemed to be heavy. “Speak, boy. I command you. What do you wish to do seeing her in this state?”

He points one long, gnarled finger at the vampire girl down below and Serana screams. So loud that Vorstag falls to his knees again. She screams and screams as her form is pelted with fire that springs up all along her skin. It leaves Vorstag shaking.

It isn’t her. It isn’t her.

He knows it deep down. No matter how much his eyes wish to deceive him, watching her, she didn’t act as she would in a situation like this.

“Now, kill the girl or I kill this vampire.” Molag Bal stands fifty feet up above her, but his finger was still pointed in Serana’s direction. Her beautiful golden eyes are filled with pain as she stares at Vorstag. Bloody tears drip down her face. “Help me.” She whispers.

It isn’t her. “I won’t.” Vorstag says.

The Brenton girl across from him, now on her hands and knees, starts sobbing uncontrollably. She clasps her hands before her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She keeps repeating.

“Why don’t you believe this?” Molag Bal points again and Vorstag nearly screams himself when he sees Serana’s eyes go vacant. Her mouth hangs open and he recoils when black, slimy insects fall from her mouth and eyes. They begin to burrow out of her skin and spill onto the ground. Flames lick her skin again, burning her and the rest of the crawling bugs.

“She’s not here. She’s with Mannimarco. He would not let her go and from what I heard, even you cannot take her back.” He tells the truth. He tried and tried in the little free time he had here to retrieve her. He called ghosts. Spirits. Asked them how to find her. All proved unsuccessful. They told him if they could not find her, then no one can.

“That bullshit again?” Molag Bal booms down from above.

Vorstag flinches with that sound. This wasn’t the first, second, or third time he’s brought up Mannimarco. But every time he did, he was never believed and only met with a flaying. He would take that beating today to save the girl before him.

Something slams into his head. He falls face first into the putrid mud and rolls to avoid the next hit. Molag Bal’s kicks him hard in the stomach. “Even after all this time with the failing fantasy of yours, you think the man I have so carefully bound and tortured every day is still running free?”

“He got out.” Vorstag chokes.

 Another hit. Molag Bal falls on Vorstag, his face is all he sees before the fangs sink into his neck. Vorstag grunts but he holds fast. At least it wasn’t the girl on the other side of the room. He feels those fangs make purchase in his skin and pull. Vorstag’s instincts, as all humans and vampires had, was to pull away as far as he could.

Blood spurts from him and he feels a sickening pain as the fangs pull free. Molag Bal smashes Vorstag’s head against the muddy ground, once, twice, three times. So hard he can feel his skull breaking. He lays there, panting, and scared. So scared. He would never admit that to anyone else, not even the Prince of Enslavement.

He’s so close now, Vorstag can smell his cold breath on his skin. “Now tell me, why didn’t you believe my illusion? Why didn’t you think your lover was chained before you?”

A man without an answer to the puzzle. If he didn’t get it, he would be beaten again. So Vorstag, with a swelling face and half open eyes, looks to him. “Her face. Her nose was off. Crooked.”

Molag Bal rises, and guffaws. It echoes through the cavern. The only sound in the room now that the girl has stopped crying out of pure fear. She still kneels in the mud, staring at Vorstag with wide, fearful eyes. He tries to smile to calm her.

Molag Bal grabs him by the scruff of the neck and pulls him up before he can tell her anything. “That’s what I thought. Get up. We have business to attend to.”  

 

---

  

Her days were languid. Comfortable, if she were being honest. A surprise for a place like this. Serana spent most of her days and nights in the library pouring over any books she could find. She studied the Soul Cairn, dark magic, daedra and gods. Committing important words and information to memory.

Every night she studied she always felt Dawn warming her at her back. But she didn’t mind what she saw. Mannimarco was impressed enough to help her in her studies. The other parts of her days were spent talking with him over a goblet of blood. Twice a day, as promised.

When he heard of her readings, he took a keen interest in helping her. Some nights, they would discuss dark magic over a glass of wine or blood. He was eager to divulge in long kept secrets he knew of sorcerers, mages, and daedra he’s known throughout his time.

The information was sometimes meaningful, but when he would drone on too long, Serana found her glass slipping in her hands. Along with her head falling. Mannimarco would only laugh and tell her to get some sleep.

During these times she noticed some quirks about him. Information that could be useful. He seemed to be a lonely man. She could tell based on the way he looked at her, like she was the first person he’s seen in years. When they would converse, he would take over the conversation and dominate it with a loud voice. Putting almost too much information in the gaps, and not letting her get a word in.

Some nights she could hear him pacing while she slept. Only, she kept her eyes wide open when he would pass her room. Fearful that he would barge in and demand something of her. But he never did, he let her be. So, she would return to daydreaming about Vorstag. Remembering the glint in his eye and the angles of his face.

During the day, she noticed odd things about the palace as well. In the library she saw that the living dead lining the perimeter of the room were not all that attentive. Only when something moved. The Lich manning the desk in the center of the room would take her lunch breaks outside in the gardens, leaving her desk unattended.  

Sometimes the books seemed to speak. Creaking and moaning the library as the only sound to accompany the running water from the fountain. Serana thought it was her imagination at first. That was, until the day one of the books she was scouring lifted from her hands, like someone were pulling it up, and flipped the pages to another article. Which she dutifully read.      

One time, she remembered and eerie blue glow in the library long after the sun set. At first, she thought it was another odd constellation or celestial event outside. But eventually she found it to be the glowing eyes of Vanus. The statue in the center and Mannimarco’s rival. She wondered if her own eyes glowed in the fountain in the back gardens. But she didn’t have the energy to go and check herself.

At dawn, she stayed in her room. At night, she enjoyed a glass of blood with Mannimarco droning on about some obscure reference she found that day. During the days she would sometimes pace the palace herself, brushing her hand over each painting and committing it to memory. That, along with how the paths curved and twisted. Where they would break apart and allow a long doorway to the outside gardens. She never set foot in those after the first day. She didn’t feel the need to. She knew with Dawn at her back, to run out to that rift in the sky and hope it sucked her up and back to Skyrim, was a fool’s errand. To do that once, was to lose Mannimarco’s trust.

Trust that she needed. She didn’t know what he did with his time, but she only saw him twice each day. She dreaded when she needed to be in his presence for the whole day. To share his bed. Meals. Every waking moment.

Come to think of it. Her eyes snap open and she stares out one of the tall windows in the library. Dawn was behind her, hovering near her. And the sound of book filings down below let her know the Lich was working.

But outside the window was one of the ornate gardens. Filled with the collage of colorful and exotic flowers. She wonders why she never saw streamers amongst them. Never saw a stage adorned in white flowers and a banquet of food spread out behind it.

She wonders why there were never guests, never fanciful gifts, never good wishes. Why she never wore a white dress that fell past her toes and let out into a long train to match her veil. After that first day, there was no talk of the marriage she was supposed to be a part of.

“Thinking again? Who are you reading now?”

Serana jolts and smooths down her hair when she finds Mannimarco behind her. He stands in the shadows; his lovely face is wreathed in them with the bright light coming through the window. He has a small smile on his face. Not for the first time, Serana finds him utterly beautiful.

“I don’t know. Just…fun I guess.” She tries to hide the cover of The Lusty Argonian Maid. But Mannimarco seems to have seen it based on his laugh.

She wanted to find it the first day she was here, but she was too worried what he would see through Dawn. After weeks of…well, nothing from him, she decided she wanted to read it again.

And dream of the man who first took it from her. With curiosity in his eyes and joy in his voice when he would poke and prod her about the content. She knew he never really wanted to read it. But Vorstag always made a good show about it.

Her heart thumps in her chest as she remembers. That first night in Solitude…why didn’t she just go back in the room once he was in the bed? Why didn’t she just curl up with him and savor each moment?

“Ah, the romance genre. We have many books on that subject.” He lowers a pale hand to move the book from her hands. He opens it to the center. It wasn’t a lewd scene, no, it was one of the sweeter ones. When the main characters were finally getting to know one another.

“I was thinking. I was hoping to make some headway with you. We haven’t gotten much chance to talk about our lives, our likes and dislikes. I admit, it was my fault since we were so invested in the subject of necromancy and magic. But I was wondering if I could take you somewhere today?”

Based on the position of the sun, Mannimarco was done with whatever he did early. “Where?” She asks.  

“A meadow near here. When I need time to think or just get away, I go there.” He holds out a hand.

She has no choice. It felt like a betrayal for Dawn to have turned against her. Instead of a friendly and protective presence at her side, she was now a more nefarious being. Always watching her. But it wasn’t Dawn who made her hold out her hand. Any time with Mannimarco when he had his guard down was a time to poke around for weaknesses.

“Sure.” She smiles, “I’d like that.” And takes his cold hand in hers.

 

---

 

His room was pathetic. Too small, too cold, and too dark. Vorstag collapsed on the bed and wrapped his arms around himself for any warmth. Not that he needed it. But he felt like he did after what Molag Bal told him. He was supposed to go on the first task tomorrow. Apparently, Molag Bal was desperate enough that he didn’t want to waste more time with Vorstag in the arena. Now, he was supposed to perform the acts as his Champion.

And this first task? To retrieve the Mace of Molag Bal. His artifact. Vorstag remembers clearly when he was in the larger group with Eve and Bryn and Mjoll. They scoured all of the province for each and every artifact to help them. He wondered if the Mace stayed around with someone. For their sake, he hoped not. He hoped it was lying in a field somewhere, waiting for someone to pick it up.

He had nothing else to think about. He was only grateful the girl was led out of the arena. He didn’t know if she was led to safety, but he told himself she was. He had the daydream that she was set free back into whatever province she came from. Without a scratch on her.

The howling and screams outside told another story. He rolls to his side and clamps his hands over his ears. Gods, the sounds! They would never end!

The screaming continues. He starts to rock, anything to get to sleep tonight. He couldn’t stay up, not with what he had to do tomorrow. So, he thought of her.

Serana’s soft voice, her pale skin, her jeweled body, the way she glanced back at him to make sure he was listening. He remembers the soft but sarcastic way she spoke. How smart she was, she held the final piece to every puzzle.

But not this one. Many times, he’s sat in this room and prayed that she would show up. That she found a way through a portal and is here to save him from this hell. But staring at the wall never did anything. It never opened up a portal to bring him home.

Fresh tears are now streaming down his face. He rocks again to keep himself sane. Keeps his hands clamped on his ears as the piercing screams intensify. He thinks of her face. Her lovely eyes. The way her curves melded to his hands when he held her. She was so lovely; someone he could never dream up. And she was ripped away.

Torn right from his hands with the man with an ugly snarl. He was a beautiful creature physically, Mannimarco, but that horrible soul underneath always bared its terrible face. Vorstag stops. Freezes. He keeps Mannimarco’s smug face suspended in his mind. How his eyes glowed with something mocking. He knew Vorstag was no worthy opponent. He knew Vorstag was never going to pose a threat to him.

The tears stop now. And Vorstag is relieved, that for once, he has stopped feeling sorry for himself. Staring at Mannimarco in his mind’s eye has re-ignited the burning flame in his heart. Not of desire but of the most ravaging emotion known to man.

The scream sounds again. A piercing, hawk-like shriek. Vorstag rises to his knees and slams his hand against the wall once, twice. “Stop it! I’m trying to sleep!” He yells.

The thing wails again, a long, horrible wail. Like it wanted attention. “Stop it!” He yells through the dried tears. That burning of hatred still in his heart.

Another shriek sounds, but softer. He slams his hand again one more time. “Stop it! I am Molag Bal’s Champion and I command you!” He slams one more time and feels the dust and debris from the stone fall on his face and armor. It dirtied his bed, not that it mattered. It wouldn’t keep him up like the screams would. He finally collapses in bed and eventually falls into a deep sleep.

As if they knew the importance of what he said, the rest of the night held nothing but silence.

 

---

 

Serana shivers with the breeze. It was cold for this time of day, but she would take any discomfort to see this sight. Before them, spread a large meadow of vivid green, dotted with pink and white flowers in the center. Yellow crowned the ridge of the hill beyond. But it was the shiny oasis in the center that kept her attention.

A solitary tree kneels over a pool of water. Its blossoms are an array of violet and magenta flowers. Petals fell from it and landed onto the water below, collecting around the edge of the pond. It wasn’t just a little pond. It was deeper than that. The water is so clear and so blue, it almost looked unreal.

“You can swim in it, if you wish.” Mannimarco says next to her. He had taken off his robe and now stands in basic noble clothing, a strange thing to see him in. She took off her cloak too, aside from the stray breeze, it was warm in the bright sun above. And utterly incredible that she didn’t burn in it.

She spies the water down below and slowly dips her toes in. Not cold in the slightest, warm and inviting like a bath after a long day. “We can?”

Mannimarco laughs, “Of, course you can. I will join you.” She averts her eyes as he takes off the rest of his clothing, only staying in long black briefs. His well-muscled chest shines incredibly pale in the light.

“You don’t have to be shy. You can look all you want.” He says in amusement. She hears a soft splash and finally turns to see him wading in the deep water. His long white hair streams out around him. “Come in here, Serana, the water is fine.”

She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to be anywhere near him. But she needed information. And getting a warm pool of water wasn’t like other possibly degrading acts she could partake in for such information. She peels off her dress and the rest of her clothing until she’s wearing only her underwear and a small dress slip.

She used to be incredibly shy about others seeing her body. She would cross her arms, try to keep as much modesty as possible. But living for centuries just…did something. She sinks into the water feeling that small white dress flow out around her. “Wow. I didn’t know this was possible.”

Mannimarco smiles and instead of saying something to that, he dives. She looks down to see his flowing hair trail after him down, down, down to the bottom. When he hits it he’s so far away she can’t even see him. He bursts from the water right next to her, making her shriek in fear and paddle away.

He laughs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I only wanted to show you what Amaranth gave us. This pool goes down hundreds of feet, and here at the bottom…” He holds up something.

She floats closer to see what’s in his hand. A golden circle, almost like…

“A pearl. There are many uncut gems down there. Strange and unusual rock formations. You can come see if you want.” He yanks his hand away before she can touch the pearl and gives her a sly smile.

Damn it. She wanted answers. Time to pry him open and unspool his secrets like he pried open that poor clam for the golden pearl. But she had to play along to get to that point. “Okay. Show me.”

He dives under and she does too, letting the warm water envelop her face. As a vampire she didn’t need to breathe, so she could spend as long a time under water as she wished. She reluctantly holds Mannimarco’s hand as he pulls her down under the vast pool.

Down here, she noticed tunnels jutting into the rock around them. All underwater caves.

Those are where you find the most precious gems. If you’re adventurous.

She nearly yelps with the sound of his voice in her mind. It was like before, but he was so close…she guesses there’s no other way to talk under water. She squeezes his large hand to let him know she heard him.

He pulls her down, down so far that the light was having a hard time reaching this place. When her eyes adjust, she nearly gasps. Down here, there were numerous rubies, sapphires, amethysts, opals, any gem one would want. Emeralds were embedded on the sides of the walls and she noticed large clams anchored to the ground.

Mannimarco brushes a hand along the treasures below and holds his hand out to her. Rubies and emeralds were amongst the diamonds in his hand. This was…impossible. Magnificent.

She feels the magic in this place. Like a haze. Something that was pulling at her strings with each glimmer of the gems in his hands. What do you think?

It’s lovely. She wanted to say. But speaking it wouldn’t get through his mind.

There was nothing to say down here in the depths. But the haze coating her mind now, thick and heavy like a low rolling thunderstorm in her mind has taken her. A pink haze, something sweet and fluffy. Something that made her want to do strange things.

She pulls Mannimarco to her, the gems fall from his hands as they encircle her. And she tilts her head to find his lips on hers and kiss him with a passion she shouldn’t have.

 

---

 

Vorstag woke up with the door slamming open. He flinches. “Get up.” Molag Bal tells him.

He was weak. Still tired, and still without blood. As if the Prince thought of it, a bucket lands in Vorstag’s lap filled to the brim with the very substance. Vorstag is shocked to feel the blood coating his hands and legs now. He needs it so much, he licks his fingers before drinking the whole bucket dry.

Molag Bal stares at him while he gulps down the blood ravenously. “When you tire from sucking the teat of the innocent, you will hear your instructions.”

That horrible thought almost makes him spit out the blood. He lowers the bucket, terrified to know who’s it is. “What is it?” He won’t show weakness in the face of his master.

Molag Bal grins. “You are to get my artifact back. In whatever manner possible. I command you, as my Champion, to go kill those who keep it hidden and bring it back to me. Coated in their blood.”

A message. That’s what he was giving him: kill the innocents who have the Mace. He will expect nothing less. “I’ll do it.”

The Prince’s eyebrows raise. “You’re perky today, what got into you last night? I heard you screaming.”

He doesn’t dare utter Mannimarco’s name. “I have a burning in my heart. It won’t be free until I’m stronger.” Strong enough to take on Mannimarco and win. To make sure Serana is never torn from him again.

“That’s a start. Get up and get your weapons. I’ll take you to the portal when you’re ready.” Molag Bal leaves him alone.

Vorstag leans his head against the cold pale in his hands. He doesn’t know whose blood this is…but he can guess. The hatred rears up. If he could, he would kill Molag Bal. But nothing short of banishing him would keep him away. It was a fool’s errand. He had to keep his focus. He has to remember who he’s fighting for. He stands slowly and gets his things.

The weapons turned out to be elaborate. The most gorgeous and trusty sword, a few daggers, and a bow and arrows to complete the package. Vorstag finally shuffles into the large throne room. Once he rounds the corner he straightens his back and holds his head high. On the other side stands Molag Bal at the portal. Only swirling purple and white greet him. Where he was going was an utter mystery.

“You know what you have to do?” Molag Bal doesn’t look at him. Only stares at the portal in utter glee.

“I do. Kill all who hold the Mace and bring it back to you.”

“Good. Don’t fuck this up and you’ll have a more peaceful night.” Molag Bal finally tears his eyes away from the portal to watch Vorstag. “Are you sure you don’t want weapons forged in Oblivion?”

“I do better with these.” Vorstag has to suppress the shudder that threatened him. To hold a daedric blade…he didn’t want to try it. Eve was sometimes prey to her own Daedric Artifacts. He didn’t wish to try one. At least Molag Bal let him keep his mind through all this torture and terror.

“Fine. Go. Come back victorious.” The Prince shoves him.

Vorstag feels the ground ripped out from under him as he freefalls. He hits the rocky ground with a smash. With enough force to break the cobblestone. He suppresses a moan and rises, pulling his short sword to make sure it was okay.

It was. But the light reflecting from it made him pause. By the gods…there was no way. He slowly raises his face to take in his surroundings. Of the home of those he had to kill. Across the wet cobblestone, still fresh with rain and reflecting off the pools stood tall lights. In the center of the long staircase was a long, and trusty establishment. One he never wished to see while with Molag Bal.

Jorrvaskr, the large, upturned ship and home of the warriors known as the Companions, stands before him. Vorstag takes a deep breath. Not for relief, but to prepare himself. Outside the home and staring down at him is one of the leaders of the Companions.

“It’s you! I haven’t seen you in a while, how’ve you been?” Vilkas gives Vorstag a cheery smile and moves to the staircase to hold out a hand for him.

Vorstag lets go of his hilt, just this time. No matter the thumping in his heart, no matter how his instincts say to run as far away as possible, he takes it and gives the werewolf a firm handshake. “Well enough, Vilkas, and you?”

“Fine, just fine! We’ve been pretty busy around here recently.” He eyes Vorstag’s armor. “Are you alright? I heard something loud out here, it almost sounded like a dragon landing in the yard.”

Vorstag gives a half-hearted laugh. But he’s secretly trying to calm his heart and find his way out of this mess. There was no way the Mace was here. But even has he thought that he felt the pull of it. It was right inside those doors.

Vilkas’s smiling face was the only thing in his way. A good man. A great conversationalist. A competent warrior. And no one who deserves this treatment. “Well, don’t just stand there! Did you hear anything? Wait, on second thought, come with me. You’re probably thirsty, we can sit and talk over a warm meal.”

He couldn’t say anything. Not through the panic consuming him that he had to get the Mace and leave. He wanted to tell Vilkas of the deal he made with the Daedric Prince and how much danger he and everyone in that building were in. But not this moment. He had to plan.

