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Chapter Text

Talmeni wasn’t sure how much of her experience had been a dream. She’d had nightmares from bad skooma before, and she knew it could make you see things, even remember things, which hadn’t happened, and make you forget things that had. Sometimes it was better not to know.

She felt pretty certain she’d gone to that new skooma den she’d heard about, because Indaryn had just fired her for missing several days of work. She also remembered trekking out there, and stumbling back, or at least part of it. She’d woken up in the Treva river, and wasn’t sure how she had ended up there. On the way out, she’d not followed the river, she was pretty certain. Maybe she had fallen down a hill and hit her head.

The skooma den itself, she was less sure about. It had been hazy. Maybe it was because she’d smoked the skooma, instead of drinking it straight. It had felt like old times, although Talmeni wasn’t sure when those old times had been. It had probably been before she had crossed the border, but past that point she’d given up trying to recall. Then again, that she had smoked might just have been a random memory brought back by the red haze in the air.

She wasn’t sure who had given her the first sample of that red skooma and told her where to find the den. Maybe it had been Brynjolf, or Sarthis. That first hit certainly had her wanting more, which explained why she had headed out into the hills like that. The dealer there had been so nice as to give her a second free sample, probably. If she remembered correctly, it hadn’t been Sarthis, after all, he’d cut her off because she couldn’t pay, and that meant she also couldn’t have paid for the new skooma. At any rate, her pockets were currently empty.

Even if the red fog and the smoking had been real, the rest had to have been a dream. Admittedly, maybe somebody had entered her booth while she’d been watching the drifting smoke, but that bite had to have been a hallucination. The same about the weird spring or fountain she’d seen for a moment. After all, water couldn’t be red. And it wasn’t like that memory connected to anything before and after, although given that she’d made the return trip in a single day, she was missing at least two day’s worth of time. Who knew what had happened at that point. The first sample of that Redwater skooma had her out for a few hours, but maybe it was different smoked. Or maybe it had been a different batch.

For now, she tried to recall the last few minutes. There had been Indaryin, berating her. Parts of his speech were already slipping from her memory. But she was sure it had happened recently, even though she also remembered having heard him talk to her like that before. But being fired was new. Then he’d had her thrown out violently by Ungrien and Romlyn. There had been a bit in between that was a bit hazy. She’d threatened him, probably. Yes, her dagger was over there in the dirt, instead of its sheath, which meant she’d gestured with it.

They had thrown her out on the lake side of the meadery, because what she was lying on were dirty wooden boards, and she could hear and smell the water. It wasn’t as insistent an impression as the sun, though. Even with her eyes closed and looking away, it felt like it was glaring through her skull and into her eyeballs. It had to be a side effect from the skooma, just like her aching teeth. She couldn’t remember being punched in the mouth. While she’d gotten sensitive to light from alcohol hangovers, this was the first time she got it from a skooma down. Or maybe withdrawal, she wasn’t sure how to tell the difference.

She really needed another hit. Or at least something to eat. And some sleep. She felt tired, more tired than she expected. After all, she hadn’t worked at all today, just gotten shouted at and then thrown out. Maybe she just couldn’t remember struggling. But that didn’t matter, if she didn’t need to work, she could certainly take some time to rest. But first, she needed to do something about her growling stomach. Picking up her knife, Talmeni got to her knees and staggered towards the stairs back into the city.

A few minutes later, she found herself sitting on the stairs down to the canal, chewing on some wrinkled and limp carrots. Marise had given them to her, she managed to recall, even though she hadn’t paid. Something about these being about to be thrown away anyway. Talmeni didn’t mind. She couldn’t recall her meals, and would probably forget about this one in a moment. It wasn’t like she could even taste anything about the carrots.

Suddenly she was falling down the stairs, tumbling awkwardly and limply, unable to deal with the sudden change. As she came to rest against a few barrels on the wooden walkway above the stagnant canal, she managed to recall that somebody had kicked her, hard. Probably the one coming down the stairs after her. Talmeni tried to draw her knife, but it didn’t do any good. Somebody had grabbed her by the throat and was pressing her against the barrels. It was one of the guards.

“Threatening innocent people, were we?”, he asked with a sarcastic voice.

Talmeni tried to say something. It was hard, her head was swimming after that tumble, the sun was glaring at her even down here, and she was trying to remember where her knife had ended up. “My back. It hurts”, she managed, and after a moment of thought added: “Let go.”

“And worse, you held up business at the Black-Briar meadery”, the guard continued, as if she hadn’t said anything. Maybe she hadn’t, it was hard to remember which words were in her head and which were out loud. “Maven doesn’t like that at all.”

There were more things the guard said, about dirt in the city, and something about resisting arrest. Talmeni was sure she had missed something important, because suddenly the guard was a step away from her, and she had her knife in her hand. And he was drawing his sword.

He was going to kill her, she realized. Fragments of memory came together, making her notice just how stupid she had been. The Riften meadery paid well enough, but stepping out of line meant you upset a woman who had the city guard in her pocket and didn’t show mercy. And Talmeni had threatened Indaryn, the manager of the meadery. She’d even said something about his relationship with Haelga, if her memory wasn’t mistaken. And now she was being turned into an example for the rest of the city.

“Don’t kill me”, she shouted in panic, throwing her arms in front of her to hold of the approaching man. Somehow, the words tingled in her mind, and then her hands. And then, for no reason she could see, the guard stopped, sword raised above his head.

“On second thought”, he continued slowly, as if trying to recall something explained to him carefully, “I’ll let you live. You can, yes, beg in the streets. Much better as a punishment. You’ll never work in this town again.” By the end of the sentence, his arrogant tone was back, and while he put his sword away, he gave her a nudge with his steel boot that hurt quite a bit, before turning around and stomping up the old stairs.

Talmeni slumped against the barrels. Now she really wanted to sleep. And there had been something else. She looked around, trying to remember what she had held in her hand before the dagger. Maybe it had been food, but there was nothing visible nearby.

She jerked up, wondering how it had become so dark. It had to be sunset, so maybe she had dozed off. From what she could see, she at least hadn’t moved, and nobody else had bothered her. Her back hurt, from the falling and the barrels, and she had been sitting strangely. It was probably best if she went to bed. As best she could remember, there should still be a bed for her in the bunkhouse, because you paid for entire weeks. Talmeni thought she could remember paying before she left for the Redwater den.

Somehow, she got up the stairs, into the bunkhouse and even into bed, although she couldn’t remember how. It was night-time now, and there had been more than just the movement. She could call up the face of Niluva, one of the other Dunmer working at the brewery. Talmeni wasn’t sure if she had tried to talk to her, or the other way round, but Niluva hadn’t been happy about something. Probably it had been related to the scene at the brewery. Niluva hadn’t been among those that had thrown her out, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been around.

Now, however, the other woman was in bed, sleeping. Talmeni was trying to sleep, too, but it was hard. She felt thirsty, even though she was pretty sure she had drunk already several times from the water barrel in the hall. Worse, she didn’t feel tired. After the entire day of being exhausted and hurting, that was unfair. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. It also was too bright and loud. There was no candle burning, and the windows were small and dirty, letting in little moonlight, but somehow Talmeni could still see all the other sleepers, and hear their heartbeats.

This was getting too strange, she decided. She needed skooma. It wouldn’t help her find sleep, but it would make things easier. She didn’t have any worries on skooma. Either enthusiasm or apathy, but never any worry. After this day full of worry and change, she really needed something to set her head straight. That was probably why she was thirsty, because she hadn’t had a hit in several days, and her throat was craving it.

Thankfully, she wasn’t the only addict in the bunkhouse. There was Wujeeta, who now worked at the fishery, and who drank the stuff close to religiously. And of course Niluva, who tried not to show it, but couldn’t stop herself from having a dose every week. And while Talmeni’s stores were depleted, she knew the other two kept stashes of skooma close by.

Quietly, Talmeni got up from her bed and walked over to where the other Dunmer woman was sleeping. She didn’t even stir when Talmeni stood above her. So helpless, Talmeni thought, not sure why. For a moment, she stared at Niluva’s bare neck, before remembering herself. She wanted skooma, and that was under the bed. She knelt down and groped around under the crude bedstead, hoping the noise was masked my Tythis’s snoring from the other room. However, kneeling brought her even close to Niluva’s neck and its gently pulsing vein. She wondered what Niluva’s insides tasted like, and noticed her half-open mouth was drooling

Thankfully, her hand closed around a small bottle in that moment, and Talmeni crept away quickly. This was all too strange. Good thing she had skooma now, as clearly the world went mad without it. And that was good, reliable product from Morrowind, even if watered down, not whatever strange thing they brewed up in the Redwater den.

And now she was on her bed, smiling, the empty bottle dropping from her fingers. This was the true life, happy and carefree, when you could do anything you wanted, when the colors shone and every sound was music. Now she was alive, when the sweet drops tingled in the throat, like a symphony written just for her, using and transforming the world.

Maybe it hadn’t been a full bottle. Niluva tried to keep the dosage small, Talmeni managed to recall as her thoughts swung by before she focused on the ceiling again, realizing just how many colors there were there, in what others just called darkness, a whole palette of hues she didn’t have names for, but that she really wanted to name all, and write it in a book.

Of course, for that she needed more skooma, to properly see them, and that needed money, and she needed a job for that, but that wouldn’t be a problem, because after all Bolli at the fishery had taken Wujeeta, so he would certainly also take Talmeni. She was halfway out of bed before remembering it was night, and there was no point. The secret, hidden colors of the darkness danced before her again, so she probably had laid back down.

Talmeni felt like she was watching herself from the outside for a moment, and wondered why. Things didn’t feel right, despite clouds of happiness filling her mind from the skooma. As she drifted, she kept bouncing into sharp thoughts, remembering and wondering. That half-bottle she’d drunk wasn’t enough to properly lift her up, not after that hard-hitting red version. She needed a proper hit, but getting up was too much effort and worry, and who needed worry, when the world was so wonderful and clear? And she was a hero, a goddess, who could only smile benevolently at the toils of lesser mortals, with bent backs and sorrowful minds, who closed their hearts to the wonders of moon sugar and all its miracles …

“Sleeping in, I see?”, somebody asked her. Talmeni jerked up from her bed, then had to shield her eyes as the sun almost blinded them. She tried to take stock. There had been bad things happening. Losing her job, she managed to recall. And there had been a guard in there somewhere. But that had been yesterday. Just now, there had been Svana, talking to her. That hadn’t been bad, probably, although she might have mentioned that rent was due. The rest had just been concern about Talmeni sleeping in and looking pale. But now that was in the past, and Talmeni was standing in the market, still trying to shield her eyes from the sun.

It looked like almost noon. She must have indeed slept in. She couldn’t remember when the skooma had worn off, but usually she could get up fine afterwards. But today, she felt tired. She hadn’t done anything, at least nothing worth remembering, and already wanted to sleep again. Maybe it was because she hadn’t eaten enough, although she wasn’t sure if she had. It was hard to say if she’d eaten less over the last few days, because she couldn’t remember how much she’d eaten before. Skooma was enough to keep her going.

The front desk of the meadery was in front of her, and behind it stood Ungrien as usual. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here”, he said, hesitantly.

Talmeni stopped, and thought why he would say that. “Right. Fired”, she recalled after a while. “I’m sorry?”, she added after a long pause in which she tried to remember how to ask to have a second chance.

“You should be, after what you did yesterday. I’m amazed you’re still alive.” Talmeni hoped he would explain what he meant, but Ungrien apparently expected her to understand.

She considered things, and managed to recall something that seemed relevant. “There was a guard.”

“Probably sent by Maven. Look, I don’t want any trouble with her, so just go away, please.”

“But…” Talmeni felt strange again for a second, as something tingled within her as she tried to convince him to let her work here again. She waited, confused, until that strange feeling had gone away. “I need money. By work.” That didn’t seem enough, so after a moment she added for emphasis: “Here.”

“No, not here. We’ll both end up at the bottom of the lake if I let you in here again.”

And then the door of the meadery slammed shut behind her again. Talmeni wondered about it, it seemed familiar. It happened before, recently. But this time, she was on the city side and was standing. But she still needed skooma. And something against the sun. It was lower now, but still too bright.

As she walked around, she tried to think, despite her tiredness. What was the next step? Sarthis sold skooma, she needed some. She wasn’t sure if it was the right day, but the warehouse was right there. No wait, she had no money. There was this other thing she needed to do. Right, working. She needed to find work. There were not many places, and most belonged to Maven Black-Briar. There had been one that didn’t, she remembered thinking about it recently, but now she couldn’t remember. Some skooma would help her recall, but she couldn’t have any.

She took a nap, near the Talos shrine, hoping it helped. The sun was gone when she got up, and that surprised her. That hadn’t just been a nap, but full sleep. She hadn’t meant to, but apparently the day had been so tiring she had needed it. Now, she felt awake and refreshed.

The twilight deepened, and the light faded from the world. Not, however, the colors. Talmeni looked around in wonder, at how the world looked in shadow. It was so colorful, even without skooma. It was different from the colors of the day, with so different hues and impressions. Flowers that were a wide palette during the day looked like a drab tangle, while stone and earth that were just gray in the sunlight turned into fantastically marbled sights.

But she was thirsty, really thirsty. A guard walked past, and she just stared at their neck, thinking about their veins. That wasn’t a normal thirst. Maybe it was about blood. She took out her knife and experimentally cut herself in the finger and licked at it. There was very little blood coming from the wound, but it tasted nice. But she felt even thirstier now, and drooled uncontrollably.

That was the last straw. She needed another bottle of skooma, she couldn’t think like this. Even if it wasn’t the Redwater version, another dose would stop these cravings. Hopefully, Niluva could spare another bottle. Once Talmeni was well again, she could pay the woman back.

It was hard to wait until it was late enough and Niluva would have finished her meal and fallen asleep in the bunkhouse. Talmeni felt full of energy, despite her aching teeth and hurting head. To pass time, she did whatever she could think of. She took out her knife and watched the blade glint in the moonlight. She walked over towards the market and listened to the sounds of revelry coming from the Bee and Barb. For a moment, she followed a guard in their round, flitting from shadow to shadow after them, unnoticed.

There was a strange feeling in all this. She felt like being outside. Far away from normal people, normal concerns. Watching the world through a looking glass. Sometimes, she had felt like this when smoking good skooma. But she hadn’t taken any yet. She was sure of that.

As Talmeni sat at the well in the middle of the market and threw pebbles down to hear the faint, echoing plunks as they hit the water, she spotted Wujeeta, out and about unusually late. It didn’t take her long to know what the Argonian was doing, quietly closing the door to the docks behind her and disappearing in the narrow alley between the Pawned Prawn and the Bee and Barb. Especially not when she was clutching a satchel like that.

This was also good, and Talmeni jumped up. She could also pay back Wujeeta, it didn’t matter. And the skooma was right there, not hidden or anything. Quickly, she circled around the Bee and Barb on the other side, and caught the Argonian on the bridge of the canal.

“You are up late”, Wujeeta said when she noticed Talmeni walking next to her. Instinctively, she pulled the satchel a bit closer to her chest.

“Sarthis. He gave you skooma?” Talmeni stumbled, as trying to walk and talk was difficult while being tortured with the prospect of skooma. She could almost taste that sweetness already.

“I, yes”, Wujeeta said guiltily. “I tried. But I needed another.”

Talmeni placed herself in front of the Argonian. “I need some too. Give me.”

Wujeeta was shivering, and Talmeni could hear her heart beat. So fast, so frightened. “Your eyes”, the Argonian woman managed, “So hungry.” And she kept also staring down from time to time. Talmeni followed her gaze. She had taken out her knife without realizing.

This wasn’t what she had meant. Talmeni put the knife away and tried to say things differently. “Will you share? I’m a friend.”

That didn’t seem to be enough, as Wujeeta just stood there, not moving, not answering.

Talmeni tried again, trying to think through her thirst and her cravings. “Please, share”, she managed, holding out her hand. The words tingled in her mind, and in some invisible way, jumped from her hand over to the Argonian.

Without saying much, Wujeeta loosened her grip on the bag. Her movements were jerky, almost hesitant, and her eyes strangely blank, as she took four of the small bottles and pressed them into Talmeni’s hands.

And then it was noon again. Talmeni tried to pierce together what happened, even though her entire body felt hurt by the blazing sun, and her head was swimming and skipping. The skooma had taken its price. It had probably been fun, if she managed to remember. And to tell what had been real.

After that meeting with Wujeeta, she must have drunk at least one full bottle, maybe two. It hadn’t calmed her at all. She managed to recall some running, and leaping. And maybe swimming. For certain, a body had splashed into water. It had helped with the thirst for certain. Talmeni felt much calmer now, and her teeth had stopped hurting.

There was one memory that was worrying her. Or rather, the fragments. It wasn’t enough to paint a full picture. It was like what happened out in the Redwater den. They had to be visions, false memories. She wished it was easier to tell. What she remembered was a neck, and her knife being covered in blood. Also a staggering shape in the darkness. It hadn’t been Wujeeta, though. Probably. And Talmeni had licked her knife, for some reason. It was maybe better not to ask. Too many things were logical on skooma, and not afterwards.

Carefully, Talmeni tried to probe her recent memory, to find out how she had ended up here. Here, in this case, being the lower level of the dock walkways, somewhere behind the meadery. She’d run here after something, some kind of thought. It had already been day at that point. She’d slept in between, or at least that made the most sense. Otherwise, there was a very big gap she was missing. And she hadn’t slept in the bunkhouse. Maybe because it had been too late. Or maybe because she’d been too tired to reach it when the skooma wore off.

Slowly, the missing bits of her awakening came back. There had been blood. On the knife, on her hands, on her clothes. And she’d run here to hide, to wash it off unseen. Talmeni looked at her dripping hands. It had washed off the skin, but there were still brown stains on her sleeves. She tried to tell herself it was just mud. She didn’t want those night-images to be real.

Slowly, her knife at the ready, she stepped out of her hiding place. After having seen the colors of the night, the day world looked like a bad painting to her. In the light of the sun, it was all just shapes and contours, drawn in just blinding whiteness and feeble darkness, trying to hold on. It was not so bad that she couldn’t see, but she felt limited, downright fumbling, as she navigated up the rickety stairs.

Talmeni let her feet do whatever as she tried to get her memories back together. The present skipped and skidded as she tried to get a grasp on the past. One moment, she was on the docks, the next, she was in the market, and then, in another, she was standing on one of the bridges over the canal. She didn’t care. What was important was that she remembered not to try to go to work in the meadery again. She’d been thrown out, twice. To earn money, she had to try somewhere else. Bolli, she thought. He’d taken Wujeeta in. It felt like a familiar thought, so she had probably considered him before. However, she couldn’t remember acting on it.

On the steps back out of the city, towards the fishery at the docks, the memories of her amble over the market caught up with her. Some people had greeted her, some others kept their distance. And then, there had been a shout, and everyone rushing to look. Something in the canal. The guards had found a body, and pulled him out of the water. Talmeni shook her head. Not important. Not relevant. It couldn’t have been her. What was important was getting a new job.

Inside the fishery, with the small window letting in only little light, Talmeni felt a lot better. She could see more, and some of the exhaustion and tiredness went away. Wujeeta ambled past, and Talmeni felt relieved. However, she said nothing, just kept going to the office on the far side.

In there sat Bolli, writing something in his books. He looked up as she approached. “Mara’s blessing be upon you”, he said automatically.

Talmeni had to pause to think, but then remembered. “Three blessings”, she said politely.

The fisherman looked her up and down. “It looks like the gods have not been kind to you. You should visit the temple, Maramal will surely help.”

She shook her head. It wasn’t gods she needed right now. Her hand idly tapped against the pocket of her ragged trousers, causing two small skooma bottles to clink. It brightened her up. She would be fine. “I don’t want gifts”, she managed to say towards Bolli, “But work. From you.”

Now he shook his head, gently. “I had expected that, after hearing what happened to you. And in different circumstances, you could certainly work here. But I can’t endanger my other workers.”

“I’m not. Not a danger.” Talmeni tried to hide the stains on her sleeves.

“Maybe, but you angered Maven Black-Briar. When I heard somebody was found dead in the canal, I expected it to be you, and thank Mara it wasn’t. She won’t forgive you for how you threatened everyone in the meadery.”

“I…. Please.” She tried to find words, to somehow get her thoughts lined up enough to explain. But all she found was darkness. If Bolli didn’t take her, nobody would. He was the forgiving one.

“All I can offer is some coin so that you can buy yourself some food. You look ashen.”

“Please”, Talmeni repeated, trying to move the word into his head like she had done with Wujeeta, and the guard. Slowly, she could feel the tingle begin. “Anything”, she said, “Any work.” It felt weak, and she wasn’t sure if it had even been enough to jump from her fingers.

Bolli paused, and looked around. “There is”, he said, slowly, in a strange tone, “Yes, there is something you can do for me. And it could give you a fresh start, somewhere far away from the Black-Briar family.”

Talmeni watched numbly as the Nord started to go through his papers. He was explaining something, but it sounded technical, and it had a hard time getting past her anxiety. Could he really help?

It was only at the end of his explanation that she managed to focus on the present again. “Bring this to Kleppr in the Silver-Blood Inn in Markarth, and he’ll pay you his part of the fee”, Bolli explained, while pushing a sealed envelope and a small purse of gold coins into her hands.

“Markarth”, Talmeni repeated, trying to commit his instructions into memory.

“It’s at the other end of Skyrim, in the Reach. You can take a carriage there.”

“I know. I think.” She had heard of the city before. It was very far away. Maybe that was why Bolli wanted to send her there.

“Where will you take this?”, Bolli asked with a harder voice.

Talmeni glared at him. “Kleppr. Silver-Blood Inn. Markarth. Reach. With carriage. I’m not stupid.” She tried to push away her thoughts of biting him.

He glanced at her hand, which had wandered to the sheath of her knife without her noticing. “No offense. You did just look a bit absent.”

“I’m fine.” She moved her hand off the knife hilt and into her pocket, closing around the bottles of skooma. As long as she had some, she would be fine.

The conversation went on a bit longer, but it didn’t stick to her mind. She managed to recall only that after it, she went out to the stables and had a talk with Shadr there about the carriages. “Markath, you said?”, he explained, “You’ll have to take the carriage to Whiterun from here. There should be another that takes you the rest of the way there. I think it takes about a week in total, although between the civil war and the dragons, who knows.”

“This one?”, Talmeni asked, pointing at the wagon standing in the yard of the stables. There was no horse hitched to it, but there were several waiting in the stalls.

“Yes, but it’s not leaving today. Sigaar always leaves at sunrise, early in the morning.”

“That works.” Given how awake she always was during the night, Talmeni was sure she could manage to stay up until sunrise. Especially if she used the rest of today to have a nap. She did feel dead tired, after so much talking.

There was one more thing she wanted to know, however. “How much? In gold.”

Shadr shrugged. “The fare itself is twenty septims, but you’ll have to pay for lodgings in between. I would guess maybe a hundred in total?”

Talmeni had a look into the bag that Bolli had given her, and counted. It looked something like two hundred septims total, so the journey would cost her about half of it. The other half, maybe she could turn it into skooma. Except, it was the wrong day. Sarthis had sold to Wujeeta yesterday, so it would be another week until she could get some from him. And the Redwater den was too far away. She would just have to stretch what she had.

Thanking Shadr, she wandered back into the city, looking for a place to sleep. There was no point in renewing her rent in the bunkhouse if she was leaving tomorrow. Besides, the bunkhouse was bright and lively. Right now, Talmeni wanted quiet and darkness, someplace far away from the sun. Maybe down in the sewers, in the Ratway.

She circled the market, staying on the far side of the canal, away from all the people and noise, and then took the stairs down to the water level. There was an entrance around somewhere. After a moment, she found the old, rotten door with the brick tunnel behind it, and went inside. The walls were damp, and the air smelled of rotting flesh and skeever droppings, but Talmeni’s spirits lifted. There was no light, just the dark, damp tunnels, winding away in the distance. It was perfect. She wandered until she found a small dead end branching off, and sat down with her back to the bare stone and closed her eyes.

It didn’t feel like much later when she was woken up by somebody grabbing her. Talmeni reacted by instinct, before she even had taken in the situation. Somebody held her right hand, but she grabbed her dagger with the left, twisted upright, stabbed at the shape in front of her and jumped back as it cursed and left go.

“Doesn’t look dead to me”, a voice commented sarcastically. Talmeni took in the scene. Two people were standing in front of her, blocking the way out. One she recognized as Maul, who did things for Maven Black-Briar. Nobody ever spelled out what things. People just kept their head down when he came to the meadery. The other, she didn’t know, but there was a family resemblance to Maul. That was the one she had cut into the arm with her wild maneuver.

“You can have the next go”, the wounded man said, rubbing his arm, “Shor’s balls she’s fast.”

Maul stepped forward, keeping his eye on Talmeni’s knife. She had been lucky it hadn’t been him grabbing her, as he wore armor. Her little iron blade would have done nothing against that. “Stay away”, she warned, knowing it was an empty threat.

“You still owe Maven for that shit you pulled in the meadery”, Maul said, stepping closer, “And if you pull any more tricks, you’ll just make it worse for yourself.”

“I’m leaving”, Talmeni said, “I’m no more trouble.” Old memories came back. She’d killed people of Maul’s stature. But from behind, in the dark, unnoticed, like Mephala commanded. But with him in front of her, there was little she could do.

“Fine by me. You got damned lucky, girl, because I’ll make you a deal.” Maul stepped closer, close enough that she could have stabbed him. But with his friend standing over there, hand on his dagger, it would be suicide.

“What deal?”, she asked, not lowering the knife. Maybe she could slip between the two, if she got them to flinch with some feints. But listening seemed a better plan.

“I’ve got a message I’m supposed to deliver to Markarth, and with the war going on, my usual courier has done a runner. You deliver that message for me, and I’ll keep mum with Maven. Tell her you’ve been dealt with.”

Talmeni offered a silent prayer to Azura, for that bit of luck. “I do it”, she said quickly.

“Good.” He pushed a sealed cylinder into her chest, then let go. Talmeni managed to catch it awkwardly while Maul continued: “Mess this up, and she’ll have the Dark Brotherhood after you. And they won’t be as stupid as Dirge here about noticing who’s just playing dead.”

“For who is it?”, she asked, trying to look at the missive cylinder while not loosing track of Maul, who still stood dangerously close.

“Thonar Silver-Blood. Make sure it gets to him personally.” When she nodded, Maul stepped back. “Good. And stay out of Riften once you’re done, because I damn sure won’t risk my neck for you. You’re dead around here, got it?”

“Got it.” She put the cylinder away, but kept the knife ready until Maul and Dirge had left. She noticed they didn’t head towards the exit she’d come in. Probably headed for the Thieves guild. Everyone said they lived down here, somewhere in the sewers. Talmeni, not being stupid, didn’t follow.

Instead, she went out on the city side, to check the time. There was a faint glow still on the horizon over the lake, with the Throat of the World a large triangular shadow in the twilight. An hour after sunset, Talmeni guessed. The stars were just coming out, and the colors of the night recovered from the glare of day. It was rather beautiful, and Talmeni watched for a while, until the last shreds of red had disappeared and the land was dark and silent.

The nap, even if it had been interrupted, had done miracles. She felt awake, more awake than ever before. And stronger. Probably, whatever weird illness she had picked up in the Redwater den had worn off. If it had been an illness, and not whatever they had cut their skooma with.

For a moment, her hand went to the skooma in her pocket. A hit would make her feel even better, but she stopped herself. The last two times, she had not woken up until noon, and tonight, she had to be up at sunrise for certain. It was better to just stay sharp, even if the knowledge that the skooma was right there was driving her crazy.