Vorstag gives a cheery smile of his one. “Lead the way, lad. Let’s eat and be merry. Maybe I’ll sing a song or two.”

“That’s the spirit! Haven’t had a good bard in these parts for ages.” Vilkas walks ahead and Vorstag has to follow. Damn his heart. Damn what happened last night. It was almost as admitting he was Molag Bal’s Champion…it was changing his thoughts. Instead of seeing Vilkas as a good friend and one he could spend hours conversing with, he only stares at the back of his head and wonders how he can cave it in.

 

---

 

She was consumed in him. His soft lips roamed hers before falling to her neck and down her body. His hands cupped her and moved along her skin with a tenderness she’s rarely known. Her back was to the side of the pool. The hard rocks and openings to the tunnels dig into her.

Serana twines her hands through his long hair and pulls, just so he can free his lips from her neck. She wasn’t finished with him yet. She licks his lips, all the way up his cheek, a dirty little thing, before putting her mouth to his again.

Her body melds with his. Without the little shift and other small clothing between them, it would be bliss. She knew his golden eyes raked her body and wondered the same thing. She knew he loved it when she curled her hands through his brown hair. She knew he loved it when she ran her tongue along his fangs, a sensitive thing for some vampires.

Only…he didn’t have fangs. Not like she remembered. She pulls away and the illusion is gone. Instead of Vorstag staring back through her in the water with the same heat she felt, she sees Mannimarco watching her with desire.

Her heart was in her throat. Whatever magic was here, it was consuming her. She had to get away and going to the surface was too far. Before Mannimarco can pull her to him again, she grabs onto the edge of one of those tunnels and worms her way in there.

Don’t do that.

He wasn’t longing. He wasn’t begging. Please. Don’t go. Come back. We can go back to the surface.

Serana stares into the inky depths of the tunnel. She could escape this way. But who knows where the tunnel led? It could just spit her back out here. She would be better off returning to the surface.

I won’t touch you without your consent. Take my hand and I will lead us to the surface. We can cool off there.

His hand outstretches towards her. Her heart was galloping with the mistake she made. The idea she gave him. She made him think he had her. But she takes his hand.

The water pulls at them as they ascent, as if it wants to drag them back down there so they can finish what they started. They break the surface and Mannimarco pulls her to the banks.

“Here.” He helps her out and wraps a blanket, seemingly out of nowhere around her. She falls to the ground, gasping.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mannimarco crouches next to her.

She’s shaking. “But you want it? We’re supposed to be married.”

He nods slowly, as if he were talking to a toddler. “We are. It’s something couples do.” He moves some wet hair from her face. Serana resists the urge to flinch away.

She pulls the blanket tighter. The awkward silence is a void that wanted to be filled but no matter how good a conversationalist Mannimarco was, he had nothing to say. He only gathers her clothes and hands them to her. He turned away as she dressed and when he was fully clothed, they walked back to the palace. Him ahead of Serana and her lagging behind. Her head was still fuzzy.

“What was that? The magic that enveloped me.”

Mannimarco doesn’t look back, “Something that is a byproduct of Amaranth. There is strange magic here that is hard for even me to control.”

“What is the bargain you made? Why do you want me? What do you want of me?” She has to ask before they can go further. She stops, feeling the wet dirt and grass below her feet.

Mannimarco keeps walking through the gold touched fields. The sun was just setting, and it lit the whole meadow ablaze in gold and yellow streaks. “I think we’ve had enough talk today. We should rest tonight and…maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow. Maybe we can come back here.” He says.

Without bidding her goodbye he slinks off into the palace. His shoulders were hunched. She felt bad…a bit. He was a lonely man and the only companionship she gave him she just ripped away. But she couldn’t shake her feelings of violation. So, she climbs the stairs to her room, bathes quickly as not to be in the water for too long. She's had enough of that today. Once dried and ready for bed, she curls up in the warm sheets and falls soundly asleep.

 

---

 

Serana woke up before the sun did. She wanted to go to the library, but it would be closed in an hour. Instead, she busied her mind and cleaned her room. Picked up all her clothing and scoured the wardrobe for something nice to wear.

She thought about it right before bed last night. It must have disappointed Mannimarco for her to pull away from him like she did. But she crossed a line she never would have if she were in her right mind. Serana brushes the sleeve of a bright blue dress. It has cream colored ribbons adorning the edges and the puffy sleeves of it. She will wear it today.

She won’t kiss him again. She won’t go in that pool no matter what he says. But she will regain his trust. Building a Soul Cairn here did nothing. Performing dark magic to raise the dead in her command or conjuring daedra wasn’t getting anywhere. She was powerless here except for the fact that Mannimarco seemed to obsess over her. So, she would use it to her advantage.

She heard him pacing last night. Back and forth in front of her room, as if contemplating coming in to talk with her, but he finally turned away. Now, hearing his sure footsteps outside, he sounds less like a defeated man and more like someone with a purpose.

“Serana. I have something to show you.” Mannimarco opens the door with a beaming smile.

His smile didn’t hold any malice. Just purpose. She smiles back, softly, before it fades. Movement behind him alerts her. She gulps as the person, creature, whatever, peers around him to see her. And…how.

Mannimarco moves so Serana can see who was skulking in the doorway. She wants to fall to her knees to cry in happiness. For once, her fickle self just wants to be held in her bed all day and consoled. In the doorway stood Lord Harkon’s wife, her mother, fresh from the Soul Cairn. She opens her arms, “Serana. I missed you.” Are her first words.

Serana has no response but to run into her arms and sob.  

 

---

 

A/N: Thank you for the likes and views! I’m happy people are enjoying this fic so far! I should have the next chapter out next Sunday. Tomorrow I’m going to publish the next chapter in Storm of Skyrim: The 13^th Season! Be sure to check it out!

I just wanted to talk about the inspiration for this chapter. Mannimarco’s palace is inspired by the Spring Court in “A Court of Thorns and Roses” series by Sarah J. Maas. I love the meadow scene in that first book and wanted to re-create it with my own spin on it. I like to think of it as a tribute to a series that means a lot to me. If you haven’t read those books, I highly recommend them! The characterization is impressive, and even though they’re long, the books go by fast. They’re incredibly addictive!  Currently I’m reading Stephen King, so we’ll see if I get any inspiration from his books. :D

Chapter 14: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

A/N: For those who haven’t read the Storm of Skyrim series, Mjoll and Aerin are werewolves and have joined the Companions. Mjoll is the Harbinger. I thought I’d post that here so there wasn’t any confusion! I should also have the next chapter to Storm of Skyrim: The 13^th Season out tomorrow or Tuesday! Enjoy!

 

The heat was so suffocating he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. Down his brow. Down his arms. It was a wonder the wolves in his presence didn’t even mention how fearful he had become.

For the past few hours Vorstag sat at the great banquet hall of the Companions and dined with his victims. Food fit for a king and his army spread out before them, with gleaming meat, pies, vegetables, fruits, and wine for all. Since werewolves were always hungry due to their metabolism, there was always a wealth of food at their disposal.

And all Vorstag had was a goblet of blood. “Are you enjoying your meal? Would you like some food? Eve has a soft spot for sweets from what I remember.” Mjoll, the Harbinger of the Companions sat at the head of the table. Her platinum hair hung down to her shoulders now. It used to grow faster when she was a wolf. Vorstag remembers from his time with her, her hair used to be whiter. He wonders if it was because she used the be the coveted White Wolf, a creature of legend with powers gifted by Hircine himself.

Now, as a human who has cast aside her wolf, she sits up a little straighter. She’s not as poised, as observant, as she was as a wolf. But she has a healthy glow about her. Vorstag wonders if it’s because of her scent. She wasn’t showing, but he had a feeling she was with child.

No one confirmed it so far. But he wouldn’t be surprised after she married Vilkas in a beautiful ceremony earlier this year. The man in question sat to her side and kept a comforting hand on her shoulder. Vorstag can’t meet her eyes.

“I’m fine. Just stressed these past few weeks.”

 Aerin, Mjoll’s good friend and new werewolf, sat to his left. He was just chomping on another piece of lamb when he asked, “What’s the matter? Come to think of it, your scent’s been off. Is something bad going on?”

The other wolves, Aela and Farkas turn their attention to them. Aela with her sharp eyes, assesses him once again. She looked him over when he first came in to Jorrvaskr and seemed to give her blessing. Farkas, the only wolf who didn’t seem to pay attention to the whole conversation so far, watches him with bright blue eyes. He tears another piece of chicken from the bone.

Vorstag can feel the punishing heat return. He was still sweating. He hasn’t seen the Mace yet, but he knows it’s in here somewhere. “I’m fine. Just my love life.” He tries to play it off.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Every wolf and human perks up and now stare at him like he’s a very interesting, shiny, thing they found in the forest. “Who is it? Have we met her?” Mjoll asks instantly.

“I hope she’s as adventurous as you.” Aerin grins.

Vilkas laughs, “Ah, I was wondering why you had the look of fear when I came out and found you. What’s been going on? Has there been a tiff between you two?”

Vorstag grabs his goblet and forces himself to take a small sip. These people were good. They were competent warriors. They would help him if he needed it. But not in the face of Molag Bal. After what he saw the past few weeks, every second of torture he’s endured, he’d rather go through it all again to keep these people safe.

“You wouldn’t know her well. Something like that. We’re figuring it out though.” He lies easily.

And that, seemed to break everyone’s undivided attention on him. Some laughed, some teased him, the rest fell into a long conversation over when Vorstag was to get married. He only sat there, counted down the minutes until they slept, and wondered where the Mace of Molag Bal lay.

 

---

 

It was like a dream. After being away from her mother for so long, Serana could only sob in her arms. There wasn’t a barrier between them like there was in the Soul Cairn. There wasn’t an evil creature lurking around the corner to kill them and take them away from each other again. There was only Serana and her mother.

After a few hours of re-acquainting, they wandered the palace. Mannimarco was kind enough to let them have their time together. Serana was able to tell her mother of everything that transpired, and her mother took it with ease. She told Serana how Mannimarco saved her, had pulled her from the Soul Cairn. Serana felt nothing but gratitude towards the man, an emotion she never thought she’d feel for him.

But as the hours wore on, as they passed every beautiful painting that was starting to blend into each other, she had a dark feeling.

“I have a question. I was trying to find you, you told me that I had to worry about him.” Serana stops before a large painting, that strange one of Mannimarco flying in the sky to his godhood. “What did you mean?”

Valerica tilts her head. The sun leaking in through the window near them lights up the side of her face. As Serana studies it, she notices it’s a little thinner than she remembered. Her eyes are more sunken in. “I was to tell you your father arranged your marriage. I needed to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

It didn’t make sense to her. “But what did father bargain for? To make sure the Tyranny of the Sun was completed faster? What did he want?”

Valericia looks away, at the large painting on the wall. “To this day, I still have that question. He never told me. I doubt I can re-animate him to get the answers. The only way we can is through the man up there.” She points to the general area where the tall tower stands and the one Mannimarco inhabits during the day.

Something wasn’t adding up. Based on what her mother told her through the notes, they should be running as fast as they could to get back to Skyrim. “Don’t you want to leave?” Serana whispers so the guards don’t hear.

Her mother runs a soft hand down her daughter’s face. “No, dear, you know Mannimarco has our best interests at heart. He wouldn’t hurt us. We’re in the safest place possible.”

A churning in her gut, that’s what Serana felt as her mother pulled her along to go see the library. She swore to herself tonight, when mother was asleep, she would do a little investigating of her own. She only hoped she found what she was looking for.

 

---

 

They began to retire to their beds after a long dessert. Mjoll and Vilkas didn’t eat it, but the three wolves scarfed down over half of the large cake set up. Vorstag took a few bites to be pleasant.

“How’d you like that?” Aerin asks.

“It’s alright, I can’t say that my dislike of chocolate has changed after I became a vampire.” Vorstag jokes.

"We’ll be off to bed. I’m getting sleepier earlier than I thought. Aerin, make sure Vorstag has all he needs.” Mjoll reminds them. Her hand curls around her stomach, confirming Vorstag’s suspicions. Vilkas pulls her close to him and kisses her on the head, his hands wrapping around her stomach with the same protectiveness she showed.

It only made Vorstag sick.

“You know what you have to do, boy.” Molag Bal had said to him before entering the portal.

Vorstag only nodded.

“Come back bathed in all their blood, leave no living thing alive in that den that holds my Mace. Use it.” He grinned. “Use it to kill them all. I will reward you well.”

He nearly breaks the fork in his hands. “Sleep well, thank you for letting me stay.” He tells them.

After they made the trek down to their rooms Aerin continues to eat his third slice of cake. It was just the two of them, Aela and Farkas went out to hunt. She seemed agitated and Farkas seemed like he would follow any of the wolves wherever they went. So, they left, after a quick goodbye and good luck to Vorstag.

He noticed the devilish glint in Aela’s eye. She wanted him to get back together with the mystery woman. She had said as much when she offered to do their wedding for them, like she did Mjoll’s.

“So, you’ll stay the night then head out?” Aerin asks, conversationally.

“Yes. I plan to leave by dawn. I have a meeting with a boss to attend to, he’ll have my head if I’m not there on time.”

“Ah, well make sure to at least have some of the quiche in the morning. Our resident baker makes a really good one with gouda in it.” He smiles over at Vorstag.

“I’ll be sure to try it. Where are the rooms? I might get some sleep early.” He says, praying that Aerin doesn’t see through the lie.

“Oh, this way.” He stands and beckons, Vorstag follows the young man down the stairs to the basement floor. “Mjoll and Vilkas stay at the end over there.” He points down the long hallway. “Aela and Farkas tend to sleep in the fields or in the barracks with the younger whelps but here’s Aela’s room.” He nods as they pass it. “And Farkas’s.”

Vorstag notes each room. Each step it takes to get from one to the other. He doesn’t feel that thumping of power behind each door. They finally come to two rooms that are so close the wall between them must be thin as paper. “Here’s yours right here, you’re lucky. You’re next to mine so maybe I can give you a wake-up call for breakfast.” He grins at Vorstag.

He doesn’t return it. He takes note that every other door is open unless the room is occupied. But Aerin’s is sealed shut, and right behind it is that simmering power Vorstag was hunting for. He looks to Aerin and his sweet, boyish face, still smiling about the most mundane things. He’s innocent as can be, and Vorstag was going to have to go through him to get this artifact. He knew it.

“Sounds good, lad. Make sure I’m up nice and early. I don’t want to be late for my meeting.”

 

---

 

At Mannimarco’s request, Serana’s mother has a bed in her room. They were going to sleep in the same room for the first few nights, with Dawn hovering in the corner. Serana won’t say she was too pleased, she was. If this truly was her mother sleeping not ten feet from her, then she was overjoyed.

The question was whether it was her. In the library, she fawned over the books and tomes they found on necromancy and spell casting. But the joy never quite met her eyes. Serana tried many times to pry the truth from her and Valerica never budged. Serana knew her to be a stubborn creature when she was growing up. Even more so when locking herself away after Harkon’s tyranny. Yet, she knew with this situation with Mannimarco, her mother would tell her. Based on the notes Serana received in the College of Winterhold, Valerica would spill all she knew about the man.

All Serana hears is her mother’s soft breathing. She has an idea. The other day in the library, she was learning about soul trappings. With those pages she poured over, she found some information she didn’t expect.

The passage described what Mannimarco did. He trapped pieces of souls in statues for his bargain. What she read described the process, what happens, and how to free them. All she had to do was free Valerica’s soul from the statue outside, and she’d get her answer. Was it truly her mother? Or a fake consolation that Mannimarco planted with her? He’s kept his distance so far, but she knows he’ll come back to talk about what happened in the meadow.

Thinking about it made her lips buzz. Yet, she couldn’t tell if she wanted to relish in it or throw up. To have him so close to her, when she thought he was another man, was absolutely terrifying. She decided she wouldn’t be taken by that magic again, so she created a charm to try and ward against it this afternoon. It was a little purple flower hanging on the end of a long silver chain. But it held a lot of power. Her mother and Dawn knew all about it, and Mannimarco would as well. But if she was going to be his bride, she would not allow herself to be overcome with spells and compulsion.   

Enough of the thoughts, she muses. She slowly moves herself from the bed and creeps past her mother. Dawn follows her, as expected, but she doubts she’ll tell anything to Mannimarco. When she opens the door and creeps down the hall, she can hear his pacing down below. He would make it to her hall eventually. All she had to do was sneak past and she’d be in those back gardens.

Down the banister and along the bottom of the manor, she sees the door to the gardens wide open. Mannimarco was pacing behind her, she lets his shadow pass her before she scurries from the bottom step to the door.

Once outside, she has to breath a sigh of relief. If he knew what she was doing, it would be disastrous. He’d surely lock her up. Fresh flowers in the cool summer air greets her. She can smell each one, to her surprise, a few of them are glowing in the night. A rare kind of flower that her teenage self would have scoured Tamriel for. She brushes her hand along it but won’t get distracted.

She winds around the gravel path and finally, at the end, she sees her statue. Her father stands next to her mother, staring down at Serana who was letting petals free into the pond below. She won’t make the same mistake again. Instead of entering the pond and alerting Mannimarco, she circles it to lay her hand on her mother’s foot.

A breeze blows through, ruffling her hair, and making her pause. What if the spell was ineffective? What if she made a mistake with her mother? She should try someone else first. She moves so she’s now in front of her father’s statue. Staring up at his face wasn’t pleasant. His sharp features were carved out just right. That mouth that used to curl in an ugly snarl was spot on. His dead eyes stare down at Serana…no doubt in disappointment.

She ignores it and places her hands on the base of the statue. The spell was simple, but she felt like she needed to say something first. “Father…I’m not sure what to say. I wish you different. I wish you were better. I wish you helped me more.” She looks up at his horrible face again. “I wish you didn’t keep me locked up underground for centuries. I wish you trusted me!” Her fingers curl into the statue, breaking some of the stone. “I wish you never had the prophecy. I know you can hear me. Are you happy now? You ruined everyone’s life! But no one more than my own! Now, I have to marry a man I don’t know and don’t care to, all for your stupid ambition!” She rips some of the stone. “I hope you’re happy now. Because I don’t forgive you. I don’t know where you’re going once I release your soul, but know this, your fate is well-deserved.” She says the incantation, a few lines of words and her hands begin to glow purple.

She nearly flinches when a bright light shoots up into the sky, she watches as her father’s eyes turn a cold blue, so hot and bright, she feels he’s boring his gaze into her. As if to say, he heard her little speech and didn’t like it one bit.

Good.

She stands, panting from fear when the light fades. “Serana? Are you okay? I heard some yelling.”

She spins only to find her mother behind her donning a black robe. Her feet are covered in black slippers that were just getting covered in gravel dust. Her hair is a mess, but she doesn’t seem to care. “What’s going on?”

Serana is frozen. She can’t really say what she’s doing, and she knows it’s only a matter of time before Mannimarco finds them. She runs to the other side of the statue, her mother’s judgmental eyes follow her, she slams her hands on her mother’s statue. “I’m making sure it’s you. You’re not acting like yourself and I won’t let him deceive me again.” Is all she says before reciting that incantation.

For a second, there was nothing, just her mother outstretching her hands and racing towards her. Then, the same glowing light shoots up into the air, her mother’s statue eyes are engulfed in that same glow before slowly fading.

Serana turns her head, expecting her mother to barrel into her and take her to the ground. Instead, she finds a black skeleton falling to its knees that was slowly disintegrating into dust. The black robe still clinging to the bones.

Serana lets out a shriek. This can’t be her mother. This can’t be her.

“Serana? What happened?” Mannimarco stands behind the falling ashes. The yellow gravel is now covered in black soot.

“I don’t know.” She says and that’s the truth. She can’t believe her eyes.   

He stares at the statues, the way he fixes his jaw…this isn’t good. Serana stands up taller. “I had to make sure it was her. I needed to know.”

“I should have known you’d be too intelligent to take her at face value.” He meets her eyes, and she nearly shivers from the ice in them. “It wasn’t her. It was someone to keep you company through the emotional turmoil.”

“Emotional turmoil?” She sputters, “I was basically drugged with magic when I kissed you! I didn’t want that, and you tricked me. And to make it better, you trick me again?”