Remembering Maul’s warning, she did not go back up to the market. While the sun was down, the drinking in the Bee and Bard could keep going until midnight, and she didn’t want to be seen by any patrons going home.

Instead, she wandered around the Ratway, carefully and silently, exploring it curiously. She had stayed away from it in the past, however long that had been. People generally did. Only the criminal and the insane, it was said, had their home in the Ratway. She wasn’t sure about the insanity, but there certainly were other people around, having arranged little living areas here and there in the darkness. Talmeni watched them for a while, but didn’t stick around. While the darkness hid her from view, she could still make a noise, and right now she didn’t want to be found.

After a while, she returned to her little dead end near the entrance, and sat back down. She felt a bit strange, out of sorts. She could remember too much, if that made sense. After a life of skooma, which mercifully blotted out the past, it was a bit frightening. While so far, it was just vague hunches, little more than hints that there were memories, the knowledge that these old things were still around made her anxious. Skooma, however bad you felt after, was good in reducing life to the moment, something Talmeni thought was for the best.

Her teeth worried her, too. They didn’t ache, not any more, but when she felt them with her tongue, they felt unusual. The canines were very long and sharp, something she couldn’t remember being the case before. Of course, she could be wrong. Her memory was not the best reference place.

The night was long, and Talmeni did not spend all of it with introspection. When she guessed midnight to be past, she went outside, if only to get some fresh air and to stretch her legs. She ambled aimlessly around the sleeping city, feeling strange as she realized that all around her, people were sleeping, protected by nothing more than a few tumblers in their locks and some patrolling guards, who saw nothing beyond the feeble range of their torchlight. Talmeni could have entered any house she chose and done whatever she wanted. That thought made her feel like being outside again, separated from normal life by a wall of glass, through which she watched people with detached interest.

Chapter Text

As the first bits of brightness crept over the Velothi mountains, she made her way to the stables, where, true to Shadr’s words, the carriage was made ready. She paid her due to the driver, and then sat down on the benches, leaning back and waiting for it to start. A few others joined her, also traveling towards Whiterun, but she paid them no attention. As the sun rose, the long time she had stayed awake caught up with her, and by the time the driver took his seat at the front and whipped the horse into motion, she was already dozing.

Her sleep was interrupted a few hours later, when somebody shook her awake. It was Sigaar, the driver, looking concerned. “You had me worried there”, she said when she opened her eyes and tried to brush his hand away to stop the shaking.

“What?”, she asked, one hand already wrapped around the hilt of her knife.

“You slept like somebody dead”, he said, “Looked like it, too.”

“I’m fine”, was all she could think of saying. “Where are we?” In the glare of the sun, she couldn’t make out more than a few houses, huddled in the shadow of a small mountain. She guessed it was around noon.

“Shor’s Stone, just making a short stop to pick up some miners. Could you move a bit?”

Grumbling, Talmeni placed herself closer to the back of the carriage, trying to find a position that would allow her to sleep upright. The other passengers watched her carefully, but didn’t say anything, and not long after the carriage had begun rolling again, she fell back asleep.

In the evening, the carriage made a halt in the wilderness, with Sigaar helping people set up a few bedrolls and tents. As they gathered around the campfire, Talmeni found herself awake enough to actually learn a bit about the other travelers. There was an orc, apparently looking to join another tribe. He talked about his previous chief having been cursed by Malacath for his cowardly ways. Next to him was a sellsword, sounding Breton based on his accent, who was travelling for free in return for protection. The three miners were easy to pick out, as they wore clothing as worn and cheap as Talmeni’s. They were looking to find their fortune in another mine, as Redbelly apparently had troubles. And there was some Altmer woman, keeping to herself. Talmeni suspected she was a mage, given her robe.

Each had brought their own food, and Talmeni felt stupid for not bringing any herself. However, when one of the miners handed her something out of camaraderie, she found that the piece of bread didn’t really help. She didn’t feel hungry as such, merely thirsty, and for something more substantial than the water they gathered from a small stream nearby.

The other travelers quickly went to sleep, but Talmeni stayed up. It just felt more convenient to her to sleep during the day. That way, she didn’t have to try and think through the exhausting glare of the sun. Now, during the night, when the soft moonlight gave everything a silver sheen, it was all so much easier.

She went outside the camp a bit to explore. This was the first time she traveled this route, that much she felt sure of. She had come to Riften from the east, from Morrowind. And then she had found work, and a steady source of skooma, and it had all worked out. Until the war had come. Talmeni had not paid attention, or if she had, then she couldn’t remember it. But there was a war in Sykrim, that much had stuck to mind. Maven had raised prices and lowered wages. That was why Sarthis had turned Talmeni away, because she couldn’t afford his wares any more.

Her wanderings brought her to the edge of a cliff. The road here was following a shelf in an otherwise rather steep drop in the landscape, with rocks rising to great heights to the south, and dropping away beneath her feet to the north. At the foot of the cliff, a there was a barren, grey land. Talmeni could see the glint of starlight on lakes here and there, and fissures in the earth from which faint smoke was curling, forming a low-hanging haze that obscured the land. The Eastmarch, one of the others had called it.

The sight reminded her of home. Not Riften, which had just been the place she had lived, but some actual home, long in the past. Something before the skooma. Even though the air didn’t feel cold, Talmeni shivered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to remember. All it could do was make her want for something long gone.

Her hand went into her pocket, and she didn’t stop it as it pulled out a bottle of skooma and popped the cork from it. She felt thirsty and confused, and the night would be long and boring. Both apathy and mania, whichever hid in the sweet syrup, it would be welcome, and it would chase away the past. However, she did stop herself from draining the entire bottle. She had a sip, just about half. So she could stay in control. It was better not to repeat that night in Riften, with the blood and the corpse. With so few people around, she would be found out for sure.

She had to assume it worked, because the next thing that happened was waking up the next evening as the cart rattled to a halt inside a fortress. The miners weren’t around, but nobody seemed alarmed. When she asked, the orc explained they had gotten off around noon, at Darkwater Crossing.

Talmeni left it at that. The present was more important. This was Fort Amol, Sigaar explained, and here they would stay over the night. There was another traveling party here, too, going the opposite way, and he advised to make sure to hop on the right carriage in the morning. Talmeni joined the others as soldiers ushered them into the keep, tell them where to go for food, and where they would sleep. While she paid her fee for a bunk and some bread, Talmeni couldn’t help but feel it was only for show. She nibbled on the bread, but doubted she could actually sleep in the bed. Not only because she felt wide awake, but also because the thirst was driving her crazy. It didn’t seem right, not after having had skooma the night before.

As everyone had sat down for their dinner, a man stood up and slammed his tankard against the table a few times to call for silence. He wore a blue and yellow robe that seemed vaguely familiar. “People of Skyrim”, he announced over the din, which slowly fell away as he kept talking, “Dark times are upon us. Dragons take to the skies, and Daedra worshipers threaten our homes. We of the Vigil of Stendarr do our best to protect you, but we need your help. If you have any information regarding Daedra worship, bring it to me, so that we can bring these abominations to justice.”

Talmeni remembered now why the robe was familiar. One of those Vigilants had accosted her once in Riften. Her, and the other Dunmer living there. Memories came back. She’d gotten angry. The Good Daedra had guided her, the Bad Daedra had tested her. No human was going to tell her this was wrong. The memory unfolded, and Talmeni sank into her chair in embarrassment. She’d pulled out her knife, gestured with it, and talked about showing the Vigilant something about the teachings of Mephala. Somebody had thankfully restrained her, maybe Romlyn. Or had it been Brand-Shei? It hadn’t been Dinya Balu, that much she remembered. That woman had close to taken the Vigilant’s side, even as she had tried to distract everyone with comparing theology, as if somehow Azura and Mara could be the same thing.

One of the guards and a traveler, sitting a bit further along the table, quietly talked as the Vigilant sat back down. Talmeni listened, if only to drown out the roaring of her memories. “Didn’t the Vigilants gets wiped out?”, the guard asked.

“They had their hall destroyed, the one near Dawnstar. But there are still a lot of them, and I don’t think they’ll take it lying down.”

“I heard vampires did it.”

“I heard that, too. I also met some orc, who said he was recruiting for somebody or some cult, trying to fight back. Dawnguard, I think they called themselves. Trying to keep going where the Vigilants failed.”

“Good thing, too. Those bloodsuckers are getting bolder. There’s rumors some of them might be hiding in Cronvangr Hall, to the north. I heard the jarl put a bounty on them.”

Vampires. Talmeni had heard stories of the beasts. They had been something to scare the children with in Morrowind, undead monstrosities that drank the blood of the living. But they hadn’t been real, in the way the ash and the reavers had been real. The Temple elders preached about them, about their debased nature, but also said that the Armigers and Ordinators rooted out this corruption so that it could not take hold.

She felt her teeth with her tongue again. They did feel nicely sharp for piercing skin. That thought had been strange. She wasn’t sure where it had come from. It was like when she had been standing over Niluva, and drooled about her neck. Talmeni fingered with the bottle in her pocket, wondering if it was time for the other half. But maybe not yet. She needed to know, if maybe blood was the thing she craved, the one that could stop the thirst burning in her throat. Skooma certainly didn’t do it.

After the dinner had ended, all the travelers had been brought to their sleeping quarters and the most of them fallen asleep, Talmeni got up quietly. It had been torture waiting this long, pretending to be asleep, waiting for the breathing around her to become shallow and the heartbeats to soften. Ever since that thought about trying to drink blood, the thirst had become stronger. It was just like it had felt when running out of skooma, an insistent, screaming thought that there was something wrong, that she knew what she needed to do, and was stupid for not doing it.

There was a torch in the corridor outside, but in the sleeping hall, it was dark and quiet. Keeping low, Talmeni crawled over to the bed next to her, where some old man was sleeping. He wasn’t in her traveling group, that was all she knew. After a quick glance left and right, she opened her mouth wide, and pressed her teeth against the man’s neck. She felt a bit stupid, but it did work, and as the teeth pierced skin, she felt the iron taste of blood on her tongue.

It was almost like skooma, how it elevated her, filled her up and gave her joy. But it didn’t cloud her thoughts or jumbled her memories. If anything, it made them clearer, sharper, quicker. She could gorge herself on that warm fluid, find out how nice it tasted to take the life of another mortal.

But she didn’t. It was a road she had already traveled down with skooma. It was neccessary to moderate, to ration what you had. Keep the highs small enough to be happy, but not so high as to run out, and feel the down. Sarthis’ prices had been a hard teacher of that lesson. She couldn’t imagine it being much different for blood. Just a bit, every few days, not enough to make anyone sick or suspicious. And certainly never enough to leave a corpse.

She unhooked her jaw, licked the last drops from the wound, and was about to crawl back into her bed when the woman in the bed opposite hers turned around. She made a surprised, questioning noise and looked up, right at Talmeni as she was kneeling next to her victim’s bed. Talmeni thought fast. One hand was going to her knife by pure instinct, but that wouldn’t save her. She had to lie, that was the best way.

“Don’t mind me”, she managed, and felt that strange tingle as she did so, “Just got some fresh air.” The other woman looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded and went back to sleep. It had to be magic, the way Talmeni could make others do what she wanted, just by saying so. She knew that most people could cast spells, if they wanted to, but that it was also a long way from there to actual mastery. And that there were few schools who taught it, and they were either expensive or exclusive. She had never done anything in that direction. But Vampires were said to have various dark gifts, so maybe that was why she could channel it like that now.

However, Talmeni didn’t want to think about it, not right at this moment. She crawled back into bed, and then wet her lips with a bit of skooma. Just enough to let her enjoy lying in the bed without care, as the hours flew by and morning approached.

It didn’t even last that long, but she didn’t dare to take another sip. If she got the dosage wrong, she might miss her carriage, and be stuck in this fort in the middle of nowhere for who knew how long. Or worse, she might get in the wrong carriage, the one the Vigilant was riding in.

The sun didn’t seem quite so blinding when she stepped out that morning, but it was still unpleasant, and she was thankful when the soothing motion of the carriage lulled her into sleep. It wasn’t too unpleasant a way to travel, she had to admit, sleeping through the day, and letting skooma help her forget the night. It was a shame her supply of the drug was so low.

Once again, she was rudely awakened in the middle of the day, this time by somebody slapping her over the face. Talmeni jerked up and got her dagger out before she even said “Stop it” to however was treating her like that. But as she pointed it at the shape in front of her, she noticed the dagger point that pointed back, less than a hand’s width from her face.

“Don’t try anything”, the woman in front of her said. She wore crude and badly-patched armor, and in her other hand had a big leather bag, that she waved meaningfully. “Just give me your valuables and nobody gets hurt.”

“Just do it”, the sellsword said, somewhere behind Talmeni. She turned, and saw him lying on the ground, hands behind his head, a with another bandit aiming a bow at his back. “There’s too many of them.” Behind the defeated mercenary was some old tower, and even with the short glance, Talmeni could see archers at several windows.

“Come on, I don’t have all day”, the bandit in the wagon said, gesturing with her dagger.

Talmeni turned back to her and glared. She felt not the least willing to hand over her coin. Not only because she could hardly start a new life with nothing, but also because she didn’t like being threatened. And least of all did she like being woken up just for getting robbed. She concentrated, tried to consciously summon the tingle of magic, and as it came, put as much of it as she could behind her words. “Get off and leave me alone”, she growled, moving her dagger a bit closer to the woman’s belly.

The bandit woman stared at her, then gave a short scream as she scrambled backwards. “Those eyes”, she said, dropping both the dagger and the pouch in her panic, “Don’t — No!” She jumped off the carriage, waving at her compatriots. “Just let them go, it’s not worth it! Not this one!”

As soon as the bandit was off the wagon, Sigaar cracked his whip, and got the carriage moving again. The sellsword got up from his prone position, grabbed his sword, and sprinted after the vehicle, catching up and jumping aboard halfway down the hill.

“What was that?”, the orc asked suspiciously.

“Are you a college mage?”, the high elf added, “That seemed quite a powerful fear spell you cast.”

Talmeni knew she didn’t have answers, at least none she wanted to share. She also felt tired and spent, in a way deeper than just having missed her sleep. That spell, if that was indeed what she had done, had used up all her reserves, and she could not do another. She hoped her own words were enough.

“I don’t like getting woken up and asked stupid questions, got it?”, she said, gesturing around with her dagger.

It didn’t seem to work, as before Talmeni could lean back and close her eyes, the sellsword leaned over and said: “You saved all our hides, though. We’re thankful for that.” He was rather out of breath, and bleeding for a few cuts. After speaking, he pulled a healing potion out of a pocket.

“And it would not do for me to let my savior go unrewarded”, the high elf woman continued, picking up the leather bag the bandit had dropped. In its fall, it had spilled more than a few coins, which now jumped and jingled on the floorboards with every pothole.

“Fine”, Talmeni said, too tired to argue. She bent down and picked up the dagger she had been threatened with. It was a nice weapon, much nicer than you expected from a bandit, made of some grey alloy, with some engraving on the curved blade. “I’ll take this”, she announced.

It didn’t seem to satisfy the others, who started discussing who had put how much into the bag, and how much they wanted back out. Talmeni laid back and let them bicker. It was nice to pick up more money, but right now, she felt she needed her sleep more.

They hadn’t arrived when the sun was down, although Sigaar assured everyone that was normal. Whiterun was already visible, as a large and dark shape to the north. The others probably only saw the tiny pin-pricks of torches far above their heads, but Talmeni’s eyes made out the large hill the city was built on, and the walls that encircled it. One building, either very tall or built right on top of the hill, towered even above the walls, its peaked roof clearly visible from the road.

Somebody had placed the leather bag of the bandit in her lap. Peeking inside, she found a gleam of coins, over five hundred septims from a quick count. It was more than the meadery paid in a week, and just for being annoyed at waking up. The other travelers saw her count the coins and then secure the bag at her side, but decided not to comment. Most of them looked happy to have the whole thing behind them, and all were staring ahead, probably hoping to reach a bed soon. The orc appeared to have nodded off already, and was snoring slightly.

“There we are, Whiterun. That’s as far as I go, everyone”, Sigaar announced after he had placed his carriage in front of the stables. As the travelers got off the wagon, most of them taking a few tottering steps to loosen their stiff joints, the driver continued: “You’ll find beds and a warm drink at the Bannered Mare in town. Just up the street through the city gates, then straight ahead to the market and you’ll find it.”

“How do I get to Markarth from here?”, Talmeni asked, but the driver had already anticipated a question like that.

“I’ll have to check who is there, but I would wager things went fine”, he said with a gesture at the other two carriages parked in the stables. “That means Kibell will leave for Markarth tomorrow morning, and Bjorlam for Dawnstar the day after.”

This meant once again, she would have to keep her skooma dose small, Talmeni concluded. There was only a tiny drop left in the bottle she had broken open, maybe enough for tonight. That would mean maybe she could stretch the other bottle until Markarth, if she needed to.

However, a better alternative presented itself, in the form of a small camp just outside the first city bulwark. Talmeni had dealt with the Khajiit caravans before, when one of them had come by Riften. They sold good skooma, for fairer prices than the cutthroat Sarthis. And she had an excuse. Her new dagger needed a sheath, and the caravans were peddlers and tinkers, who would have nick-knacks like that. And then, she could subtly ask for the other thing. No harm in that.

The Khajiit were no longer hawking their wares, having settled down for a dinner of their own, but when she approached, one of them quickly turned to face her. “This one wishes you well”, he purred, stroking his impressive ruff.

“Three blessings, trader”, she answered with a smile, “I hope you’re still willing to barter.”

“It is late, but never too late to make coin, no? Follow Ri’saad.” He waved her over to the largest of the tents, where several bags and small chests were stashed. “What can this one offer you?”, he asked, turning back to Talmeni.

“I need a sheath for this blade”, she said, taking the dagger out of the leather bag, where she had stashed it while getting off the cart.

“Yes”, Ri’saad said, taking it from her hand and inspecting it for a moment, “There is one that will fit. This one will fetch it.” He disappeared into the tent for a moment, before returning, the dagger now held safely in a short sheath of hardened leather. “Not perfect, but it will do, yes? This one will ask for forty septims.”

“Seems fair.” Talmeni handed over the coin, then secured the dagger at her side, in place of the iron knife she’d made do with all these years. “There is something else you can help me with. I could use some sweetness in my life.”

“This one will not give you a kiss”, Ri’saad joked, “But it is sugar you seek, yes? In the skooma?”

Talmeni just nodded, not willing to say the word out loud. Some old instincts held her back, of deals at home, where everything had been coded and just alluded to, because nobody wanted to be caught. It had shocked her, she remembered, when somebody in Skyrim had just off-handedly mentioned somebody else being addicted.

Thankfully, the returning memory was interrupted by Ri’saad returning with a handful of small phials, similar in shape to the ones she had in her pocket. “This one cannot offer you many, and will have to ask for a high price. Fifty septims per bottle, for you.”

After a moment of hesitation, Talmeni bought two, just to be on the safe side. That was for certain enough to get her to Markarth, and left her with enough money to buy whatever other necessities she needed there. With a thankful bow, she said goodbye to the Khajiit, and followed the road up to the Whiterun city gates.

It was a very different city from Riften, and for several hours of the night, Talmeni just wandered around, exploring randomly. Riften had stank, of rotting fish and foul water, from the stagnant canal and all the refuse people threw into it. Whiterun smelled clean, even the smoke of the fires being carried out of the city by the winds blowing over the hill. The waters here were small, clean streams, fed from a source on top of the hill, and they filled the night with the pleasant sound of trickling. It was probably not a bad place to live, although Talmeni decided to find out what Markarth was like first, before deciding where to settle down.

A city guard, fallen asleep on their post on the walls, offered another kind of temptation that Talmeni couldn’t resist. She silently crept up to them, lifted the metal coif around the neck, and had a quick sip, just enough to still her hunger. The sleeper didn’t even notice, just kept snoring faintly as she went quickly back down to the streets.

Things were for certain looking up. Skooma in her pocket, gold in her purse, blood in her veins. In Riften, she would now be sleeping in the smelly bunkhouse, maybe trying to avoid being groped by Tythis, and then would have to get up the morning to toil in the meadery. Of course, the gold wouldn’t last until she found another job, but Markarth was sure to offer something in that regard. And with her magic, Talmeni could probably get some better offer than menial, back-breaking labor.

Chapter Text

Dawn was creeping up the horizon before she could think of trying the skooma in her pockets, and before long, she was back on the road, once again wedged into the corner of a carriage, trying to sleep. There were some other travelers with her, but thankfully none of those from the carriage out of Riften. Talmeni wouldn’t have liked to be asked questions about where she had slept. But the new travel companions, a pair of pilgrims to the temple of Dibella, and some workers hoping to find employment in a mine on the way, were content to let her be.

The first night, they spent in a small village at the edge of the tundra, a sleepy collection of houses with sleepier guards, who completely failed to notice Talmeni having her fill on one of them nodding on their post. The rest of the night she spent in the warm glow of skooma, emptying out the bits in the first bottle.

However, those few dregs of skooma had not been enough to stop the dreams and memories. She laid awake, playing with her dagger, wondering about the faces and moments that kept creeping back in the small hours of the night.

When a day later, the carriage made its stop at the old Hroldan inn, at the entrance to the Reach, Talmeni felt haunted by her past. She now understood why she kept going for her knife, why she always gestured with it. It had been her lifeline once, her tool of the trade. She’d followed Mephala and Boethia quite well, lived in the shadows, outside the law. People had respected her, feared her, before she’d lost it all to the skooma.

Taking a walk outside the inn, stumbling over the rough, rocky ground split by cliffs, she tried to clear her head. She was facing a decision, she realized. The small doses of skooma were doing their jobs, passing the night and keeping the jitters away. But they couldn’t keep the doors to her memory locked. The past she’d left behind in Morrowind was knocking, and she was not sure if it maybe wasn’t more trouble than she could deal with.

On the other hand, it was a relief to have a head that didn’t feel stuffed with fog. Those words she often found hard to find, that had just drifted by before and that she had needed to grab and say before they could disappear, now came so easily. The world didn’t wheel and skip around her any more, and not once had she found that she needed to chase down a memory, to fill back in how she had arrived. She could plan, think more than a day ahead, actually remember things.

It was tempting to just slam back a bottle and let the Moon Sugar take her, to stop the uncertainty and indecisiveness. But that was in itself a decision, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Some divine will had granted her a second chance, given her a clean start in a new place. She wanted to make something of it, some new future, ideally one worth remembering. And whatever trouble awaited her in her memories, there would for certain also be treasures. She played with her new dagger, letting it twirl between her fingers. That was an old skill, she remembered, a trick she’d perfected to unnerve marks during the negotiations.

The old Talmeni could have taught Maul a few tricks, she realized. She could have made herself an asset, a proper one, to Maven Black-Briar, instead of just another faceless worker in her meadery. It would have probably been a more dangerous life, but also a more lucrative one. Of course, she couldn’t return to Riften, but maybe there was an underground in Markarth as well, one who could use a knife-player and racketeer. With her new magic, it would get even easier.

The memory of the corpse in the canal sprang up, and made the decision for her. She couldn’t be a vampire and an addict, not for long. She needed to be calm, controlled, to take blood without killing. If she went on another manic hunt, people would notice, and sooner or later her name would come up. And that assumed the guards didn’t witness her right then and there. Riften had been easy in that regard, nobody looked to closely into murders in case it turned out the Black-Briars were behind them. Markarth would probably be different.

Her decision made, she went into the old inn to look if maybe she could find someone to drink. It was strange, to think that she hadn’t felt hungry in days, even though she’d only eaten a few dry slices of bread. Only the thirst returned every night, calling her towards the pulsing veins in people’s necks. However, as the other travelers were still up when she walked in, she bought herself a bottle of mead as a cover, and drained it slowly as the conversation happened around her.

There was some talk of dragons, although most of what the innkeeper talked about were the wild people in the hills. These Forsworn had been a menace not too long ago, but had calmed down recently. Some said their king had been killed, although nobody had known where that king had been. Even the war was less important a topic than these Reachmen and their menace. Of vampires and Daedra worshippers, nobody said anything, which made Talmeni feel a bit safer.

Talmeni had her fill on the hired hand of the inn, an Imperial man who had not said much the entire evening, just tended the fire. He had been the last to bed, and in his own room to boot, making him the obvious choice. Talmeni made a few soothing words, amplified by her magic, to lull him into sleep as she stepped into his room, and when she was done, the man snored as if nothing had happened at all.

The next evening, they spent the night in tents in the wilderness, and Talmeni got chatting with the two pilgrims, who were the only ones still remaining besides Kibell the driver. They talked a lot about Dibella, the goddess of beauty. Talmeni remembered Haelga, the one who owned the bunkhouse in Riften, had claimed to be a follower of Dibella. Based from what that woman had been up to, Talmeni had imagined Dibella being like one half of Mephala, but these two pilgrims spoke of her in very different terms. They talked about art and aesthetics, topics that sounded considerably more boring, and made Talmeni glad that the Reclamations were a lot less prudish about things.

And then, not a full day later, Markarth was in front of her. Although still sleepy, Talmeni jumped off the cart and followed the pilgrims through the city gates, impressed by their massive size and clear craftsmanship. This was Dwemer work, if she wasn’t mistaken. She remembered ruins like this from Morrowind, although these were in better repair. The Nords who had taken them over probably did their best to maintain the old stones.

A market lay directly past the entrance, the vendors in the process of packing up for the night. Behind that was what had to be the Silver-Blood inn, based not only on the sign next to the door, but also all the people flocking to it to relax in the evening. She joined the flock, and asked around for Kleppr, wanting to get her reward so she could start fresh. He turned out to be the bar keeper, a grumpy old man who seemed to spend more time arguing with his wife than actually serving customers.

“I’ve got a message from Bolli”, she said, placing the leather case on his bar.

“Who?”, he asked, distracted by somebody waving at him with an empty tankard.

Talmeni tapped against her dagger absentmindedly. “Bolli, the fisherman from Riften. He sent me here to give you this.”

“Right. Must be that contract he wanted to send me. I’ve been waiting for weeks. Well, thank you for bringing it, I suppose. Now, are you going to buy something?”

He moved to take the case, but Talmeni pulled it back quickly. “He also said you were to pay for my services”, she added, twirling her dagger with her left hand, for now just barely in sight, near her hip.

“Oh right, your reward”, Kleppr said, waving impatiently at a patron who was by now shouting to get his attention. “Of course”, he said to himself, then looked around. Talmeni drummed with her fingers on the satchel, waiting and smiling. Not because she was happy, but because she knew it was a kind of smile that unnerved people.

Kleppr rummaged under the bar for a moment, then came back up holding two large ingots, which he placed on the bar. “Here you are.”

Talmeni looked at them, then back at Kleppr. “What is this?”, she asked, bringing her dagger a bit more into his field of view by resting the hand holding it on the bar.

“Silver”, Kleppr said, “This is Markarth, stranger. There’s a reason it says Blood and Silver over the door. The smelters are what keeps this city wealthy, and today, this is your share.”

“Really.” Talmeni grabbed the two ingots off the bar with bad grace and dropped them into her bag. They were certainly heavier than the coins, and first chance she got, she would exchange them. For now, however, there was still the other message she had to deliver to be free of Riften once and for all. “I’ve also got a message for Thonar Silver-Blood”, she said, not quite loud enough to be audible over the shouts of the impatient patrons.

“Gods damn it, woman, will you actually serve people for once?”, Kleppr shouted at the old woman going around the room.

“I am, you old coot. You would see that if you stopped ogling young women. Lecherous oaf”, she shouted back.

“Well, the Silver-Bloods have their treasury house up the main street. Just outside, head left up along the stream. It’s on the right side.” He was about to say more, but his wife interrupted him as she pointedly slammed down a tablet full of empty tankards on the bar.

Talmeni left the two of them to their bickering. She had what she needed, and it was better to go now, while there was still some twilight and people would be willing to talk. In a tavern, things would go on until midnight, but a treasury house sounded like a place that closed earlier, as befitting a high-class clientele.

The street Kleppr had mentioned was more of a gorge, with rock walls hemming it in from both sides. Markarth had apparently been built into the rock itself, with the houses in the cliffs, connected by stone walkways and bridges. There wasn’t much order to it from what Talmeni could see, but it was easy enough to find her target, as she could only see one door on the right-hand side of the street. She moved up to it and knocked.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place, friend”, a rough but not yet threatening voice said behind her. She turned, to find herself facing a badly shaven nord, who was apparently on his way down the same street towards the inn. He looked like hired muscle, with the armor he was wearing. Before she could answer, he explained: “That house has been abandoned for months. Nothing inside there except dust and spiders.”

“So it’s not the treasure house, I wager”, Talmeni said, gesturing towards the door.

“No, that is over there, past the stairs.” He gestured the direction he had been coming from, further up the street, where a outcrop of the cliff hid the view.

“All right.” She nodded at him, and then walked in the direction he had pointed in. However, she made a mental note about that house. Maybe there would be something there that had people overlooked, but even if not, an abandoned house always made for a good hideaway. While this one likely wouldn’t have a back entrance, if she entered and left in the dead of night, few people would notice. Her luck was apparently still holding, to find a valuable resource like that just on her first visit.

Past the bend, there was indeed a door that looked much more likely to belong to a treasure house, with lit lamps at both sides of the double door much taller than her. Talmeni knocked and went in, and after a short straight corridor into the rock, found herself in front of a stone counter. Behind it was an impressively barred cage of Dwemer metal, protecting large stacks of silver ingots, but more importantly, in front of that was a young woman, clad in rather revealing clothing. It looked like she had been chosen specifically to look good in clothes like that and make customers feel welcome. It certainly worked on Talmeni.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place”, the woman said, looking Talmeni up and down, “We serve the Silver-Blood family and its patrons.”

Talmeni looked down on herself and realized what state her clothing was in. It had never been finery, just cheap rags bought off Brand-Shei, but the trip to the Redwater den and back, the scuffle in the meadery and the night in the Ratway had taken its toll. Not to mention the blood stains on the cuffs and collar. She had to look more like a scarecrow than a person.

Still, it was best to just ignore all that and go straight to business. While it didn’t look like there was much hired muscle in sight, places like this usually had them just around the corner, ready to expel any unsightly people. “So am I”, Talmeni began, giving the young lady a smile. It didn’t seem to break any ice, so she continued more professionally: “Maven Black-Briar, to be exact. I’ve got a message here from her to Thonar Silver-Blood, for personal delivery.”

“I’m afraid that can’t be done”, the woman said with a puzzled expression, “He died a week ago. If it’s a business proposal, it should probably go to his brother Thongvor now. I can give it to him as soon as he finished his dinner.”

“That’s okay, I can wait.” Talmeni looked around, and spotted a chair in a corner of the room.

“But—”, the young woman began.

“I’ll not annoy anyone, don’t worry”, Talmeni interrupted her, grabbing the chair and sitting down on it.

“Is it really that important to deliver it personally?”

Talmeni made herself comfortable. “Do you know a lot about the Black-Briar family, …What’s your name, by the way?”

“Rhiada. And they make mead, don’t they?”

“That’s a lovely name, it fits you. The Black-Briars make mead, yes. Well, they own the meadery. They also own the rest of Riften, and make sure everyone knows it. If Maven says she wants a personal delivery, it’s better to make sure it is a personal delivery.”

“I understand”, Rhiada said, staring into space with a mournful expression. She put a hand on her belly for a second, but didn’t say any more.

For a while, the room fell silent. Talmeni waited on her chair, idly looking around the room, while Rhiada sat at the counter, staring at the stone surface. There were a few candles to provide light, but still a certain amount of gloom settled over the scene.

Talmeni couldn’t stand it. “Who were they? The one you lost”, she asked gently.

Rhiada looked up, and after a moment admitted quietly: “Eltrys, my husband. He swore he’d give it up, but …”

She was clearly not ready to talk about his death yet, so Talmeni tried to steer the conversation around it. “He was a good man, I bet.”

Rhiada nodded. “He was so proud of me when I got this position. We wanted to move up in the world. He joked about buying Vlindrel Hall, now that I made some money.” She still looked sad, but now there was a faint smile on her face.

“He would have made a good father.”

For a second, Rhiada looked embarrassed. “I …I’m sorry, I didn’t know one could tell…”

Talmeni shook her head with a faint smile. “It’s not visible yet, but I saw your gesture. Have you thought of a name yet?”

“No”, she answered, and for a moment was silent, then asked: “Do you have somebody?”

Now it was Talmeni’s turn to be silent for a bit. There were some faces she remembered, from before, but she didn’t know how she had felt about them. “Not at the moment. Of course, I could get lucky, soon.” Talmeni winked, and to her surprise Rhiada actually blushed at that.

It would be hard making friends as a vampire, Talmeni realized. She lived in a different world, beyond just sleeping during the day. And how many would be prepared to accept her drinking blood? Talmeni had tried to make friends in Riften. She had wanted to be more than friends with Niluva. But the skooma, as much as it gave her the courage to say things out loud, had distorted her words. If she managed to think of it at all, instead of just where to get the next dose. And now it was too late.

“Have you been to the temple of Dibella yet?”, Rhiada asked.

“I don’t hold it with human gods”, Talmeni answered without thinking.

“Well, they say if you leave a flower at her altar, you’ll for certain find a sweetheart.” The young woman smiled at nothing for a moment, playing with her necklace.

Talmeni doubted it worked, but she tried to be polite. “Once I’m done with business, I might give it a try.”

“Yes. I’ll see if Thongvor has time for you.” She hurried through one of the back doors, leaving Talmeni alone in the room. She felt a bit tempted to wander over to the cage and inspect the lock. However, she suspected there were better and less notorious ways of making money in the city than robbing the bank.

Rhiada came back a moment later, followed by an older man with little hair remaining on his head, who stared at Talmeni with obvious hatred the moment he saw her. “What do you want, Elf?”, he barked, balling his hands into fists.

One of those, Talmeni thought. Out loud, she said: “Maven Black-Briar has a letter for you. I’m sure you’ll find being her friend makes a lot of money” and retrieved the missive cylinder from her satchel.

“She will not find a friend in me”, the man answered, but took the cylinder. “Now be off. I’ll send someone for you if I have an answer.”

“Of course.” Talmeni stood up, considering that she probably would have to hire somebody else to carry any return message. But if she didn’t tell him that, he would pay her, and that meant she could skim something off the top. Giving Thongvor and Rhiada both a short goodbye, Talmeni left the treasure house.

Down the street, the Silver-Blood Inn still seemed to be open and doing good business. A few revelers were standing outside, probably looking for fresh air and a bit of quiet. While Talmeni had little interest in drinking mead, she did feel inclined to mingle a bit. If Thonar Silver-Blood had been important enough to demand attention from Maven Black-Briar, then his death must have been a wide-reaching event. Moments like that would offer opportunities, and Talmeni was determined to seize one of them, to start her new life here with a proper advantage.

There were more than a few angry glances in her direction, and given that she was the only elf around, it wasn’t too surprising. However, a round of mead bought by handing Kleppr back one of his silver bars did break the ice, and Talmeni, innocently asking questions and listening as people argued at the top of their voices, learned a lot.

As usual, the rumors were full of variations, and many of them sounded very outlandish. Thonar had been killed by the Forsworn. Thonar had worked with the Forsworn. He had been killed by some dragon woman. There had been Forsworn working the mine, and one of them had killed Thonar. Thonar had imprisoned the king of the Forsworn, but the man had escaped. The king of the Forsworn had been killed by the dragon woman. To Talmeni, who had not yet formed a full picture of what these Forsworn were and what they wanted, it was all just noise.

But she did glean a lot of information about the Silver-Bloods out of it. They did run the city, by providing the most lucrative trade in it. They owned Cidhna mine, operated it as a prison, with the inmates getting ore, and the free people of Markarth smelting it. There had been a bit of a specialisation among the Silver-Blood brothers, with Thonar running the finances, and, if the rumors were true, a large network of corrupt guards and lowlives willing to do his bidding, while Thongvor had gained the ear of the jarl, and generally played politics both here and abroad. But now, the Silver-Blood power was trembling, because the events a month ago had hit them hard. Not only was Thonar dead, his crimes had been exposed to the jarl, and the mine had lost basically all its inmates. Silver production had slowed, and Thongvor didn’t have the finesse to keep credits and assets balanced.

It sounded like quite an opportunity, if one was unscrupulous enough to take it. While so far no true competitor to the Silver-Bloods had sprung up, it seemed only a matter of time. Talmeni didn’t have the coin to play that competitor, but she was sure that a struggle like that would create a need for people like her. It was a better life than smelting silver, that much was certain. Not to mention that it was questionable if the smelters would need that many hands in the future.

Talmeni decided to have another talk with Thongvor tomorrow, to see if they couldn’t come to some kind of business arrangement. Although given his clear contempt for elves, it was probably best not to look like this. It would be better to get up early tomorrow and have a bit of a shopping trip. She had enough coin to buy something good-looking, or at least something that the Nords considered good-looking. It would probably cost a bit more to get some nice Dunmer clothing imported this far west. It was something to look forward to.

Chapter Text

She left with the bulk of the patrons, and as they turned downhill to their homes, she slipped into a shadow and went back up the main street, to have a look at that abandoned house. If it was in good condition, she could for certain save herself the rent. Not to mention it would prevent people from noticing her odd sleeping habits.

Nobody was around as she tried the door and found it unlocked. Inside, she was greeted by an unlit room that looked not quite as she had expected. There were cobwebs, and dust, but it looked very neat. The furniture had been carefully stacked, and the shelves were well-ordered. Whoever had lived here had not left in a hurry. Maybe they had intended to come back, but had run into trouble. War, bandits, dragons, Forsworn, there sure was enough of it. She experimentally opened one of the cupboards next to the cooking hearth, and found some old food, remarkably well preserved. Most of it was of course long-lasting, but it was still a bit eerie.

However, Talmeni didn’t have the time to ponder this too much. If she wanted to get up early, she needed to go to bed early. A bit of exploration located a suitable bed in the next room, the sheets a bit dusty but not moth-eaten. She undressed, laid down, and after a moment of consideration, broke open a bottle of skooma. She hadn’t had any blood today, and no skooma since the travel. She needed to relax. Carefully, she measured out a few drops on a finger, and licked them up. A small dose, just enough as a nightcap.

It was nice. And the blanket was nice. So soft. And so quiet. No people, unlike in the bunkhouse. Just her, and her body. No cares. Everything was wonderful. The colours of the dark glowed. And the torch made them flicker.

She jerked out of her trance. What torch? It had been dark when she had come in, and she had lit no light. Where was her knife? Yes, it was in her hand, and she was hiding. It was hard to think through the skooma, but she had to try. People couldn’t discover her.

Somebody was coming, she could hear footsteps. And now he was past, walking further into the house. Talmeni slunk after him. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she was sure it would be good. Everything was fine, just a small hiccup.

She didn’t remember why she had decided to lunge, to grab his arm and try to slit his throat. One moment she was hiding behind a shelf, the next she had his hand in her grip and was bringing her dagger around. But he was fast. His elbow came up, hitting her below the chest, and he pulled his other hand down, throwing her over his shoulder.

“What, you think you can defeat me, the mighty Logrolf?”, he boasted while Talmeni tried to remember which way was up. Where was her dagger?

Suddenly it was coming at her. “Boethiah witness me!”, somebody shouted. It probably hadn’t been her. No, she had just shouted “Stop!”

Things stopped. She got the right way round, somehow. This man, this Logrolf, had her knife, and suddenly he was moving again. She tried giving him another command. “Drop.”

“What is this?”, he answered, although Talmeni felt sure she had just missed something. “You’ll not control me, damned mage.” And now there was his fist, coming at her.

She did her best to grapple with him, but he was too fast, too strong. The skooma made her slow. She was rammed into hard, sharp things. Some of those were inside her mind, colliding with her through the haze of skooma. She needed an edge, something, anything. But she couldn’t even remember.

It had to have been instinct. Somehow, she got her teeth in his shoulder. Not for long, but she tasted the blood, felt the rush, and managed to remember her training. There was her dagger. There were his hands, quickly pushed aside with her shoulder as she rushed in. And there was his stomach. One quick stab, and he would be out.

But a voice stopped her. It came from the ground, the walls, the house itself. It was deep and cruel, savoring each syllable with a menace that made Talmeni’s boddy shudder. “No. Do not kill him. Bring him to me.”

The moment of hesitation was enough. Logrolf completed his grab, wrested the knife from her, and threw her into a chair. “I shall come on my own, Hated One. Your little minion will not stop me.”

“This is my house now, Logrolf. It shall follow my rules. And I decree this: Only one of you shall leave.” Suddenly, the door behind Talmeni slammed shut, even though nobody was nearby. “Come, Logrolf. Challenge me one more time.”

The man barked a laugh, and strutted further into the house, clearly knowing the way. Talmeni watched him, go, trying to get her limbs out of the chair and for her head to stop spinning. She suspected, that even without skooma and the beating, she wouldn’t be able to understand what had just happened. Those two, this Logrolf and this voice, clearly had exchanges like this before.

The voice came back, echoing inside Talmeni’s skull. “Come, little vampire. Earn your gift. Let Logrolf tremble before you, as you wield my power like I will wield you.” Lacking other options, Talmeni did as commanded. Whoever the voice was, a ghost or a daedra, if it could control the doors, it could certainly control other things. She didn’t want to find out just how well.

She stumbled through more rooms, following the sound of Logrolf’s footsteps. As she walked, the voice explained. “This was once a house of my worshippers. They sacrificed the wretched in my name, upon my altar, daring to ask for my blessing. But they were weak, and Logrolf killed them. He is the enemy, serving Boethiah, defiling my altar with her sacraments.”

The last room was a basement, and there, behind a shelf not quite flush with a wall, was a small alcove inexpertly dug into the rock. Inside it was an altar, of black stone and metal, with spikes and thorns, capped with a horned, cruel face. On it laid a mace, rusty and crumbling, but it was clear from the design it had once been a very elaborate weapon.

Logrolf, who had apparently not heard any of that explanation, stepped forward onto the black plate in front of the altar. He was already moving before the spikes suddenly shot up from the floor, forming a cage around him. In fact, even though he was caught, he laughed as cruelly as the voice in Talmeni’s head. “Molag Bal. You think you can best Boethiah’s faithful? I have won this contest before!” Under his breath, he began chanting, a cruel prayer of blood and death, as with his wrinkled but still powerful hands, he grabbed one of the spikes.

“Ah. But I have a champion this time, Logrolf”, the voice said, now clearly coming from the altar. “Take my mace, little vampire. Show this priest of Boethiah that for all his prayers, it is still stronger than his master. Do this, and I shall teach you cruelty. Together, we shall make your enemies tremble before you, for them to bend their knees and call you mistress.”

Talmeni walked over to the altar, keeping her eyes on the still praying Logrolf. To her surprise, he seemed to actually move the spike he was gripping, slowly forcing it back down.

She knew of Molag Bal, of course, and was hesitant to follow him. The temple elders had named him a Bad Daedra, the one who tested the Dunmer, tried to bring them from the true path. His test was to corrupt the blood, to make the Dunmer impure. Unleashing the curse of vampirism was one of those tests. The memory bubbled up from an old corner, and Talmeni felt red-hot shame for having forgotten, for having accepted her condition so lightly.

And Logrolf said he spoke for Boethiah, who was one of the Good Daedra, one of those who led the Dunmer down the right path. While his prayer sounded strange, and far too focused on death for Talmeni’s tastes, it was clear any good Dunmer would have helped him.

But Talmeni wasn’t a good Dunmer. She remembered all the sermons now. To become a vampire was to be an abomination, and could never be cured. To fall victim to skooma was to be an abomination, and could never be cured. And to kill and torture other Dunmer, without the blessing and purpose of Mephala, was to be a sinner. She had done all those things. She had broken faith with the three Good Daedra long ago. Helping this priest would not save her.

She picked up the mace. Maybe she couldn’t be a good Dunmer, but maybe she could be a good vampire. And while her faith in the Reclamations had never brought her anything, she felt sure she would be rewarded for this. For all his boasts, his callousness and cruelty, the words of Molag Bal had spoken of a quiet desperation. He couldn’t stop Logrolf on his own, he needed Talmeni to be his hands. And having the power to decide whether a Daedric Prince got his wish was certainly something the she couldn’t fail to capitalize on.

“Break him”, the voice of Molag Bal echoed around the room, “Crush the spirit from his bones. Make him bow to me.”

“Do your worst”, Logrolf spat, “If I die, my soul shall fight with Boethiah!”

“If you die”, Talmeni repeated with a grin, and brought the mace down on his grasping fingers.

The weapon’s weight was unfamiliar in her hands, but the deeds were not. She’d done it before. People spat defiance, until they learned just how many bones a body had that you could break. How many soft spots a knife could be pressed into, how much pain she could cause without even bringing them close to death.

Logrolf was a quivering mess when she was done, barely even looking human any more. “Please, no more”, he whispered through swollen lips, “Please, I submit, Molag Bal. I submit!”

The voice of the Daedric Prince came back, even more cruel and smug than before. “You bend to me?”

“Yes!”

“You pledge your soul to me?”

Logrolf quivered and nodded. “Yes”, he managed, his voice a shrill piping.

“You forsake the weak and pitiful Boethiah?” Molag Bal spat the name with disgust and hate.

There were tears in the old man’s eyes. “Yes.”

With infinite pleasure and sadism, Molag Bal said: “You are mine now, Logrolf. Kill him.”

Talmeni realized the last had been a command meant for her. She knelt down and had a look at the broken body she had produced over the last hour. A mace as spiky as this left horrible wounds. She put it aside, and as a last small mercy in acknowledgement of the man’s spirit, got out her dagger and slit his throat.

“You show promise, my servant”, Molag Bal gloated behind her, “But you are not worthy to wield my mace — not yet. Prove me your power! Let the weak grovel before you, and the strong bow to you. I grant you this house as your reward. Now, I have a soul in Oblivion that needs claiming.” With a nasty, guttural chuckle, the voice faded.

Talmeni felt numb, and not just from swinging around a big lump of metal. This was it, she realized. Her new life. She’d cut all ties now, even those to her gods, and chosen her path. It was an ambitious path, she mused, because if she had learned one thing from Molag Bal over the last hour, then it was that to keep faith with him, you bowed to no one but him. But if there was a place in Skyrim where she could carve herself a place on top of the heap, it was probably Markarth, in this moment as the old order was falling apart.

After a respectful bow to the altar, over which the mace now floated in a faint nimbus of magic, she went back to her bed. Implicit oath of fealty to the lord of domination or not, she needed to get up early tomorrow.

Between the skooma tapering off and the exertion of the fight and the torture, Talmeni did fall asleep quickly, and thankfully did find herself waking up while the sun still was in the sky. Even though Markarth, hemmed by mountains on three sides and with buildings towering up over the streets, was a very shadowy place, the glare was still strong enough to give Talemni a headache. She felt so weak and useless in the sun, but right now it was the only way to move forward.

Some asking around brought her to a store called Arnleif and Sons, abutting the market, which was apparently the best place to buy everything short of weapons and spells. However, as Talmeni entered it, she doubted it could sell that much, given how emtpy the shelves were. There was nobody behind the counter, but after a moment, a woman entered backwards, carrying a large crate. When she saw Talmeni standing there, she said: “Oh, a cutomer. No, I’m not Arnleif, but I am the one you’re looking for.” It sounded tired, as if she said it very often.

“Certainly nicer to look at than an Arnleif”, Talmeni joked. Putting the silver ingot on the counter as a way to get the shopkeeper’s attention, she continued: “I need a new wardrobe.” There had been a few things left in the closets of the house, but the only thing that had remotely fitted had been a black robe clearly meant for worshipping Molag Bal, and which Talmeni would not be wearing out in the streets.

“This isn’t Radiant Raiments, but I am sure we can scrounge something together”, the shopkeeper said, putting her crate aside.

A few minutes later, Talmeni stepped outside, dressed in a serviceable dress, and carrying some spare clothes, including some comfortable shirts and pants, over her arm. It had not been cheap in terms of gold, but she hoped it would pay itself back soon. She deposited the clothes in her new home, and then went on up to the treasury house.

Rhiada was once again behind the counter, this time writing something in a book. There was some old woman sweeping the floor, but there were no customers. Not that a bank ever was crowded, but Talmeni suspected this one saw more than its usual share of slow days now. “It’s a blessing to see you again, Rhiada”, she said with genuine feeling, walking up to the counter.

“If this is about the Black-Briar matter, Thongvor hasn’t written any response yet”, Rhiada said once she had finished writing and put the quill aside.

Talmeni shrugged. “I’m not here about that. I’ve got a business idea for Thongvor, from me as myself. Do you think I can see him today?”

“Well, his schedule is rather busy”, Rhiada began, but Talmeni guessed it was an excuse, because the woman didn’t even look at her book to check.

“It’s worth a few tens of thousands of septims, trust me”, she insisted, putting a bit of magic behind her words. “I’m sure you don’t want to keep a friend waiting.”

“Yes, I, yes”, Rhiada said woodenly, and got up. The old woman stopped her sweeping for a second, but then shrugged and continued. Talmeni felt a bit tight in the throat, as maybe all that magic wasn’t as subtle as she thought. People probably noticed they were doing things against their better judgment, and it was clearly rather obvious to any bystanders. Maybe it would become a bit better with practise.

Several minutes later, Rhiada came back. “Thongvor has found time for you”, she said coldly.

“Thank you, Rhiada. I won’t forget your help”, Talmeni said, trying to mend a bit of damage.

Rhiada said nothing, just pointed her at one of the doors to go through. Beyond was a small chamber with a single desk, at which Thongvor was sitting, a book open in front of him. It looked like an account book, and even upside down it was clear the income column was a lot emptier than the expenses column. He didn’t look any happier to see her today than he had yesterday. “What’s this about?”, he barked.

Talmeni closed the door behind herself. “I believe we can help each other make a lot of money”, she said smoothly, while surreptiously looking for another chair to sit down on. There wasn’t one.

He glared at her from over the book. “You don’t have the coin to make the kinds of contracts I make, elf.”

“I have the skills, though. I’ll be blunt. Thonar ran more than just the mine to keep things going. He had connections, to people outside the law, to make sure nobody could move up next to you. To make sure the prison stayed full enough to get enough ore. Lots of little things that could stay off the books. You need somebody to help you with that.”

There was a thoughtful pause, and then the Nord went on: “I should just call the guards on you and throw you in the mine.”

It was an idle boast, not a serious threat. She could see he was considering it, even if only remotely. She just had to keep at it. “You could, but you would lose out on a rare chance. It’s not every day a Chiller of the Camonna Tong offers to work with you.”

“You say that if it meant anything here”, Thongvor growled, “You elves and your fancy words. I don’t like your kind, never have. So it’s not enough to take away Talos, now you want to tell me how to run my business, too?”

Now there was an obvious lever for Talmeni to push. “I’m not a Thalmor, I’m a Dunmer. They like my gods as little as they like yours. And if we work together, we can probably get enough leverage to make the jarl re-think any bans on the gods.”

“Don’t think you can sway me with honeyed words, knife-ear. I don’t trust you. Show me those skills of yours. Solve a problem for me, and I might consider your offer. Fail, and I’ll have you inside Cidhna mine in an hour.”

If he kept up the insults, Talmeni wasn’t sure she wanted him as a partner. But she couldn’t waste the opportunity he offered. “I can do that.” But because Thongvor was grating on her nerves, she added: “However, I don’t work for free, even when it comes to samples. Two thousand.”

“Who do you think you are, asking for that kind of money?”

“It takes money to make money in your kind of work”, Talmeni said with a grin and a shrug. She found she was enjoying herself, despite the insults. Sharp dagger and sharper tongue, those were the best weapons to have.

Thongvor settled down a bit. “This isn’t about money, this is about honor”, the answered, more calmly, “I want to mourn my brother, in a proper Nord way, but this Imperial they put in charge of the Hall of the Dead won’t let me. He’s hiding something in there, probably desecrating the corpses, that Elf-kissing milk drinker.”

“Well, I won’t kiss him, but I’m sure I can help opening the door”, Talmeni joked. She had a pang of sympathy for the man, even as he insulted her again without noticing. People needed to mourn, to find solace and closure with their ancestors. Being bereaved didn’t help Thongvor with running the business. “I’ll even do it for a thousand, as a gesture of good will.”

“I won’t sneak in there like a thief in the middle of the night. I want to know what happened, if the corpse of my brother is safe. And if Verulus has done anything, I want him to pay, is that clear?”

“Then we have a deal.” Talmeni held out a hand. It didn’t sound like the kind of work that you needed a criminal for, but it was certainly work for which you needed more tact that Thongvor had.

Thongvor sealed it with a handshake capable of crushing bone. He found some amusement in her short grimace of pain, but Talmeni didn’t let herself be riled up by that. She had her dagger, and worse, in case she decided this man wasn’t worth the insults.

Chapter Text

A few questions later, she found herself wandering through Understone Keep, the large dwarven ruin that served as the jarl’s court. It was, according to what people had said, part of a much larger complex, but apparently the farther reaches were untamed, with Dwemer machines and worse running about. And in fact, Talmeni found Verulus having a short evening meal on a bench near an impressive bridge that had signs posted on it that there was danger beyond this point.

He wore the orange robes of a priest, and rolled his eyes under his hood when he saw Talmeni coming towards him purposefully. “If it’s about the Hall of the Dead, no, you can’t go in there.”

“I take it you hear that question a lot”, Talmeni said with a faint smile.

“From just about everybody. Rest assured, the jarl hears all your concerns, but the hall is closed for a reason.” He turned back to his bread, clearly not wanting to talk further.

“A good reason, I guess.”

He threw her an angry glance from under his hood. “Yes, but I can’t talk about it. By order of the jarl.”

“Then maybe you should talk to him about that, because it’s rather troubling, isn’t it?”, Talmeni asked, leaning against a nearby Dwemer pot now used somewhat ineffectually as a planter, “You’re the priest of Arkay, the hall is in your hands. I don’t think it will be the jarl’s head on a spike when things go sideways.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Gesturing with her dagger, she elaborated, with a friendly and relaxed voice: “I get it, something is wrong in there. But you can’t keep it a secret, and the hall closed, forever. Live goes on, death happens, somebody wants a funeral, and so on. And when they find out, suddenly it’s not only your head what what happened, but also that it was kept secret. There’s not many good reasons, are there? If it’s simple, you get people mad for wasting their time. If it’s serious, you get people mad for trying to sweep it under a rug. Best thing you can do really, is to come clean and promise everyone to sort it out.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?”, he barked, then sighed and calmed down, “You’re right, on all accounts. There is …something going on in the Hall, and people will accuse me of having done it, unless I can find the perpetrator. I hoped to catch it in the act, but …it’s like its knows when I’m there. The guards weren’t any help, either.”

“Want to try me?”, Talmeni asked, smelling yet another opportunity, “I can probably stay more quiet than you. And people tell me I look like a corpse when I sleep, so put me on a slab and I’ll fit right in.”