He shrugs. “I had to. I thought it would help but apparently I was wrong. I won’t make the same mistake.” He scuffs his boot on the black ashes littering the ground. “Get some sleep. I think tomorrow it’s time I tell you what’s going on here. What your father bargained for. In a few days we have the wedding, so you’ll need to be ready.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes. Doesn’t even say he’d escort her to her rooms. He just turns to pace in the gardens. Serana glances over her shoulder, that rift in the sky was glowing with purple and blue light, and a million stars collecting in the center. It would be easy to run. But Dawn would catch her.

The flaming figure stands next to her, waiting for her to move. So, with nothing more than the promise of the truth beckoning her, Serana picks up the edges of her dress and walks back into the palace.       

 

---

 

Vorstag waited until he heard Aerin’s even breathing on the other side of the wall. Once another of the Companion’s footsteps fades up the stairs, Vorstag stands. His heart is beating out of his chest. He decided after bidding Aerin goodnight, he would not kill him. He wouldn’t kill anyone, but he would get the Mace.

The only question is whether the Mace would let him leave without bloodshed or not. He would have to resist it. In front of Aerin’s door, he finds it locked, but it’s not a problem. He picks it with ease and slowly moves the door open. The candlelight from the hallway spills in, slightly but he’s able to slip in before it can wake Aerin.

The thrumming of power was so intense in here. It nearly took Vorstag to his knees. It was like a band around the chest. The weapon was right in the corner, resting on the floor with the hilt along the wall. Aerin gasps in his sleep. Vorstag moves quickly. His hand is just about to reach the hilt.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

Vorstag stops, his heart galloping so loud. That’s probably what woke Aerin. He turns and smiles. "Sorry, lad. I noticed this out of the corner of my eye and wanted to grab it. I haven’t studied the artifacts like I wanted to…”

Aerin rubs his eyes and sits up in bed. “You don’t have to lie, Vorstag. Aela and Vilkas knew there was something you weren’t telling us.” He suppresses a yawn and instead stares at Vorstag. “I just want to know what’s happening. I won’t tell anyone if it’s something you want to keep private."

How to say it? Molag Bal didn’t swear him to secrecy and that was probably because all the people who would find out would be dead by the end of the night. “My love was kidnapped and I’m trying to get her back. The only problem is, Molag Bal took me back into service as his Champion. He told me to retrieve the Mace…” He won’t dare say the other part of the deal.

“Really?” Aerin’s face fills with fear. “I didn’t know those guys were still around. I thought after everything with the Night Mother, they’d just go away…” He looks down at the Mace. “I don’t really want to part with it, but I guess if he needs it then…”

“Why do you even have it?” Vorstag has to ask.

“Well.” Aerin looks sheepish. “I’ve been trying to find a way to make Mjoll immortal again. Her and Vilkas. After they gave up their werewolf powers, they lost their immortality.” He sighs sadly. “I though the Mace would be more helpful…but I haven’t found anything yet.”

Vorstag’s heart went out to him. Being a vampire now, looking at mortals was like looking at a prized glass vase. They were so fragile and would break at any moment. He wonders what he would do if Serana were suddenly mortal, not that Aerin and Mjoll’s relationship was the same.

“Maybe you can ask around? There must be some mages that would know something.” Vorstag says.

“I could.” Aerin moves the sheets to stand. “But if you want the Mace, you should take it.”

Vorstag glances at the weapon again. “You might want to leave. I don’t know what it will do if I pick it up.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, Aerin scurries to the other side of the room and opens the door. After spending so long with Daedric Artifacts when fighting the Night Mother, he knew what kind of power they wielded.

“Okay, good.” Vorstag looks to the man. “Go get the others if anything strange happens and barricade yourself in the strongest room. Don’t come out. No matter what I tell you.”

Aerin gives a salute. “Good luck.”

Vorstag takes a deep breath and reminds himself who he’s doing this for. Serana’s lovely face is in his mind as he grabs the Mace of Molag Bal, and he nearly shrieks when the weapon pulls him in. His mind goes spiraling before the world fractures and everything goes dark.

 

---

 

The morning wasn’t too pleasant. Serana stared at the curtained window for too long before getting up. Her mother’s vacant bed sitting lonely in the corner. She doesn’t even look at it, just dresses in the blue dress with all the cream-colored bows she was looking at yesterday. When she’s good and pretty, she smooths down the blue skirts and opens the door.

She nearly jumps. On the other side was Mannimarco, he looked as if he were about to knock. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you ready?”

She sighs, “Yes. Tell me everything.”

He looks down her form at the beautiful dress, the way it accentuated her curves. “I’m tempted to tell you in your room, just in case we get carried away again.” He tries to joke but after seeing the look on her face, he composes himself. “Come with me. We’re going back out to the meadow. It will be better to tell you there.”

“No compulsion?”

“No. In the grass there won’t be any, it was just at the bottom of the pond. I just want to go there so we can speak in the quiet and peace of the fields. It would be easier for me.”

She didn’t know why but she wouldn’t pry. As long as he promised to keep his hands to himself, to not use magic on her, and to get them back to the palace safely, she would listen to whatever he has to say.

About a half hour later they’re walking in the tall, grassy fields. The balmy air kisses her cheek when they wade into the vibrant grass. Mannimarco sighs and falls to sit in the grass. They were on one of the tall hills overlooking the pond and the colorful tree below. She sits down next to him.

“What’s going on? What did my father bargain for?”

“Not wasting a second.” He laughs, “Just feel this…” He holds out his hands to the breezy air blowing through and falls back into the grass. Serana just stares down at him. “You know what it’s like to have fingers that are falling off? Parts of your flesh?”

He was talking about when he was a Lich. “No.”

“You’re lucky.” He chuckles, his white hair frames his pretty face, but gets caught in some of the long grass. “I was foolish to do it but my quest for immortality knew no bounds.”

“Looks like you finally got it.” She lays back in the grass too but keeps on her forearms. If she can make him comfortable, then maybe he’ll tell her…

“As for your father. He caught me at a bad time.” Mannimarco sighs. He stares up at the pink clouds drifting along the endless sky. “I was just finishing the final parts of this land…when he offered me something amazing.”

Serana doesn’t say a thing, just stares up at the clouds. He continues, “He was frantic. He worried that he quest to complete the Tyranny of the Sun wouldn’t go as planned and he was a very meticulous man.”

Serana sighs and falls back into the grass. “You have that right.”

“I heard what he did to you, he kept you locked up for…how long was it?”

“I don’t even know.”

“Ah. Anyways, he told me he would promise me your hand in marriage as long as he got you back.”

That was it? “What was he gaining in return?” She asks.

Mannimarco says nothing for a while. Serana has to reserve herself to staring at the sky and the many clouds dotting it. She wonders when she will have to ask again. As the minutes tick by, she slowly moves her hand to grab his. Mannimarco’s fingers curl around her palm.

“I won’t be mad with what you tell me.” She says softly.

“I would hope not.” He squeezes her hand but then rises, he moves over her, so his white hair falls down to tickle her cheeks. His shadowed face is amused. “Your father asked for something incredible in return, it’s not anything that many people get, it’s why he asked me.”

Just spit it out! She wished to say. But she bites her tongue and smiles at him. “What is that?”

“Serana, in order to be my bride, there are some preparations and requirements beforehand. There’s going to be some changes around here. Tomorrow I’m going to have to take you far away for a bit. Out of Amaranth and back to Tamriel. We’re going back to the Iliac Bay.”

“Why?”

“Your father requested a creature so powerful, so deadly, that not even the Daedric Princes would cross them.” His lovely eyes stare down at her. “I couldn’t think of such a thing. Well, except for myself.” Mannimarco gives a sly smile.

Smug bastard. She wanted to say but she bites her tongue on that too. And notices his smile isn’t fading.

“You were offering him…you? Your power?”

“No. I was to return his daughter after marriage. We would still be married and would still spend time together, but he’d need to use you.” He brushes some hair from her face. She’s too captivated by what he’s saying to smack his hand away. “Tomorrow, sweet Serana, we are headed to the Iliac Bay. Then, you are going to perform your apotheosis.”

Her heart freezes. “What?”

“Your father asked for a creature such as me. And what better creature than a god? Come the end of the day tomorrow, you will see, then you’ll know the power I was craving in my youth. You think being a vampire is incredible? Wait until you see the stars after you change over.”

Her heart was pounding so fast with his words. Apotheosis. He wanted her to… She couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t even think straight as he laughed and pulled her up from the grass to take her home.

 

---

 

Vorstag growls as claws rake his torso, around his back and up to his head. He falls to the ground but mindless monster he was, he rises and swings the Mace. The werewolf across from him growls and slams into him. They both go tumbling on the thick carpets. He can smell their blood spilling on the floor.

“Stop him! What’s gotten into him?” Mjoll calls.

Vorstag slams the Mace into the wolf who howls before grasping his shoulder with his teeth. He pulls and Vorstag moves out from under him before his teeth can find purchase. He turns, swinging the Mace down but another werewolf sends him tumbling. The female stands over him, her teeth dripping with saliva.

He gets up to charge them, but the two wolves slam their hands down into his shoulders. He’s immobilized. He can’t get up. He can’t even reach his head to tear their throats out.

“It’s the Mace.” Aerin pants from the side of the hallway. Vilkas was holding onto Mjoll as if she were something precious. “He took it. He said that Molag Bal has him prisoner and he needs to return it.”

The two Companion leaders say nothing. Mjoll looks down at Vorstag with sadness. “It’s the compulsion. He will be okay. We just need to get the Mace out of his hand.”

As he hears it, one of the wolves moves to pull at the weapon in his hands. He snarls, “I am the Champion of Molag Bal, and I command you to stop!”

They don’t say a thing. The weapon tears from his hand and he nearly screams with the intrusion of it. It was like ripping out a piece of his soul. He sits there, panting, and finally the edges of his vision return. No more was he seeing crimson.

“I-what happened?” He asks, horrified.

“You rampaged through the belly of our home without a thought! You nearly killed Farkas.” Vilkas says with Mjoll still in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Vorstag gasps. “I wanted to take the Mace and leave but it wouldn’t let me.”

“It’s the compulsion of the Prince. He told you to hurt us, didn’t he?” Mjoll asks.

Of course, she would know. She dealt closely with the Princes when they were under the Night Mother’s tyranny. “Yes. He wanted me to kill whoever had it. I wouldn’t though…”

She nods. “I know. You’re a good man. It’s hard seeing you tainted so.” She runs a hand over her belly. “He won’t be happy when he finds out you didn’t succeed.”

Vorstag can feel the wolves still clawing into him. He lets out a laugh. “No, he won’t. But he’ll have to deal with me somehow.”

“He will.” Mjoll says, sadly. “I wish I could help you.”

“You’re needed here. I can handle him. I have two more tasks, then I’m free.” He looks her in the eye, which is quite hard from all the way down on the ground.

“We’ll let you up, you take the Mace, and shove down the compulsion.” She says, finally.

Vorstag can hear Vilkas whispering in her ear. “We can’t help him. I know you want to.”

“There’s ways.” She whispers back. Vorstag wonders if they know just how good vampire hearing is.

“Let him fix it. He can.”

“Should we get Eve?”

“She won’t be able to help.” Vilkas counters.

“I’ll be fine.” Vorstag finally stands, the Mace at his feet. “I can handle him. Just, thank you for keeping me sane.”

Mjoll nods and looks like she wishes to hug him, but she keeps her distance. “Good luck. Come back when you’re finished. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I will.” Vorstag swallows hard and reaches down for the Mace. When grasping the hilt again, he prepares to fight the compulsion tooth and nail. Instead, the room shifts, fading away from Tamriel. He finds himself in the dark room with the arena and at the base of the throne to Molag Bal.

The Daedric Prince is griding his teeth. “You failed.” His tall form casts even more shadows down on Vorstag. He didn’t know the Prince sitting in the throne could make him feel so tiny.

“I have this.” Vorstag holds up the Mace.

“You were directed to kill everyone in that room.”

“I won’t do it.” Vorstag stares him down. “Take the Mace and be done with it.”

Once again, he finds the Prince is rushing things. If they could take their time, he would still be in Jorrvaskr fighting the compulsion. Instead, the Prince lifts a hand and flicks his fingers. The Mace goes sailing over to his hands.

“To feel this after so long…” The Prince stands. He slowly stalks towards Vorstag while rolling the Mace around in his hands. Testing it. “You know what you deserve after that. It looks as if your morals got in the way. Are you ready for your punishment?”

Vorstag holds his head high, thinking of the kind wolves and humans who took him in and of the baby growing in Mjoll’s belly. He would take on this punishment a thousand times if only to keep them safe. “I am.”

He doesn’t have another thought as the Mace of Molag Bal comes smashing into the side of his face.

 

---

 

In a bizarre turn of events, Serana finds she is the once pacing now. She’s dressed in a sleeveless white dress made of silk that reaches past her feet and forms to her body. The little straps were the only fancy thing about it. They were lined with pearls. There were no other adornments on it. The note Mannimarco gave her said she needed to wear something plain and wear no jewelry. No embellishments that might fly off during her apotheosis. She turns back and walks to the other side of her room. When dawn came, she had a note on her door requesting she wear this specific dress that was hanging in her wardrobe.

She barely registered putting it on. She only thought about what was coming next. She wanted to run. She thought about racing to the rift outside, but Dawn would surely catch her. And if they were going to Iliac Bay, she wanted to be unbound and prepared instead of in chains as Mannimarco would do if she tried to escape.

So, she paced. Until the clock chimed seven in the morning. Then the door opened. “Serana? Are you ready?” Mannimarco smiles at her when he sees her in that beautiful dress.

She takes a deep breath. “As ready as ever.”

The Iliac Bay was windier than she remembered. After taking Mannimarco’s hand and walking through the portal he opened in the hallway, she found they were standing on a tall tower. It overlooked the water lapping the edges of the provinces below. Up above is a windy and stormy sky.

“What am I supposed to do?” She asks, breathlessly. She wondered why she was so calm. It could because on the way here, she thought she was alright with this. She didn’t know how’d she feel on the other side. But once with the power of a god, she could rip open the folds of the world and dip her hands through the realms. Then, she would be able to get Vorstag and her mother back.

Mannimarco steps up to her and rests his hands on her shoulders. He stares down at her so lovingly…she almost wishes her heart weren’t already taken. She wishes he weren't such an evil man. “Serana. What you are about to do has not been achieved by many people.” His sharp eyes stare down into hers.

“You are going to go through a change that many yearn for. They never make the ascent because they aren’t strong enough. These past few weeks, I’ve been watching you, assessing you, to make sure you’re ready for this. And you are.” He kisses her forehead.

She breathes in his scent. He wasn’t a vampire or a mortal, he smelled different. His body was bathed in a strong iron scent. “Will you catch me when I fall back down?” She tries to joke.

“You won’t need me.” He runs his hands up her neck to cup her cheeks. “You’re strong enough for this.”

“Why do I have to do this when my father is dead? He doesn’t need me anymore.” She whispers.

“The contract is soul bound. I know you let him loose the other night.” He growls. “But I will forgive that. He’s useless to me now. The bargain remains. I need to keep my end of it. As a god, you will be stronger, more agile than you are now…the powers you have will be incredible. Divine.” He breathes deeply. “When you are ready, go to the edge of the tower and stand on the platform. There, you will look up to the sky and the pull of the gods will take you. You must want it. You will fly to the heavens where you will be reforged.”

“And if I don’t?” She whispers.

“You have to. There is no other way.” His eyes are frantic now. “For me to lose the bargain is to lose a piece of me. A piece of your father. If you don’t, I will command you.” He brushes a trembling hand over her forehead. “That compulsion you hate so much…I would have to use it.” His hand runs down to her throat. She knows he said no jewelry, but she had to wear the little charm she made to resist compulsion. His fingers brush over that little flower now. She worries he'll yank on it to pull it off.

Mannimarco smiles, “You know this won’t work against my compulsion. It would help against Amaranth, but it is useless in the face of a god.”

She nearly shivers with the thought. Still reeling from what she was about to do, she stares up into the clouds. “I’ll have any power? Just like you?”

“Limitless power, but make no mistake, you’ll be coming back to me.” Mannimarco kisses her hand. “Go, Serana. Ascend and fall back reforged as a god.”

She’s shaking but she gives him a small smile and leaves him for the other side. When she stands on the raised platform, she stares up at the cloudy sky above. Would Vorstag still accept her as a god? Would she accept herself?

She has no choice. This is exactly what her mother was trying to warn her about, what she couldn’t find out before being taken by Mannimarco. She only had to believe she’d make the ascent.

Wind blows through, pulling on her dress and hair, as if beckoning her up into the sky. The gray sea spreads out below her, an already long fall from this height. But it will be even greater when she gets up into the sky.

She is a vampire, so the fall won’t kill her. But she wonders what it will be like to be touched with the power of the gods. Is that what will trip her up? The wind blows through faster and faster, howling past her ears and clawing at the hem of her dress.

“Now is the time Serana, the updraft is at its greatest.” Mannimarco says behind her.

She looks over her shoulder to stare at him. His hopeful and worried face. And wishes it were another. If she makes this ascent, she has a chance to pull her lover out from whatever place he is. She didn’t know if he was still in the College of Winterhold, or close to the Iliac Bay, but she would get Vorstag back.  

The wind pulls at her again. It blows past so furiously; it nearly throws her over the edge. “Now, Serana!” Mannimarco yells.

So, she jumps.

She goes freefalling through the air. Nothing was there to catch her but her own free will. She thinks of the clouds above and wills them to her. If she goes crashing into the ocean, then so will they. With that thought, the wind changes. Instead of freefalling into the water below and crashing into whatever rocks are at the bottom, she flies upwards.

Mannimarco yells out to her, she can’t hear him as she whips past the tower and watches it fade from view. The cities below her, with the lights that were just growing brighter start to grow dimmer. The roar of the ocean leaves her and now, it’s just her and the sky.

Serana looks up into the low hanging clouds and closes her eyes when she flies through. The cold whisps brush her cheeks as they move past her.

You’re doing good. Mannimarco says in her mind. Wonderful. He sounds gleeful.

She keeps her eyes shut as the cold grows around her body and around her dress, still damp from the ocean spray. Serana, look up.

She follows his command and gasps. When she looks up, into the land of the gods where she is to be melded as one, she finds a glowing expanse of stars dotting the purple and blue landscape. In the center, stands the brightest star, beckoning her. Challenging her to make it there.

Keep going Serana. You will not fail.

With that thought, Serana raises her arms out to her sides, like a bird and flies. Up and up and up into the dazzling kaleidoscope of stars. Until all she sees is the blinding light of the divine.

Chapter 15: Part four: Apotheosis

Serana crashed into the sky. She felt the stars sinking into her skin like fresh ink. The voice of the divines intrudes her thoughts:

A worthy being.

Such a brave thing to touch the sky, little bird.

You dared to reach the stars and you have met them.

She feels her body torn apart, then forged anew, a power so expansive, so deep settles into her skin. She nearly chokes on it. To have such a thing… there would be no end to her reign if she wished. She stares up into the blinding light, searching for any divine face she can. She finds nothing.

She is now one of them.

And with that blessing, she falls back to the earth.

Chapter 16: Open Eyes

A/N: Hello all, I’m back from hiatus! I’ve spent the last few months working on two novels and am now just finishing this fic! This chapter was an intense one to write because of the situation the characters are in. I was so scared for them while writing this, so be prepared! 

Content warning: gore, graphic violence, and implied threat of sexual violence (non-graphic).  

 

---

 

The cold, barren ground holds many secrets. With each footstep his boots crush the snow a little more, and with each step, it almost feels like the land is whispering words that were never spoken. Vorstag feels the coolness of the trees as he leans his forehead against one of the trunks.

Beyond him, stretching out into the plains for miles is a killing field. Bodies, some fresh, some old and worn down into the earth, litter the ground. Soulless, black voids for eyes stare up to the heavens, as if asking for one last breath.

Vorstag’s heart finally slows. He almost chokes on his breath but remains calm. The hilt of the bloody sword in his hand is a calming presence. Over a month he was kept in his cage in Molag Bal’s home. And every day he was sent out to fight Molag Bal until he was impaled so badly, he couldn’t raise his body. Those days he would lay panting and hurting on the ground only to see the shadows lit up from the glow of the Daedric Prince’s eyes. He would hear the Prince’s breath hissing through the air in anticipation for his Champion’s demise. Vorstag couldn’t move away from a blow that would kill a lesser being. Each time they had this spat, this squaring off of moral codes that were at odds with each other, Molag Bal would always have the final say. He would snarl down at Vorstag’s bruised form and lick his sword, or talons, still dripping with Vorstag’s blood.