“I can believe that”, Verulus said, and then quickly added: “No offense.” He sighed again, and put his bread away. “Well, I’ve told the jarl that we needed somebody else to sort out this mess, anyway, so I might as well try you. I don’t think it’s dangerous, at least if you can stomach spending a night in a crypt. But please, stay quiet about what you see until we found the real culprit.”

“As silent as my grave.” She gave him a slight grin, before she remembered it might show her lengthened teeth. Thankfully, Verulus was busy going through his pockets and hadn’t looked.

“I will give you a key for the Hall, so that you can go in without my presence. But you should still tell me when you’re planning to be around.”

“How about right now? I don’t have anything else planned for the night. And the less it gets around I’m working with you, the better.”

“True, true.” He pulled out a key from his pocket and handed it over.

She put it into her bag and continued: “It’s probably also a good idea if you leave me alone to do it. Grab a sujamma in the Silver-Blood Inn or something.” Not just to make it less likely he chased away whatever made the troubles, but also so that he wouldn’t notice Talmeni didn’t need a torch to see. Leaning a bit closer and lowering her voice, she added: “Now that I’ll see for myself in a moment, you might as well tell me what’s going on. Walking dead?”

Verulus looked offended and annoyed. “I’m a priest of Arkay. I can quiet the walking dead without any trouble. No, it’s …” He looked around, but there was nowhere nearby. In a whisper, he added: “We’ve discovered that some of the dead have been…eaten. Flesh has been chewed off, bones were snapped to get at the marrow inside.”

Talmeni made a face. That sounded disgusting, especially given that some of those corpses had to be years old and thoroughly embalmed. “Let’s see what a midnight watch turns up. It’s the door over there?”, she said with a smile, leaning back up.

When Verulus had scurried off, happy to have an evening to drown his sorrows, Talmeni tried the door with the key. It opened easily, and with it came an unpleasant smell. Crypts never smelled good at the best of times, even properly tended ones. Dust and mold choked the air. But this one was worse, with taints of rot and pus. No wonder, if somebody was ripping open coffins, breaking the seals and taking apart the flesh.

The Hall was more of a collection of high-ceilinged tunnels, with coffins placed in alcoves along the walls. They branched off and turned somewhat irregularly, and Talmeni was sure in her exploration she got turned around more than a few times. A small shrine with a bed behind it had to be where Verulus slept normally, and not far from that was a the slab where he likely prepared the dead. She didn’t lie down right away, first following every corridor to get an idea of the layout.

There was a second exit on the far side, which apparently went out into the city. Talmeni peeked through it, then locked it again tightly. She also went back to the first exit and locked the door there as well. Together with Verulus down in the tavern, it would look like nobody was around, perfect for an intruder who needed a few hours to themselves. Cracking open a coffin and dismembering a corpse had to take time, so she doubted whoever was behind it did it while Verulus was around.

As a favor to her current employer, she also looked around for the coffin of Thonar Silver-Blood. It was easy to make out, once you had found it, as Thongvor had spared no expense on his brother’s final resting place. It was well-made, with inlays in different colors of wood, and in front of it were still a few decaying grave offerings. More importantly for Thongvor’s satisfaction, it was still untouched.

Satisfied with the situation, Talmeni laid down on the slab to wait, her dagger hidden in her palm. She didn’t know how long to wait, or what for, but on the plus side, it would be hours until she would get tired. The evening was still young.

She closed her eyes after a while, to look more authentic, and because she didn’t really need to see to stay alert. It was dead quiet in here, with no sound. Nobody was moving, or breathing. There weren’t even any flies. The tiniest sound would stand out like a bell.

Time passed, slowly, as Talmeni laid motionless and let her mind wander. She felt like having some skooma, but this certainly wasn’t the time or place. It had almost cost her her life last time, to be under its influence while trying to fight an intruder. Her thirst was also becoming stronger, probably because the old man’s blood was being used up. Maybe she would have her fill on this intruder.

Suddenly, there was a fresh scent nearby. Talmeni tensed, trying to identify it without moving. She hadn’t heard any sound, and yet, as she concentrated, she was sure it was the smell of a living being. And then, very faint and muffled, she made out a heartbeat. Someone was here.

How faint the heartbeat was, Talmeni had expected the stranger to be far away, and thus jerked with utter suprise when something touched her. She grabbed, got hold of a hand, rolled off the slab in that direction, collided with a body, and pushed whoever it was onto the ground in a tangle of limbs.

The newcomer was agile, but the corpse suddenly moving also had them taken by surprise. Before they could get their arm free, Talmeni had it locked behind their back, and the dagger against their throat. “Not dead yet”, she gloated, feeling quite elated that the old combat reflexes still worked.

“Interesting”, the intruder said. She didn’t sound very intimidated, despite the blade against her skin, “I thought I had felt a hunger in here, but I had not expected this. But even though you crave something different, Namira will welcome you as well.”

The name sounded familiar, but it took Talmeni a while to remember from where. It hadn’t been a temple sermon, but one of those Vigilants that had mentioned it. Namira, Daedric Prince of Darkness. The Dunmer had no interest in her, she was neither a guide nor a tester of the faith. There were probably a few worshippers, but the Temple would call them as misguided as those who worshipped the House of Troubles. But more to the point, Namira wasn’t Molag Bal. Talmeni’s new master would be displeased to learn that yet another daedric cult was getting a foothold in the city.

“Let go of me, please”, the woman said gently. Talmeni felt more than just sound in them, and realized that this intruder knew the same kind of mind magic as her.

“No spells”, she hissed, injecting her own magic, and in case that didn’t work, also increased the pressure with the dagger slightly.

“It seems useless to try, given what you are”, the intruder said calmly.

Talmeni blinked. “You can tell what I am?” She’d gotten so used to people just treating her normally, her deep, deathlike sleep notwithstanding, that she had forgotten that according to the temple preachings, vampires were easy to tell. In that case, the sermons were clearly wrong, but that made this woman’s calm claim all the more extraordinary.

“Namira has blessed me. I can feel the dark hunger inside of people. Those that see a corpse and feel their mouth watering. Or see a neck, and lick their lips for the blood within. There is no more need to hide. The Lady of Decay understands.” The woman had a wonderful voice, and she knew how to use it. So calm, so friendly and sweet, it was hard to believe that she was talking about desecrating the dead. Even without her magic, there was something seductive about her words.

Talmeni considered dragging this woman in front of the jarl and having her put into Cidhna mine for life for her crimes. Thongvor would be pleased by that for sure. But this was somebody who could walk up to a vampire almost undetected, who could fool a priest of Arkay in his own hall, and knew how to affect people’s minds. She could be an asset, if broken. And Molag Bal for certain would like to see Talmeni go down that route, and have another tortured sould begging in front of his altar.

Realizing the opportunity was bigger than even that, Talmeni got into action. “You’re the one who eats the dead, then. Can’t be very filling, those old corpses. I’ve got a deal for you. I got a fresh corpse at home, just a day old. Get rid of it for me, whatever way you like.”

“I can do that for you, if you pay me.”

“Don’t pretend the corpse isn’t payment enough for you, if you’re desperate enough to sneak in here.” It was a bit of a gamble, but as long as Talmeni had her knife at the woman’s throat, she could take chances.

She chuckled. “We understand each other well. You can take the knife away, I shall not flee. You have yourself a deal.”

Talmeni relaxed, and let the other woman get up. Now that she could see her properly, Talmeni was happy her ambush had worked, because the intruder had the air of somebody who knew the hardships of life quite well, and had learned from them. Something had blinded one of her eyes, but the other looked very sharp and alert.

“I am Eola, Priestess of Namira”, she introduced herself.

“Talmeni. Come on then, Eola. Let’s talk somewhere nicer.” She grabbed the woman by the wrist and led her out of the catacombs. Eola followed silently, with a faint smile on her lips.

They both stayed quiet in the trip through the city. It was long past midnight by now, and the only one on the streets were the few night guards, whose patrols were easily avoided. Only when Talmeni had her new friend safely inside her house, the door locked behind her, did she talk again. “So, Namira has you eating corpses”, she said conversationally while leading Eola deeper.

“The hunger is my own, Namira merely gave me acceptance”, Eola explained, “In her embrace, I have found community and a place where we can follow our hungers, free of guilt.”

“That’s how it always starts”, Talmeni mumbled to herself, finding the language familiar. Remembering her guest was merely human, she asked: “Should I light a candle for you?”

Eola shook her head. “My magic lets me see in the dark. And Namira isn’t a controlling force. She does not demand, or coerce, or trick you. She gives freely to the most wretched, because they know the darkness like her.”

“Still sound a lot like skooma.” Talmeni pulled a bottle from her pocket and waved it for emphasis. “It starts out with friends and a guilt-free pleasure, and it ends with another hit being all you can think about. You end up doing whatever just for another taste.”

“Then I wasn’t mistaken in you. You know the depths of suffering and poverty. But if you help me, you don’t need to deny yourself any longer. Join Namira, and you’ll see the beauty in wretchedness.”

Shaking her head, Talmeni led on, putting the bottle away. That woman just didn’t let off with her sales pitch. “You could teach Brynjolf about how to sell things, that’s for sure. Anyway, it’s through here.” She pointed past the last shelf in the cellar, standing aside to let Eola past.

The woman, still remarkably trusting for being alone deep in a house with a hungry vampire, followed her gesture and stepped into the small alcove beyond the self. Her first gaze was at the body of Logrolf, who still laid where Talmeni had left him. Then she noticed the altar behind it. Turning, she saw with widening eyes the predatory, fanged grin that Talmeni was wearing. “As you can see, I already have another master”, Talmeni said, twirling her dagger.

Eola was surprised, and even a bit afraid, her heatbeat have that away, but it lasted only for a moment. “Our masters have no quarrel with each other”, she said, in close to the same calm and measured tone, “My mistress delights in the dregs that Molag Bal leaves behind in his wake.”

“Then bow to him and thank him for the meal he has given you”, Talmeni said, gesturing forward.

She did so with grace, bowing deeply and intoning: “It will be my pleasure to taste meat tenderized by your mace, Prince of Pain.” If Molag Bal had any opinion about it, he did not share it. The altar remained silent, and when nothing more happened, Eola knelt down and inspected the corpse carefully. After a moment, she took out a cleaver from her bag, and started hacking.

“I’m thinking of letting you keep your little cult”, Talmeni said after a moment, despite everything a bit disturbed with the experienced and clinical way that Eola took that body apart. “If you know your place. I’m not one letting others muscle in, but I will look after my people.”

Eola paused in her inspection of the entrails. Without turning around, she said, in a considerably less seductive tone: “So this is how you wish to negotiate, then, with a prisoner in your power?”

“Best way to go about it. This way you know what’s at stake, and that I’m not kidding. I could have you up on that altar and start playing. I could have you bound and gagged and dragged before the jarl, and see what the angry mob of Nords does to you.” She paused for a second for effect. “Or I could be the one who helps you with that little problem you mentioned.”

“If you do, then I will certainly leave the city to you and the schemes of your master.” Eola continued her grisly work as she talked.

“And your friends, will they do the same?”

“What friends?”

It didn’t seem like a deliberate lie, just normal confusion, but Talmeni didn’t like that Eola still was so calm. She didn’t feel in control. Kneeling down, Talmeni put the knife back to Eola’s throat. “The community you spoke of. The others who eat corpses together with you. Those friends.”

“They pose no threat to you.”

“Give me their names and let me decide that.”

For a second, the room was silent, and Talmeni felt the other woman’s nervousness. She hoped she hadn’t gone too far, but it wasn’t like there was another option, not in front of Molag Bal’s altar. All Talmeni could hope that Eola was smart enough to fold.

She was, and Talmeni relaxed as she heard the list of names. “There is Hogni Red-Arm, the butcher. Lisbet, from the trading store. Banning the dog-trainer living in the stables. Those are the ones in the city. The rest lives further afar, and will not come except for feast-days.”

“This rest, are we talking a hundred or a handful?” Talmeni slowly lowered the knife, but didn’t stand up just yet.

“No more than three. Not many hear the call of the Lady of Decay.”

Talmeni stood back up, satisfied. “And they listen to you, do they?”

“They will. They have no interest in ruling, and if I tell them you gave us this delectable meal, they shall be in your debt.” Eola gestured with one of the bloody parts in her hand.

“Then tell me what you need, beyond fresh corpses.”

After putting away what Talmeni could only guess were a few choice cuts, Eola turned around to explain. “There is a place not far from here, where we could sate our appetites without judgment, under her benevolent gaze. But the dead have stirred from their slumber, and forced us away from her shrine. I had to take refuge here, for my magic is in illusions and words. They do little against the restless dead.”

“Well, I do know somebody who can deal with the walking dead”, Talmeni thought out loud. Remembering herself, she stood up straighter and said: “But you need to swear your loyalty first.”

Eola gave another graceful bow. “Then I submit myself to you, mistress of the night.”

It was a flattering title, but Talmeni just thought of something even more fittingly symbolic than just an oath and a bow. “We shall seal it in blood. Show me your neck.”

The woman did not struggle at all as Talmeni sunk her fangs into her neck and swallowed the spurting liquid eagerly. Once she felt her hunger stilled, Talmeni let go, licking the wound closed carefully. “You are mine now”, she whispered seductively, a bit emboldened by having another woman’s warm body this close to hers, “And I shall take care of you.”

Eola stepped away, shuddering a bit. After a moment, she knelt back down and continued her grisly work. “Do you have any salt?”, she asked after apparently being done.

“In the kitchen, yes.”

“If you allow me, I’ll preserve some pieces with it, leave them here. Hogni will come by tomorrow and take them off your hands.” Talmeni understood that request. The old man had been heavy, after all, and it was probably too much to expect that he could be carried out unseen in one go.

“As long as it’s after dark, sure.” She had to stifle a yawn. It had been a long day, and would likely sleep through all sunlight hours.

She brought Eola the salt and some pots and bags for preparing all the pieces for transport. Once the area in front of the altar was clear, Talmeni came back to the matter of the task she’d promised to perform: “Be in the Silver-Blood Inn tomorrow evening”, she instructed, “I will send somebody who can help to you, or come by myself if it doesn’t work.” She hoped her plan worked out, because the undead were also hard to sneak up upon, and cutting their throat rarely was enough to actually kill them.

Eola nodded, and five minutes later she was gone, her backpack bulging with body parts. Talmeni locked the door, made a short obeisance to the altar downstairs, cleaned up a few of the bloodstains, and then fell into bed, exhausted. It was good that she was moving up and making a name for herself so fast, but it was also hard work. She considered taking a bit of skooma again, to get herself calmed down, but fell asleep before she could act on it.

Once Hogni Red-Arm had come by to get the rest of the cadaver, Talmeni went to visit Brother Verulus, who was once again anxiously standing guard at the entrance of the Hall of the Dead, this time also having to argue with some wealthy-looking Imperial, apparently named Reburrus. Talmeni waited patiently until they were done, before approaching the visibly exasperated priest.

“Unfortunatly, it’s been quiet last night”, she lied when he looked up with the question obvious in his face, “But I’ll keep at it, if you let me. They’ll have to come by eventually.”

“I hope you find something, fast. You see how many people harass me about it”, he said, wiping his brow.

“Actually, I have a bit of a proposal for you.” Talmeni gestured at the bench he had been sitting on last time, and sat down on it. “It think there’s a way here to kill several scribs with one stroke, if you’re interested.”

“I’m not sure, but I’m willing to listen.” Verulus sat down next to her, a bit awkwardly.

“A friend of mine needs some help with some restless dead. If you do Arkay’s work at her side, I’m sure she’ll also vouch for you, when the time comes to reveal all this. You’ve made a lot of people angry, Verulus. Can’t hurt to make one grateful.”

He didn’t quite look convinved. “Leave the city? Now? That would not look good, would it?”

“If people see you going beyond to perform the will of your god, I don’t see how that can look bad. Besides, the corpse-gnawer is surely going to get bolder when they hear the Hall of the Dead is empty for a few days. You could come back to find all your troubles behind you.” After a short pause and a nudge, she added more quietly: “Also, my friend would be willing to split the treasure half-half.”

Verulus didn’t hesitate long. “Treasure, you say? I suppose the Jarl won’t mind if I’m gone for a little while”, he said greedily, “So who is that friend of yours?”

“Her name is Eola. She’s waiting in the Silver-Blood Inn for you.”

“Is she? Well, I could certainly do with another drink”, Verulus said, unsuccesfully trying to sound subtle, “Especially after all this arguing. Well, I can trust you to hold the fort here, can I?”

“Not to worry, brother”, Talmeni said, patting him on the shoulder, “You’ll come back to find everything sorted out.”

She watched him scurry away, smiling about how easy that had been. In Morrowind, people would have probably asked a few more questions first, because fraud and intrique were the bread and butter of house politics. For a moment, she worried what Eola would do about the improvised mention of treasure, but Talmeni was sure that the woman would find a way to talk around that, if needed. If she couldn’t, she wasn’t worth the effort to secure more help.

Talmeni spent the night in the Hall of the Dead, for appearance’s sake, although she was sure that nothing would happen. Eola would be busy with other things. Instead, she laid down with a book, left behind by the previous owners of her house, and had herself a quiet night, with some culture, and, once the clock was more advanced, a bit of skooma as well.

Between that and falling asleep early, she once again managed to get up while the sun was still above the horizon. She felt refreshed, despite the cramped conditions of the empty coffin she had chosen to have her rest in, and was quite ready to keep going with her plan. A quick check of his sleeping area, and then some questions to the guard around the keep revealed that Verulus had indeed taken the bait, and left early in the morning to do Arkay proud, as he had put it.

A smile on her face, Talmeni went over to the treasure house. Rhiada gave her a warm smile as a greeting, but then quickly turned worried. “I’m afraid Thongvor is busy right now”, she said, somewhat redundantly. There was the sound of raised voices coming from the door to his room.

“You could keep me some company while I wait”, Talmeni said with a quick grin, “Although I don’t need to talk with him right now. If you give me a quill and a sheet of paper, I’ll write him a message.”

Rhiada complied to the second part, pulling an empty sheet from behind the counter and placing it on top. Talmeni dipped the quill in the ink, and had just put down the greeting when the argument in the room reached it’s crescendo. “Get out!”, Thongvor shouted, loud enough that the candle flames wavered.

The door slammed open, and a woman walked out, keeping her head held high despite the insults shouted after her. “If I ever see you here again, Elf-kisser, I will kill you myself!”, Thongvor finished his tirade.

“So much elf-kissing, and none of it with me”, Talmeni mumbled to herself, and laid the quill aside.

Thongvor noticed her presence, and barked: “You, elf. You better have good news.”

“Not the best, but good I can provide”, she said with a falsely wide smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Talmeni let her face return to normal. Thongvor was clearly not in the mood for games. “Let’s talk just among the two of us?”, she asked, and didn’t wait for him to nod before moving towards his room.

“It has been two days”, he complained once they were on their own in his room, “What is taking so long?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have something for you”, Talmeni quickly assured him, trying to calm his temper, “Although it’s not quite what you asked for, I think you will like it.”

“Out with it.”

“The hall is still closed, for now. Verulus is …stubborn, and wants to have a problem solved before opening it again. I found out what that problem is, and honestly, his response paints him either as a fool or a helper, and if you give me a few more days, I might find out which it is.”

Thongvor crossed his arms. “So you have nothing.”

Talmeni had to fight down a grimace. She’d forgotten to feed yesterday, and the thirst was shortening her temper. She’d heard Thongvor was the politician of the brothers, but right now he didn’t look that way. “Actually, it’s a lot. There is desecration going on in the tomb. Verulus knows this, and covers it up. The jarl knows, but doesn’t do anything yet. But whether he’s just bad at his job or involved in the thing, Brother Verulus is not a good keeper of your ancestors. If you go to the jarl with this, get some of the other citizens to complain as well — I’ve seen Reburrus trying to get in, too — and present somebody else who fits the job, you can have Verulus out the door without any trouble. Especially right now when he’s out of the city and can’t defend himself. The Imperial gets his just rewards for letting your dead be disturbed, and you get a Nord, a proper Nord, to take care of the dead. One who will surely let you see the remains of your brother, and mourn him properly.”

For a while, the burly man was silent, clearly turning the idea over in his head. “You show initiative”, he said at last, “I think I can work with that.”

“Thank you.” Talmeni let her eyes wander over to the bags of coins sitting on the desk, but the Nord didn’t take the hint.

“I have another matter for you”, he said instead, “And this one I need done faster, understand?” He gestured at the door. “The woman that just walked out, she’s an Imperial thinking she can make me offers about buying up Cidhna mine. I want her to understand that Markarth is Silver-Blood property, not the Empire’s. Deal with her.”

“Once we have talked about my fee.” Talmeni found herself interested. She’d expected another noble family to make a grab for the Silver-Blood throne, but not the Empire itself. Of course, it made a certain amount of sense. With the war on, they needed money in large amounts, and Cidhna mine was a great investment. Maybe it was worth it to switch teams, to play the Empire for a while and use them for their coin and muscle. At any rate, a friendly talk with that brave woman who dared to challenge a Silver-Blood was the clear next step.

Chapter Text

Thus, not long after, Talmeni wandered into the Silver-Blood Inn, her satchel heavy from a down payment in gold and silver. She negotiated with Kleppr for a bottle of his best drink and two goblets, and then had a look around for the woman. It was a sure bet, given that an outsider wouldn’t find lodging anywhere else, and indeed, there she was, sitting by the fire. Luckily, she was alone.

Talmeni walked up to her, waving the bottle while asking: “Care for some company?”

“I’m not sure”, the woman answered, but didn’t turn away when Talmeni got another chair and placed it next to her to sit down. “Didn’t I see you at the treasury house just now?”, she asked, looking Talmeni up and down.

“You did. Talmeni is the name.” She held out one of the goblets.

“Margret”, the woman answered, eyeing the offered cup. She looked back at Talmeni with a weary sigh. “If you’re here on Thongvor’s behalf, it’s not going to work.”

“Really?” Talmeni also looked Margret up and down. She wore a plain but well-made dress, but didn’t look like a person interested in finance. She had the muscles of somebody who either worked hard or fought regularly.

“You can try, but you should know I was almost killed a month ago and decided to stay. There isn’t much you can threaten me with.”

Since Margret didn’t go for it, Talmeni placed the goblet next to her chair and went to work on the bottle. “Well, you’re not wrong, Thongvor wants me to deal with you. But I’m here to find other options, because I can’t say I like him very much. He considers elf-kisser an insult.”

“And you don’t”, Margret said conversationally.

“Depends on which parts you plan to kiss.” Talmeni winked at her, then pulled the cork out.

Margret leaned back, looking a bit affronted. “None, of course”, she said haughtily.

“Well, I forgive you for that.” She held out the bottle. “Care for some Surilie Brothers wine? Bit of a taste of home away from home?”

“Not quite, but I will bite.” Margret picked up the goblet. “What is it you actually want, then?”

“Right now, share a drink.” Talmeni filled her cup, then poured a measure for herself. “Sorry if it’s not your sort, I don’t know my way around wine. I usually go for Shein.”

“I assume that is a drink from Morrowind.” Margret held the cup between her hands, watching Talmeni carefully.

“Yes. But they don’t import it into Skyrim. Trust me, I’ve asked.” She had a good mouthful of the wine. “This is not bad either, though.”

Margret had a careful sip herself. “What are you doing this far west, if you miss home?”

“Trying to find friends, fortune and a future. And you?”

“Business, obviously. Once it’s done, I’ll go back to the Imperial City.”

“Right. Just the small matter of buying Cidhna Mine out from under the second most dangerous family of Skyrim.” Talmeni refilled both goblets.

“Second most?” Margret emptied the goblet a lot quicker this time.

“Well, I might be generous. The Black-Briars got them beat for first place, though. For starters, Maven is still alive.”

“That seems hardly fair, though. I doubt anyone could have foreseen the events that took Thonar.” Margret looked into the flames for a moment, then almost unoticeably shook her head.

“You were there, then?” It sounded like Margret was better informed than most, if she made statements like that.

The woman’s answer came fast, and just a bit louder than the previous conversation. “Yes, but I hardly know anything. I was just shopping in the market for a pendant, when suddenly there’s shouts behind me and a fight breaks out.”

Now there was a suspicious answer, thought Talmeni. She offered Margret another refill. “Well, whatever happened, Thonar is dead now”, she said, not feeling like it was the right time to press her on that lie, “And Thongvor, quite honestly, doesn’t have the head for that kind of business. Not much call for shouting when it comes to cloak and dagger.”

“That’s where you come in, isn’t it?”, Margret asked, her expression cooling down a bit again.

Talmeni gave her a little grin. “Takes one to know one.”

The woman sighed. “I’m losing my touch, aren’t I? What gave me away?”

“You mean beyond assuming right away I was here to shake you down when I offered a bottle of wine?”

Margret sat up straighter, remembering who she was talking to. “I still don’t understand what you want from me.”

“I’m offering you wine, and a chance for a deal. What I want from you is for you to be sensible. If not…” Talmeni tapped against her dagger.

“I won’t betray my employer”, Marget answered, tensing, moving one of her hands to her own dagger.

“Wasn’t your betrayal I was hinting at”, Talmeni said. Looking around, she added: “How about we go somewhere more private, so we can talk this through? I got a house nearby.”

Margret weighed her up carefully, even though she did look affected by the wine, her skin rather flushed on the cheeks. “I have a room here in the inn”, she said, proving she wasn’t losing her touch as much as she thought.

“Works for me. I’ll just get another bottle and join you there.” Talmeni picked up the empty bottle of wine and wandered over to the counter. She regretted not having had her fill of blood before coming in here, because it made it hard to concentrate. There were so many heartbeats around. And the only part of Margret she could focus on was the neck. It was a nice, shapely neck, but Talmeni wished she could have eyes for the rest of her as well.

“Kleppr didn’t have any more from the Surilie brothers, but he recommended this spiced wine”, Talmeni said when entering Margret’s room, waving her new bottle. The woman offered the elf the lone chair, but Talmeni made herself comfortable on the bed.

“I think you might have drunk enough”, Margret said, taking the chair herself.

With a shrug, Talmeni placed the bottle next to the bed, unopened. “On to business, then. How much would my help be worth to the Empire?”

“That depends. Can you steal the deed for Cidhna Mine from the treasury house?” Margret looked doubtful.

Talmeni shrugged again. “Very likely. But what would be the point? It’s not going to make the Empire any money. Thongvor will drag the whole thing in front of the jarl, and it’ll cost you a lot to convince people you’re actually owners of the deed. If you ask me, you’re going about this the wrong way.”

”Really”, Margret said, voice very level, “How would you do it then?”

“At this point? I’d do nothing. Thongvor doesn’t have the skills, as I said. He doesn’t have enough prisoners to mine ore, not enough money to pay his debts, and no idea how to shake people down.” Talmeni put her hands behind her head with a grin. “So you could just pay me more than he does right now, and get me to do nothing to save him. You make yourself a nice holiday somewhere else, and then ask your boss to send somebody over in another month or three, to offer Thongvor to buy whatever pieces are left of his business at that point. Some Nord, ideally.”

“That sounds very expensive for doing nothing.”

“Not really. Thongvor isn’t paying me much, yet. But if you’re looking for excitement and adventure, we can also arrive at a deal where you pay me for having a bit of fun with you.”

“There have to be ways to ruin him faster and with more guarantees than just hoping he fails on his own. He might hire somebody besides you. My employer suspects that the Silver-Bloods are fudging their numbers, can you get me access to their books?”

“Again, very likely. Again, what for?” Talmeni gestured vaguely. “It’s hard to get him for a crime, even fraud. He owns the prison. It’s either worthy of killing him, or the jarl will just drop it. Then again, it’s not really a good prison any more. Could be worth suggesting the jarl to build a proper one, instead of relying on a family who thinks it’s a good idea to hand the prisoner a pickaxe and hope they don’t dig their way out.”

Margret stayed quiet for a moment, apparently considering that.

Talmeni had another idea. “Actually, what if I could get you access to all the books, without Thongvor suspecting anything?”

“How so?” To her credit, Margret looked very doubting.

“Thing is, I don’t get paid until you stop being a threat to Thongvor by tomorrow. If we don’t want to go for the extreme solution, that means you’re either out of the city tonight, and I give him some lie about cutting your throat and dumping you in the river, or you change sides. Let him think you work for him now. Feed him something about the Empire’s plans, let him think he can use you to secure his position.”

“And he would trust me?”

Talmeni grinned. “He doesn’t even trust me. But I can make him think him you’ll be useful. And then it just takes an innocent visit to the treasure house, on some semi-official business, and you can browse his books as much as you like. Especially because I know he’ll be on a visit to the jarl in the coming days, where he won’t be around.”

Margret shook her head, still thinking. “No, that is too risky. But I have an idea. If you can get to his personal effects, you can also add something to his books, correct?”

“Nasty. I like it. What did you have in mind? Argonian pornography?”

“I — what? No! No, nothing like that. And I don’t think you need to know. You just want to get paid, after all.”

Talmeni got up from the bed. “Wrong. I’m not going to be used as a pawn. If we work together, I get to hold the strings.“

Margret looked her in the eyes, and then, despite her claim not to react to threats, did show a moment of fear. “Very well. We could paint him as a follower of Talos, and a Stormcloak supporter. Then he’s in the jurisdiction of the Thalmor, not the jarl, and they have their own prisons. I can get my hands on an amulet of Talos, and forge some correspondence, timed with recent incursions of the Stormcloaks. If I can check his books for suspicious transactions, and date the correspondence right, even better.”

“All right, you’ve convinced me”, Talmeni said with a grin, “You get to live. Once things have died down in the main room, we’ll have you out of the city, and once you have your amulet, you send me a little package, and I do the rest.”

“I don’t see yet how that will get me the suspicious transactions from his books.”

Talmeni waved her hand impatiently. “Don’t bother with that. It’s too much risk. And he’ll have dodgy entries close to whatever day you pick. Just give me the amulet and the letters and it will work out.”

“And you’ll actually do it?”, Margret asked, tensing and narrowing her eyes.

“Of course. By my honor, I swear you’ll see Thongvor brought down.”

For a while, Marget didn’t answer, looking Talmeni up and down, apparently weighing her chances. “I accept. You are not giving me a lot of choice.”

“More than a normal thug would have given you. More wine, while we’re waiting?” Talmeni pulled up the bottle, and Margret, after a sigh, held out the goblet.

Getting her out of the city after midnight was easy enough. The patrols were as sparse as always, and it was a cloudy, moonless night, perfect for staying in the dark. Once she had seen Magret off, Talmeni returned to the inn for a quick drink of blood from Kleppr, before then calling it a night and returning home.

Thongvor didn’t question Talmeni’s fake story about Marget’s death for a second, rather telling her to stop when she got to the grisly parts. Her satchel once again a bit heavier, Talmeni took it easy for the night, cleaning up the old house a bit, and placing some custom orders for imports from Morrowind with Lisbet.

I was strange to imagine the previous occupants of the house. They had been worshippers of Molag Bal, and left some little clues of that here and there. Like the robes, and some not properly destroyed letters, with cryptic missives like “I will of course be present for the celebrations on the 20th of Evening Star” or “I have used the master’s teachings to my advantage, as you’ll soon hear.” But on the other hand, they had been people, living everyday lives, filled with normal concerns, like keping the pantry stocked and the dust swept up. They had a few shelves of books, with not particularly blood-thirsty contents, old clothes that wouldn’t have caught the least bit attention on the streets, and other pieces of household clutter.

Of course, Talmeni now herself was technically a worshipper of Molag Bal, even though so far her services were limited to bowing to the shrine once in a while, and also didn’t stand out in the streets. It was just strange to realize that cultists of the Bad Daedra were also normal people, and not enslaved fiends, like the temple usually displayed them.

She spent evenings in the tavern, talking and listening, and learned many things. She learned of the smelter workers getting restless, because they weren’t getting paid. She learned that the guards of Markarth thought themself so secure in their tower on top of the crag that they had no one standing watch over the sleepers. None ever woke up when she snuck in, quiet like the night wind, and had her fill on their sleeping forms.

She also learned that Thongvor had really very little idea what to do illegally. He’d given her a blanket order to “Make good”, and that had been the last they’d talked for a while. Talmeni took it easy, because for one it was best to get better acquainted with the situation before, and also because even though her oath hadn’t been in earnest, she did feel that she owed Margret a more relaxed pace in expanding her power.

Instead of exerting her old skills, Talmeni went ahead and trained her new-found abilities. She spent some coin, investing into a series of Illusion books bought from Calcelmo the court mage, and had a bit of a read through these. While few dealt with something as advanced as twisting minds, it was still a good read, and helped Talmeni understand better what she could do, and how to be subtle when doing it.

One evening, there was a knock on the door. Talmeni put away the book and got up, wondering who it would be. She had given up trying to be covert about living in this house, but neither had she made any friends who were prone to house-calls. Most just thought of her as scenery in the Silver-Blood Inn, somebody who stood her round and was generous with the tips.

It turned out to the Eola, apparently back from her trip. “I have to thank you, mistress”, she said as a greeting, “You chose well, and Verulus was both helpful and delectable.”

Talmeni, alarmed, pulled her into the house. “You killed him?”, she hissed.

“The Lady of Decay considered him worthy to be the main course of our feast”, Eola said, savoring the words.

“And you didn’t think of asking me first, did you?” Talmeni got out her dagger. “There is still the matter of the Hall of the Dead. People need a clear ending. They need a suspect they can blame, so that they feel this man-eating matter is over. I had planned for Verulus to be that suspect. But people can’t hang a corpse. So what shall I do?”

“Why do anything, and not just let them worry?”, Eola asked, as relaxed as usual in the face of threats.

Talmeni shook her head. “You don’t get to decide that. I pull the strings, and this was one. But since you’re so keen on deciding who dies, I’ll give you a choice. Bring me a suspect, somebody to take the fall for all the nibbled corpses.”

“And if I don’t? They guards will not be able to hold me.”

“Of course not. But Hogni? He’s got wide arms, but not strong legs. And I’m sure your other friends in the city will be quite upset when there no longer is a butcher providing them with fresh meat.”

Now there actually was emotion on Eola’s face, if only very faint horror. “You do your master proud”, she said weakly. “I will find somebody.”

“Good.”

As Eola disappeared into the night, Talmeni reflected on what she was doing. It was probably right that you didn’t as such needed a scapegoat for the cannibalism, but this wasn’t just about closing the matter with Thongvor and getting his gratitude for re-opening the Hall of the Dead. This was about making sure that Eola and her cult knew her place. If Talmeni couldn’t control them, she would be hard-pressed to control the other factions in town.

Talmeni wasn’t sure what to make of the speed at which Eola found some poor wretch to confess he had been the one who broke into the Hall of the Dead. Talmeni watched from afar as the court session went on the the jarl’s chamber in the keep, and heard the satisfied murmurs when that same evening, the jarl appointed a new keeper of the Hall of the Dead, a Nord brought all the way from Falkreath just for that purpose. Thongvor actually sent for her that day, and expressed his gratitude in somewhat strange terms, clearly not used to thanking elves. However, his pouch spoke louder words than his tongue, and Talmeni sauntered down to the inn with her pockets once again bulging.

Chapter Text

Her good mood lasted for two more days, before it was dampened by a rather unexpected visitor. She met him in the inn, where he went from group to group, repeating his message despite the negative comments he got from everyone. Talmeni didn’t have to hear much to know what it was about. Yellow and blue robe, a self-righteous expression, it added up to yet another Vigilant of Stendarr.

“What’s with you?”, the woker Weyus sitting one table over from Talmeni asked, clearly annoyed at being interrupted from his drink, “Why can’t you wait until it’s daytime, instead of bothering us here?”

“Because if the Daedra worshippers show their hand, it will be today, on one of the unholy summoning days of their lords”, the Vigilant explained.

Talmeni almost choked on her mead when she made the connection. It was the 20th of Evening Star today. If she wanted to be serious about pleasing Molag Bal, that had to mean giving him some kind of service today. He had been quiet for weeks now, clearly not considering her worth his time, but she assumed he was at least partly pleased about her intrigues and power plays in the city. She wished the old owners of the house were around, to show her how to properly pray to the Lord of Domination.

But lacking them, she had to improvise, and when the Vigilant walked over to her table, she started to have an idea. “Now who might you be?”, she asked sweetly as he placed himself in front of her.

“I am Vigilant Tyranus, with the Vigil of Stendarr, and I’m looking for any signs of Daedra worship.”

“What do Daerda worshippers look like?”, she asked innocently, suppressing a grin.

“They might just look like you and me”, the Vigilant said, oblivious to Talmeni playing with her dagger under the table, “But they’ll leave signs and clues. Missing people, odd noises in the middle of the night. Strange activity at unsual hours, the purchase of strange magic ingredients. Have you seen anything like that?”

“Not really, but there is this one odd thing going on”, she lied, “An old house nearby that I think might be haunted. Could that be something?”

“It might just be ghosts”, Tyranus said, but did move to take a seat, “Have you talked to the local priest of Arkay?”

“He’s been a bit busy. Can you help? I’ve heard you also chase undead and werewolves.”

The man shrugged. “Vampires, mostly. They’re daedric spawn who need to be rooted out. But I will take a look at that house. Where there is a haunting, there might be worse as well.”

“Should I show you the way?”

“I would be grateful.”

Talmeni got up, and led the Vigilant out of the door. As they walked up the street, Tyranus made a bit on conversation: “It’s good to see a citizen take us seriously for once. Most people here, they just point at the Forsworn, and refuse to really listen.”

“Well, the Forsworn do worship Daedra, don’t they?” Talmeni stepped aside to let him open the door.

“But the fiends that live among the everyday folk, corrupting the cities with their blasphemies, are the true danger. The savages I will show some of Stendarr’s mercy, but the civilised folk deserve the full strength of his godly law.” He hesitated, then tried the door while drawing his mace with the other hand.

It still smelled musty, because Talmeni hadn’t figured out how to properly air the back rooms, and Tyranus wrinkled his nose in disgust. He took a few steps inside, but the darkness was almost complete. Talmeni had never bothered to buy candles.

“You don’t have to come in”, he said while stepping back outside to light a torch at a nearby sconce, “You’ve already been a great help bringing me here.”

“I’d like to see this through, if you don’t mind”, Talmeni answered, not willing to be turned away from her own home, “And besides, four eyes see more than two.”

“Very well, but I have to ask you to seek safety, if this turns out to be serious.”

Torch held in front of him, Tyranus went inside, closely followed by Talmeni. In the flickering torchlight, the house suddenly looked a lot less familiar. The usual colors of the darkness were being chased away by the bright flame, and merely danced in the shifting and jumping shadows.

“Abandoned, you said?”, the Vigilant asked, clearly doubting that statement given the orderly state of everything.

“No living soul has been in here for a long time”, Talmeni answered, filling her voice with some whispered awe she thought seemed appropriate.

“There is no dust or wood rot anywhere”, Tyranus explained, suddenly turning from an imagined noise. “Somebody has been here, recently.”

“Summoning the ghosts?”, Talmeni asked.

“Or worse.” Tyranus looked rather frightened as he marched on. It was hard for Talmeni to guess what he imagined he saw when the shadows made the unmade bed look occupied for a second, but the man gasped and drew back, tensing before realizing it was only his nerves.

“What was that?”, Talmeni asked suddenly, pointing ahead. There had been nothing, but Tyranus jerked as if bitten.

“Where?”

“Just there.”

“It has to be coming from deeper inside the house. Follow me.” The Vigilant picked up the pace as he went deeper, clearly intend to catch that imaginary thing she had pointed out.

They reached the last cellar room, and Tyranus looked around helplessly, apparently lost. Talmeni decided to give him another hint. “What’s that behind the shelf?”, she asked, trying to sound frightened.

Tyranus held his mace at the ready and stalked toward the shelf, clearly read to deal with the worst. Nevertheless, he almost dropped his torch when he laid eyes on the altar and the mace floating above it. And Talmeni used that moment of shock and gave him a push.

She had expected the spiked cage to shoot up from the ground as Tyranus stumbled onto the plate, but apparently their trigger mechanism was more sophisticated than that. Improvising before the Vigilant could recover his wits, she rushed forward and pinned him against the altar.

“Well look at that”, she gloated, “Turns out Daedra worshippers do just look like you. Or me. It really is your lucky day, to stumble right into a sacrifice ceremony. Do you know whose day it is?”

Talmeni had expected defiance, some kind of struggle, like with Logrolf, but Tyranus wasn’t made of such stern stock. He shivered and said with a piping voice. “His.” In his fear, he dropped both torch and mace, and after a moment pleaded: “I don’t want to die. It’s not my time.”

“You could try pleading for mercy”, Talmeni suggested.

Tyranus’s voice was a whisper between tears. “Come to me, Stendarr, for without you, I might be deaf—”

Talmeni grabbed the chain of the amulet around the man’s neck and pulled until his prayer disappeared in choking and choughing. “That one’s not at home right now”, she said, “Try another.”

“Please, mylady, let me go”, he tried when she let off the tension on the chain.

“It’s not up to me”, she continued, “It’s up to my master. Plead with him.”

The Vigilant was quivering, and didn’t even hesitate for a second before changing tune: “O Lord Molag Bal, please …” He hesitated, realizing that asking the Lord of Domination for mercy was a useless endeavor. “I submit”, he cried, “Let me live, I submit.”

“Good”, Talmeni said, getting out her dagger and pressing it against his throat, “So who controls your fate now?”

“He does.”

“And to whom does your soul go, if you were to die here?”

“To him.”

“Good.” Talmeni pushed in, and dragged the blade through his neck. She hoped that had been close enough to what had happened to Logrolf to count as a service to Molag Bal.

To make sure, she decided to say a few words. “Accept this soul, mighty Molag Bal, and look favorably upon—”

“He was an unworthy sacrifice”, the voice thundered from the altar. Talmeni did her best to stay still, not having expected her master to speak. “A worm whose allegiance was easily bent. You once again fail to be worthy of my mace.”

“I shall do better”, Talmeni said, although she didn’t really want the mace. Compared to a dagger, it was so unsubtle a tool.

“Then take the symbol of his weakling god, and profane it at my altar. Offer yourself to me on this day, and I shall grant you power.”

That sounded ominous, but Talmeni didn’t want to do wrong. She had no doubt that in case she really displeased Molag Bal, he had ways to use that mace, or worse, on her. Pulling the corpse aside, she retrieved the little horn pendant from his neck, and stepped forward, the amulet in hand.

The spikes of the cage shot up, but that wasn’t what caused her to shriek. The ground beneath her fell away, a hole opening that was filled with a darkness not even her eyes could pierce. But there were things in it, unseen but felt, as they raked across her skin, slammed into her body, and burned her limbs with icy cold fire. He clothes were ripped off in this invisible assault, and merciless winds buffeted her around, until she felt like nothing but a puppet on merciless strings.

She landed, awkwardly collapsing on what she after a moment realized was an unlit pyre. Around her stretched a dark and dead world, made of black stone and grey earth, with no plants except shriveled, long deceased remains, and no moon or stars in a virulent, stormy sky. Gusts of flame sprang from rends in the ground, not red but blue, illuminating nothing and sucking the last bits of warmth from the air.

A shape approached, and Talmeni could do nothing except look as it came closer. It was monstrous, massive, filling the sky with its skull-like, horned visage. The cloven hooves thundered and rent upon earth unable to take it, and with every movement, the cold flames played around his massive limbs. He was taller than the sky, a cruel, pitiless god, the world she could see nothing but a sliver of his will. And her gaze found itself drawn downwards across the scarred and shriveled torso, completely naked, and she had to scream when she realized in which way he would consumate her offering.

She tried to crawl away, but a hand as large as the pyre grasped her and held her down, pressing her into the rough, splintering wood with obvious delight at her pain. And then he was there, taking her, pulling her close with unstoppable force, not caring for her pain or cries, merely for his own pleasure. Under him, the pyre burst into flames, sucking all warmth away until the very air seemed to freeze, turning into brittle glass that shattered into cutting shards with every movement.

Talmeni wanted to fight, to resist, to struggle against what was being done to her, but his limbs were absolute, and the more she tried to pull against them, the rougher he pulled back. If not for his desire to keep her in one piece, she realized, his force would have ripped her apart long ago. But his will forcing her tendons to hold and her bones to stay strong was even worse than his torturous hands.

It was in sheer despair that in a moment as he pressed her against himself, she tried to use the one weapon he hadn’t taken, the one his limbs were not yet forcing into position. She opened her mouth wide and plunged her sharp teeth into his shriveled, rock-hard flesh.

He laughed, and what burst from the wound was not warm blood, but dead, icy tar that filled her mouth and crawled into her throat until she choked. But did not submit. Would not submit. In whatever way, with all the way she had, she resisted. She fought. She was the ruler, not him. And she would be the one having pleasure from this, not him. Her will was absolute. Her word would be rule.

Through the haze of hate, of her visions of power that filled her head, she still felt herself failing. The more she fought, the harder he became, the more pleasure it all gave him. And before she could even so much as touch him again, he was done with her, dropping her onto the ground awash with sticky blue fluid, that pulled her under before she even could take a gasp.

Talmeni awoke with a scream, convulsing on the cold metal of the altar. For a moment, it was all she could do, as the memory of violation came back, not letting her forget even the tiniest bit of what had been done to her. Her lower body hurt so much, she expected it to be nothing but a crushed mess, but it was merely the worst part in a world of pain. Her skin looked unbroken, but she could feel every cut, every burn, every contusion and bruise that had been inflicted.

After who knew how long, she managed to roll off the altar, and curl into a kneeling position on the floor. As much as she tried to be strong, tears flowed down her face, and she sobbed until she could no more.

“Stand up, my daughter”, Molag Bal said, a hint of pride in his tone of cruelty and menace.

Slowly, Talmeni got to her feet, turning towards the altar with unseeing eyes.

“Rejoice in your power. You are a lord among vampires now, to whom all shall bow as cattle, or be destroyed.”

He paused, probably to allow her time to express her gratitude, but Talmeni stayed silent.

“Hear now my command, my daughter. Do not waste your gifts on mere humans. A dark war rises, and you shall be its herald and its conductor. Take the amulet as sign of my favor, and go to Dimhollow Crypt. Inside, you will find the instrument of your dominance. Use it, and prove yourself worthy of my mace.”

Talmeni looked down at her hand, in which she still held the amulet taken off Tyranus. But it was no longer small horn wrought from brass, but rather a black skull between horns like pincers, the face of Molag Bal, in all its cruelty and glory.

She looked at the little thing in her hands, and wondered what to say. She had wielded his gifts, and in a way, asked for even more. But the price that she had paid had been too high. And somehow, despite having seen him in his true shape, she felt a sense of power again from the situation he was in. Here, Molag Bal was a voice coming from an altar, who commanded and threatened, and yet needed mortals to do his bidding for him.

“I will go to Dimhollow Crypt”, Talmeni said, making a decision. “And I will wield your gifts.” She took the amulet and lowered it around her neck. “But not for your glory, but my own. I called you master, but no longer. Now I call you teacher, and thank you for the lesson.” She gave a little bow, feeling the pendant lift and lower against her bare skin.

There was no answer from the altar.

Chapter Text

She stumbled away, every part of her hurting. A twinge in her thigh made her lose her balance, and she stabbed her dagger into of of Hogni’s slabs of meat to stabilize herself. That didn’t seem right. She looked around. This was the market, early in the evening. Had she dreamed things? There had been bad dreams, ever since she had become a vampire. This one had been bad, worse even, to be violated by a Daedric Prince. No, there were some fragments of memory around it. It had been real.

“Are you all right?”, Hogni asked with unusual tact. Talmeni looked at him, wondering if she was. “You went blank for a while”, he added. Or maybe had added. When Talmeni tried to recall the conversation, there were scraps. She had tried to threaten, that’s probably why there was the dagger. She wanted something from him.

Talmeni needed time, to figure out what was real. But she didn’t have any. This man was under her, she could not loose face. “Do it”, she said, trying to hiss menacingly.

“Do what?”

She felt like repeating herself, but maybe that was just her head. “Delivery”, she managed, “From me. For you. Tonight. …Go get it.” Exhausted from that much talk, she sat down on the small stream running through the edge of the market. It meant she must have walked away from Hogni’s stall.

Her head felt bad. Things had been fine, and now she couldn’t remember. Everything was foggy, except that memory of Molag Bal above her. One of her hands went to her chest. There was his amulet there, under her clothes. It was real, and so had been the pain. It was gone now, though.

Maybe she had tried taking something against it. Now she was in her house, counting her skooma bottles. Memories clanged together. She had bought two from Ri’saad. Or three? No, she had bought two, then three. He had stopped outside Markarth recently. Now there were four in her hand. She had thrown away empty ones not long ago. Now they were all empty.

Talmeni tried to recall the nights when she had taken skooma. How many had there been? After a moment, she gave up. Another memory managed to slip by, and she got hold of it. There had been two bottles spare the day before yesterday. She had broken open a fresh one then. Or maybe the day before. Slowly, she arrived at the conclusion. She had taken two bottles, probably two and a half, last night. And now she couldn’t remember.

Sitting down in her living room, she tried to think. What she remembered was the pain. She had hurt everywhere. It was still there, but very dull, focused on her lower body. She shivered thinking about it. Some skooma would help her get over it. That had to be why she had taken it last night. And now she had none left. So she would have to endure it. It was strange that she could remember the hurt when everything else was a blur. Maybe the skooma hadn’t been enough. Maybe it couldn’t be enough.

Time passed. Talmeni sat and tried to see if she could remember any more about last night. Had she fed? She didn’t feel too thirsty, so probably she had. Maybe she had killed somebody. No, the body in the canal had been back in Riften. Still, after two bottles, who knew. Talmeni stood up and went over to the mirror. Yes, there were dark stains on the collar. Nothing on her face, but…She pulled down the collar to reveal more of her skin. Dark smears around the collarbone. She must have remembered to wash her face, but missed the shoulders.

Talmeni frowned at her reflection for a moment. It didn’t look normal. She’d gotten used to the new ashen skin color. But it felt like there was something else. Had her eyes always been blue? She dredged her memory, but it didn’t help. She thought she could remember both red and yellow, which made no sense either. It probably didn’t matter.

She couldn’t go out like this, not while her memory was bad and the words had to be forced out one at a time. Tonight, she would have to stay in the house, keep herself busy in a way that didn’t require thinking. There were household tasks that didn’t require her to remember them after. Sweep the floors. Make the bed. Scrub the blood off the cellar floor, after Hogni had done his butchering.

She wondered for a second if Thonar had made use of the cannibals for getting rid of corpses. Probably not. The success of Cidhna mine had hinged on producing convicts, not cadavers. And somebody who owned the prison and could make the rules didn’t need to bother hiding corpses. They just added to his reputation. But it would be a while until Talmeni would have a position as secure as that. If at all, given that declaration of Molag Bal’s about the dark war calling her.

When there was no more housework, she tried to spend the night reading. Not with the illusion magic textbooks, but just the ordinary novels in the shelves. It was still hard. Not just because she felt both like reading the same thing over and over while also feeling like she was missing half the story somehow, but also because the lack of skooma was hitting hard. She needed another dose. The words on the page blurred and danced, as if wanting to say “skooma”, as if taunting her about not having a single drop left. She tried, but there weren’t even bits of residue in her bottles any more. She’d licked them dry completely.

She tried getting some blood, to at least stop one of her cravings, but after a few steps out of her house, she turned back. This wouldn’t work. She couldn’t think. She was nervous, jittery, kept playing with her knife and almost dropping it. She couldn’t sneak up to people like this.

Talmeni went to bed early, lacking other options, but couldn’t sleep. She was tired, with her thoughts aimlessly wandering through dark clouds, but at the same time too nervous, her body tossing and turning. The thoughts just didn’t go away. A few times, she thought she drifted off, but then the feverish dreams started. Memories, distorted and frightening, assaulted her, until she had to sit up and take a few steps to get the images out of her head.

Sometime around noon, she couldn’t stay indoors. The nightmares were too bad, the cravings too strong. Some fresh air and some movement might help, even if it meant facing the glare of the sun. She was used to sleeping badly, but today was worse.

Her steps got her down to the market, and into the Arnleif and Sons trading house. Lisbet was behind the counter, and looked surprised to see Talmeni. “You’re up and about early”, she commented, pausing from re-packaging some candles.

“Skooma”, Talmeni said, ignoring the comment. She held on to the counter with her free hand, to stop herself from jumping over it and sinking her teeth into Lisbet’s enticingly bare neck.

“Not in this trading company”, the merchant said, without sounding particularly offended, “Old Arnleif’s ghost would come back from the grave to throttle me if I sold things like that.”

“Really.” Talmeni put her knife away before she started dragging it over the stone counter to make a few marks. In her mind, she was thinking how profitable it would be to make Lisbet the core of a skooma smuggling ring here in Markarth. With the leverage both over the woman personally, and via Eola, Lisbet would quickly realize there were threats more dire than old ghosts. But Talmeni had not enough concentration for it today, and no time for it in the future.

Because she didn’t quite trust her own memory about it, she asked Lisbet: “When does Ri’saad come?”

“Not before this Loredas, and only if the Forsworn don’t get him.” Lisbet picked up a candle, and then put it down again. “Oh, I just remembered. My shipment from Solitude yesterday had a package for you. Some kind of custom order?”

Talmeni stared blankly for a second, before managing to unlock the pertinent memory. “Yes”, she said, “Give it to me.” It had to be the package from Margret, with the fake letters for Thongvor. Another thing that Talmeni had made great plans for, but which she would now have to put aside. Molag Bal had pointed her in a new direction, and she had promised to follow, even if it had been said with spite.

Of course, all she had right now was a name, Dimhollow Crypt. Molag Bal clearly considered her competent enough to figure out the rest on her own, or at least cunning enough to have other people figure it out for her. When Lisbet came back with the package, a small missive cylinder not unlike the one Talmeni had brought to Markarth for Maven Black-Briar, Talmeni said to her: “I need a map.”

“For sure. I have a few old ones that I’m happy to see sold. I bought them for adventurers, those always need to know where everything is. But there haven’t been many here in the Reach, not since the war started.” While talking, Lisbet wandered over to one of the shelves and pulled down a rather large cylindrical leather case. While Talmeni checked the contents, unrolling parts of the map on the counter, she continued: “Now, that would be two hundred septims, but Eola said you could also help with problems, so—”

Talmeni grabbed a handful of coins from her satchel and slammed it on the counter. “Not now”, she decided. This Dimhollow business was more important, and until Ri’saad could supply her with skooma, she would have little energy for anything else. “But get me Eola”, she ordered while making sure the amount on the counter was halfway accurate.

“That’s going to take a while”, Lisbet answered, putting the coins away.

“I know”. Talmeni mumbled goodbyes and left the store with her new acquisitions.

The short trip had done its intended work, and once she was back in her house, Talmeni fell into the bed and actually managed to close her eyes for a longer time. It was still bad, between the cravings and the nightmares, but at least she wasn’t tossing and turning.