“If you keep failing like this, I’m going to start picking at your entrails with my teeth. Maybe that would give you the courage and incentive to win.” He’d taunt.

Vorstag never did. Not until the end. As his punishment for not killing the Companions, he went through that same torture day and night. The memory of Serana was beginning to fray around the edges. Her face never quite as clear as he remembered her before.

Until one night, alone in his cell with the ear grating screeches of the dammed surrounding him, he thought he saw her. His body was limp, broken, sore and aching all over and bleeding out, creating a dark puddle on the ground. He only opened his eyes for a second.

And she was there, leaning over him. Her vivid golden eyes, cut like fine jewels twinkling in the daylight, filled with sharp pain at the state he was in. Her angelic hands caressed his cheek, around his head and down his hair to smooth it out. “It’s okay.” She whispered, her lovely lips curling around those soft-spoken words.

Vorstag couldn’t speak. It wasn’t that he was unable to. He was speechless. It possibly meant death was near now that she was so close, so real. Or Talos had graced her. Something had changed.

He hoped for that. He hoped she was safe, she was cared for, and she could see him, just one last time. Before closing his eyes, he felt her lips mold to his. Felt her soft kiss breathing life and air into him.

When he awoke that day, he realized he was a changed man. No more the bleeding husk on the ground like a hunted and stuck pig, he was now standing strong as ever and ready for the fight before him.

It took longer for his demise. An hour instead of minutes. Molag Bal was furious, swinging his Mace while Vorstag dodged and moved in a macabre sort of dance. Molag Bal matched him. Always only a few inches away. Always a few breaths from that final swing that would crush Vorstag’s neck.

The next day he got up and fought again. Only to return to his cell a broken husk.

The next day he fought again, tearing into Molag Bal’s face and neck. He was kicked into the ground for such an assault.

The next day when he woke up, he thought of Serana’s eyes. He thought of how clear they were. She was there with him in the dark cell that night. He knew it. He rose and took his sword, entering the arena with his head held high. Molag Bal stood at the other side, practically salivating for Vorstag’s demise.

And he won. He always did. The following week was more of the same. Every morning Vorstag would wake with his lover’s body and soul in his thoughts. He knew she was there, and she saved him. He just had to hold onto the flame that she gave him. The hope that he could break through the vicious cycle Molag Bal had dragged him down into.

Down into a deep, dark hole, indeed. The next day he dared to do something he never tried before. He held his hands to his side, his sword limp in his hand. Molag Bal walked right up to him, his nostrils flaring, his eyes blazing. Vorstag thought for a second he would accept the surrender. Maybe now, things would change.

That only earned him a blow to the face with the Mace.

“Pathetic.” The Prince had kicked him and walked away.

Another week. More pain, more agony, only for the long day to end being dumped in his cell. Some blood was administered but never enough. This time Vorstag laid there all night, awake. Thinking of her. She was so close, close enough to touch but not close enough to pull him from this circle of Oblivion.

As it should be. He didn’t want her anywhere near these lands. He would fight Molag Bal for eternity and lose every time to keep her away. These thoughts spiraled before Vorstag played the game with himself. In times past as a mercenary, when he was alone, and fearful of the enemies on the other side of the door, he performed this exercise.

It was him or a child. If he were too scared to fight the enemies who threatened a neighboring village, then how could a mere child? And there were many in those villages. Many women, many men who never even held a sword. If Vorstag couldn’t fight these people, then how could he expect them to?

And that night, he thought of Serana. If he couldn’t fight Molag Bal, and win, then how could he expect her to fare in the fight? She’d be torn apart in minutes. Screaming his name, the whole time. If Vorstag didn’t stand up to him now, then who’s to say he wouldn’t stop his rampage and leave his lover alone?

The next morning, he rolled his shoulders, working out the kink in his neck and arms before circling the ring. Molag Bal laughed, and matched him, following him on the other side of the circle. They were two predators ready to show their might but too afraid to strike first. It took only two minutes to beat Molag Bal. All it took was a swift swing of his sword to the back of his head.

He thought he’d be punished. Oh, when Molag Bal turned, the hilt of Vorstag’s sword impaled in the back of his skull and breaching the lower part of his jaw, he thought he would be killed. The Daedric Prince only started laughing. So long and hard that Vorstag began to worry. He knew he wouldn’t be killed with mercy. It would be a long and painful death, over coals riddled with searing flames. Or, maybe he would be drawn and quartered for all to watch like some other poor souls here. Every time Vorstag saw that in passing, he wondered what it would be like for his limps to be torn so slowly from him. His heart froze up with the thought. He’s a strong man, but every iron will has a breaking point.  

Instead, Molag Bal cleaved the sword from his head, and he slowly licked his own blood from one smooth iron side and then the other, making sure to watch Vorstag with a piercing gaze. Gaping holes healed smoothly along his jaw as Molag Bal tested the sword, spinning it around in his hands. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I earn a prize?” Vorstag had asked. Nerves were prying at him, making him shake, but he kept his composure.

“If killing my enemies is the prize. You’ll find they’ll be far easier than me.” Vorstag’s sword clattered to the ground, no more than a toy losing its shine. Molag Bal stalked off.

Vorstag felt his heart racing, his palms sweating. He thought he would be sent back to Whiterun to finish the job in killing all the Companions. He thought Molag Bal would do something horrible. Like telling him to extract Mjoll’s child and bring it back to him to raise. Only something the Prince of Enslavement would think of.

Instead, those fears were unfounded. Vorstag found himself in a field drenched with bandits who conspired to attack travelers and the frozen lands of Windhelm. Out here in the ruins, there wasn’t much. Not even enough food to hunt in the harsh cold. As before, when Vorstag saw the first of many tents, he lost control to the bloodlust.

He remembered each heart he pierced, each scream and plea for mercy that fell on his ears, but he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t even say the words he so wished he could. He could only watch the life leave them and lay them to rest with the other soldiers that had come through here decades prior.    

Whispers of power sound behind him. Vorstag turns, sweat still dripping down his brow, to see a Winged Twilight step out and survey the land with him.

“Good. Good Champion.” The creature hisses, her crimson eyes scouring the red puddles staining the ground. Then, they find his.

Vorstag stills, his heart slows, every instinct in him tells him to run. Fast and far away from this creature. It was the same in Skyrim before he was taken to Coldharbour, and it seems, old habits die hard.

He flinches when her clawed wing rakes his cheek, just enough to poke at the skin but not tear at it. “Go speak to Molag Bal. He will be pleased, lovely Champion. You keep this up and you will be greatly rewarded.” Her wings encircle him, pulling his tense body close. He feels her tongue lick the side of his cheek to his temple.

“So tense. So fearful. Are you sure you don’t want a taste of my flesh? I hear whispers that you miss your lover.” She hisses against his cheek before letting him out. Vorstag stumbles back a step or two, fearing the implications of what this creature was saying.

“He wouldn’t want me to be used.” He manages to find his voice.

“Used? Any prize we give you is well deserved.” She hisses, surveying him slowly from head to toe. “Go, you fickle thing. I will retrieve the dead as proof of your great efforts today.”

Vorstag sighs but squares his shoulders. He needs to be ready for whatever is on the other side of that portal. When he steps through, and feels the cold seeping in worse than the blizzard that had just overtaken Windhelm the night before, he finds Molag Bal on his ornate throne. His eyes blaze with anticipation. His chin sits on his fist, as if he were bored. But the tension in his body betrays him.

“You have flesh all over you.” Are his first words.

Vorstag glances down at his silver armor and feels a sickening pit in his stomach as he sees what the Daedric Prince was mentioning. Dark organic matter stains his armor. Most of it is blood, although there are other chunks. Tufts of hair. Pieces of clothing. His frenzy knew no restraint and it takes everything not to vomit right there in the throne room.

“I did as you asked.” Vorstag says evenly.

Molag Bal’s eyes flick up to Vorstag’s face. “That will be determined soon.”

A few seconds pause. It feels like hours as they tick by. Vorstag stares at a place right above Molag Bal’s head. He tries to think of Serana as she was the night she came to him. Alive, safe, well fed, unharmed. She was divine. Angelic. Whatever fate she was entwined with, it was showing her the best hand.

Better than him, standing here in other men’s blood and waiting to hear if he did his master well. Like a dog tied to a stake, Vorstag could never leave. He was always choked out. He could barely see the outside of his cell on good days. On the worse days he knew this room like the back of his hand. He knew how the cuts of Molag’s Bal sword would feel. He knew how the fights would unfurl before them. The dance they would perform.

Studying Molag Bal’s form now, Vorstag thinks he knew his weaknesses. That day he bested him, only one second of distraction, only a moment of arrogance and he had him. Now, as Molag Bal watches his Champion he knows he will not make the same mistake.

If he failed, he would have to pray for more strength. To see Serana’s sweet face again. To remember who he was truly fighting for. It was his only hope of surviving.

A sickening splat sounds in front of him. Vorstag flinches as the head detaches from the body completely, flesh spilling on the ground as it rolls away. The Winged Twilight stands on top of the body, her grinning face splattered in blood.

“I hope you don’t mind I tasted the morsel some. Too fresh to resist.”

Molag Bal steps down from his throne, his muscled form tensing as he circles the prey. Vorstag studies the back of his head when he passes. Right between the horns. That was the place, that sweet spot, a promise for an escape.

Vorstag is practically salivating when the Prince passes him by. His palms itch to grip the leather hilt of his blade. To rip it free and impale him once again. How lovely he would look without a head.

“Boy, did you hear me?”

Vorstag snaps from his haze. His lazy daydream crumbling before his eyes. Once the Daedric Prince was injured, Vorstag would only have minutes to find a portal. One that he couldn’t manifest for himself.

“Yes?”

Molag Bal grins. “You did good, boy. My enemies now quake in their boots. They will think again before crossing me.”

Vorstag nods, slightly. His fear keeping him pinned. Even though the Prince praised him, he could still find something wrong. He could make any excuse to beat him into a pulp and leave him to rot in his cage.

“Don’t just stand there like that.” The Prince hisses. “Go clean that shit off you. We’re eating tonight.”

Vorstag blinks, as if he didn’t hear him correctly. “Come again?”

“A feast. We are having a feast right here. Now go. I don’t want you tainting it with that gore all over you.”

“I could lick it off.” The Winged Twilight picks at one of the pieces of flesh stuck in her teeth, her smile cruel as her eyes trace the length of Vorstag’s body. He doesn’t think twice, just scampers back to his cell to get ready. If there is any promise of good, nutritious food, blessing him, then he would be a fool not to take it.  

 

---

 

The freshly cooked meat, still steaming from the heat they laid on sits in front of him. The vegetables gleaming and ripe. Colorful fruit lines the bowls and glasses at the feast. It was a long table, draped in a purple cloth. Vorstag in the center, next to Molag Bal. He shut down after the first bite. The grilled steak wasn’t what it seemed. It turned coarse and chalky in his mouth. It went down to catch in his throat. Not even the blood in his goblet was good enough. It was stale, old, and bitter.

He didn’t have such need for human food, but the craving was there. As if his older, human self, were clawing to get out and get any sustenance Vorstag needed. He just sips his blood as scantily clad dancers surround the table. Winged Twilights and other daedra line the rest of the table, their blunt teeth and fangs tearing at the flesh of the dead men laying on the table before them. The smell is putrid. Fresh. Just like the fields Vorstag was in.

“Don’t like the food? I thought a mortal like you would enjoy such a sight.”  Molag Bal hisses. He tears at another tendon of the man before him. Vorstag tries not to stare too hard. A feminine hand traces his jaw, down his neck and begins to trail lower before Vorstag bats her away.

“You don’t like the entertainment?” Molag Bal turns his head, flesh still pinned in his mouth.

“I have no desire for it. I just want the blood.”

“Old blood, boy. Not the kind that will help you. Here.” The Prince drags the man in front of him forwards. Vorstag isn’t quick enough to avert his eyes from his face. The boy was no older than eighteen if that, stuck in the life of raiding villages for food and treasure. Yet, the person before him didn’t deserve this fate. No one did.

“Drink. Unless you want to be weak and useless for your final task.” Molag Bal commands.

Vorstag’s eyes snap up, for once, filling with a light that he thought was long extinguished. “My final task? I am free after this?”

With dripping fangs, Molag Bal opens his mouth before laughing in his face. “Free? You’re never free of me, boy. I made sure of that when I brought you back. No. You will retire to your cage for a long while before I need you again. This matter is too pressing. I need you to take care of it come morning.” He holds out a still bleeding wrist of the dead man.

Vorstag shudders but he has no choice. To refrain would be to weaken himself further. To deny the Prince is asking for another fight he might not recover from. He lowers his head, his hair falling over the man before him as he takes in his lifeblood.

Cold. Still. Not what blood should be. Yet, it fuels him. With each pull, that burning in his throat subsides. That aching in his limbs lessen. Another soft hand strokes his hair. For a brief moment, Vorstag closes his eyes and imagines it’s Serana. That she was pulling his head back and plants a consuming kiss on him.

Vorstag kisses back, feeling her lips and wishing so desperately it was her. If it were, he would pull her into his arms and they would consume each other. That desperate flame that awoke in him the night she was taken, it would flourish. It would blaze through all the hatred and despair that lingers like cobwebs in his shadowed mind.

When his eyes flutter open, he sees the Winged Twilight from before. And instead of a hand, her wing pulls away, picking at his hair and pulling it with her. She grins savagely. “Liked it, did you?”

“Get your fill tonight. Your pleasure and your rest. Tomorrow will be hard day.” Molag Bal murmurs next to him. He bows his head again to tear at the dead man before him. Vorstag only keeps his head leaning back against the chair, his eyes gazing up when the Winged Twilight bows down for another kiss.

He’s spent. He’s tired. A fatigue that’s so bone deep, not even a good night would save him. A soft whisper that has turned into a deafening roar in his mind. Give up. It echoes and rattles through the cage he put himself in. He gave up after so long fighting Molag Bal. He gave up when he realized just how far Serana is from him. Just how far he’s gone away from himself.

“Who were they?” He murmurs against the Winged Twilight’s lips.

“The dead?” She croons. Her wing comes around to stroke his face. “Soldiers, sent out to fight the Imperials. They were awaiting orders for their next move.”

There was no way that was a lie. Not based on how her cruel smirk eats at him. Not when the resounding chuckle Molag Bal gives pins him. “They were innocent?”

“Why tell the truth when you scamper to the shadows? I told you your morals would be your undoing.” Molag Bal laughs and tears again.

Vorstag goes numb. The boy in front of him, with a soft youthful face wasn’t a criminal. He was the son of someone who had such pride in him. Who raised him and allowed him to go fight for the cause he held so dear to his heart. And this was his fate.

Vorstag feels a dark sea opening up and swallowing him whole. The dark waves take him in their cold embrace and the world as he knows it slips away. It’s not ideal. It’s not a current that will wash him away from this cold, savage land but it will cocoon him. Help him survive.

Later in his cage, after the feast is over and the dancers finally leave him alone, he lets the sobs shake him. The tears stream out onto his moldy bed. The screams of the dammed were now fighting him, vying for the attention of anyone listening. Tonight, they seem to die away with everything else. Vorstag wishes a hand would reach out to him, so he could look up into Serana’s sweet face and be blessed with the strength he needs for the day.

The image of her face frays further until he can’t see her anymore. He can’t remember the feel of her skin against him. Her eyes aren’t as bright. Her lips not as defined. Her voice no more than a faded collection of words. The woman was losing her luster.

He cries again as her touch was erased tonight from the kiss of the Winged Twilight. A kiss of death. As it was confirmed, after tomorrow’s final test, he was Molag Bal’s to keep. Like a dog in a cage, only sent out when directed. With one mission in mind, only what his master wishes.

Maybe that’s how he should be, Vorstag thinks. His thoughts cloud as the dark water washes in and takes him away.  

 

---

 

They pried as skin with their nails as he passed them by. Dremora, Winged Twilights, all kinds of daedra. They all praised him as he parts the crowd. Vorstag now has gleaming black armor coating him, forged and built in the brightest of moonlight. It creaks and groans with each step, so cumbersome and bulky, he wonders how he will fight in it.

The new Daedric greatsword is at his back, a short sword at his hip. A dagger lower in his boot. An axe was given to him, but he declined. They’re sharper, and adept when one knows what to do. But growing up with a hand for a sword, he’d rather keep the weapon that remains reliable. If he’s to hack someone to pieces, he wants to make it quick.

A shadow looms. Molag Bal steps out of the glow of the portal, glaring down at Vorstag with determination. “Make it quick. I want this over as soon as possible.”

“Who am I to kill?” Vorstag asks as he bows. Lowering to his knees before his master. His voice is hollow, but ready. His body tense. His fervent eyes stare up at his Prince.

“A pesky one. One of Mehrunes Dagon’s creatures found a way into Nirn. He is not to linger or else there will be consequences.” Molag Bal’s voice is grim, his tone outlining what would happen if the creature were to stay. The divines would smite the Prince of Destruction and anyone close to him. The first being Molag Bal.

“He cannot stay. He has a living host, so don’t get tripped up by it.” Molag Bal bares his fangs. “No morals today, boy.”

“How do I kill it?” Vorstag asks, hollowly.

“A swift swipe to the neck should suffice. The creature has a weak hold on the world. It won’t be hard to sever it.”

Vorstag nods, rising to his feet and with the roar of cheers from the daedra at his back. He steps through the portal only to be hit with the cold. A familiar place. It’s balmy, with mist draping the fields. A place he hasn’t been for some time. The air is fresh here. The spring just blossoming after a long winter. Vorstag finds the twinkling lights in the distance and moves slowly, softly, with the shadows keeping him safe all the way to his prey.

 

---

 

Vines and moss snake their way around the cottage. It’s a quaint, humble abode. Just sitting on the cusp of the world, the cliff it lays on juts out to stare down at the world teeming below it with village lights in the distance. A dark presence lingers.

Vorstag can feel it. His heart races as he closes in on the house. The scent of fresh apple pie and soft burning candles fill the air. The windows don’t hold a soul. The former inhabitants must be dead behind the house. It was where the potent stench of decay was coming from.

Vorstag pulls his greatsword. The thick metal sings when it loosens free. The heartbeat of the dammed beats slowly behind the oak wood door when he approaches. Vorstag uses one hand to knock, hoping the creature is dumb enough to answer.

He takes a deep breath, awaiting it. Whoever he had control of was strong. The broken bodies he can see, just hidden in the forest boundary that recedes down the cliff says so. It must be a strong man with strength honed over decades. A worthy adversary now that he has daedric power.

The creaky hinges sing and Vorstag’s heart drops when the door swings open. On the other side, that dark heart beats and beady, black eyes of a boy no older than six stare up at Vorstag. He almost loses his grip on his sword. The Nord boy, so tiny and frail looking, smiles cruelly, sending a shiver down Vorstag’s spine. No child should be this cunning or malicious.

“Hello, Champion. I was hoping you’d show up soon. And just in time for dessert.”

 

---

 

She breathes easily now. No more will Mannimarco pace right outside her room while she clutches her blankets, wondering how she will fight him off or escape should he come into the room and try to hurt her. No more will she be chained to the manor she resides in with him. She’s close to finding a way out.

It was brutal when she woke up first. When Mannimarco held her, and Serana finally opened her fresh eyes. Wide and searching like a newborn babe, awed by the world before her. Things were brighter, stronger, a haze that had been upon her mortal form for so long was lifted.

A god in every right. That’s what he whispered to her. “A god in every right, Serana. You ascended! You did it.” He laid a kiss on her forehead.

But she was tired of it. No more would the mortal weight of fear hold her down. She lashed out, sending power lining down her body. It was like touching the sun and embracing it. It seared out of her limbs and chest, making Mannimarco scream and melt right before her eyes.

His flesh peeled from his face, falling into a puddle at her feet. She stood, staring down at his burning corpse with a small smile tugging at her lips. What a fool to change her. He didn’t know he was giving her the keys to her escape, and ultimately, her revenge.

The mirth was short lived. He rose up, the folds of his black cloak ascended from the ground and piece by piece, his skin stitched together. The blackened and red pieces slowly dragged themselves together. His eyes were last, and they were burning so bright, so heated that she feared, for a brief second what he might do to her.

What he could do to her. It was nothing. She would just fly away now. She squared her body up, staring him down and let fire burn down her arms to pool in her hands. She would burn him again and again until he couldn’t get up. Then, she would rip a tear into the world and fall away to another realm. Until she could figure out how to wield her newfound power.

“You cannot, Serana. You weren’t listening when I told you. You are bound to me.” Mannimarco said, his words were still jumbled from the mess his lips were. They soon stitched up together though so he could speak fully. “Those bonds.” He nodded.

She looked down to see the chain-like bangles circling her wrists. That was all he needed. Mannimarco flew at her, shoving his body into her and pulling her with them as they fell through the world. She thought they would hit the ground but instead, they fall through the tear, down, down into the void that had opened. Her eyes watered and her scream was torn from her as the wind whipped by and gravity from new worlds tugged at them.

Mannimarco hissed in her ear when they stopped. Her bed cupping them in it’s comforting embrace. She panted when he moved away from her, rising to the foot of the bed as he glared down at her.

“You have forced me to show my hand. Pray no one saw that.”

“What? What happened? What did you do?” She stands, quickly, and with a single thought the bed disappears. They were once again squaring off on an imaginary arena. Mannimarco only raised a single brow.

“Interesting. Serana, don’t be foolish.”

“What are you doing? I’m free. I earned that.” She hissed. Her rage and fury at being a captive to this creep boiling through her. She was livid, her breath sawing in and out of her chest with each passing thought.

He cleaved Vorstag away from her. Sent him to some Oblivion she could never imagine. The edge of the thought was before her. If she tugged at it, she would know exactly where he was. She could pinpoint him with this new power.

“Stop it.” Mannimarco snapped, sealing that door shut. She blanched as the bands circling her wrists tightened, those runes coating her skin were searing into her. She screamed at the pain. It was worse than the apotheosis. This was fiery and bone deep.

“Why are you doing this?”

The fire ceased. All that was left was Mannimarco in the dark room glaring down at her. As if he were her father and she should know better. “Don’t give me that look.” She hissed.

“What look? You’re being foolish.”

“You withhold information from me. You keep me caged. My father was monster, but he was never you.”

She could swear she saw him flinch. Or was that a trick of the light? The man before her stands tall. “You are stressed. Ascending isn’t for the faint of heart. I will forgive your outburst. Rest now.”

“Rest?” She laughed, a little hysterically, feeling the simmering power below the surface. As if her skin were a flimsy barrier holding it back in. She only had to let it out, let the dam burst and this whole realm, this Amaranth, will cease to exist.

“Don’t get cocky, remember I can hear that mind in your pretty head more clearly now.” Mannimarco said softly, his face serene. “Serana, I keep those bonds on you to keep you from releasing your true power. The power that you did earn. But if you let it all free, the other divines might hear. The Daedric Princes might hear. I don’t want any of them knocking at my door.”

She paused, those words tangling in her thoughts. “You’re a secret?”

He smiled, slightly. “Not a well kept one. They all know I’m here, and they know you’ve ascended. They certainly must have felt the shift in the stars. But to show our powers so carelessly invites trouble.”

She only nodded, “I understand.”

“Do you?” He raised a brow, his eyes mocking. She knew he saw through her. He could hear her thoughts, after all. But she didn’t let on that she knew.

“Now what? We marry? I walk the aisle as your goddess of a bride?”

Mannimarco stroked his chin, “Lovely as the thought is, I need to give you time. It is not easy, this immortality. These gifts. I need to give you some space and time to acclimate. Rest. Sleep. We can speak more in the coming days of what we do. First, I want you to get settled into your powers.”

She was shocked, but her hollowed chest shuddered in relief. He wasn’t going to force her into anything. Not after what she already went through. Staring after him, like a wolf staking it’s territory, she bares her fangs. Mannimaro recedes with a slight nod to her. Once the door was firmly shut, she raced over and locked it. Her shaking fingers clutched the knob before the golden peice broke to pieces in her hands.

She laughed then, staring down at the mangled piece of metal. How foolish. A lock? That would do nothing against him. It doesn’t do anything against her now. She went back to her bed and curled up, staring at the window, remembering the great heights she ascended to and those she had yet to conquer.

 

---

 

Serana could not sleep that night. She felt the tether of a chord pulled tight on her chest. A suffocating feeling like she couldn’t breathe. Tossing and turning didn’t help alleviate it. How she wished to go wander the library but the sound of Mannimarco pacing outside her door kept her firmly in place.

Sweat beading on her brow, she took in another strangled breath. It was like someone had impaled her straight through. She almost gasped in pain when she heard the scuff of footsteps pause right outside her door. His shadow loomed.

She clutched the blankets further, staring at the broken door, hoping it would not open while she hurt so. Seconds passed. The pain blossomed as he waited. Then, by the divine act of Talos, the man before the door regained his footing and began pacing again.

She sighed, but it was like a collection of daggers had settled into her. So painful and horrible she would do anything to make it go away. She was a god now. She should not feel this pain.

But slowly, the room melted. Her pain was his pain. And she opened her eyes anew to a tiny, cramped cell in a dark place. Mold and water lined the walls, horrible screams and echoing screeches filled the hallways. Even with the chaos erupting from Coldharbour, it could not draw her attention away from the broken man on the floor.

She almost screamed. Vorstag laid, halfway on his bed. His numerous cuts bleeding so bad she couldn’t see the paleness of his skin anymore. And the worst of all, the gaping wound at his chest seemed to be the culprit. She ran over, laid down next to him and stroked his hair. His eyes opened, just barely, bruises covering them and forcing them shut. He didn’t look as she remembered, gods, if this was how he was and not some horrible nightmare inflicted on her…

Rage simmered before it fell silent. She stroked Vorstag’s hair away from his face, as if that would help. She felt around his neck, looking for a break since it was at an odd angle and found nothing. He would heal with time but who knows how much blood he was getting.

His eyes were slits but she could see him staring at her. In awe. In wonder. She wondered how she looked just then. Was she as graceful as Mara? As beautiful to behold as a divine being in the flesh? Or was she as faded as a statue kept in the temples, waiting for worshipers to pray to?

She would give anything to alleviate his pain. Anything, even her newfound gifts to bring him back together. But all she could do in this moment, as he stared at her with such wonder, was to talk to him.

“It’s okay.” She whispered.

And she awoke, her eyes snapping open with the memory of the broken man fueling her for weeks to come.

 

---

 

“In here again, Serana? Why don’t you wander the gardens? I’ve had them cultivated just for you.” Mannimarco sneers.

She doesn’t look up from the book she wasn’t reading. She was, in fact, reading it with a smile on her face before he interrupted. But the lovely flow of words turns into a jumbled mess with his presence. Dawn moves away from them, her simmering form flickering orange flames into the air. As if she were even agitated by Mannimarco's presence. 

“I like it here.”

“You hide from me, from Amarath.” Mannimarco says, she watches as his black robes swirl around him. He’s positively shaking. She keeps her head down, that small smile tugging at her face.

“You keep me from it. You won’t let me fly up into the sky. Like a bird.”

“The apotheosis is over, there’s no reason to go flying.” He snaps.

She glares up at him, her eyes crinkling in disgust with the sight of his face. “You won’t let me go flying or use any of my powers because you’re scared I will escape.”

He stands, large chest heaving and nostrils flaring. His white hair trails around him like a cloak and right behind him, she can see the statue of Vanus looming overhead. A beacon of hope. Days ago, when she was spent from reading all she could about other realms, she noticed something. A glow about the statue that wasn’t there before. It was faint, just a glimmer of a white orb at his feet. But days later he is now wreathed in that glow. She knows there is something about this statue and something in her gut tells her it is useful.

As long as Mannimarco doesn’t see.

The man sighs dramatically before he sinks to his knees, so he is eye to eye with her. “I am sorry. I know how challenging it is to change into this. To become something mortals only dream of. I wish to make things easier for you, Serana.” His cold hands snake into hers, the book on her lap falls to the floor in a thump.

“I want to show you something near and dear to me. Will you follow me?”

His eyes are earnest, soft, yearning. A small tug to the heart, before she remembers all he has put her through. She nods though, swallowing her pride, and stands. There is nothing to do here at the moment. Mannimarco smiles, pleasant and appeased. He folds her arm in his and they waltz out of the library, the prying eyes of the Lich, Sorlod, following them the whole way out.

 

---

 

The tower steps would have been agonizing to climb, even as a vampire. With fresh limbs and new strength, Serana circles the pillar of the tower with ease. Fast on Mannimarco’s heels she climbs the opulent white stone steps and brushes her hand along the stone wall. She almost runs into his back when he pauses at the door.

“Serana, what you are about to see I have never shown a soul, not even the Liches or dead around here. I hope you understand the faith I am putting in you today.”

“Of course.” She says softly, the harsh words they spoke before down in the library simmer in the air between them. The tension is so thick, she wonders if there will be another spat up here before the tower entrance.

“Very well. Follow along and don’t touch anything without me telling you.” Mannimarco opens the door, leading her in. His cloak flutters out behind him, obscuring Serana’s view for a moment before she takes in the rest of the room.

It’s littered with everything any good treasure hunter would want. Armor, artifacts, weapons, old and long forgotten line the walls. Detailed paintings from eras past rise from them, showing the room is more of a treasure trove than a luxurious office as she thought it was.

A bright glow grabs her attention. Green and white. Her eyes lock to it and she breathes slowly, as if any sudden movement will scare it.

In the center of the room stands a tall table with the Orb of Vaermina resting on top of it. “As you can see, I’ve collected many priceless artifacts and art over the years.” Mannimarco’s voice booms.

She still can’t tear her gaze away. As if in a trance, she takes a step forward before Mannimarco grabs her hands. “See there? Daedric Armor, a hard set to find and complete. It was easy for me though, I just had to carve up the owner before tearing it off his body.” His smug expression almost keeps her attention.

“Everything in this room can be yours once we wed. What is mine is yours Serana.” He tells her.

He doesn’t seem to see how entranced she is. She stares at the Orb as the smoke inside twirls and twines, beckoning her. “I thought there was no use to the bargain.”

“Serana, even though we have our differences, I have still taken a liking to you. Eternity is a hard beast to tame alone. I wish, no,” He corrects, “I yearn for someone to be at my side and I’m finding you’re just the person.” His voice is a hushed whisper, overtaken by the swirling colors of the Orb. “As a god, you are fit to be my bride. Even though your father made a bargain with me, he cannot use you as a weapon now. There is no need to keep you enslaved. I only ask that you wish to be with me. Not as an obligation but through your own desire.”

She wishes to snap at him. To tear him into pieces again for keeping her locked up so. And after, to tear through this tower and find a way to her mother and Vorstag. Before she can make that mistake, a vision flickers to life in the Orb.

He’s stronger than she last saw him. He’s breathing heavily. His eyes are filled with terror. Serana pulls her hand away from Mannimarco and he lets her. A few paces to the Orb and she’s now leaning over the table, her hands on either side of it.

“Vorstag.” She whispers over the orb.

His eyes aren’t fearful. They’re pained. So pained and shadowed. But with her word they flicker up to stare at her. His amulet, the one they so carefully stole from Ancano at the College of Winterhold pulses with the same green light.

“Serana, I can hear you.” He says, his eyes widening, searching for the sight of her.

Serana’s heart leaps. She lunges forwards as if she can burst through the Orb and to where he is before strong hands tighten around her shoulders.

“I forgot to mention this Orb is very powerful. You can see whoever you wish, when you want. It is the only artifact I am thinking of selling. It would go for a high price, enough to buy a whole Province if I do so correctly.” Mannimarco breathes in her ear.

A warning. A threat. Don’t mention Vorstag anymore. Serana chides herself. She thinks of another person, anyone, and an image of her mother, alone and lost in the Soul Cairn flashes on the Orb. She’s sitting at a desk, studiously scouring a book in her hands. Her dark brows furrowed.

“Why sell it?”

“I have no use for it now that you’re here.” His fingers tighten even more, digging into her skin.

He was watching her through the Orb this whole time. Ever since her father gave her away, which had to be…how long ago? Centuries, perhaps. Her heart freezes over.

“I think we should keep it. You can spy on your enemies.”

Vorstag’s face flashes on the Orb again as he sits at a long table. A child rests his tiny arms on the other side, a savage grin splitting his face. “A sweetheart I hear? Most men wouldn’t have such a reaction to a passing fancy.” His voice is small, like the child he should be, but his eyes betray him as anything but an innocent.

She has no idea what Vorstag has gotten himself into. She just knows, knows deep down in her gut that is had to do with her. He was with a daedra and that was not wise for him, not at all. Her heart flutters.

“Maybe I should keep it. To spy on my rival.” Mannimarco hisses in her ear. “Although, I doubt he will be more than a faded memory soon. A pleasurable night long ago. He’s with the Prince of Enslavement now.”

Serana can’t keep the gasp in. Her chest clenches. Vorstag feared this and he only told her in the dead of night, on those cold wind tossed nights in the College of Winterhold when none of them could get any sleep. It was because they were sharing the same space, too cramped, too close. She wishes she only enveloped herself in his embrace. Now, the memory of his broken body makes more sense, the way his cuts were dug deep into the skin…

“Molag Bal is thorough. He knows when to stop. I have no doubt your old flame was tousled up a bit, but now he’s ripe and bright as a newborn vampire. You have no need to worry. He is in the past now.” Mannimarco tells her. He tugs at her chin to drag her gaze back to him.

“I wish to marry tomorrow. In the afternoon, right at dusk when the stars are just peeking out, ready to shine brightly on our marriage.”

She can’t speak. Can’t form a word around the solid weight around her tongue. Her mind is pure panic, pure rage.

“Serana.” Mother called to her once. She stared down at her daughter while she scowled. Teenage years were hard, Serana would even admit, and she does regret the times she was horrible with her mother but she doesn’t regret this memory, not now.

“What?” She snapped, foot tapping, arms crossed. They were in the main banquet hall of their castle. Father and his friends were dining at the table. They ceased their conversation and consumption when they heard the mother and daughter argument starting.

“Serana didn’t I teach you anything?”

She bit her tongue, hard. Of course, she did. She was foolish but to admit that to her mother right now would wound her ego.

“That vampire was very powerful and had the means and the desire to use your mind. I told you how to use your wards and keep them in place.” Her mother snapped, “Why didn’t you?”

Because she enjoyed it. Because Serana wanted to know what it was like for someone else to take control of her brain for a moment. It was turning to mush after all this time wandering the castle. After all this time hearing father’s rants and watching mother’s patience beginning to buckle from the weight of his intensity.

Her eyes found mother’s, a bright sharpness in her golden gaze. “I know. I have the wards and could put them in place whenever I wanted to. I just chose not to.”

Father stopped drinking then. Harkon’s head almost swiveled but he had the good grace to dab at his lips with a handkerchief before rising from his meal. “Serana I hope you understand the gravity of what you just said.”

She stilled, straight as a rod as he paced towards her. Harkon’s sure footsteps halted when he glared down at her from his imposing height. “Do you know what enemies would do with such a weakness?”

“They would tear my mind apart.” She whispered, her eyes lowering. She didn’t wish to see the rage boiling in his. On his face. Mother and Father together, fighting against her, were a thing of beauty and the very thing that could bring her down further.

“Not only that.” Mother snapped. “They can search your weaknesses, find the very thing that would break you. They don’t need to pry it from you to find out.”

Serana shook her head hard, she wished to spend more moments in that dark corner with the tall, bearded vampire. She would have let him do anything, take anything he wanted, if only it also took her from this horrible reality for a few moments.

Years later, she didn’t know how good she had it. But the parting words of Harkon haunted her then, and they remind her now.

“I’m safe. No one will mess with me.” Serana tugged her cloak around her for any warmth.

Harkon was still. Afterall, that’s mostly what she remembers of him. His stillness, the way he glares down at her like a hungry vulture awaiting the death of their prey. It was always about how she was weak. How she never fought for their cause enough. It was one of the reasons he had her locked away in the first place, to do her duty for the rest of the family and keep an Elder Scroll safe.

“Serana, you are too young to see but in your long life you are going to make enemies, whether you like it or not. I didn’t raise a weak daughter. So get up and fight, keep those wards up, keep on your toes and don’t let anyone push you around as they see fit.”

She raised her head. He was right. In that moment with the Lord of Castle Volkihar staring down at her, tall and imposing, he was impossible to be calm around. He was terrifying, just one flick of his wrist would make any enemy lose their nerve. Just one glare from him would make someone have second thoughts. Serana was no different. That same fear held her in place then.

As it does now. But with Mannimarco holding her back, searching her mind with his power, she shuts him down. Like rocks breaking the surface of a stormy sea, she shoves up her wards as quickly as she can. He pulls her back against his hard chest.

Her hidden thoughts remain on Vorstag as he stares down at the little boy before him. She draws her gaze over the fresh scars riddling his face. He wasn’t as safe as Mannimarco made it seem. And he heard her. All she needs is a little distraction to pull him her captor a way so she can plead to the Orb to bring Vorstag here, with her.

Mannimarco’s breath is harsh in her ear as he leads her away. “You’ve shoved me out of your pretty head. I should have expected no less that you would figure it out eventually.”

Serana steels her spine, she allows him to lead her down the towering steps to her room, but she will not buckle under the weight of his intentions. “I learned from the best.”

 

---

 

Late at night, with the suffocating weight of the next day bearing down on her, Serana comes up with a plan. It’s dangerous. Fickle. Weak. She’s not sure if it will even work. But what she saw today in the library coupled with what she saw in the tower brings her peace. She has to try. Even if she is destroyed for it.

The thought of wearing the large, flowing, gown riddled with white trimmings and red roses that hangs behind her bedroom door makes her stomach ache. The thought of the tight corset cutting off her breathing is nothing compared to what saying her vows will do.

She’d be bound to Mannimarco. Here. For good. From what she read in those library books downstairs it told her that a bond between gods is unbreakable. It’s for eternity and coming from the human world, changed over to a vampire, she never truly knew how long eternity was. She’s only ever gotten a taste.

Her pale hands shake as she dresses, quickly and efficiently into her cloak and gown before slipping on her black shoes. The heavy footsteps that echo in the hallway recede, just down the left corridor. She must time this right. If he’s right in front of her door she won’t have any excuse. Just a single thought and her body is invisible. She marvels down at herself, thinking it wonderful that it only took a second. No incantation or elaborate pull of magic necessary.

But it’s not as strong with the brands on her wrists. Even now, she can see the edges of her form fraying. It will work, but if he knows what he’s looking for he will see her. She takes a deep breath, thinks back to Vorstag, thinks back to the glowing statue downstairs and wrenches open the door. The white and red ballgown flutters against it, the pearls so carefully sewn in rattle against the door. An oversight. She might pay for it. She just has to be faster.

 When she breaks out into the hallway and quickly, but quietly, races down it. She hears a pause. Mannimarco’s footsteps are still. Then she hears him turn, heavy footsteps bouncing off the stone floors. He’s racing towards her. No more a pacing, paranoid man, she can feel him hunting her. Like a hunting dog scenting his prey, her instincts tell her to run.

All logic leaves her mind with that single word suspended in the air. Serana breaks into a full out sprint with Mannimarco fast on her heels.

Chapter 17: The Bargain

A/N: I am happy to say this fic is finally fully written and will end at twenty-one chapters including the prologue, parts, and epilogue! These are shorter chapters, much shorter than the previous 9k in the last one. So, I’m going to post the next chapter now with part 5 and the next one on Sunday! The remaining chapters will be posted early next week. Enjoy!

Content warning: graphic violence and child endangerment (offscreen).

 

---

 

Thump, thump, thump.

Even though she now has the capacity to be as graceful as a deer, as quiet as a stalking feline, and as agile as any creature of the night, she has chosen to be as loud and easy to find as possible. She is a god now, and it’s become painfully apparent that she doesn’t care to use it to her advantage.

All the better for him. Mannimarco chases after her. It was like dangling a rat in front of a hungry house cat, and letting it run free. It wasn’t in the house cat to chase this pretty thing. He wouldn’t normally, but the instincts are still deeply rooted.