The noise of a heartbeat and a sense of movement woke her up. Talmeni reacted without thinking, drawing her dagger and jumping off the bed. She had the blade pointed at the intruder before she even had fully opened her eyes.

Eola, as usual, appeared little disturbed by the sudden movement. She was sitting in a chair next to the bed, one of the illusion grimoires open on her lap. “I am sorry for the intrusion, but you didn’t answer to my knock, and I thought it best not to stay out in the streets.” She put the book aside and watched Talmeni with something that might have been concern.

However, Talmeni could only think of one thing right now. “Your neck”, she managed, “Come here.”

“Very well, my mistress.” Eola got out of her chair and knelt down in front of Talmeni, who shivered when seeing the bare skin offered to her.

It was hard to stop, to not just drink all of the woman’s lifeblood and revel in its power, but Talmeni managed to control herself. Eola was more valuable as an ally than as a blood bag. She took her fill, then licked the wound closed, and sat back.

“How late is it?”, Talmeni asked, feeling herself becoming more awake now that the blood was coursing through her. She still felt some skooma would dispel her remaining anxiety from the dreams, but at least she could actually put thoughts in their proper order now.

“The drunks were trying to sing Ragnar the Red as I passed the inn”, Eola answered with a faint smile, returning to her chair. That meant it was coming up to midnight, when the mead had been flowing for a while, but Kleppr had not yet decided to start throwing the more annoying patrons out. It also meant Talmeni had slept in, not surprising after not managing to sleep until noon the day before.

When Talmeni didn’t say anthing for a while, Eola added: “I heard from Hogni that you graced us with yet another delectable feast.”

“A gift from the summoning day of Molag Bal”, Talmeni answered, pulling the necklace out from under her clothes as a subtle reminder, “Make sure the others know who gave it to them.”

“I shall. We would also be delighted to offer you the first bite of our fresh meal on our great celebration to the goddess.”

Talmeni mustered Eola’s face closely to see if that sentence was meant euphemistically, but it was fruitless. Eola kept her emotions hidden well, and if she planned betrayal, there was no sign of it. For now, it appeared she was indeed willing to serve two masters at once.

“I might, if I am around”, Talmeni postponed the decision. “That’s kind of why I called you here today. I’ll have to leave on a task soon, and will likely be gone for a while. I thought you should know.”

“I will make sure the house is looked after”, Eola answered. Talmeni thought she could detect a hint of disappointment in the voice. Eola had probably expected more to happen under Talmeni’s leadership.

Talmeni glanced in the direction of the cellar with the altar, remembering the first night here. “The house will look after itself”, she commented, “But there is a matter which I need to finish up before I leave, and you’ll be the one to do it.”

“It will be a pleasure to serve”, Eola answered, with a bit more emphasis than neccessary on “pleasure”. Talmeni stood up, partly so she wouldn’t have to look at Eola’s bare shoulders. She suspected that Eola had figured out that her voice didn’t need magic to have an effect on Talmeni. It made her want to kiss that neck again.

Talmeni took the missive roll from her satchel, where she had left it yesterday, and decided to move the conversaiton out of the bedroom. She waved Eola to follow, and sat down at the table in the living room, opening up the container and pouring its contents onto the table.

There were several sheets of paper, wrapped loosely around a central solid cylinder and a small metal object. The object was a small amulet of Talos’ hammer, thoughtfully wrought in fine silver. Talmeni picked it up for a second and noticed a small “SB” monogram engraved into its clasp. Just perfect, she thought.

Eola sat down quietly and watched as Talmeni inspected the rest. The sheets were letters, in different handwriting and on different stock, all signed openly or circumspectly with what she assumed were Stormcloak supporter names. Margret had done her work well.

“The letters need to be placed in Thongvor Silver-Blood’s private office”, Talmeni explained while taking the paper-wrapped cylinder. She didn’t need to unwrap it to know it was a roll of coins, payment for her betrayal. She broke off about a third by slamming it against the edge of the table and placed that in front of Eola while continuing: “Put them all over the place, but make sure they can be found. Some on his desk, some in whatever he uses as books, some in the waste. Maybe one behind the fireback in the fireplace, a bit charred.”

Eola left the coins where they were and picked up one of the letters to read. Her face didn’t move, and neither did she show any emotion when Talmeni also pushed the amulet towards her with the words: “Once that is done, find a good citizen, and have them deliver this amulet to Ondolemar, the Thalmor Justiciar up in Understone Keep. Have them explain that they found it among Thongvor Silver-Bloods things. Maybe he dropped it in the market, or something.”

“An elaborate downfall for a man who has outlived his usefulness”, Eola commented, rolling the letters back up and putting them inside the cylinder.

Talmeni suspected she knew the implicit question there. And truth be told, making an example like that of people was a good, and very likey Molag Bal approved way of keeping other underlings in line. But right now, Eola needed reassurance, not threats. “It’s not about his usefulness”, she explained, “He was just outbid by his rivals, who want him out of the way. And their way is less of a hassle for than the Silver-Blood name is. He might be losing his money, but Thongvor is still the power around these parts, on the glory of his family alone. It keeps the whole house up. Take it away, and everything crumbles.”

Leaning back and twirling her dagger, Talmeni continued with a grin. “It’s going to be a time of opportunity. The Empire will move in and try to take over Cidhna mine, but I think they won’t be the only ones. Some quick words in the right ears, and it will be raining money for you and yours. Lisbet could lend her knowledge in shipping to the Empire in carting their new silver to Solitude. She might even end up running the whole thing. All Banning needs is a nudge at the right man, and he could have his hounds be the ones guarding the mine. As for you, well, there will be a lot of smelters out of work in the Warrens once Thongvor has been dragged off. Lots of wretched, downtrodden masses, looking for some comfort. Your Lady of Decay can give that, can’t she?”

“All this playing at power, this scheming and plotting, is not her way”, Eola said softly, playing with the small stack of coins in front of her, “But it is yours, so if you command it, I will do it.”

“It’s not a command”, Talmeni said with a shrug. “Just a suggestion. It’s what I would do in your place, to take care of my own. Lisbet does seem desperate for a windfall, so why not use this to give her one?”

“She has asked for help in that regard”, Eola confirmed, looking somewhat through Talmeni as she tought.

Remembering her conversation with her, Talmeni said: “She mentioned it to me, but I don’t have time to hear her out. I’ve got to find Dimhollow Crypt.” She got out the large leather case holding her new map, pulled out the large parchment, and pinned it against one of the shelves so she could have a look at the entirety of it. “You don’t happen to know where it is, do you?”, she asked conversationally while letting her eyes wander over the parchment. There were a lot of markings on it, for settlements as well as caves, with some triangles here and there to mark the mountain chains.

“A name like this, I would surely remember.”

“So not a recent burial site, then”, Talmeni joked, although her heart was sinking. It took a week to travel from here to Windhelm at the other end of Skyrim, and that was in a straight line. Stopping to look for old tombs on the way would take ten times that, and would still only cover a tiny part of the whole.

“Magic may reveal it to you, if you try it”, Eola commented from her chair.

Talmeni shrugged. She’d read the passage in the grimoire where it had been mentioned that the school of Illusion could grant powers akin to prophecy, so she understood what the other woman was hinting at. “I’ve tried learning it, but it’s not for me”, Talmeni revealed, turning around.

“It seems that like for me, your talent lies in words and minds. You and I, we can twist the desires and wishes of the common folk to suit our needs.”

“That’s not the only talent you have, is it?”, Talmeni asked sharply, turning around. It had been on her mind ever since the first meeting, but she’d not found the right way to broach the topic until now. “You managed to sneak up to me, even though I can hear people’s heartbeats from a room away.”

“It’s not a rare skill to find among illusionists”, Eola said, as usual not appearing to react the slightest to harsher tones, “But yes, I am quite adept in bending sound and light around myself, and to disappear. That is why you ask me to deliver this, is it not?” She held up the roll full of incriminating messages.

“You managed to eat corpses while Verulus was snoring a turning in the corridor away, that’s why you’re doing this. Although it’s good to know how.” Talmeni made a note to maybe invest into a few more advanced grimoires, and to learn that talent herself. While there were better ways to move unnoticed than being invisible, it had its value when it came to targets you couldn’t manipulate any other way. That included getting past living corpses, something Talmeni suspected she would have to do inside Dimhollow Crypt, if she ever found it.

“Is there a time when you wish me to deliver this?”, Eola asked, apparently back to business. Talmeni sat back down to give her the attention she deserved.

“Not as such”, she decided, “Sometime over the coming days. If you need a distraction, I can arrange something.” Talmeni doubted it was neccessary, and of course being personally involved would be somewhat of a risk, but it seemed worth it. And with her leaving, it was acceptable to burn a few bridges if it meant getting the job done.

“I will make my own arrangements”, Eola said, stowing the letters, the amulet and her pay inside her pockets.

Talmeni saw her off, then sat down with the map of Skyrim again. While it had many little markers, it had few labels. There were settlements and inns with names, and a few apparently notable landmarks. But none of the tombs marked had a name that sounded related to Dimhollow.

Nevertheless, after all the years of just living in the place, Talmeni found herself actually learning about Skyrim’s geography for once. Until a month ago, her world had consisted of the city of Riften and the insides of skooma bottles. Even the two-day trip, if it had been that long, to the Redwater Den had been unusual. She’d heard people talk of Windhelm and Solitude, but just as quickly forgot about it again, and never bothered to learn the where and the why. Although she wasn’t sure if Molag Bal had to be taken literally about a coming war, with armies and territories, she felt that a better understanding of the lay of the land couldn’t hurt.

The next few evenings, she did her best to find out where Dimhollow Crypt was located. The regulars of the Silver-Blood inn were no help, with didn’t surprise her, as they moved as little from their homes as she had in Riften. A few sell-swords who were visiting tried their best, although only after Talmeni made them talkative with a bit of magic. They had heard of many places, but none of them had heard of this one. All it amounted to were many places that Talmeni could be sure the crypt wasn’t at.

She had hoped to have a lead by the time Eola finished her job, but that hope was thwarted quickly. The whole thing worked perfectly, but Talmeni couldn’t enjoy it was much as Margret probably would, once word reached Solitude. The Thalmor were forced to lay siege to the treasury house to get Thongvor out, and by the time they had gotten the door open, they didn’t even need the letters any more. He’d shouted his belief in Talos loudly in the streets, before dying in a blaze of Nord glory, sword in hand.

The jarl had been forced to confiscate all the Silver-Blood property, given the situation, and Talmeni was sure in the coming weeks the legal bloodbath about the ownership would begin. There were distant branches of the Silver-Bloods who would claim inheritance, heresy notwithstanding. Kleppr was considering petitioning the jarl to get proper ownership of his inn, instead of just renting it. The Thalmor apparently talked about reparations the city had to pay them, and word was already going around that the Empire was hoping to buy. That last one surprised Talmeni, since it hadn’t been her that had started them.

However, it meant that it was the only thing the city was willing to talk about. She tried her best to guide conversations back to her problem, but her magic wasn’t enough, and her patience worn thin after all the nights without skooma. Two or three sentences into a conversation, she already found herself no longer listening, fidgeting and forgetting. Her mind wanted to forget, to lose itself in that complete bliss that came with downing a full bottle of skooma. She hadn’t realized just how much the small doses had helped her keep it together.

It hindered her in everything. She slept badly. She couldn’t focus on housework, or on preparing for her journey. She made rookie mistakes when trying to find blood. One night, she was almost discovered when she suddenly started muttering to herself shortly before reaching the guard she’d planned to drain. And even though she had bought a few more grimoires to learn more Illusion magic, she couldn’t read them without immediately putting them aside to start pacing.

To make matters worse, Ri’saad was late. He didn’t arrive on Loredas as usual, and Talmeni almost snapped and stabbed a guard when venturing out of the city to find the tent of the Khajiit missing. She didn’t hunt that night, just locked herself into her house and passed the time by staring at some random novel without actually absorbing any of the words.

Sundas came around, and she close to sprinted out of the gate as soon as she got up in the evening. And thankfully, there he was, stirring a pot of fondue next to his tent while his two guards were shovelling a bit of snow aside. Ri’saad was as happy as always to sell this late in the day, and of course had a few bottles of skooma he was willing to sell her for a reasonable price.

“This one enjoys seeing a loyal customer”, he said, his purring tone turning slightly concerned as he saw the speed with which Talmeni grabbed the bottles after she had handed over the coin. “But be careful with the sugar, yes? You are not Khajiit, it is very dangerous to overuse.”

Talmeni sighed. “I know.” She measured out a drop on the tip of her thumb, then forced herself to put the cork back in the bottle and put it inside her satchel, before licking the sweet nectar off her skin. The sugary taste alone was bliss to her craving mind, and for a moment she just stood there, eyes closed, savoring that sensation and relaxation.

Ri’saad watched silently, stroking his ruff. When she stopped with her reverie and turned towards him again, he asked: “Is there anything else Khajiit can provide you? This one had recently received fresh wares from Cyrodiil. You would like a bottle of flin, yes?”

Talmeni considered it for a moment, but shook her head. “No. But if you’ve heard of a place called Dimhollow Crypt, I’d be grateful if you could tell me about it.”

The trader, who had opened one of his crates in anticipation of making a deal, shook his head. “This one has not heard of this place. The caravans stay away from the old tombs and their dangers.” He moved to close the crate, then hesitated. “Although…” He packed up and walked back to Talmeni. “This one remembers Ma’dran mentioning something. He talked of it when meeting in Whiterun, several moons ago. His caravan had sheltered with the warriors of S’rendarr, the ones you call Vigilants, yes? They told stories of their past, and one said their house stood watch over a dim hollow. Khajiit thought it odd, that is why this one remembers.”

“Are you sure?”, Talmeni asked, surprised to find a clue from this unlikely source.

He shook his head. “Ri’saad cannot be sure. Those were words from another Khajiit, and this one might not remember right after many moons.”

“Still.” Talmeni counted a few more coins into his hand. “It’s worth gold to me.” The Hall of the Vigilants was on her map, in the wide Red Road Pass that connected the lands of Whiterun and Dawnstar. Even if the rumor was true and it had been burned down, maybe there she would find a clue pointing her to the right direction. After failing to find anything of value here in Markarth, she was willing to go out on a limb and check whereever there was a slight hope of better pickings.

And as luck would have it, Kibell would leave for Whiterun the day after tomorrow, so she could just quickly pack and leave. Waving the Khajiit trader goodbye, she headed back into the city, her now calm head filling up with plans about what to do and what to take.

She bought herself some travel gear from Lisbet that evening, although she didn’t expect to need most of it. The fur-lined mantle was mostly for show, to make any humans she met not wonder about her not feeling the cold. But some solid boots with hobnails for trudging through the snow and some tinder for starting a fire were useful even to a vampire. She left her dagger to be sharpened over the day by Ghorza the smith, and also decided to get a few potions of health and magica from Bothela the alchemist. On top of the backpack went her illusion grimoires and the map. The many-day travel would give her some time to read and train.

When waking up the next evening, Talmeni realized it was time to say goodbye to people who might miss her. Lisbet of course would not be surprised, not after the purchases yesterday, but there was one person that Talmeni thought she needed to talk to before leaving.

She found Rhiada at the treasury house, still sitting at the counter but busy with a large stack of ledgers, which she was apparently reading and comparing very carefully. “The treasury house is closed”, she said when hearing the door opening, without even looking up. “Oh. It’s you”, she added when Talmeni sauntered up to the counter.

“How are you doing?”, Talmeni asked, feeling a bit guilty for having killed Rhiada’s employer. The treasury house had been this woman’s chance at a better life, and now it was gone.

“Busy”, Rhiada said with a sigh, gesturing at the books around her, “The jarl has put me in charge of managing the Silver-Blood possessions until he has decided who to give them to.”

“Let me guess, double bookkeeping, and it doesn’t add up?” Talmeni knew how that worked. When there were transactions you needed to hide from the law, the accounting could get very creative. After all, you had to still keep track to make sure your hired help, even if it was under the table, didn’t cost you more than you could afford.

Rhiada nodded, but clearly had no patience for jokes. “What do you want? I don’t think I need whatever services you offered Thongvor.”

“No, I just wanted to give you a gift”, Talmeni said, rummaging in her satchel. “To make sure you and your child are taken care of. I’ll be leaving for a while, and thought…” She placed the roll of coins on the counter, but found herself unable to finish the sentence.

What she wanted to say was that she would have liked to find out how it felt to kiss Rhiada’s soft lips. That she looked very good in that dress. That maybe they could have gone for a bottle of wine, or even shein, down at the inn someday. That Talmeni would have been willing to be the one to take care of her and her child, even if she couldn’t replace Eltrys. That if not for Molag Bal and the threat of a dark war, Talmeni would have loved to find out if maybe there was some future here for her, a loving if domestic one.

But all she managed to say was: “I thought I would say goodbye.” She moved the roll of coins a bit closer, then stepped away. “Take care.”

“You too”, Rhiada said, a bit confused. She eyed the coins, which represented over a month’s wages for her, and then added, still confused: “Thank you.”

Talmeni left, cursing herself for being unable to say things. But it was too much to put on the woman, especially with only a single night left for her to process it. It was probably better this way, too. If she had said no, Talmeni would have needed to carry that heartbreak with her on her travels. This way, there was just unrequited pining, and that would fade, as it so often had.

Chapter Text

She packed her things and cleaned up the house a bit, passing time until sunrise when the carriage would leave. Talmeni made a short visit to the altar in the cellar, as a gesture of respect, but didn’t expect the Daedric Prince to react, and was not surprised when he stayed silent. She doubted he would have much to say until she had retrieved this weapon and won the war.

The carriage was as empty on this trip as it had been on her last. People avoided travelling during the dark months in general, and the few who joined her on the way to Whiterun were doing so to be with their families for the New Life festival that was coming up with the end of the year. None of them asked questions about her falling asleep moments into the trip, and staying up late as the rest went into their tents that evening.

She used the time well, reading her books, practising the light- and sound-bending spells described within. The same landmarks went by as on the last trip. There was the old Hroldan inn, there was the tiny village of Granite Hills, then Fort Greymoor and finally Whiterun on its hill in the tundra. From there, it was only one more day’s trip until Fort Dunstad, where she had to leave the carriage and continue on foot. The carriage there left very early in the day, long before people usually got up, as it was a large distance to cover in a single leg. With the snowy weather and dark nights, the carriage could not make a stop in the wilderness. Especially on a journey north this late in the year, the chance to run into a frost troll, ice wraith, or merely to freeze to death because the fire got blown out was just too high.

It suited Talmeni just fine, but Bjorlam the driver complained about it a lot, especially when she turned out to be the only passenger in his cart on the trip. She let him curse and stretched out on the bench to have some more relaxing sleep in a better pose than her usual wedging into a corner.

Dunstad as a fort turned out to be a bit different from the ones she had visited before. While there were also soldiers patrolling the walls, there was an inn outside the main keep, where she would be quartered for the night. It was a small place, with fewer beds than even the old Hroldan inn, but the owner was friendly and offered a late dinner free of charge.

“Have you ever heard of a Dimhollow Crypt?”, she asked him after a few spoonfuls of his nourishing soup.

“I might have”, he said, rubbing his neck, “The name sounds familiar, at least, but I can’t place it right now. Give me a moment, maybe I will remember.”

“No hurry”, Talmeni said, skewering a piece of unidentified meat with her dagger and lifting it out of the broth.

Bjorlam had moved off to bed and Talmeni finished her soup despite her deliberate slow speed when the innkeeper came around again. “Yes, I got it! It’s from some old story a Vigilant once told me. There was some kind of prophecy about their Hall, apparently. They built it here, to watch Dimhollow Crypt, for as long as the hall stood, the evil within would sleep.”

“Oh dear”, Talmeni said with a cruel smile, “And now vampires burned it down. At least that’s what the rumors said.”

“I’m not surprised that bit of news has spread. Yes, it’s true. The hall is burned down. We could see the flames from here, and a patrol rushed out to help, but it was too late.” He shook his head sadly. “There’s half the building left now, at most. The Vigilants all went south, to some old tower in the Rift, to regroup there.”

“Hm”. Talmeni wasn’t particularly unhappy to know there would be no Vigilants between her and her target, but it also limited her sources of information. “Did that old story mention where Dimhollow Crypt is?”

“I, hm.” The inkeeper looked into empty space for a moment. “I don’t think so. Although if you’re resolved to go there, the old mountain trail might be the best place to start looking.”

“Why?” Talmeni got out her map and spread it onto the counter.

“Some Vigilant said once it’s a good thing people can’t get up that way without them noticing.” He leaned over and pointed along the lines of jagged peaks decorating the map. “The hall is here, and the path runs along here, up to the peak. Doesn’t lead anywhere, as far as I know, you just end up near the top and then can go down the slope the tundra side. Some adventurer said it looped back here, if you follow it far enough, but I’m not sure what to make of that.” He tried to yawn surreptitiously, but failed. “If there’s anything more, maybe ask me tomorrow.”

“I might”, Talmeni said, “Don’t stay up just because of me.” She had another look at the map. There was a crypt marked close to where the innkeeper had pointed, although it looked more like it was at the base of the hills, instead of up the slope. She tried to judge the distance. It was maybe an hour from here to the hall, but the path to the peak went parallel to the mountain ridge, if the innkeeper’s finger could be trusted. Going it up the entire way would probably take more than a day.

After the inkeeper had stumbled off to his bedroom in the cellar, Talmeni had a quick drink from Bjorlam, before picking up her backpack and heading outside. There was some snow being blown about by the wind, but the sky was clear in places, and the moons clearly visible. Enough to make her sure of her heading, even if she found herself lost in the woods.

As she marched through the deep snow, thankful for her new boots, the lights of Fort Dunstad disappeared in the forest behind her, and quickly she was all alone, with only the fir trees around her, the snow below and the sky above. She could sometimes see a few animals passing her in the distance, but she could spot them before they saw her, and made a detour to avoid them.

It was more than an hour later that Talmeni was at the foot of the slope that led up to the hall, but she saw that there was no point in approaching it. It was indeed only a burned-out skeleton of a building. The snow had covered what remained with a thick blanket, and she doubted there was anything of worth under it to dig for. The soldiers and whatever Vigilants that had survived had surely picked the place clean.

Instead, she kept going on, to look for the mountain path the inkeeper had mentioned. While the hall itself was built at the bottom of a sharp cliff, to its left and right the slopes did level out a bit, and could likely hold some small path that led further up. It took her another half hour, but finally she did spot it, hidden from the approach of the hall by a rock spur. It began in what was probably a small streambed in summer, a small gully carved in the rock, and from there wound up along the mountainside.

As she climbed, the rocks to her right quickly fell away, leaving the path as not much more than a small shelf running between cliffs on both sides, rearing up to the south and falling away to the north. Here and there, there were signs that humans sometimes used the path. Cairns marked the edge of the drop in places, and in others there was old, worn-down scoring in the rock that might once have been steps. But in others, rockfalls had covered part of the path, and she had to scramble carefully over them, always worrying she wouldn’t be able to pick out the trail on the other side.

On good days, it probably would have afforded quite a view, as according to the map, from here the land fell away without further hills until the Sea of Ghosts to the north. But tonight, the flurries of snow were thick, and turned the view to the north into a shifting nebula of white, obscuring not only the distance but also the long drop to the ground. Even with her night vision, Talmeni was thankful for the cairns to warn her of turnings in the path. But her attention was more focused on the southern side of the path, because if there was a crypt around, that would be where the entrance could be found. She hoped it was still there, and not buried under some rockslide.

Talmeni kept going, with few breaks, not wishing to be found sleeping out here in the desolation. It wouldn’t be people, but she had no doubts that wolves would feel emboldened by her death-like appearance to dare a bite. Even though she kept pushing, she knew she was slowing down. Even for a vampire, climbing a mountain was hard work, and even this mostly gentle slop did wear her down. She was leaning against one of the cairns for a breather when the sun came up, chasing away the colors of the night and outlining everything in the sharp glare of the day.

In the sunlight, the swirling snow was a blanket of gleaming white, overwhelming her eyes. She could barely see the end of her outstretched hands as she stumbled on, trying to find any shelter for the day. Half-blind, she kept close to the rock wall, always touching it to make sure she wasn’t lost and fell down the side of the mountain without seeing.

Her foot stumbled over some rough ground, and as she caught herself before falling completely, she saw that it was some old steps. They did not run across the path, but rather went parallel to it, going up the mountainside. Talmeni followed them, relieved to find any break from the monotony that was that old path, and quickly found herself in a small cleft in the rock.

She was ready to collapse right here and now, but decided to follow it a bit further in, to have better protection against the sun and the wolves. Squeezing herself through the tight gap, she found that the cleft indeed went on, leading further into the mountain. Her eyes, now freed of the tyrannical glare of the sun, could make out that this had been worked stone once, before the mountainside had slipped and carried it along.

After a moment, the gap widened into a corridor, lined with alcoves cut into the walls on both sides. A crypt, Talmeni thought, but could feel no elation. All she wanted was sleep. She took off her backpack, stowed it in one of the alcoves, then crept into the one below, and laid down to close her eyes.

Her sleep was dreamless, a nice reprieve from the usual nightmares, but still short. She wasn’t sure what had woken her up, but it didn’t feel like it had been very long since she’d closed her eyes. She already held her dagger ready when she opened her eyes carefully, watching and listening to figure out what had interrupted her sleep. If it had been a noise, who or whatever had made it now made sure not to make another one. Maybe it had just been her anxiety. The lack of skooma was nagging at her.

She’d forced herself to endure, to be happy with a thumb-drop every second night, and only one in the nights in between if it really got too much. But it was hard, because every time she got out the bottle, she could feel the temptation of just emptying it all out and to experience the proper bliss of a rush, instead of just tasting some sweetness that made the jitters go away. She’d not taken any yesterday during the climb, and now it was coming back to haunt her.

Even though it pained her to do so, she didn’t get out the skooma bottle. Right now, she didn’t trust herself to get the dose right, to just stop at a drop. And she needed to be sharp when exploring an old tomb. Nervous muttering she might suppress with her new spells, but if her mind went skipping during a fight, like it had with Logrolf, then it would probably end badly. This time, there wouldn’t be blood to drink, or Molag Bal to provide a distraction.

When nothing happened, she carefully slid out of her sleeping place. The crypt laid as bare and lifeless as it had last morning when she had arrived. And it certainly was one, Talmeni saw that a few of the alcoves were occupied by tightly wrapped mummies. Like the place itself, they looked ancient.

The adventurers she had asked talked a lot about old burial tombs like this, and usually the first thing they said that the tales of treasure weren’t as true as you’d hope, but that the tales of danger were fully accurate. There would be traps and walking dead, ready to turn the old tomb into the last resting place of yet another body.

Still, there was nothing she could do except explore, to see if that weapon that Molag Bal had mentioned was still there. Talmeni hoped she was in the right place, and that there weren’t further crypts along the mountain path that she could confuse with Dimhollow.

She wove two of the spells she had trained over the journey, one to quieten the noises the made, and the other to blend her into the background. It wasn’t full invisivility, but good enough to be unseen when moving slowly and in the darkness. She could make herself fully invisible if needed, but it cost her much to maintain the spell, so she made do with the lesser for now.

After a moment of consideration, she left the backpack where it was, but took a health and magica potion out of it and put them into her satchel. All the extra weight from the pack would slow her down, and it was unlikely anyone would come by to rifle through it. But a bit of insurance against injury in the form of the potions wouldn’t hurt.

The crypt corridor was dead quiet and lifeless. Talmeni kept her steps light and her eyes trained on the ground to make sure she wasn’t triggering any traps, but the ground was solid, and nothing happened as she went further and further in.