His bride is running from him again, trying her best to escape him, and he would not have it.

He tears through the shining manor halls, fast on her heels, always only a few inches behind her. At one point he only had to reach out a hand and grasp her cloak, to pull her back. He could have teleported if he wished. Or shoved barricades in her way.

But he was particularly interested in why she was running. Where she was running to. Was he really this horrible? Really this scary, this unappealing?

He snarls and races faster, his white hair and cloak billow out behind him ins streams. He lets his powers take over. He had given her more of a head start. She had long since rounded the corner and into the great library where all his undead were guarding it. He must speak to her. He must get the information from her in whatever way he can.

Yell in her face if he must. By Oblivion, after all this time, after all he’s achieved with this little vampire, he would change for her. He’d sink into the battered skin of her former lover and pretend to be him whenever she was near. If that’s what kept her happy, then so be it.

He pauses, his breath no quieter than a mouse’s, and peers around the corner. Just to see what his bride was doing. When his eyes land on it. When he sees her arms raised and hears that ancient spell weaving it’s way from her lips to the statue, he snaps.

Mannimarco bursts through the door, throwing flames and ice from his body. Electricity sizzles down his arms and to the ground. Books, rows and rows of colorful spines, blow back into the air and scatter their pages into the wind. It’s like a great force had entered the realm with the power he commands, the way he destroys the room with each blow.

But he must use such force. Because now, standing in front of him is his old friend. His first enemy. He steps, in staggered, weakened movements from his pedestal. A hand to his pale face, slick with sweat. He looks like a shell of his former self. Mannimarco slowly lowers his hands, ready to talk the man down instead of fighting him but when Vanus raises his gaze to Mannimarco, it’s nothing but fearsome.

 

---

 

The flames licking the tall fireplace do nothing to warm the room. Vorstag stays ready at the table, his hands shaking near his short sword. To kill an innocent boy like this…he would rather die. He might as well knowing what was to greet him when he got back to Coldharbour.

But the boy across from him hasn’t dropped his pleasant smile. He breaks the bread before him, a small plate holding a single loaf. “I was hungry. Do you wish for any food?”

Vorstag’s gaze darts from his face to his little hands. He heard her. He knew it was Serana in his mind and based on what the daedra said, it was her. It was no trick of the mind. But he wouldn’t expect anything less from the daedra tied to Mehrunes Dagon.

He was desperate in his isolation. After being cast out and locked away from Nirn for his actions, he’s become restless. If anything, the war against the Night Mother showed them how antsy he was getting. “I’m full. I don’t eat bread, anyways.” He jokes.

The boy chew thoughtfully. “Interesting. I forgot about that. My host still needs food, don’t want him to lose his strength anytime soon.”

Vorstag flinches at it. It was confirmed, the boy was still alive under the daedra’s presence.

The boy laughs. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

Vorstag evens his breathing. “What is it?” He chooses his words carefully.

“I will untie that silly thread between you and Molag Bal, if you create a bond with Mehrunes Dagon.”

Vorstag’s fists clench. “Escape one captor for another?”

The boy’s eyes widen as he studies Vorstag intensely. “Yes, you will find him far…kinder than Molag Bal. He takes better care of his Champions.”

The lies drip easily from this boy’s mouth. Vorstag frowns, thinking back on what he knew of the Daedric Prince. He hasn’t heard a good word about him, and for good reason. If the most feared Daedric Prince were Molag Bal, Mehrunes Dagon, the Prince of Destruction would be a close second. He might even usurp his captor for that title if he were running rampant on Nirn.

A powerful creature that should not be unleashed. “How does he have such a power? He can’t get here, that was made sure of during the Oblivion Crisis and after the Night Mother.”

The boy giggles and claps his hands, his eyes creasing with amusement. He takes another bite of bread. “How dully uninformed you are. I suppose that’s a side effect of being Molag Bal’s Champion. Tell me, how many times does he let you out of the cage to take a piss?”

Vorstag clenches his fists, his eyes narrow. The boy, daedra, gives him a savage grin. “Just joking, just making fun. You’re far, far to tense for the current circumstances.”

“I have every right to be. You know why I’m here?”

The boy sits up, eyes alight. “Oh! I know. You were going to kill me! Maybe tear my head off and keep it on a spike outside? Are you still going to?”

Vorstag opens his mouth, uncertain of what he was about to say when the boy sits back and begins crying hysterically. “Stop him. Please. He hurts me. He hurts me in here.” The boy points to his chest with a shaking finger, his eyes wide and terrified.

The cries are undeniably from someone far younger than Vorstag. He can’t help it. Hearing this young child’s screams grates against his ears. He stands, laying his unsheathed sword against the table, if only to show his good intentions as he rounds the corner.

The boy keeps crying and gasping. Vorstag doesn’t know what else to do but pull him to his chest, stroke his hair back. “It’s alright. It’s okay. I’ll get rid of him.”

“Will you?” A soft whisper before he hiccups.

“I will. I swear it.” Vorstag runs his hands down the boy’s hair again when he turns his head to snap at Vorstag. The vampire backs up, pushing the child away from him, but his teeth are latched on, tearing at his skin.

“By Talos!” Vorstag yells when the boy unlatches himself.

He breaks out into deep laugher. “I wouldn’t be saying his name around here if I were you.”

Vorstag stands panting, now a little too close to the fireplaces at his back. The heat licks its way up his armor. Warming him but also casting the boy in an angelic glow. His smile is anything but, he licks his lips and his palms before continuing, “Convincing, aren’t I? Don’t worry, the boy, I think his name is Malec? Mal? I can’t remember. He’s still kicking in me like an unborn babe. But it’s not that pleasant.” He scrunches up his face. “Anyways, if you kill me, you kill him. And, word around the street is that you have a hard time breaking your moral codes.”

Vorstag can’t say anything. He just stands there, staring.

“Knew it!” The daedra slams his hand against the table. “Here, how about I sweeten the deal? You untie yourself to your captor, and I…bring the kid back. Then we go back to the Deadlands as one big happy family?”

“You’re not taking the child.” Vorstag blanches.

“Hmm.” The daedra taps his chin. “Well, we can’t leave him here. His whole family is rotting, if you catch my drift. Maybe we could send him to the forest and a kind werewolf might take care of him? Hm? Shall we try those odds?”

Vorstag is breathing heavily now. Time is ticking. He can almost hear the clock, those invisible hands that tick down the seconds to his demise. He’s thinking quickly, desperately trying to come up with some sort of compromise when the door opens.

Open might be too kind a word. It slams into the wall, sending the house rattling to its foundations and on the other side, Molag Bal himself ducks his head underneath the doorframe. He’s littered in armor and weapons. The Mace held in his right hand. Face dark and grim, his fangs bared at the creature sitting at the table.  

The boy breaks out into laugher, falling on the floor and rolling around and around. Vorstag remains pinned, his wide, fearful gaze, locked on his captor.

“Knew you’d screw it up.” The Daedric Prince greets them.

 

---

 

Serana can hear the raging battle fading behind her. She wasn’t a fool enough to stand like a deer locked in the gaze of a predator as Vanus and Mannimarco began fighting. She barely had a moment to say anything to the freed man before she ran off. Apparently, he knew what to do. It’s as if all the years kept in a statue had finally boiled over. Which were the exact results she was counting on.

She dashes up the stairs, up the long and winding marble steps to the tower. The sounds of battle far behind her. But she couldn’t risk that it would be a long one. If anything, the flames in Mannimarco’s eyes tell her he absolutely loathes the way she disobeyed him.

Now, she’s not sure if he’ll be kind or cast her into some horrible circle of Oblivion. It was worth the risk. Every second away from that Orb and she doesn’t know what’s happening to her would be lover. No, it wasn’t that trivial.

Vorstag is a good friend, and that relationship was just blooming into something sweeter, something more soul binding than before, when she was ripped away.

Her hands fumble with the lock. She had forgotten that Mannimarco always walked around with a set of keys. When no magic can break it, she starts punching at it. The door won’t give, it won’t even splinter, only molds around her fists before reforming back to it’s original state.

She growls in frustration and tries again. She shoves at it, willing her hands to sink into the door and out to the other side when her wrists burn. Her teeth grit. Those damn brands, they were holding her back.

She tries again and again, kicking and tearing at the door and the surrounding stone when flames lick her back.

Serana spins, thinking it to be Mannimarco. Instead of her furious captor ready to tear her into two, she finds it’s worse. Dawn stands before her, flames riddling her person. She wasn’t Serana’s anymore, she was Mannimarco’s and she was probably just as furious as him.

 

---

 

“You think it’s funny, don’t you? You think it’s wonderful to have me here as your centerpiece, while guests peruse the rows looking for their next read.” Vanus stalks the room.

Mannimarco can’t do a thing. His power blazes in his hands, swaths of pure darkness, ready to send Vanus to Oblivion should he have to.

He just can’t make himself do it.

“I wanted you safe. In the best room possible.”

“If you wanted me safe you would have let me rest with the divine as it should have been. Instead, you like to meddle with things that aren’t yours, including the integrity of the rules of mortality.”

Mannimarco flinches. His battle with Vanus was hard fought in their younger days. He thought he was finally coming around to it. If Vanus wished, Mannimarco would have taught him everything there was to learn about necromancy.

“And here we are. To make matters worse you aren’t even mortal anymore.” Vanus lets out a harsh laugh. “A god. That’s what you call yourself, right? It’s an insult to the gods who watch over us.”

Mannimarco takes in a deep breath, his focus narrowing. “I never thought you to be ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? How am I supposed to feel? After being locked up in this gilded cage for long? Am I to be kissing at your feet, Lord Mannimarco?”

Every word and mockery stings. Every insult is another step away from forgiveness. Mannimarco stands strong, taking it. He searches for a way to disengage his friend and chase after his bride when his hand is forced.

Vanus lets out a harsh yell and charges him, power filling his hands, all the way up to his eyes. Mannimarco has only seconds to decide how to handle it, kill his best friend for good, or take the blow and set himself back?

He closes his eyes and lets chance take the reins from him.

 

---

 

Wood splinters, crumbles, cracks. A piercing scream sounds in the dark night. Vorstag closes his eyes.

Only a daedra, only a daedra. He quietly reminds himself.

One of the other daedra stands over the boy who was now splayed out on the table as the creatures raises a dagger above him. “What is it you want here with this man?” He hisses.

“The Champion is on the wrong team, and he’s not even playing the game right.” The daedra in the little boy’s body gasps out, laughing still.

Another sickening crunch. Vorstag averts his eyes. He can’t tell if it’s bone or wood from the table with the daedra covering his view. He’s pinned between two daedra by the fireplace. He can’t move, can barely tear his eyes away from the horrible scene in front of him. He can barely keep his bloody tears in.

“Weak.”

“Knew he was no better than a sniveling coward.” The daedra at his sides sneer back and forth. One chuckles and pokes him where the abs should be.

“Too soft, I told Molag we should have gutted him from the start.”

Their malicious comments quiet when Molag Bal enters the room. In his fist hang seven heads hanging by their hair. Each Nord has their mouths wide open. Vorstag’s heart clenches as he notes the ages. They vary from young to extremely old. An entire family gone.

“What are these?” The Princes hisses as he holds the heads up to the daedra on the table.

“Those?” He breaks out into a squeal of laugher, “What do they call it? Collateral damage? They got in the way.”

Molag Bal hisses and throws the heads on the pinned daedra. “I asked you what they were! How stupid is your lot? Did Mehrunes Dagon lose all sense when he sent you?”

The daedra in the boy’s body sinks back into the wood, not a scratch on him now with fast healing skin. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me, Mr. Molag Bal.”

“Enough.” The Prince halts the other daedra around the room. All their bloodthirsty eyes were latched onto the prey on the table. “We start with the mind.” Molag Bal pokes at the boy’s forehead. The daedra smiles broadly in return.

Vorstag takes a deep breath, his eyes watering again. The boy in there, if he was holding on, whatever Molag Bal was about to inflict might just break him.

The Prince, as if hearing those quiet words in his mind, raises his eyes. “Remember, boy. This is your doing.”

And he begins.

 

---

 

Serana screams as another firebolts comes her way. She ducks when the flames shoot above her, licking her cloak. It was already useless. The very edges were burning up. She moves to the side of the very narrow hallway when Dawn throws another firebolt.

“I’m yours. I conjured you!” Serana tries to get through.

What little use that was. Dawn throws another firebolt and Serana is finding the room even more suffocating than before. She can barely get around her. For all her godlike powers she can’t seem to use them. Can’t seem to grasp them. The only things that light up the place more brightly than the flames are the brands on her arms.

She screams when the flames slam into her arms, she falls to the ground right before the door. So close, she is so close and one of her spells from before had come back to haunt her. If only…

She stares up into Dawn’s beautiful flaming eyes and notices the pain in them. For conjured creatures, Dawn was perceptive, Serana had found. In all the time with her, she could tell her emotions as well as any mortal or vampire.

“I release you. I release you from him and I release you from me.” Serana says, softly. Her final attempt.

Dawn nods, a slight inclination. Are you sure?

Her words are a shock. Serana wasn’t aware that Flame Atronachs had any semblance of consciousness. Any ability to hear and speak.

You can hear me? Serana pushes into Dawn’s mind, and it is like cutting into the water. A slight boundary before falling into the ocean.

I’ve heard you this whole time.

Those words are breaking. Serana sinks to her knees as tears threaten. “I’m sorry.” She says softly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Don’t. A conjuration is temporary. Dawn reaches out her hands, her flames should burn but they only caress Serana’s cheek when they brush her. I will help you this last time. As a freed creature, I am bound to no one and no land. Good luck, friend.

Tears race down Serana’s cheeks when Dawn fades away. Her body falls into ash. Serana’s hands begin to sift through it, when a lock sounds and she turns, noting the door is now open. And one look back down the staircase, she is grateful to note the roaring inferno blanketing the tunnel.   

 

---

 

Mannimarco sobs. His friend is now dead in his arms, his lifeless eyes trained ever skyward. Him or Mannimarco. Him or his bride.

The tear in his heart had never quite healed, not after when Vanus attacked the first time. Not even when he was brought here. He had hoped that one day this man could be free.

But look at the foolish decision Vanus made. Mannimarco stares down at his as he lays the pale body on the carpeted ground. “Foolish Vanus. We could have been so powerful.”

Mannimarco wipes the tears from his eyes and just like that, all sorrow is gone. Any love he had for is friend is now ash. “Clean him up.” He snaps and Sorlod quickly leaves her post to come help.

Empty and raw. A million emotions swirl but nothing breaks the surface except for rage. His bride did this. She destroyed someone who was once precious, and at times, terrible to him, but Mannimarco never wanted to kill him. Never truly. His hand was forced tonight, and she will pay.

He stalks the path she took, up the manor steps and to the entrance of the tower. His hand curls around the open doorway and he only sighs when he sees the flames blanketing the area. How adorable. The Flame Atronach sacrificed herself.

What a waste, Mannimarco muses as he waves a hand and watches the flames slowly fade. Opening a path up for him all the way to the top.

 

---

 

Serana’s hands shake as she moves the orb around on its pedestal. It doesn’t burn but it has a weird frosty feeling to it, as if it had been encased in ice. She moves around the table, for the right angle and for the life of her, she doesn’t know why she can’t see him.

Her thoughts are solely on him. Not on Dawn’s sudden absence. Not on Mannimarco who was still downstairs hopefully entangled in her trap. Her thoughts stay on Vorstag and he won’t show.

Her fingers curl on the tablecloth when she hears a polite knock at the door. “Serana. I give you one chance to nicely open the door for me.”

Tears brim in her eyes. She can’t keep her terror in. Anytime she tries to focus on something and make it disappear or move. Any power she had; it fizzles.

“Serana, I will not ask it again. You have ten seconds.”

She pries at the Orb, lifting up to stare up at it, when her fingers lock in place. A sizzling, cold kind of power races down her arms to her chest. Her eyes glaze over.

“Serana, do you know what you did? What you made me sacrifice, what you sacrificed? I had no idea some lowly mercenary had you in such a grasp.” His voice darkens, the anger underneath finally making its way out.

Then the door slams, as if someone were pounding on it with such a force that it finally splinters. Wood flicks off and a hole begins to emerge. “Serana…” Mannimarco warns.

She’s lost. Her gaze, unseeing and eager, searches the realms. Over Whiterun, over Dawnstar. Somewhere in the east, near Markarth. In a tiny cabin. Her view spirals, like a silent bird on fiery wings, it bursts through into the cabin without a sound, and she finally sees him. He’s being held up with Molag Bals, large, talon tipped hand holding him up and near the fire.

Serana gasps. She had forgotten how tall he was, how scaly his skin was and how long his horns were. She almost feels his prying gaze on her but she resists. She only has eyes for Vorstag, who was now bleeding and bruised. Cuts line his head and down his neck as if he had gotten in a great fight. On the other side of the room, a few daedra hold back a little boy who is cursing and fuming at the sight of Molag Bal and his Champion.

“Vorstag.” She whispers.

His eyes flicker open, gaping further under Molag Bal’s crushing hold.

“What did I tell you? Are you any use to me like this? I should have known you were broken from the start.” Molag Bal hisses. The look in his eyes… she last saw something like that before she changed over. A sight that she purposely had forgotten. Now, it sends shivers up her spine. Her mind threatens to break with the memories attempting to assault her.

She would not let the past strangle her and keep her down. “Vorstag. It’s me.”

“Serana.” He chokes out.

Molag Bal’s hand closes more tightly around his neck. “That fucking name. That fucking vampire. If you want one so bad, I’ll make you another one myself.”

She swallows hard, barely hearing the pleas and yelling in the room she was physically in. Mannimarco was there. “Vorstag turn so I can see him.” She directs, the small idea taking root in her mind. She cowers at the thought. It was the last thing she wanted, the last thing her mother wanted for her.

“Never draw his gaze again.” She had told her when she was being bandaged up. Her wounds were tended to with such harshness. Her mother was pleased but also…fearful. She’d never seen mother this scared. Not even after father’s tirades.

She swallows her fear. “Molag Bal, please look into this amulet, I have something to show you.”

The Prince’s gaze lowers and sears when it finds her. “Trickery and sorcery, how inventive. This is the one, isn’t it?”

“Just look.” Serana pleads. She pulls the Orb away from her and ducks, just slightly so whoever was looking into the amulet could look into the room. Searching, scouring, she turns and points the orb directly at the door.

And directly at the sorcerer who was shaking so badly she wondered when he would explode. With all the precious things in this room, surely, he would want to keep them safe. Yet, even with the threat of the Prince presented in the Orb, Mannimarco only has eyes for her.  

 

---

 

It’s like he locked up. He was frozen, staring down into the amulet around Vorstag’s neck. Vorstag chokes again but the clamping hands were lessening. It wasn’t the lack of oxygen he was worried for, more so the lack of a head.

On the other side of the room, the smug daedra in the boy’s body smiles up at him. The other daedra surrounding him seem to have frozen as well, like a hive mind for their Prince they all pause. The boy raises a finger to his lips. “Thank you,” He whispers before turning to mist.

Vorstag can’t even feel anything for him. The boy needed help, he was held captive and the daedra seemed to be waiting for the exact moment to leave without Molag Bal’s notice. Whatever he was being shown in the amulet was enough.

Vorstag groans when he falls to the ground. His legs ache, his whole body aches. He hasn’t had blood in so long and the blood before this task was never enough.

“You kept this from me.” Molag Bal says, plainly.

“I didn’t. I told you the truth this whole time. Mannimarco took her and I was trying to save her. He’s alive and he isn’t in your realm.”

The Prince, for once, falls into the chair set out where the boy was an hour before. His hands hang limply in his lap. It’s almost like he never thought of this. “He created his own realm, with its own rules.”

“He’s a god.”

“Not a true one. A false one.” Molag Bal sneers. “And that girl, she’s one of them too.”

Vorstag’s heart constricts, “No…”

“She made the ascent. She’s a god now. A false god.” Molag Bal clenches his teeth. “That fucker. I told him he would never escape. You bring me such failure, you know that.” He stares at his Champion now, who was laying limp and spent on the ground.

“I only ever told you the truth.”

Molag Bal nods, slightly. “That you did, and like a fool I never listened. Maybe your morals held something for me after all.” His slow grin sends shivers up Vorstag’s spine. “Now that our attention is redirected, how about another task?”