In the ages since the crypt’s use, the mountain had shifted, severing the once straight corridors. The rents in the stone had formed natural caverns interrupting the hewn stone of the crypt itself, but thankfully it appeared nothing had actually collapsed. Talmeni could always pick up the paths of the old structure on the far side of the interruptions.

There were side passages and larger rooms, and the path did wind, both sideways and up and down, but nevertheless it was simple enough that Talmeni couldn’t get lost. She wandered slowly through the old places, staring at open and closed sarcophagi and poking her dagger at old, long since rotten books.

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. An instrument of dominance, Molag Bal had said, but she doubted he meant the rusty old swords and axes some of the corpses were buried with. Weapons like that were clearly common, and hardly something to fight a war over. She took out her amulet from under the clothes and looked at the pincer-flanked noseless face for a moment, but that was no help either.

It wasn’t clear to her that this was Dimhollow Crypt, and that if it was, that the weapon was still here. Other vampires had burned down the Hall of the Vigilants, and Talmeni imagined they had done it because of that prophecy. Now, with the hall gone, whatever slumbered in this crypt could wake up. But that had happened months ago, and even if they hadn’t known where Dimhollow crypt was, they would surely have stumbled over it in less than a month. But then again, Molag Bal had sent her here even though the hall had already been long burned. Maybe whoever had done it had done it merely to get the Vigilants out of the way, not because of some old prophecy.

She reached the final room of the crypt. It was a strange, funnel-like thing, with a huge circle of stairs leading down into a small central pit. On the far side the stairs made a detour around an outcropping flat area, just wide enough for a throne. It was occupied by a corpse, mummified and shriveled like all others she had seen, but clad in rusty armor. Behind it, there was a large wall with some kind of writing on it, probably talking about whatever great deeds this long-dead chieftain had performed. On his knees was a large sword, free from rust despite its age. Its dark lustre was somewhat familiar to Talmeni, as she had seen a few weapons like it a long time before. Ebony, the most expensive and difficult to forge metal of all, and only the very rich and powerful could afford weapons made of it.

For a moment, she considered that maybe this was the weapon, but she doubted it. It was valuable and sharp, but not really an instrument of dominance capable of starting a war. And Molag Bal had offered his mace as reward, if she proved herself worthy. It made little sense therefore to ask her to first prove herself with a sword.

She left the weapon and its owner where it was, and sat down on the stairs. This felt like a dead end. She was either missing something obvious, or was simply in the wrong place. She wondered if maybe the runes behind the throne held some clue, but they weren’t in any script she could decipher, and far too large to make a rubbing.

Slowly, she mentally went through all the rooms she had seen, if there had been anything unusual about them. She was no expert on these kinds of tombs, but to her untrained eyes, it had all fit together. Walls and decorations of rough stone, their edges rounded from either time or the sculptor’s hands, with spiraling sworls covering much.

She head a faint pop, and realised that she had taken out a bottle of skooma without thinking about it. The uncertainty was giving her a headache, and some part of her knew what kind of remedy it wanted against that. Her idle fingers had even taken the stopper out already, but she forced it back on. Once she was back at the entrance, she promised herself.

Looking back up from her satchel, Talmeni realized that there was something strange about this room. The stairs leading down, they looked like they were meant to hold an audience, for something to happen down in the pit. But it was a very small pit, certainly not enough for a theatre peformance, or even a fight. And in both cases, the small waist-high column in its centre would have been rather in the way. Maybe it was for swearing some oath to the old king, although she wasn’t sure why people would venture into a tomb in masses to do so.

That grey, five-sided column looked out of place. It was out of place, Talmeni realized. It was a different stone, not the yellow-brown of the rest of the crypt, but some dark grey like the volcanic stones of Morrowind. And it, and the floor around it, had been carved by someone different, who went for clear edges and flat slabs of stone, not the almost grown look of the original tomb.

Intrigued, she went closer. The grey stone wasn’t completely flat and bare. On the small top surface of the column, there was a depression, shaped like a hand and inlaid with metal. Not having anything better to go on, Talmeni went and put her hand into the depression.

She flinched, and had to suppress a scream as some hidden button reacted instantly. A spike shot up from the colum, piercing her palm and fixing her in place. It was huge and glistened with blood, but Talmeni didn’t notice much more as the pain forced her to her knees. The spike had grated against bone and spread her palm apart in a way that made her stomach heave.

And then, it disappeared, and Talmeni pulled back her stricken hand as quick as lightning, scrambling away from that strange trap. She hoped the spike had’t been poisoned, and vaguely wondered why the trap was so elaborate, requiring the victim to specifically place their hand on it. But mostly she stared at her palm, where blood flowed from a wound that she imagined she could actually see through.

Thus, she jumped when all of a sudden there was a noise filling the old crypt. With the ponderous grinding of stone against stone, the entire centre of the pit rose up as a man-high and also more than man-wide column. Purple flashes of magic played over its surface until it came to a stop as sudden as its rising. Before Talmeni could react, two of the five sides opened up on creaking hinges, revealing that the column was hollow, and occupied.

Inside was a human corpse, better preserved than any of those Talmeni had seen. It had been a young woman, clad in a well-made leather corset and matching pants, her hair braided rather extensively to keep it out of the still fresh-looking face. Between the effect of the corset and the wide lips, Talmeni felt a pang of regret that she was only meeting this woman after her death.

The support at the front missing now that the doors had opened, the corpse flopped forward, revealing that on her back, she carried an ornate golde tube, almost longer than her torso, with leather-wrapped handles on both sides and a large gem set in the middle.

Talmeni had heard enough stories to know what this was, an Elder Scroll. They were some kind of godly artifacts, or maybe leftovers from some previous world, or something. The stories were all rather outlandish, but agreed on one thing, that in terms of power and value, the Elder Scrolls were beyond compare. They were said to contain extremely accurate prophecies, prophecies that only they themselves could change. Now, she understood. This was clearly the instrument of domination that Molag Bal had spoken of, and certainly was something worthy to start a war over, unlike some old sword.

Distracted by the Elder Scroll, Talmeni didn’t notice that the corpse didn’t fall all the way to the ground, but thrust out an arm and caught herself. Only as the woman stumbled back upright did Talmeni notice that this stranger wasn’t as dead as she had first looked.

“Uhn…where is…”, she muttered, her yellow eyes slowly focusing on Talmeni. The stranger frowned. “What kind of vampire are you?”, she asked, her tone becoming sharper, “Who sent you?”

“You can tell?”, Talmeni asked, surprised, before remembering that Eola had managed to sense her hunger, and that other Daedra worshippers might be able to do the same.

The woman continued to look surprised. “You think I can’t tell my own kind? I smelled you almost before my eyes were open.”

“Really?” Talmeni wasn’t too surprised to discover this woman was a vampire. A normal human couldn’t have survived in that stone coffin for more than a day. “Well, I can’t tell yet”, she said conversationally while rummaging through her pack to get out the health potion. Her bleeding hand demanded attention. “I guess I’ll have to get a closer sniff of you to learn.”

The stranger blinked. “That sounds…maybe more intimate than you might have intended.”

“Does it?” Talmeni winked at her, popped the cork from the bottle and emptied potion into her mouth.

“Still, what happened to your skin? Why is it grey like that?”

Talmeni stared at the stranger for a moment, unable to believe. “You’ve never seen a Dunmer before?”

“No. I…I might have been asleep longer than we planned.”

For a moment, Talmeni was ready to laugh at the idea that anybody could survive from the mythic times, before remembering that she was facing an immortal. And this tomb was old, as old as the old age of the dragons, if some of the adventurers could be believed. “Well, my people have been dark-skinned since the last days of Resdayn, something like four thousand years ago”, she said, putting the empty potion bottle away. “And usually we’re even darker. Vampirism has made me a bit ashen.”

“Yes, definetly longer than intended, then. Can you—”

A noise, almost inaudible over the talking, alerted Talmeni. She pressed one hand against the woman’s mouth and pushed her back into the coffin as the nearest hiding place. At least that was the plan, the stranger turned out to be more awake than expected even after four thousand years of sleep. She twisted and ducked, throwing Talmeni off and pulling a dagger from her belt. Talmeni landed and rolled, her own dagger already drawn.

She got into a crouch, ready to spring, while trying to both keep an eye on the woman, who was now summoning some kind of magic in her left hand as well as looking around for whatever had made that unexpected noise.

It came into view from behind one of the columns that held up the sagging roof of the room, and Talmeni cursed. It was the dead chieftain, having gotten off his throne and now walking about with a blue gleam in the dead eyes and the ebony sword held in his withered hand. Apparently, few of the corpses in this tomb had the courtesy of actually being dead.

He made some kind of gurgle when seeing Talmeni, and shambled down the stairs at an unexpected speed. Talmeni jumped backwards as the undead thing brought its sword around, hacking at her head. Old battle reflexes rushed back.

Keep looking at the eyes, not on the blade. Loose stance, no crossover steps. Don’t try to block a longsword with a dagger. Wait for an opening, then rush in. Grab the arms, lock the blade. When grappling, the dagger had the upper hand.

Talmeni jumped and danced, forced back by the blade thrust at her face. The uneven ground of the funnel-like stairs made it had to keep her footing. There were moments she would have loved to use, if not for the fact that she didn’t have a proper stance to lunge.

There was a bolt of magic, coming from the other vampire, who kept her distance. It was like a lance of red and black, hitting the undead chieftain in the shoulder. Talmeni wasn’t sure whom it had been aimed at, but she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

As the dead man turned to look at the other foe, she lunged. Left hand grabbed his sword arm, twisted it with her as she moved behind his back, right arm came around with the dagger from the other side, aimed for the throat. It was almost automatic, a maneuver drilled into her long ago.

The throat she dragged the knife over didn’t feel like flesh at all, more like she was trying to cut through a book. While the thing started wheezing and gurgling in a different tone through the hole, it didn’t stop moving. It heaved with its free shoulder, throwing Talmeni off, then turned around as she stumbled backwards.

A stair got under Talmeni’s foot, and she slipped, barely managing to catch herself from rolling away. It had been stupid to use that move, because it very much relied on the enemy being unable to react once the throat was gone. And now she would pay for it.

Another bolt of magic hit the undead thing in the back, and it paused from delivering a downward slash at the prone Talmeni. Under its grey shriveled skin, something moved, in a disconcerting, almost wriggling way, spreading from the impact spot and quickly covering the thing’s entire body.

And then it exploded. The skin just burst off with a tearing noise, ripping into tiny fragments and splattering over quite a large radius. Through the grey haze of floating bits of undead, Talmeni could vaguely see the corpses’s remaining body slumping and falling over. The sword clattered against the stairs and rolled away.

“What was that?”, she asked once she managed to find her voice.

“Blood magic”, the other woman explained, lowering her hands and putting the dagger away, “A bit of a family specialty, you could say. I’m happy it worked, these draugr don’t have a lot of blood to affect.”

Talmeni wiped a piece of suprisingly greasy skin off her face. “Warn me next time.” She didn’t want to look down and see what that stuff had done to her clothes. Scrambling back onto her feet, she gave the now skin-less cadaver a quick kick, causing it to roll down a few steps, but thankfully it didn’t react otherwise.

“I’m sorry. Still, good thing I still remembered how to cast this, after four thousand years.” The stranger sounded a bit shaken, but stood up straighter to hide it. “By the way…my name is Serana. Good to meet you.”

“Talmeni. Three blessings, and all that”, she said half as a joke before remembering that it would mean nothing to Serana.

“Now, as I was trying to—”

“Sshh” Talmeni didn’t try to hold her mouth shut again, but thankfully the sushing did the trick. Serana paused to listen, and also noticed the sound of footsteps coming from the passage above. “Seems your little magic trick made enough noise to wake up the rest of them”, Talmeni commented, getting her dagger ready.

Serana also got her magic ready again, but their waiting was interrupted by a startling sequence of noises. There was a cracking, followed by a crash that sounded worryingly like stone, and then a roar, so deep and loud one could feel it through the feet.

And then it came through the door, a luckless walking corpse in one massive paw as it charged to ram that thing into the ground and instead found the ground falling away. Talmeni had seen that shape before, the hulking body, the wings on the back, the horned, bat-like face. It had been a statue near the entrance of the room, which Talmeni had vaguely registered but forgotten about immediately as just part of the scenery. Now it was rolling down the stairs, entangled with a draugr and followed by a gaggle of them, weapons at the ready.

Serana grabbed Talmeni’s hand and held her back. “Don’t. This one is on our side, I think.” And indeed, the thing, after dispatching what remained of its foe after the fall, took a short look at Serana and then turned around to deal with the rest of them. “One of my mother’s gargoyles. She had a bit of a thing for magical constructs.” Looking at Talmeni’s face, she added: “ Not…not what you’re thinking. She just found them fascinating.”

“Was I thinking that?”, Talmeni answered with an overly innocent tone. Serana as a vampire couldn’t blush, but she still looked embarrassed.

“Come on”, she said, raising one hand to cast magic.

This time it was Talmeni who grabbed the arm and pulled it back. “No. No more noises. We do this my way”, she said, “We sneak past them while they’re distracted. Hold still, I’ll put a spell on you.”

It was harder than expected to adapt the camouflage spell to affect somebody else, but the gargoyle seemed to hold out for now, giving Talmeni time for a few tries. She breathed a sigh of relief when Serana’s outline blurred. She quickly cast the spell on herself, grabbed the other vampire’s hand and pulled her past the rather brutal melee happening halfway up the stairs.

The gargoyle seemed to be enjoying itself, if that was appropriate for a stone construct. There were certainly a lot of flying limbs as it tore into the undead. However, neither side seemed to have any self-preservation instinct, and the draugr had bigger numbers. Their rusty swords had already managed to score a few deep cuts into the stone skin of the gargoyle. It would not last forever.

In a moment when it wasn’t blocked by incoming draugr, Talmeni slipped through the door, and quickly led Serana back through the tomb. The noises of battle faded behind them, but they had to pay more attention to was was in front. A few rooms down, the undead had gotten up from their resting places, but now wandered around aimlessly, not as interested in the noises as Talmeni expected. She was thankful of the absolute darkness of the tomb, her spells, and noiselessness of their vampire bodies. They could hold their breath indefinetly, and their hearts were almost still, so that if they didn’t move, there was nothing to mark their position.

Talmeni dropped the spells when they reached the entrance and breathed a deep breath of relief and exhaustion. Keeping up the magic that long for two people had drained her farther than she had expected.

“This place looked pretty different from when I was locked away”, Serana commented, looking back into the tomb.

“The world moves on”, Talmeni commented, checking that her backpack was still there. Then, she turned around: “Well, time to talk. Starting with that Elder Scroll you’ve got.”

The answer came immediately. “It’s mine.” Serana turned around and crossed her arms.

Talmeni twirled her dagger with a short grin. “Up to debate.”

“I don’t think you want to kill me”, Serana said, sounding more exasperated than afraid, “And you would make some very dangerous enemies. So it’s better for everyone if the scroll and I stay an item.” After a short, embarrassed pause, she corrected herself: “The scrolls stays with me, I mean. Not …well, whatever you’re thinking.”

“How did you end up sharing a coffin with an Elder Scroll for most of recoded history, anyway?”, Talmeni wondered, taking a step sideways so that she was between Serana and the exit. Making dangerous enemies seemed a foregone conclusion whether she killed Serana or not, because an Elder Scroll would surely cause attention, from many people who would consider it better kept in their own hands.

“It’s…complicated. I can’t really talk about it. I’m sorry.”

“You’ll have to.” Talmeni stopped herself from adding “Or else” to the sentence. She wasn’t going to explicitly threaten somebody who could make her skin explode.

“I’m not totally sure if I can trust you. Who sent you? Are you one of my father’s little acolytes?”

Talmeni sighed. “Fair questions. Well, I’m nobody’s little acolyte, I’m my own. And I came here because Molag Bal said there was a dark war coming, and that something in this tomb would allow me to dominate it. Probably sounds familiar to you.” Talmeni gestured at the high collar of Serana’s dress, which at the front showed the skull-like visage of the Lord of Domination.

“And do you want to?”, Serana asked, “Dominate, I mean?”

“I’m not going to have anybody pull my strings”, Talmeni said automatically before even thinking. She kept spinning her blade between her fingers as she considered things. She’d come here because Molag Bal had pointed her here. But she’d said she would do it for herself, and what did she actually want? “But I’m not one for armies and battlefields. I try to keep things personal.”

“Then maybe we can work together”, Serana said, slightly pleading, “Help me find out what happened between my parents, and maybe we can stop this war from starting.”

“I’m with you on not having a war, but I’m not agreeing to anything until you tell me what’s going on. Spit it out, what is the matter with the scroll?”

Serana took a deep breath, and for a while just looked through Talmeni, thinking. Then she reached a decision and said: “It’s the key to a prophecy, one my father is, or at least was, obsessed with. I mean, it’s pointless and vague, like all prophecies. But the part he latched onto said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. That’s what he’s after. He wants to control the sun, have vampires control the world.”

“Well, to Oblivion with that”, Talmeni said, putting the dagger away. “You’ve got my word that at the very least, I’ll make sure that fetcher doesn’t get his hands on the scroll. As for the rest, you’re going to stay by my side. You and the scroll are mine now, and I’m very attached to my own.”

“That’s a debate we’ll need to have eventually”, Serana said with a slight smile, but relaxed and unfolded her arms.

Talmeni pulled out her backpack. “First we need to get off this mountain. S’wit”, she cursed, realizing the situation.

“What?”

“It’s probably coming up midnight, and it takes a whole night to Fort Dunstad, even downhill. And two vampires turning up during daytime is a good idea.”

“That has to be new, where is it?”, Serana asked.

Talmeni considered taking out the map, but decided against it. “To the east, down the mountain path.”

“Did you come up that way, too?”

“Why?”

“Because it would have been faster from the other direction. There is Bromjunaar that way, and if we hurry we might still reach it before sunrise. My…It’s the direction I came from when coming here.”

Talmeni couldn’t remember there being a village of that name or any other name on her map in that direction, but decided that it sounded like a better prospect than the long march to Dunstad. Even if there was nothing, it would result in the same bad situation of being caught in the wilderness by the coming day. “All right, let’s try that.”

Chapter Text

They squeezed their way through the narrow gap that remained of the entrance, and stepped out into a world of white. There had been flakes blowing into the entrance, but it didn’t prepare Talmeni for the howling wind and flurry of snow that hit her the moment she was outside. Just the few steps down to the path were enough to hide the mountainside from her view, lost in the dense blizzard.

Serana stumbled into her, the flakes already thick on her black hair. Talmeni carefully pushed her backwards, shouting: “We need to stick close to the wall, or we might fall down the cliff.” The wind howled over her words, but Serana nodded, having understood enough.

“I’ll take the lead”, she shouted back, “And you better take my hand so we stick together.”

“Good time for a romantic stroll”, Talmeni commented, more to herself than out loud, as Serana’s soft hand grabbed her own and pulled her along.

After a few steps into the lee of a fir tree, Serana commented sarcastically: “How I’ve missed the beautiful Sykrim weather. I wonder how you stand it.”

“In my case, skooma”, Talmeni shouted back, and then regretted it because it just made her crave some. But trying to open the satchel in this wind was folly.

“What is that?”, Serana asked, carefully feeling her way around an outcrop.

“Better if you don’t know”, Talmeni answered, getting pulled around the rocks, “And I say that as somebody who’s taking the stuff regularly. Stick with blood, it’s better for the memory.”

“Did you bring any?”

“Skooma?”

“No, blood.”

Talmeni did realize that this was a problem, out here in no man’s land. She’d drunk early last night, and not had any yet this night, and the thirst was already becoming bad. She considered this and then asked: “How? Bring a manservant?”

Serana’s answer was carried away by the wind.

They fought their way through the blizzard, until the wall to their left became a slope, and a peak to their right lessened the wind. The flakes still fell heavily, but they managed to pick out the old staircase that went up the slope here, no longer going along the mountainside, but aiming for a col somewhere between peaks. At least, that is was Serana claimed.

“Let’s hope the old trail is still there”, she added as they were halfway up the stairs, “It wasn’t really a planned path, just a bit of a track going up from the altar.”

“Good thing it’s not long after the solstice”, Talmeni said with a sigh, “Gives us more time until the sun comes up.”

Serana pulled her along, heading along the ridge, keeping the mountain side to her left now that they had crested the peak. The terrain got worse, and the wind picked up again now that they were out of the shadow of the rocks.

Whatever old path there had been four thousand years ago, it wasn’t there any longer. Serana picked her way through stones, dragging Talmeni along. In the snowstorm, they didn’t see the scree until suddenly it was moving under them. Serana lost her footing first, and Talmeni had no good foothold nearby. Stumbling, sliding, cursing, they went where the slope took them, until they reached a more level area.

“I think we may have found it”, Serana said as she hauled Talmeni upright.

Before Talmeni could make an acidic comment, she was interrupted by a sound. It was like a deep breath, deeper and larger, as if a massive bellows was being pumped. She couldn’t suppress a shiver. And then, with a deep tone that caused the ground to rumble, a voice said, quietly and yet so loud and resonant that both vampires swayed: “Lok.”

The falling snow disappeared, as if blown away by that massive syllable, and the moons and stars shone down on the scene from a cloudless sky. The place they were standing on had something altar-like, with the table-sized slab of stone before a curved wall full of some carved runes. But what caught Talmeni’s attention wasn’t the wall, it what was sitting on it.

A head as large as her body, scaled and horned, hung from a serpentine neck craning down with vague interest, while massive, tent-sized wings rested on either side. The dragon’s deep and disconcertingly intelligent eyes were not focused on her, they were looking at Serana, but Talmeni did notice with some unusual embarrassment that she was still holding the other woman’s hand. It had to make for an awkward first impression.

And it spoke, in a voice measured yet cruel, echoing off the mountainsides. “Kel ofan wah zu’u”, it said, moving its head closer to Serana, who looked almost hypnotized by the massive eyes.

“Do you understand that?”, Talmeni asked in a whisper. She had one hand on her dagger, as if the tiny blade could do anything against such a massive beast. The scales on its throat were thicker than her thumb.

Serana shook her head fearfully. As the dragon moved its head back and tensed its shoulders, she let go of Talmeni and whispered: “Run.”

She didn’t need to be told. While behind her, there was a sound like massive sails flapping in the breeze, and a buffet of wind that whirled up a cloud of snow, she turned and ran down the mountain path. “Vothaarn!”, the dragon screamed, in a voice that was less words and more like fists carried through the air, each syllable painful pressure, and launched itself off the stone wall.

There had been a proper path here once, not just some hunter’s trail obliterated by the seasons, and according to Talmeni’s feet some of the steps still remained. But it was hidden by snow on a steep mountainside and winding back and forth in serpentine curves. She slipped, she rolled, she had to hold on to the few cairns placed as markers, while at any moment expecting that dragon to come around and breathe fire at her.

And then she saw it ahead. It had circled inside the narrow valley and was now coming back at them. “Get away”, Serana shouted from somewhere nearby, but Talmeni was already reacting. She cast her camouflage spell and changed course, slipping down the slope inside one of the switchbacks. Above her, close enough that she could feel the heat, the dragon’s breath slammed into the stone, a column of flame that caused the snow to flash into steam and the rocks to glow.

The downwind buffeting of its winds brought the steam with it, for a moment wrapping Talmeni in warm fog, but she didn’t dare to rely on its cover, and kept running downwards, where at the wide bottom of the gorge, there indeed appeared to be a village of some kind, or at least building-sized mounds covered in snow.

Before they could reach the bottom, the dragon came around again, but Serana threw a bolt of magic at it. Talmeni could see no damage, but the dragon flinched, and its stream of fire went astray, charring a fir tree next to the path instead of the vampires.

And then they were among the stone houses, racing down some ancient highway. “Help!”, Serana shouted when she saw a humanoid shape ahead. The shape turned, and Talmeni found enough breath to curse. It wasn’t a human, it was a troll, and it narrowed its eyes at the approaching pair.

But instead of a challenge, the beast gave a strangled squeak and turned to run. Talmeni realized why in the same moment the wind started to buffet her from the back. She grabbed Serana and threw her sideways into a doorway the same moment the dragon breathed a line of fire down the street.

“Go in!”, Talmeni said, pushing Serana through the door, flames dancing at her heels. The house would provide cover, hopefully enough to withstand dragon fire. Given the thickness of the stone walls, it was a safe enough bet, at least for the moment. The two women stumbled on, falling over ancient debris, until the open doorway was safely out of sight.

“Good to see the dragons are as belligerent as always”, Serana said cheerfully as she sank down against a wall.

“Seems all the stories are true”, Talmeni muttered, noticing she had drawn her dagger from instinct, and putting it away. There were large flapping noises coming from outside, followed by a thump that caused some dust to cascade off the ceiling. The dragon had landed nearby, probably looking for them.

“You’ve never seen a dragon before?”, Serana asked, incredulous.

“They started coming back less than a year ago. Everyone thought they had been a myth. Or at least dead since the ages of myth.”

Serana laughed mirthlessly. “That will certainly make things easier for everyone”, she said sarcastically, “The dragons used to rule humans, until a war a century or so before I was born. They were still a major power when…when Harald became High King. Back then. You know what I mean.”

“I do. Let’s hope they stay out of our business and instead fight that dragon-born or dragon-warrior or whatever the songs were about.” She’d never bothered to find out what that had been about, just absorbed what travelers had said and what the old skald Ogmund had sung about.

“This one wanted the Elder Scroll, I think.”

Talmeni shrugged. “Over my dead body.”

“Well…your body is dead. That’s what being a vampire means.”

“Really?”, Talmeni groaned, not feeling like technicalities, “Your body is certainly looking good for a corpse, then. Anyway, I think it lost us.” There were muted roars coming from the door, echoing off the mountain walls. Talmeni suspected the dragon had taken flight and was circling the valley, looking for movement below.

They both took a look around, and for the first time took in their surroundings. “This place looks abandoned”, Serana commented, “What happened here?” To Talmeni’s eyes, it not only looked abandoned, but also ancient. People hadn’t come here for centuries, except maybe now and then adventurers and scavengers picking through the debris. All that was left was dust and shards of pottery.

“The people left is my guess”, Talmeni said, throwing a pot off a stone altar to make space for her backpack. She pulled out the map. “I think I know where we are. Here, these ruins between the mountains? The ones marked ‘Labyrinthian’? I think that’s what left of your Bromjunaar.”

Serana came over to have a look at the map, nodding for a moment, but clearly then distracted by just reading it, trying to match it with what she remembered from four thousand years ago.

“We can’t stay here”, Talmeni said, having more pressing issues to consider than the past, “Between the dragon and the trolls, the moment we fall asleep we’re done for. Not to mention that there’s no blood for me to drink anywhere nearby.” She felt one of her hands slip into the satchel and close around the comforting shape of the skooma bottles. Two nights without both were demanding their attention.

“I’m sure the dragon will be happy to fly us somewhere more populated”, Serana commented sarcastically, glancing towards the door. The brightness of the dawn was already starting to chase the colors of the night away.

“We will have to march through the day”, Talmeni decided, pointing at the map. “It looks like Morthal isn’t too far northwest of here. With any luck, we’ll reach it by sundown. We go to the inn, normal daytime travelers, get a room, have a nap, are up by midnight, get some blood and leave. No suspicions, no problem.”

“I mean I’ve slept long enough that I can stay up until then”, Serana said after a moment of staring at the map, “What about you?”

“I’m fine”, Talmeni lied, forcing her hand to let go of the skooma bottle.

“Then we only need to find a way to get rid of the dragon. Any ideas?” Serana gestured towards the door, where still the distant roars of the circling beast could be heard.