Vorstag wipes his brow, the flames lick his back but in this bulky armor it was making his sweat. He stands on shaky feet but the next words nearly send him falling again.

“You do this for me, and I give you two hundred years to go wander Tamriel as you please.” Molag Bal smiles again, as if he were mad, as if he had found something utterly delightful that he never thought possible.

Vorstag stutters, starting to quiver at whatever thought turns through the Prince’s mind. By the gods, if only he had more blood, he just had to be clearheaded enough to understand. To be one step ahead of the Prince. “What are the terms?”

“Easy. For me and for you. You get your wish, I get my revenge, and we are free from more charades of mortals. You come with me, and we fight them.”

“Them?” Vorstag asks, knowing full well what he meant. His body knows before it is confirmed, he falls to his knees before his Prince, silently pleading for him not to take him, not to command him. Not for this.

Molag Bal runs his tongue over his dripping fangs, as if he couldn’t get enough of the idea. “Yes, boy. Come with me and fight. We need to be rid of them. I promise you’ll see your lover, if only for a few moments before destroying her. It will be harder with two of them but the both of us can take them. I’m sure you’ve never thought of it before but there are ways to kill a god.”

Chapter 18: Part five: Storm Clouds

Days later and he was still livid. Every time Mannimarco saw Serana’s face, bound and gagged against the wall, he grew furious. He tried to speak some sense into her, but every time he met her gaze she looked away.

He tore into her mind. Tortured her with thoughts of her lover’s dismemberment. Told her he was even dead.

The lie was never believed. Serana would not speak to him. She tried to escape once and as punishment, he tied her up in his tower. The dungeon would have been safer, for her and for him, but he couldn’t take a second away from her.

Tracing his hand down her lovely neck to her shoulder he stares at her with sad eyes. “We could be so great, if only you tried.”

Her eyes shadow and she closes them. Shuts herself off.

A thunderclap sounds, shaking the whole tower. Books and weapons rattle. The Orb falls to the ground, rolling around to land at Mannimarco’s feet. He snatches it up, snarling as he thinks of his enemies. He’s been keeping a very close eye on them since Serana’s betrayal. Thus far, they’ve stayed in Coldharbour after leaving Nirn. But the way they spoke clued him into some plans they have. At night, he would pace around the room in a circle, staring at the Orb, trying to decipher their next steps.

He thought they might leave him alone. He thought Molag Bal had better things to do with his play toy. Now, looking at the Orb, he nearly stumbles. They’re at a portal, and not any portal. It’s brighter, with bright fields of flowers and towering wisteria hanging in the distance behind it. The pathetic vampire toy walks in first, still dressed in his pretty armor. Like a prize horse, he was brushed and coddled for this moment.

Behind him, Molag Bal saunters in, an eager grin on his face, and his Artifact hanging in his hands. The dreadful thing still makes Mannimarco’s chest hurt. The feeling of those sharp talons scraping his skin pulls him from his thoughts.

He walks to the nearby window, his mouth agape. He never thought the Prince was brazen enough. Outside, rolling over the green hills, and hovering over the beautiful gardens he was to be wed in, is a dark storm. Black as the night and just as fearsome as any other thunderstorm, lighting races along the sky. Down in the fields, wading through the tall ever-green grass are the two dreaded Daedric figures.

Mannimarco snarls, throwing the Orb to the ground and watches as it shatter into a million pieces. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when his enemies are here, in his land.

“Serana look what you did.” He hisses. “They’re here.”

Chains clang against each other, her head raises.

“Don’t be so hopeful. Last I saw of a two man army like this…” He can’t even finish the thought. “They’re going to destroy this realm trying to destroy us and I won’t let them have it. I won’t let them have you.”

She’s bucking and kicking at the chains now, trying to get out of the gag. His stomach drops with what he has to do, but there is no choice. He waltzes over, pulls the gag down cleanly and gazes into her eyes until they glaze over.

“You are my soldier, my right hand. You follow me into the fight, and you do not stop until I say so.”

She nods, under the trance and once freed from the chains, she follows him outside like any good thrall should.

Chapter 19: Godkiller

A/N: The final chapter and epilogue will be posted on Wednesday :)

 

---

 

Vorstag grinds his teeth. Before them, stretching out into the distance is a pretty cage. An ornate manor that would make any wealthy person in Skyrim salivate with envy. Gardens line the walkway, pretty and vibrant. Gravel crunches under his boots.

Molag Bal chuckles. “Smells quite different here than in Coldharbour, doesn’t it, boy?”

Vorstag has no answer. Yes, the pretty perfume of the pink and purple flowers were far better than the stench of accelerated decay in Coldharbour. But that isn’t the focus right now. Vorstag only keeps his eyes trained for the necromancer with white hair and black cloaks.

“He’s close.”

“You can sense him too?” The Prince drawls.

“No. I just know where my bloodlust leads. I feel him. I’ve wanted to kill him since the day I laid eyes on him.”

“If only I knew.” Molag Bal picks at one of the red hanging flowers and chews it thoughtfully. “You want to kill him first?”

“We are not killing Serana.”

“We must. She’s a stain on the divine’s legacy. You know that.”

“She had no choice.”

The Prince was just ahead of him in the archway that was littered in grapevines. He stops, his hulking body a barricade in Vorstag’s way. “Don’t let emotional attachments keep you from the purpose, I thought you would have learned that by now.”

“She can live. There is no harm.”

The darkness sweeps in with the roiling clouds above, Molag Bal’s form shadows with it. “I’m telling you this, only once, Vorstag.” His tongue curls around his name like it’s a foreign language. An attempt at being kind. “When the Night Mother was free, and nearly destroyed us all, left us to rot in our circles of Oblivion just like my brother, I would have done anything to stop it. Every second these two breathe is another spit in the face of the divine. They don’t take kindly to those who parade around like they do. If they find out we did nothing, they will come for us. I will not rot in Coldharbour like my brother rots in the Deadlands.”

Vorstag tries to wrap his mind around it. “They haven’t helped thus far… how do we even know the divine know about these gods?”

“Don’t say that word.” Molag Bal halts again, almost letting Vorstag stumble into him. The fresh fragrance of blooming gardenia wafts around them. “The gods don’t like to get their hands dirty but make no mistake, they are watching.”

“Why punish us for them?” The Champion tries again. He will use any logic he can to keep Molag Bal away from Serana.

“Because that fucker up in that tower hates me. If they knew I let him weasel his way out of my grasp, they will punish me. If they were any other god, they would let me be.”

Vorstag has something tangible to hold onto now. He grabs onto that string and pulls. “But…Serana isn’t him. Leave her then, she’s as much a victim as,” As I am. He wishes to say, but he is not foolish enough to admit that now. “She’s as much a victim as you are. You both have suffered at the hands of Mannimarco.”

Molag Bal gives him a long look over his shoulder, before tearing the archway apart and walking through now that his head can fit. “Guilt by association. His mistake is my mistake. I won’t let either get away and threaten me.”

Vorstag’s heart beats faster and faster, the problems compounding. The rest of the way to the manor they walk in silence, only the sound of their feet on harsh gravel to accompany them. Molag Bal pays no mind to his Champion’s darkening mood. He only plucks off flowers and fruit as he goes, chewing each piece with a smile on his face. A desecration to the land of his enemy, an insult, and an inkling of the destruction to come.

 

---

 

Her thoughts are a jumbled mess. She has no way to get through it. Every time Serana thinks of a way out of the spell she’s bound up in, something comes along to distract her.

Like the swaying trees in the distance. All this time here and there was never a cloud in the sky, not until today. Mannimarco has her hand tucked in his. They were walking with purpose all the way to the fields until he cursed and made a detour.

“I know just what to do. We should have done this earlier, I was a fool to be taken by my fear so.”

Serana opens her mouth to ask what he means before he interrupts. “I’m sorry you won’t have the dress you wish for. I’m sorry you won’t have the flowers, the guests, the cake. We have to do it now, it’s the only way we’ll survive them.”

The pedestal draws near, a pretty stone walkway that opens up to the great sky above them. It should have had an archway adorned in roses, a cake behind them and a priestess or whoever was supposed to help them with their vows.

Instead, they have the cloud covered sky and a windy welcome. Serana thinks of how messy her cloak is, how dirty her armor is before her thoughts are swept away again by the spell.

Mannimarco pulls her up and keeps her hands in his. “Promise me you’ll help. We can have a proper wedding later. If we wait too long, we won’t have the strength to fight Molag Bal.”

Her eyes flick to his, raw terror chasing away any hesitation in her. If this were a true marriage contract, she didn’t want it. But maybe, just maybe there’s a loophole.

The clouds darken and Serana squeezes Mannimarco’s hand in answer.

 

---

 

“Where the fuck could he have gone?” Molag Bal spits in the Liches face.

She’s older, a tall, pretty Nord woman. But she has nerves of steel, Vorstag notes. She hasn’t even opened her mouth once.

“She won’t talk.”

Molag Bal hisses. “Not yet.” His claws rake down her skin and he grabs her lower jaw with one hand, her forehead with the other. “Tell me, or I cleave your head from itself and leave it outside to burn.”

Her eyes sear into him, as if daring him. Vorstag didn’t think anything would happen. Perhaps, she was calling the Prince’s bluff when a sickening crack echoes through the large library. Vorstag tears his eyes away with the woman’s failing body falling to the floor. No one else was in here. Most of the thralls were dead from something else. Once they entered, the Champion noticed books were blown around as if a hurricane had struck and they hadn’t set foot in here until five minutes ago.

It made him nervous. Serana’s panicked voice through that amulet could only mean one thing.

“Let’s check outside again. We must have missed something. I doubt they’d barricade themselves in here. They would be sitting ducks.”

“We don’t see anything outdoors and I’ll burn this place to the ground.” Molag Bal tilts his head. “A good idea. That could draw them out.”

Something was pulling at Vorsag. A panicked, taught thread that centered on his chest. “Let’s go outside. We don’t see them, we come back.”

The Prince nods, following his Champion. Vorstag lets out a low breath. He didn’t know if the Daedric Prince would listen, and he was running out of patience. Vorstag must think fast. When they find Serana he only prays that Molag Bal goes for Mannimarco first.

A hand curls on his shoulder, as if in warning. “Boy.” Molag Bal growls lowly.

Vorstag stops, realizing he was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t see the winding path before him. Didn’t see the trees and flowers shaking in the downpour now overtaking this strange land. But up ahead, on the dais, he should have seen them.

He nearly collapses right there. If not for his master holding him up, he would have, with the way his heart rips in two.

 

---

 

To seal it with a kiss…

Serana said the words, the vows that Mannimarco told her to say through her mind. Everything is hazy. The words leave her lips, and she barely has a second to think on them before the next ones enter her mind.

She’s staring at him, praying, begging to anyone who would listen to stop this. To pluck her out of this realm when they do battle. She didn’t know who she’d rather fight, Molag Bal or the man in front of her.

Although, she did have some resentment boiling underneath the surface over Mannimarco. She knows she can take him and win.

Now, with his lips sealed over hers, it’s as if time freezes. She stops. Her heart stops. A great void breaks over them, without sound, without movement. Then, she is being fulfilled. What feels like fire races up her legs, to her arms, to her head. Her eyes widen as she pulls away.

Mannimarco…he was glowing a bright blue glow. His smile is breathtaking.

“Now, we are husband and wife. And now we have unlocked the powers granted to us by Amaranth.” He looks over her shoulder, his cruel smirk widens. “And just in time.”

Serana looks back, just once, but that’s all it takes. Molag Bal stands in the gravel walkway with Vorstag pinned between his hands. A vicious smile on his face. She pleads with Vorstag, begs him with her eyes. His face is haunted, shadowed. But she doesn’t know if it’s because of what she’s done, or what she’s going to do.

 

---

 

“Now’s the time to let your morals go, boy. Do you really want to be second best? Second pick? I’d say declaring her love like this means she felt nothing for you. Nothing. I’ve truly had your best interest at heart.”

Vorstag can’t hear the deranged rant from his master. All he keeps replaying in his head is the kiss between Mannimarco and Serana. There was no way to know if it was true or not. If she were coerced or not. The only way would be to get to her first. But based on how Mannimarco glares at him and the sawing, hungry breath of the Prince behind him, Vorstag isn’t sure he will get to her on time.

 “I take dibs on the sorcerer, unless you want to get some anger out first?” Molag Bal whispers.

“Get him. Kill him. Then we deal with her.” Vorstag pulls him away from the target he so desperately doesn’t want him to hit.

“Done.”

 

---

 

By the gods he did it. Mannimarco smirks wider at the heat simmering beneath the surface of that pathetic vampire. If his enemy weren’t holding him off the ground just so, he’s certain that the vampire would be on the floor in a fetal position.

“I can’t believe you had feelings for him.” Mannimarco holds Serana’s elbow, tenderly.

She doesn’t want this to be the way they say their vows, he can see it in her eyes. But he told her and himself that he would make it up to her once they were through with this. On the other side Molag Bal stares them down. One hit to the head and the Prince will regenerate somewhere else. He can’t keep a body here in Amaranth, it was one of the protective spells Mannimarco put on the place.

Look how well it was turning out now.

He doesn’t want Serana to run to the vampire’s arms, as expected. He leans down to whisper in her ear. “Follow me, do not go anywhere near him. We fight the Prince together with our new powers. That vampire comes anywhere near you, I want you to gut him where he stands.”

A small trembling of her arms is the only answer he gets.

 

---

 

Serana didn’t know how things would start. Do they just…run to each other and start fighting? The way they were all squaring off leads her to believe something was going to happen. She just didn’t know how fast he would be.

One blink and she’d miss it. One moment, Molag Bal is squaring off with them about twenty feet away. The next, he’s right in front of them and swinging the Mace right at her. Mannimarco shoves her to the ground, spinning her around so she’s behind him. Then he blasts a bolt of lightning right through Molag Bal sending his feet scraping through the gravel with the force of it.

“Weak.” The Prince snarls and lunges, grasping Mannimarco by his long white hair. His taloned hands pull his head back and in one fell swoop, he rips his throat out.

Blood spurts all over her. She screams with the warmth. Mannimarco’s head goes rolling back and Molag Bal stands over him, slowly dismembering the rest of his body. She can barely watch. Another force slams into her and she goes rolling off the dais. Rough hands hold her to the ground, another body pressing hers into the wet earth.

Now that the rain has stilled and the mist rises, she sees it. She can hear Mannimarco being ripped apart piece by piece but that won’t keep him. Purple lights, like the ones in her runes rise from the ground, from her skin and slowly move to where the dead man is.

“He’s regenerating. We need to leave now.” Vorstag whispers in her ear.

Her heart leaps with the sight of him. The feel of him pressed against her. She would run, just as he said but…her thoughts. “I can’t think straight. He’s reforging the bond with me. We need to.” She looks down at those damn iron brands holding her back. “We need to be rid of these.”

Vorstag moves off her so he can inspect the bracelets more closely. “I don’t know how to get them off. I think my blade won’t be strong enough.”

Fear skitters down her spine, but she doesn’t cower, not this time. “I think I know a way.” She says, peeking her head over the dais and watches as Molag Bal begins to feast on Mannimarco’s entrails.

 

---

 

Vorstag is shocked. There was no other way to put it, that was too easy. Molag Bal is smarter than this but right now he’s in front of the dais eating the necromancer like nothing is about to happen. The lights tell a different story.

They form shapes, hazy figures around the gardens. Under trellises. In perfectly manicured hedges that enclose large fountains. He almost, almost, raises a hand to call to his master. But he pulls Serana behind him and tears out his greatsword. He knows he will need it.

The lights fuse as one. Purple and white they glow as they stick together, forming over thirty different male forms. In a blink, they turn, shifting from light to corporal. Now, over two dozen forms of Mannimarco stand in the clearing.

“You think that was my only body?” One sneers, his smirk still as aggravating as the other one’s was.

Molag Bal lifts his bloody head, flesh dripping from his mouth. He smiles. “Just as I thought. I’m going to enjoy this.”

“We need to run.” Vorstag urges. He’s about to shove Serana away when he turns to find her…

Running the opposite way all the way to Molag Bal.

 

---

 

Her heart is beating out of her chest. There’s a million of him. There has to be. Her worst nightmare come to life. But she can’t stop now. If she loses this thought, this idea, then it will swim away in the tidal wave that’s about to crash over her. Her thoughts will not be her own anymore once Mannimarco realizes she’s out of his control.

She ducks under broken branches, flowers squish under her footsteps but she doesn’t pause. Doesn’t stop, not even when the Daedric Prince nears. Three clones of Mannimarco circle him, all with the same expression on their face. They’re gleeful, ready to pounce, ready for the challenge. They pause when she enters the circle.

There’s no other way to do it. She can’t pause to ask the Prince to free her. She must force him and what better way than this. She shoves her hands up, palms filled with ice spikes when the Prince hisses.

He’s just as terrifying up close. His face covered in black and red blood. His eyes blazing. His horns curl out of his head as if they were made for killing. She’s sure he’s killed with them before but he seems to prefer his fangs. Which were now dripping with blood. His tongue snakes out to collect it.

Her heart beats so fast. Her feet wish to take her elsewhere, but she doesn’t dare move. Just holds up her hands and thinks of the only place she can. Molag Bal roars, bringing down his heavy hands to cut into the bands at her wrists. She feels a sharp pain on her forearms. Blood wells, black and warm. Her bonds shatter and a pulse of power races through the realm.

Mannimarco and his other clones pause, their rage directed at one point now, and that wasn’t Molag Bal.

His claws are still in her, still ripping into her delicate skin. She can’t do anything about it. It was now or never. She thinks of that one place. That one dark, gloomy place, that held no light but some hope. Very little, if any, and she falls back into the worlds, bringing Molag Bal tumbling down with her.

 

---

 

Vorstag stops. It’s too late. The rip in the world, that black void, had stitched together before he could get there. His feet scuff the gravel at the ground as he halts. Seven versions of Mannimarco stare him down.

Nothing left, he supposes. He pulls up his greatsword, slamming it into one Mannimarco, before pulling it out and shoving it into another body. He knows no mercy. The blade meets each man in the clearing as they descend on him.

Fire licks up his body. Electricity. Raw power. He’s thrown off his feet a few times but for once, he feels the determination Molag Bal has wanted him to feel this whole time. He races forwards and eventually, he leaves the greatsword impaled in one of the men and starts ripping at them with nails and fangs. His rage knows no bounds.  

 

---

 

 She grapples with him. He latches onto her hair, his claws raking into her scalp, pulling at her head. She throws whatever spell at her disposal at him. Fire, ice, earth. Anything. She would stop their fall. Pull them up into whatever world they were in, if only stop the dizzying freefall but apparently moving through the worlds is a different story. Even a god can’t just stop it.

The ground races to meet them and they crash into the earth, sending stone and dirt flying. She leaps up, making her body push through the hold Molag Bal has on her and climbs out of the crater.

 He’s fast on her heels. Claws grapple for her ankles and she trips, her nails dig into the earth as she’s dragged back down.

“Mom! Mom, I’m here.” She screeches over the harsh wind. Down, down, down she’s pulled, her last look at the world beyond shows her everything she needs to know.

Her mother stands from the desk she was at, quill still in her hand. The note she was writing on goes fluttering away in the breeze. Serana has a moment to meet her eyes before she’s pulled down into the crater and Molag Bal rears over her.

His clawed hands push into her neck. She gags. She doesn’t need air, but it would take too long to get herself back together without a head. Panic sets in with the gore covered face of her master staring over her.

“Serana?” Mother asks, quietly, carefully, worried. Her footsteps approach.

She pulls on all her power, all that fire in her chest. And it’s like an explosion goes off. Fire rages around her, hot and furious. It throws the Prince off of her and leaving her gasping for air. She lifts, no, rises out of the crater as if being pulled by strings, like a puppet up into the air.

“Serana!” Mother yells. She races over, pulling her into a tight hug. Serana crushes herself against her mother.

“Molag Bal is here.” She informs her.

“He’s far away. We can run.” Mother says quickly.

But in only a few seconds Molag Bal has them both by the hair. He holds Serana up high into the air and the tugging at her skull is painful. Molag Bal hisses, bringing her Mother close to him.

“Do you know what your daughter has gotten into?” He says lowly into her face.

“Nothing she can’t handle.” Her mother doesn’t sound convinced of that. But she’s always professional in the presence of the Daedric Prince of Enslavement. She has to be.

The Prince laughs deeply and pulls them up higher. “Wait until I tell you…”

 

---

 

Vorstag falls back to the ground. Mud cakes his face and his armor. He grapples with the Mannimarco who’s above him. Who’s trying to sever his neck. All the men forged together as one and Vorstag was unprepared. He thought he could take them now, but as one they have more power than he thought possible.

He struggles underneath the weight of him. Mannimarco shoves his head into the dirt further, fire licks his palms and sears Vorstag’s face.

“Do you know that your sweet lover just married me here? We are bound as one now. Does that make you furious?” He taunts.

Vorstag bucks and pushes. “Does it make you want to kill me?” Mannimarco leans down to whisper in his ear. “Does it make you want to do the impossible? I’d like to see you try.”

As if in answer, Vorstage grabs Mannimarco’s hair and pulls, pushing off his palms from his face, he tears at his delicate hands with sharp teeth. Mannimarco yells out but that’s all the opportunity Vorstag needs. He rears up, eyes blazing and fangs ready to tear him apart.

 

---

 

“A god?” Mother stares at Serana as if she doesn’t know her.

She can only nod, a small confirmation.

“She married him too.” Molag Bal crossed his arms and stares down at them. He seems harmless now, as if they just needed a little talk to cool down.

Mother walks forwards, grabbing Serana’s hands in her own. Her eyes plead with hers. They’re sharp. Scary. But from her past, Serana knew this was one of those silent conversations that they used to have when father went on his rants. “Serana. Was this your own doing, or did Mannimarco force you?”

“He forced me.”

“Did he force you to marry?” Molag Bal pushes.

Serana’s mother watches her. Pleading, although she didn’t have to. It wasn’t a lie. “Yes.”

“Did he force you to perform the apotheosis?”

A pause. Mother’s eyes feel like maggots boring into her. She begs her “say yes”, but Serana isn’t sure. She didn’t want to, but she did go through with it. She’s still benefiting from the effects.

“Yes.” She says, simply, knowing full well it was a lie.

Just a twitch, Molag Bal’s arm jerks and he slams his open palm into her. She falls to her knees. “Don’t lie to me.”

Serana stares up at her Mother, begging with her eyes so that she understands. “I can’t let you stay here and go through this.”

“Serana! There’s a way!” Serana can feel it, something she wants to say but Mother is so fragile. So delicate around the Prince. Serana can’t keep her here anymore. She calls a quick spell, and it’s so easy, it’s like a taking breath. She banishes her mother. A dark orb manifests, dragging her in with its gravity.

Serana has only breath before Molag Bal bears down on her.

 

---

 

Tearing into the vampire is fun now that he has the upper hand. Mannimarco dodged his fangs easily and did something he hasn’t in a while. He pulls at the world, at the earth, and forms a living cage around the man. Vorstag is now stuck in a prison of branches and rocks that he so desperately tries to kick at.

“Even gods need a break.” Mannimarco smiles at him. The world is silent, the clouds forming long, gray blankets in the sky. There isn’t a storm cloud in sight, and no Serana.

Mannimarco turns, his cloak fluttering around him as he looks everywhere. “Where is she?” He yells. With his powers he’s able to find out. He reaches back through time, watching the land and how the fight played out before his very eyes. When he formed himself into a thousand of him around the property, ready to overwhelm the Daedric Prince.

In the center of all, she did it. The clever creature ran up to break the bonds against the Prince’s sharp nails and pull them both through the void. Mannimarco does so now, stepping through worlds as if stepping over a threshold to a home. He searches most before he remembers what she wanted most.

Of course, it was there. One step and he’s now in the Soul Cairn watching Molag Bal try to rip her into two. Behind him, the vampire’s cell clanks down next to him. He didn’t want the creature far enough to escape and it now looks like he’s going to watch the fight unfold. Mannimarco walks forwards, spine stiff as he raises his arms and calls on his power. The breeze is the first signal, pulling at his hair, before the purple magic falling from his hands ensnare them. Mannimarco pulls any poor soul still here to him, forming any bodies he can from the ground to rise up and follow him. A small smirk tugs at his lips.

The teeming army of dead, jerking, creatures march behind him. Their skin is burnt, dirt ridden but there was nothing to be done about it. Mannimarco just needs bodies. Molag Bal turns, his bride in his arms, his hands around her pretty neck.

“Come any closer and I kill her.”

“You can’t kill a god.” Mannimarco says, conversationally. As if he were at such ease to talk about the changes in the weather.

“One snap of her neck and all I have to do is tear out her heart and eat it. You know nothing of what you are.” Molag Bal says it with such pleasure.

Mannimarco stops short. He watches Serana squirm in his arms, her eyes searching and helpless. He wonders why she doesn’t get out of the hold until he sees Molag Bal’s razor-sharp talons on her throat.

Her heart. Of course, they were weak where the heart was. Mannimarco stares down at his own in horror. Such a weakness would not have been if they hadn’t taken their vows. But they did. One day, a long while after he ascended, he heard of such a thing. That two lovers bound together as gods are a weakness to one another. Once they bind themselves in marriage, they have great power from the land of their choosing, but also one weakness. Should one die, so does the other.

Mannimarco steps forwards a hand held out as if to calm his terrified bride. Her name rests on his tongue. He was an absolute fool to make such an oversight. He should have known that Molag Bal was aiming for this very scenario all along.

Molag Bal cracks her neck, tearing out her heart in one fell swoop before letting her drop to the ground.

Chapter 20: Heavy Hearts

Serana’s eyes flutter open. She rests for a moment, before feeling around her neck and chest. Not a mark to be found, just smooth, unblemished skin. She takes a deep breath.

And stands up. The world is white, bare of any plants or objects. The ground at her feet is barely visible. She turns, taking it all in when Mother comes running.

“Serana!” She yells then slams into her. They clutch each other, holding on as if letting go they’ll lose the other. “Serana!”

“Mom.” Serana chokes on her tears. “What happened?”

“You put us here, we’re…somewhere else.” Mother stands, smoothing out her skirts. “I didn’t know he had you.”

“He captured me.” Serana says, not really knowing if her Mother was talking about Mannimarco or Molag Bal.

She gets that look on her face. That piercing look that says a lecture is about to take place, when she calms. “You got away.”

“But I died. He…he tore my throat out and my heart.” She rests a hand on her chest, feeling it beat steadily.

Mother smiles now, more cruel than usual. “A loophole. You were under compulsion when the marriage took place?”

Serana nods.

“Good. That means it wasn’t a true binding. If it were, you would be beyond my reach.” Mother sighs, “It wasn’t good that Molag Bal had found us.”

“I know.”

“You still have your powers, possibly.” Mother stares at her. “We can go back.”

To Skyrim. Serana knows that but even as she thinks of her home, her burned castle, her eyes prick with tears. “I can’t, Mother. I have to save him.”

“Who?”

“The man Mannimarco took. I have to get him back.”

Mother stares at her with that same look, as if her daughter were replaced with someone else. “A lover?”

“Yes.” Serana says it, no point in hiding it. “I love him mom, and if I don’t get him….” She chokes, “I’ll wish my heart were torn out because it would be an easier pain.”

Valericia rests her hands on her shoulders. “Very well. You wish to save him, then there is no stopping you but listen to me, this is what I know about apotheosis and how to end it.”

“End it?” Serana perks up, staring at her mother with a newfound curiosity.

“Do exactly as I say, and I will come get you. No matter how long it takes…”

 

---

 

Vorstag breaks through. After seeing Serana crumple before him like a piece of paper lost to the wind, he quickly lost control. His eyes fill with rage and that bloodlust that Molag Bal talked so fondly about comes forth. He shoves through his cage, the wood and earth splintering, breaking around him.

He falls out onto the killing field, watching as body after body piles up. Mannimarco is kneeling on the ground, a hand to his heart with the dead racing around Molag Bal. He tears into them with fangs and claws, as if each kill were meant to sharpen them.

And lucky for Vorstag, the Mace was only inches away. He picks it up, the weight feels so good. So right. Stalking forwards, he notices Mannimarco doesn’t turn, doesn’t dare defend himself. It’s as if he lost a piece of his heart when Serana crumpled before him too.

She wasn’t his to mourn. Vorstag swings the Mace, slamming it into Mannimarco’s face. Blood goes flying and Vorstag only grins when the man falls to the ground. Vorstag raises the Mace again, bringing it down on his skull, caving a piece in. He goes for his chin next, feeling it shatter underneath his weapon.

Neck, chest all the way down. He will make sure this man is pulverized until there is no more. He seems to take it. He doesn’t fight back. Just groans and screams with each hit. Vorstag’s heart dances with each screech. He hits, harder, harder. Again and again. Then, he sinks to his knees, raises one of Mannimarco’s delicate hands and starts to drink his blood. He can feel Molag Bal’s appreciation. He doesn’t need to hear to know it.  

“I…just…wanted….” Mannimarco moans but a quick tearing of his throat keeps him from saying anything.

“Don’t you dare say her name.” Vorstag growls, his bloodlust ever growing when he looks up.

Yellow light pierces the dark sky, scattering the clouds and shadows surrounding them. He freezes as she emerges. From the portal on the other side, Serana steps out, just as graceful and beautiful as she was the day he met her.

“Serana.” He breathes.

Vorstag. Don’t say a word. She commands him, her angelic face watching him with awe. Take him to the Prince. He will be able to deal with him.

Right. She was so right. Vorstag pulls up Mannimarco and starts dragging him with his broken legs all the way across the field, through the throng of thralls. They pull at his hair, his armor, they’re like living, wild creatures without a mind or soul. Just desperately tearing at anything in their way.

Molag Bal shoves another thrall away from him and tears into another, that’s when the husk speaks. “Serana. Serana, my love.” He moans in Vorstag’s arms.

The vampire breaks his neck again, if only to keep him from talking, if only to keep Molag Bal’s attention on him. “Master.” He looks up to the Prince, studies his dark face now littered in cuts and scrapes. He was banged up but not as bad as Vorstag felt. Certainly not as bad as the necromancer in his arms.

Serana stands behind him, a finger to her lips. It pains Vorstag so, but he will do what he must. If only to keep her safe. “Molag Bal. I have an offering. Take this man to Oblivion and give him everything you gave me. Make sure he suffers more than I did.”

The Prince grins, and for the first time since knowing him, Vorstag can say this smile is downright evil. “You think I was treating you badly, boy? No, this man will suffer in the proper way.” He hisses down at Mannimarco. “Name your price.”

Vorstag blinks. “I thought you just wanted him.”

“I was going to leave him in some desolate realm after carving him up. But this is quite the offer. Since you ask, I ask for something in return. Name your price.”

Vorstag stands speechless. Molag Bal has everything he wanted from him Vorstag can’t leave. But looking behind the Prince, out in the distance and seeing Serana breathes new life into him. Knowing she’s alive will help him through anything. “You have me.”

“For eternity.” Molag Bal tears into the throat of a thrall before him, the body falling at his feet.

“You already did.”

“Say it though, I want to hear it from your lips.”

Vorstag swallows hard. He was right but to say it is to confirm it. He stares back at Serana, studying her, knowing that this may well be the last time he sees her. “I am your Champion for all eternity.”

Molag Bal tears another thrall into two. “Good.” He then grabs both Vorstag and the necromancer in his arms and teleports them away to a cold, dark place, with little light, and no joy but now, with some newfound hope.

Chapter 21: Epilogue: Stars like Jewels

Vorstag throws another body on the pile. The last one for the day. The daedra ahead of him begin the long trudge up the mountain and into the pass, where the portal back to Coldharbour is. He stares up to the sky, willing the clouds to part, for the stars to peek out.

His heavy armor is easy to move in now. Not as cumbersome or difficult. After retrieving Mannimarco last month, he is pleased to hear his screams each night. He could be near or very, very far from his cell. But each night Vorstag sleeps with a smile on his face.

“Looking for a Winged Twilight? Those lookers don’t grow on trees here.” A daedra hisses as he passes him.

Vorstag doesn’t grace him with an answer. He just stares, long and hard at the sky, awaiting any star to peek out.

On one of the long nights on the road with Serana, he often enjoyed stargazing with her. Any constellation he could find, he used to find them comforting as a mercenary.  But with Serana, a woman with little knowledge of the world around her, it was a joy to see her face light up with every constellation he pointed out.

To see the stars peek out, just once, always reminds him that she’s alive. She’s somewhere out there, hopefully searching the same stars.

He nearly stumbles, a rock tripping him up. A daedra hisses out a laugh and pushes him. Vorstag bumps into another daedra who shoves him and soon, before he can stop it, a brawl starts. Vorstag won’t just stand there and take it, so he fights back, kicking and shoving where he can, feeling every hit and every cut on his face.

At the portal, he’s a bloody mess, but at least everyone else looked worse than him. He steps through. The others file down their line. Molag Bal sits on his throne, his chin on his hand and with a bored expression on his face.

“Champion?”

Vorstag turns at the sound. “Yes?”

“I got him to break today. He told me that his land is called Amaranth. It’s a place of his making. He did it, against any will of the gods. It will be destroyed as soon as I can get word out.” Molag Bal says with authority.

Vorstag blinks. That land was beautiful, it shouldn’t be real and now it won’t be. “Good.”

The Prince hisses out a laugh. “Violence looks good on you, remember that.”

The man could only sigh. He was right, violence and Vorstag went together like sweetrolls and honey mead. In his cell he lays down, stretching out on his bed so he can stare at the ceiling above and wish for stars. One day, it will be granted. They’ll be peeking out from some hole in the ceiling, and he’ll be asleep before he can notice, he just knows it.

 

---

 

It’s a fever dream. Maybe he got hit harder than he thought. When Vorstag blinks his eyes open he feels a soft hand landing on his cheek.

“He’s ready.”

“Good.”

Feminine, soft voices. Vampire hearts. Vorstag looks around only to see Valerica and Serana picking him up. “Where…”

“Shh.” Serana hisses. Her hood is pulled close to her face so no one can see. Her mother is the same way. They heave him up and Vorstag only has time to yelp when he’s pulled into another world.

 

---

 

Amaranth is broken. The realm had been torn so badly beyond repair a strange sort of occurrence was taking place. The north held a permanent sun blazing in the sky. To the south, the stars were held in the sky like bright, shining jewels. The moons remained far, far away, but are always clashing with the blue of the sky in the north.

Serana explained as much to Vorstag. “You know, the manor was almost gone, the library is destroyed but at least we will have somewhere to stay.”

Vorstag keeps looking around the gardens in awe. Some plants grew well in the summer-like patches. Others withered in the winter covered parts. “What happened here?”

“The land was unstable to begin with.” Mother starts, her hands clasped behind her back as she stares at the manor before them. “Tearing through the realms as Mannimarco and my daughter did on that day created a destabilizing effect. To do so further continues to damage the realm.”

“It was hurt when you came to get me?” Vorstag asks, his hand running through Serana’s hair. She leans against him, loving the way she’s held. She feels his steady heartbeat beneath her.

“Yes, that’s why it took so long to get you from that hold in Oblivion. Forgive us.” Mother says sheepishly. “I had to make sure this realm wouldn’t fall apart with the walking the three of us would do out and back. Especially to a stronger realm such as Coldharbour.”

“Why not let it just…disintegrate?” He asks.

“Because then Molag Bal would have you for good.” Serana says quietly. She can feel Vorstag stiffen beneath her, she just pulls him closer. “Here, he can’t get to you, we warded it off from other realms and that took up the rest of the time.”

“As long as Amaranth stays, you can have a haven from the Prince.” Mother confirms. “Make no mistake, though. He will come back for you someday. Or he’ll forget and realize finding another Champion is in his best interests.” She shrugs. “We will see. For now, though, we need to stay here. At least for a few decades before going back to Skyrim.”

Serana’s chest constricts at that. She was here for so long with Mannimarco, the land is stained with imperfect, horrible memories. But one look at her mother and she knows she can banish them.

“And as a precaution, to keep you two bound to one another and safe, I suggest you say your vows now.” Mother waves her hand to the dais ahead.

A month ago, it was a terrible idea. Dark clouds filled the skies, Mannimarco had her in his unrelenting grasp. Now though, things look different. Behind the dais stands a shining blue sky with a sun that won’t hurt them. The beautiful skyscape is framed with flowers on a trellis. White and red and purple blooms line the wooden structure. Her mother will help them with their vows, she just needs one thing.

“Would you want to?” She stares up at Vorstag.

His smile is so beautiful her breath hitches. How could she have forgotten a face like that? His answering kiss is all she needs to know.

 

---

 

Vorstag traces her shoulder with his hand, up and down, into her hair and down her bare back. Serana rests her head against him. They both lay under a blanket in the windswept meadow to the south. He thought she might be apprehensive to sleep out under the stars. After so long in his cell, the last thing he wanted was to stay indoors when they could be outside. He keeps staring at those glimmering lights, thanking each one of them for the good grace he was given.

He could be back in Coldharbour.

He lets out a long breath, waking Serana. “What’s wrong?” She mumbles.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” She asks, a little more awake now.

“Are you still a god?”

A beat of silence. “Yes. I needed the powers to get to you, but I think they’re fading.”

“Why is that?”

“I just…I think we did the apotheosis wrong. Or maybe it’s not meant to be…”

Vorstag swallows hard. “You heard me tell your mother that when I left Coldharbour Molag Bal was going to have someone destroy this realm. Someone divine or daedric.”

“I know, I heard, my head was a little fuzzy from the wine.” She grins against his chest. After their short ceremony, they went to the ballroom to dance, drink and eat. Valerica only drank blood, leaving the alcohol and food to the other two. Vorstag had a wonderful time feeding Serana cake and showing her that yes, human food can be quite delicious if one knows what to taste.

“Will that happen?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” Serana murmurs. “I’m giving back my powers tomorrow.”

“What?” Vorstag tenses, “What if we need them, for Mannimarco?”

“He’s not coming back. Molag Bal has him.” Serana nuzzles his neck. “Mother thinks if I give back my powers, we can keep Amaranth and stay here until she finds you a way out of your deal with the Prince.”

Vorstag swallows, staring at those blessed stars. “That might be a long time.”

“We have a long time.”

“Not if the realm doesn’t hold.”

Serana sighs and sits up, her face engulfing the largest moon and showing she’s quite prettier than the celestial body. Her golden gaze pierces him with authority. “I won’t let him take you again just like you won’t let Mannimarco take me. If this realm is destroyed, whether through time or divine intervention and Molag Bal takes you,” She rests a palm on his chest, making her vow. “Then I will find you. I won’t let you go with him again.”

He feels it’s only a matter of time. But the way her eyes stare down with such love, such determination, he feels the same feeling swelling in his chest. If she were taken again, he would go to the ends of the universe to find her too. He pulls her down, kissing her softly along her lips, and down her jaw.

“If this is a slice of eternity, we better enjoy it.” He murmurs against her.

“Eternity means forever, we’ll have this land forever.” 

He pulls her down and flips, pinning her under him so he can show her how much he loves her. How much he appreciates her. Any other woman wouldn’t have gone to such lengths for him. Any other woman wouldn’t give up the gifts of the gods just to keep him at their side. He’s never felt so loved, so cherished.

And as the night goes on, when they finally rest, he says a silent thanks to the stars again for bringing him home.

 

---

 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and liking this story! I know there were a lot of breaks in between postings but I’m so happy everyone stayed on board with it. This was a really fun fic to write, I enjoyed exploring where Serana and Vorstag went and how they overcame their own challenges. I also loved capturing that “Beauty and the Beast” vibe from Serana’s side of things (even though my version of Mannimarco has no redeeming qualities). Vorstag’s side was harder to write, I hated dragging him through all that pain and suffering but it’s what I would expect when kept by a Daedric Prince.

Even though, we are at the end of the story for those two, I have ideas for other fics. I’m toying with a plot that centers around the Companions after the events of Storm of Skyrim and Frostbitten. I like having a universe of sorts, where all the fics intertwine with one another. So, there will be references to the series and to this fic! It’s not drafted or plotted yet so it might take some time before it’s posted. I’m hoping I can start posting it in the next few months or by summer at the latest. Keep your eyes peeled for that and I’ll see you around! :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 9 of Storm of Skyrim Universe