Talmeni shrugged. “I make us invisible until we’re out of the city, then we’ll have to rely on the forest for cover. It will be close, but hopefully the magica potion I bought is enough to make me last until then.” She pulled the bottle from the satchel and popped out the cork.

“You’ll be lost in a forest without any magic, during daytime”, Serana cautioned, “Are you sure you can manage?”

“Better than we can manage staying here.” It was a risk, and Talmeni knew she was gambling on high stakes. If there were more frost trolls in the forest, or wolves or even just some bandits, then she was reliant on Serana’s magic, and past that, two small blades that they wouldn’t be able to swing for long before being tired out.

She wove the magic around Serana, told her to go ahead, then drank the potion and cast it on herself. It was exhausting, and between the recent activity, the irregular sleep, and the lack of both blood and skooma, Talmeni felt a headache coming, that would only get worse the longer she tried to maintain both spells.

Stepping outside, she used the still snow-free steaming track the dragon had made with its last attack to avoid footprints, but it gave out halfway along the street. From there to the distant city wall, there was a tangle of snow-covered alleys, stairs and stone mounds, and based on the smell, more than one frost troll. Talmeni did her best to stick to the edges of buildings, although there were no eaves that could catch the snow, and was thankful for the towering mountains on both sides with providing her direction.

A stab of pain behind one eye warned her that time was running out, and the city walls didn’t look any closer. She gave up caution and started jogging down the street, making in as straight a line as possible for an arch in the walls that she hoped marked an opening. Overhead, the dragon passed over the roofs, the wind of its wings throwing the snow about. For a second, Talmeni feared it had spotted Serana, but it wheeled back around, passing overhead again and disappearing up the gorge.

And then she was through the arch, stumbling down another serpentine road set into a slope, trying to keep her footing despite the pain behind her eyes. She could already see the trees, starting where the rocky slope evened out, but the road seemed mocking in not heading there, but taking a gentler route down the hill.

Talmeni missed a step somewhere, too distracted between her fear, the headache, and the by now already blinding brightness of snow being illuminated in the morning sun. She tumbled over the side of the road, rolled down a steep slope and landed in thankfully rather deep snow. As she tried to get upright, the world seemed to wheel past her. She tried to take a step, couldn’t find her feet, and slumped back against the rock wall. Overhead, the dragon roared.

Through fogged eyes, she saw a shape hurrying towards her, dark against the white snow. Serana, she managed to remember after a moment, and then startled. The other vampire was visible, which meant the spell had run out. They were visible. They were dark figures in a white snowfield, and were visible. She sank to her knees, unable to deal with the failure in her exhaustion.

Serana reached her, hauled her upright, and pulled her along as she ran back towards the trees. Talmeni let herself be dragged, unable to think, imagining the dragon breathing fire on them at any moment. Trees went past, and then suddenly Serana let go. Talmeni fell down, taking a moment to even realize what happened.

They were sitting behind the branches of a small fir sapling, providing some cover between the high and bare trunks of the older trees. Serana was carefully peeking around it, at the sky. “I don’t think it saw us. We should be safe”, she said after a while, then turned to Talmeni: “Are you okay?”

“Safe”, Talmeni panted, crawling to a tree to lean against. “Okay?”, she managed after a moment, trying to stop the world from spinning. She was shivering, not from the cold, but the fear. Everything felt out of control. She could no nothing against a dragon, nothing against her thirst, nothing against the sun glaring down even through the dense branches above. What strings were there to hold against any of this?

Without thinking, she took out her satchel, put it in her lap, and got a skooma bottle. She had removed the cork and put it against her lips before she managed to remember herself and pull it away. She couldn’t just drink it, not here, not now. But she needed it. She needed to be calm.

She tried to measure out a drop, but her hands were shaking, and she stopped before she could spill any. “Help”, she said, trying to spot Serana. The world was just black tree-trunks against blinding white, and through her headache, it took a moment to realize that the other vampire was right there, kneeling next to her.

“What do you need?”, Serana asked gently.

“Skooma”, Talmeni managed, holding out the small bottle. “A drop. Just a drop. Measure it on your thumb.”

Serana took it with a critical expression. “Is it smart to take that right now? You said—”

“Yes! Give it to me! Stop talking!” Talmeni exploded, grabbing her dagger and gesturing wildly. She couldn’t deal with this, she needed her skooma, and she wasn’t going to be stopped.

As Serana stepped back, her face full of surprise, Talmeni realized what she was doing. She dropped her dagger, and slumped back, closing her eyes. “Sorry”, she mumbled, “Sorry. I…I just…Sorry. It’s just too much.”

After a moment, Serana softly said: “Here we go.” Talmeni could feel a finger against her lower lip, and smelled the moon sugar droplet that had to rest on it. Without even thinking, her tongue shot out and lapped up the sweet syrup. She could feel it flowing down her throat, and imagined how it spread from there, covering her bruised spirit in a soft mental blanket.

She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes. “Thank you”, she found herself forced to say. Her head still ached, her limbs still felt like pudding, and her mind still screaming at itself about blood, but the calmness of skooma quieted it all. Talmeni felt that at least some of her self was back on the surface, instead of being pulled under by all the chaos.

“Are you okay now?”

“No. But I can walk.” Talmeni picked up her dagger and forced herself onto her legs. “Come on. There is a road north of here.”

For a moment, they walked in silence. Then Serana asked: “So this is what skooma does to a person?”

Talmeni didn’t answer for a while. She was happy to not think, and just rest her mind in a blank haze, doing nothing except watching her feet as they placed themselves one in front of the other. But Serana deserved an answer. “Yes”, she managed, “And worse. It feels good to take it. No worries, no decisions. You just …are. And then your memory goes. Things …they no longer matter, so you forget. And when you’re not taking any, everything is…it’s like the world is screaming. You forget, because it’s too much. Until there is only the moment. No past, no future. And you want a happy moment, so you take more.”

“What is it made of?”

Talmeni shrugged. “Khajiiti moon-sugar mostly. Not sure what they dissolve it in.”

“The Khajiit are real?”, Serana asked in surprise, “I thought the cat-people were only a story.”

“They’re real all right”, Talmeni answered, “Good traders, too, even if nobody trusts them.”

“What about the lizard-people and the ape-people, are those real, too?”

“The Argonians are too damned real, if you ask me. They sacked Morrowind in the Red Year. Not sure about the apes, you’d have to ask a Bosmer.” They stumbled onto a wide stretch of treeless snow, running from east to west as far as they could see. Deciding that this was the road, they turned left, happy to be out of the undergrowth.

“There is so much history I have missed”, Serana said with a sigh, “I hope I’m not going anything wrong when we meet people.”

“You’ll be fine. We’ll meet Nords, mostly, so just buy them a mead and move on.”

Serana had to chuckle. “Ysgramor’s descendants are keeping the good Atmoran traditions alive, I see. Did his line hold on to the High Kingship?”

Talmeni shook her head, and then regretted it, as the pain in her forehead flared up. “I don’t think so. They’re fighting for the throne right now, sort of.” From what travelers had said, it wasn’t really serious yet. There were skirmishes, and border patrols harrassing travelers, but nobody was laying siege to anything. Talmeni hadn’t asked for more details.

“Oh, wonderful. A war of succession. Good to know the world didn’t get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?”

“You’re asking the wrong elf for that”, Talmeni said with a shrug, “I think the one guy is called something Stormcloak, and he’s the one the Empire is against, but I kept out of that.”

“What Empire?”

Talmeni remembered who she was talking to. “Right. The human one, from Cyrodiil. Keeps coming and going. I think the current one is number three.”

“What about the Ayleids? Last I heard, they controlled Cyrodiil.”

“Gone, don’t ask me how. It’s humans all the way from the northwest to the center now. If not for the Three, Morrowind would probably be theirs as well.”

“I knew the Falmer were losing the wars, but they can’t have won against the Dwemer”, Serana said, incredulous.

“Dwemer are gone, too. Disappeared one day, nobody knows how. The priests said it was because they were impious, but that doesn’t explain anything.” Talmeni realized she was rummaging through her satchel. “Damn”, she muttered.

“What?”

“Take my hand”, Talmeni pleaded, “Stop me from taking more. That drop wasn’t enough. Not with this little blood.”

Serana stopped, came over to Talmeni, took a shivering hand, held it gently, and gave it a reassuring pat. “I’m here”, she said soothingly, “And I won’t abandon you.”

With a sigh, Talmeni let herself be led, falling silent as she let her thoughts drift away. The sound of snow under her feet, her weight shifting from one foot to the other, Serana’s skin against her own, those were all she cared to register of the world. Serana’s hands weren’t quite as soft as Talmeni had imagined. She didn’t understand why. A rich woman, given her tailored clothes, and a mage at that, had no reason to have calluses, even faint ones.

She had to assume that a few hours passed until the skooma wore off, but Talmeni had no way of knowing. The sky and snow were still blinding white, and pine trees rose on both sides of the road. And now, as she found unable to push them aside, all her hurts returned more strongly. Her head hurt from every movement, her feet felt both on fire and frozen through, and her thirst was a pounding force. It was as if her teeth were having a mind of their own, wanting to jump out of her mouth and bite something, and she had to concentrate on making them stay.

After some more time, Talmeni couldn’t stand it any longer. To distract herself, she asked, forcing the words out through a mouth that didn’t want to speak but rather bite: “What happens? Without blood?”

Serana turned around, looking surprised to hear her speak. She also looked tired, although Talmeni wasn’t sure if maybe she was just interpreting too much into the contours she saw through the sun’s glare. “To a vampire, you mean?”, she asked.

“Yeah.”

For a moment, Serana was silent as she also got her thoughts out of the morass of tiredness and boredom. “It depends a bit on the bloodline. Do you know who your sire is?”

Talmeni shook her head, and then had to hold on to Serana’s arm as the world swirled. It had been foolish, to head out into the wilderness without a thought for how to get blood, and now she was paying the price.

“Not like I would know them, anyway”, Serana concluded, “Eyes the colour of the flames of Coldharbour weren’t a thing during my time.”

“Blood”, Talmeni said, then clamped her mouth shut before she did something stupid.

“Right, sorry. The Thirst distills your vampirism, if you will. Your powers get stronger, but so do your weaknesses. That’s why the stroll through the sun is so lovely.”

“Romantic”, Talmeni croaked, the sarcasm inaudible over her thirst.

“It takes four days usually until all human parts are gone. Or Elf parts, in your case. After that, it gets …unpleasant.” Serana looked at Talmeni for a moment with worry, but pressed on. “There’s a point when the thirst takes over completely, and you can’t get back. Bloodfiends, my father called them. Hated them even worse than the thin-blooded, if you can believe it.”

Talmeni managed some questioning noise, but Serana didn’t need much encouragement. Talking about something helped her distract herself from the tiredness as well.

“That’s those who got it like a disease, from somebody not being careful during feeding. Most of them can’t control the thirst. They drink until they kill, and then can’t stop. They usually live in caves, hunting travelers, because they can’t live in the cities. Give the rest of us a bad name.”

“Old sermon”, Talmeni commented, “Can’t live with it, can’t live without. Best you can do is ration, and hope you get it right. And then some damn dragon comes and ruins your day.”

“Probably an everyday thing in this age.” There was a bit of brittleness to Serana’s cheer.

“Just like the volcanoes and prophecies of doom. If that sign over there doesn’t point us to Morthal, I’ll use it for firewood.” Talmeni pointed ahead, where a snow-covered post had several arrow-shaped boards at its top.

Serana reached up and wiped off the snow to read the letters. “Solitude and Windhelm are still around, it seems”, she commented, “And Morthal is apparently this way.” She pointed down a slope, where the road dipped into a cleft between two rocky hills.

Stumbling, sometimes slipping and helping each other up, the two vampires headed down the path. Talmeni was happy to have a hand to hold as the cobblestones under the snow were smooth and placed irregularly. But what cheered her up were also the tracks in the snow. Time had blurred them, but still, other people and even a cart had struggled up and down this path, often enough that the snow was trodden down and dirtied by their passing. After the ages away from any man or mer, alone in the wilderness, these signs of civilisation cheered Talmeni up and gave her enough for some last burst of energy.

Morthal didn’t look like much, but Talmeni didn’t take in details once she noticed the house with the sign saying “Inn” on it. She dragged Serana into it and walked up to the counter. Grabbing a handful of coins from her satchel, she slammed it down on the rough wood and said to the woman behind the counter: “A bed for two for tonight.”

“Sure thing, you can have the one over there”, the innkeeper said. She was an elderly Redguard, and Serana was clearly trying not to stare. Talmeni found it hard to look at anything except the bare neck, however.

A moment later, Talmeni closed the door to the room behind her and Serana and bolted it shut. The other vampire was looking rather hesitantly at the double bed, and commented with faint sarcasm: “Well, at least it’s wide enough for both. When you said—”

“Nap first, fun later”, Talmeni commented without thinking, taking her boots and cloak off. Then, she laid down, not even bothering to take off anything else, and was asleep before even getting under the blanket.

It didn’t feel like that much longer when Talmeni jerked and then awkwardly rolled out of bed. She’d had a nightmare, one of endless thirst, a pool of blood she couldn’t drink, and something rising from the blood, arms pulling her under and drowning her. There had been bad night visions ever since becoming a vampire, but this was the first time she had been woken by them.

Her throat felt parched. She couldn’t even breathe properly, her body rejecting the air as quickly as she tried to draw it in. It wanted blood, and nothing else.

Talmeni had a short glance at Serana as she stood up. It was clear she was a noble, and somebody used to vampirism, given how primly she had placed herself on the bed, hands carefully folded, the Elder Scroll lying on her chest like the sword of an entombed knight. Seeing another vampire sleep, Talmeni had no more doubts about what others had said about her appearance while sleeping. Serana looked like a corpse, one made pretty for the wake, but still clearly dead.

But her throat pulled her onwards. Thankfully, there was silence from beyond the door, and only two faint and slow heartbeats of people sleeping, which meant it was night-time. Move a bit like in a dream, watching her limbs move on her own, Talmeni pulled open the bar of the door and stepped out. Across the hall were two more rooms, behind which she could hear the sleeper’s heartbeats. They seemed the only sound in the world.

And then she had her fangs in a neck. It belonged to an orc, who she managed to vaguely recall having been in the inn when she’d come in, but right now the only thing that mattered was his warm, strong blood flowing down her throat. There was something more solid and metallic about orc blood, compared to the Nords and Bretons she’d drunk in Markarth, or at least she imagined it. It was exhilarating, and the power that flowed from the wound into her heart and then her limbs was a rush that felt like it lifted her off the floor. But she stopped herself. Just enough to live. Never enough to lose control.

“Dark-skinned people and orcs wearing clothes. Before my entombment, I would have laughed”, Serana commented quietly from the door while Talmeni wiped the blood off her chin.

Talmeni had a vitriolic comment ready, but her concern was greater. “Did I wake you?”, she asked, remembering how she had fallen out of bed. It had to have made some noise.

“Over his snoring?” Serana pointed at the orc, who was indeed grunting loudly with every breath. Now that she was no longer crazed with thirst, Talmeni’s senses managed to reassert themselves properly, and focus on more than just arteries.

Stepping back into the central room of the inn, Talmeni walking after her, Serana decided: “I guess that leaves the owner for me. And then we should talk about what we are going to do now that we’re no longer running for our lives.”

“Sure”, Talmeni said. After a moment, she added: “Outside.” She didn’t feel like whispering for as long a conversation as she suspected it would be.

She left Serana to drink her blood in private, stepping outside the inn to wait for her there. It was after midnight, she guessed from the position of the moons. She wouldn’t have been surprised if sunrise was coming soon, given how exhausted they had been. Even now, with fresh blood in her, Talmeni felt sore and tired. Her feet hurt, and her head still ached a bit. Her plan to move on before sunrise felt badly thought out in the face of that, and even more so since Serana was right. She had not really any idea where to go from here.

When Molag Bal had spoken of an instrument of domination, Talmeni hadn’t expected that he was talking about an Elder Scroll. It was certainly powerful, but it was also a huge inconvenience. It was too big to be hidden, and too easy to identify. Other people would want it. It had probably been what the dragon had been after, too. And if Talmeni remembered the old stories from the nursery, it was also pretty useless to her in the moment. You needed special training to read a scroll, or you’d just end up blind.

Serana stepped out of the inn behind her, and joined Talmeni in leaning on the rail of the small porch outside, looking out at the sleeping village. It was a village, at least compared to Markarth and Riften, even though according to the map it was the capital of its hold. “Well, here we are”, Serana commented, sounding cheerful. Talmeni was inclined to believe it wasn’t sarcasm.

“First time drinking Redguard blood went well?”, she asked conversationally.

Serana shrugged. “I think I could use some help still with understanding the peoples of this age. The stories at court painted the orcs as cannibal brutes living in the mountains. This one looked like a farmer, though.”

“They still get called that”, Talmeni said, “Behind their backs, though. Say it to their face and they’ll be happy to break your nose. Extremely good blacksmiths, however.”

“Doesn’t sound like cannibal barbarians at all”, Serana said with a grin. She counted on her fingers. “So that’s another race I thought a legend, like the cat-people. And no more Falmer or Dwemer, or Ayleids. I suspect my father will be happy about that, at least. And we’ve got dark-skinned elves to the east, and dark-skinned humans in the …somewhere. Anything I’m missing?”

“West. They call their land Hammerfell. Well, there’s still elves in the jungle, and on Sumerset. And those are going around telling everyone just how superior they are.”

“So unlike the Mer of back in the day.”

“Hah. The Dwemer at least had some reason to be full of themselves. Lot of good it did them, though. The sermons said they did whatever happened to them to themselves. Somehow made their whole race just disappear in an instant.”

“And nobody knows how? I find that hard to believe.”

Talmeni shrugged. “Nobody I know ever claimed anyone knows. It’s all some big mystery.” She took a deep breath. “Also, it’s in the past. Long past. It doesn’t matter any more, if you ask me.”

“Maybe the scroll could tell”, Serana wondered.

“Do you know how to read it?” Talmeni was prepared to accept that maybe the strange vampire from four thousand years ago could.

But Serana deflated. “No. I don’t even know how my mother determined that it was relevant to the prophecy.”

Talmeni took note of that comment, but didn’t let it show. Serana was not a person used to keeping secrets, that much was clear. She got guarded if asked directly, but didn’t notice when she let things slip during other topics. “As for prophecy, let’s talk about where to go. You said something about getting back to your family.”

Serana looked surprised that Talmeni remembered, and for a moment sought for words. “It’s just my first thought. When I …was locked away, my mother sounded like she would confront my father. I’d like to find out who won. If it’s my mother, then we don’t have anything to fear, but—”

“Knowing my luck, it will be your father. The man with the great opinions about lesser peoples. Probably gets along great with Molag Bal.” She absentmindedly put a hand to her belly, remembering the pain of her personal meeting with Bal.

“I would still like to be sure”, Serana insisted.

“Not with the scroll and no backup plan”, Talmeni decided, “He’s not going to let us leave through the front door.”

“I used to live in that castle for centuries, I’m sure I can find a way out.”

“Still.” Talmeni scraped at some weird growth on the railing while she thought. Her first instinct had been to get her hands on the Elder Scroll, but the more she considered it, the less valuable it became. It was a cause for a war, but not an instrument to win a war.

“Is that giant lichen?”, Serana asked as Talmeni tugged at the growth she’d cut loose with her dagger. “Can I have it?”

Talmeni handed it over, not really listening. She wondered if she should head back to Markarth, keep the scroll safe behind its thick walls. But that wouldn’t work, not against smart enemies. And it would mean the scroll stayed a useless weight doing nothing but attract attention. The only way to profit from it was to use it. Acquiring the power to control the sun did sound useful, although also rather conspicuous. Still, it would grant her a bargaining position that she could capitalize on.

“Who can read a scroll like this?”, she wondered out loud, trying to rack her memory.

“There was some Atmoran cult to Dibella who could do it back in my day. Maybe they are still around?”

“Doesn’t sound like the Dibella they were talking about in Markarth”, Talmeni said. “If that’s how your mother learned what’s in that scroll of yours, she certainly had a thing for more than magical constructs.”

“Why am I not surprised?”, Serana asked sarcastically.

“Well, if you’re not interested in beautiful women, we’ll have to find another group who knows how to read an Elder Scroll.”

“I never said I wasn’t …” Seeing Talmeni’s expression, Serana shut her mouth, rolled her eyes, and then went on: “Well, back before I…you know, the College of Winterhold was the first place I’d think to go for any kind of magic or historical thing. The wizards know about all kinds of things that people probably shouldn’t know about.”

“That’s an option”, Talmeni agreed, while picturing the map of Skyrim in her head. Winterhold was still around, and so, according to the tavern tales, was the college. It was at the eastern edge, far away from the other holds. She wasn’t even sure there were carriages going there. And even if, it would be over a week of travel from here.

The colors of the night suddenly were dimmed as a torch flared ahead of them. At first, Talmeni thought it a patrolling guard, but the holder of the torch moved very fast and purposefully, right towards them. She tensed, holding her dagger a little closer, trying to make out ther person behind the glare. It looked like a Nord warrior, with the muscles well visible on his bare arms.

“Are you the travelers with the Elder Scroll?”, the man asked somewhat redundantly, as Serana had the scroll with her, clearly visible on her back. “I’m Gorm, the housecarl. The jarl has asked to see you.”

“Early riser, is he?”, Talmeni said, watching the man’s face. He looked honest enough in his intentions, and clearly was troubled and unhappy about doing something like this in the small hours of the night.

“She was woken by a dream that she believes is connected to you”, he corrected her, “As if Morthal didn’t have enough troubles.”

Talmeni was about to smoothly agree, but Serana opened her mouth first. “We all have night terrors”, she said, “What makes the jarl think they are connected to us?”

While Talmeni could understand being defensive about the scroll and the prophecy, this wasn’t the time or place. She put a calming hand on Serana’s arm, and could feel the tension through the cloth and leather wristlets.

Gorm’s face was an open book. His mouth said: “Jarl Idgrod has …gifts of prophecy. Her dreams are important.” His expression said that he didn’t believe it, and hated having to get up to fetch two strangers from their beds before sunrise.

“Well, we don’t want any trouble”, Talmeni said before Serana could make things worse, “Bring us to the jarl.”

The scene in the jarl’s longhouse was mostly like Talmeni expected. A man was trying to dutifully get the burned-down fire going again, while the jarl herself was pacing near her throne. She had thrown her fur-lined cloak over nightclothes, too agitated to get dressed properly. Her wrinkled face creased with worry as she saw the two vampires approaching.

“Welcome to Highmoon Hall, travelers”, she proclaimed in a croaking voice. “Your arrival comes with dark signs and darker dreams.”

“We don’t intend any harm, your highness”, Talmeni said, watching the old woman’s face. She didn’t seem to be looking at them, but rather through them, as if watching some scene inside her head.

“I dreamt of a weapon”, the jarl said, her voice full of emphasis, “A bow, strong enough to launch the heart of the world. But it might abandon its master, become traitor to all but the darkest creatures. Can you tell me what it means?”

Talmeni was about to deny everything, but had to properly memorize the words first, because they clearly were important. Thus, she had only opened her mouth when Serana nudged her with her boot and interrupted her: “We don’t know anything about that. Why should it even involve us?”

“You carry an Elder Scroll”, Idgrod said, and was gathering her breath to say more.

But Talmeni got her voice into the pause and answered: “One we just found, and don’t know how to read. Your vision might be about what is written in it, but how could we tell?”

“That itself is an omen”, the jarl continued, “Morthal stands on the brink of darkness.” Turning to her housecarl, she ordered: “Bring me Falion. I wish to have his opinion on this.”

As Grom left, Idgrod kept talking, although Talmeni doubted the old woman expected an answer: “I have long seen the signs of darkness approaching. Now is not the time to fight a civil war, when a time of legends and portents approaches. All of Skyrim’s strength is needed. But when I speak, people hear, but they do not listen.”

“’The first meaning is always hidden’”, Talmeni quoted absentmindely, thinking. There was an opportunity here, maybe. Idgrod was half detached from reality, and with some skill, could be steered. The protection of a jarl, even one of a small and poor hold like this one, was a useful thing to have.

Not long after, Falion was brought in, stifling a yawn as he entered the hall. Talmeni was a bit surprised to see a Redguard, but then got a greater shock. She watched his walk through the hall from the corner of her eyes, when noticing Falion was also watching her and Serana in the same way. And then his eyes widened with recognition. Talmeni stiffened, and stopped herself from drawing her dagger. It had just been the tiniest fraction of a moment, but she was sure he knew. He had recognized what they were.

Tense, waiting for a moment of alarm, Talmeni barely managed to listen as Idgrod explained the situation, and repeated the prophecy again. After actual vampire hunters had failed to discover her, she had thought herself safe. And now some random wizard in a swamp village had discovered it. She needed to get leverage over him, fast.

But the reveal didn’t come. Falion listened to the jarl, and then after a moment of thought answered: “A bow carrying the heart of the world? It seems familiar. But I can’t read the scroll. Only the moth priests can.”

“So they are still around”, Serana mumbled to herself, surprised. Talmeni had heard that term before, at some point, but it had sounded like some Imperial secret society, not a cult to Dibella.

“Then we shall send for one immediately”, Idgrod announced.

Talmeni and Serana both reacted immediately, and for a moment spoke over each other. “Now hold on a moment”, Serana blurted out.

“Can we have an opinion here?”, Talmeni asked at the same time. Alone, she went on: “This scroll is, for the time being, ours.”

“And you don’t wish to learn what’s written on it?”, Falion asked, turning around.

“No”, Serana said before Talmeni could open her mouth.

She nudged Serana to be quiet with a foot and added: “We just want a say in the when and where. You know, to avoid a panic, and make sure the scroll is in good hands. We thought about going to the College in Winterhold.”

“There is no need to involve the College in this”, the court wizard said quickly. Talmeni wouldn’t have needed the flash of anger in his eyes to know it was a sore spot, that word choice was clear enough. She had to stop herself from smiling about having found a lever over the mage that quickly. “They will also just send a letter to Cyrodiil to inform the moth priests of the discovery.”

That was good to know, that there wasn’t anyone around who could get at the scroll’s contents right here and now. It meant there was time to string people along, play them against each other, and build up some power from an extended bargaining period.

Not letting on that she hadn’t known where the moth priests lived, she smoothly continued: “At the very least, we all should take some time to discuss this. My companion and I just woke up. How about we both think things over on our own, and continue this later, like, say, an hour after sunrise?”

“We have a lot to discuss”, Serana added, with warning undertones.

The jarl looked at both of them for a while, but not with the suspicion Talmeni would have had in her place. The important factor, in Talmeni’s considerations, was that the jarl couldn’t refuse the request on the simple basis that Gorm and Falion weren’t enough to actually stop the two of them of just walking out the door. “Very well”, Idgrod decided, “I will see what else the Divines reveal to me until then.”

“Thank you”, Serana answered, overly sweetly, and took Talmeni’s arm. Talmeni let herself be dragged out of the jarl’s hall and back into their inn room.

“Good to see you’re taking the ownership of the scroll so seriously”, Serana began with heavy sarcasm as soon as she had bolted the door, “Giving me so much of a say in what we’re doing with it.”

“I told you, you and the scroll are mine”, Talmeni said, trying to catch her breath.

“Is that how you remember it?”, Serana asked sarcastically, crossing her arms, “I remember us needing to have a discussion about it.”

“Oh look, we’re having one, now that we’re off the mountain.” Talmeni gestured with her dagger. “That scroll you’ve got on your back makes you a target. I’m trying to turn it into an edge. If you don’t want that, you’re a fool.”

Serana gestured towards the door. “By learning what’s written on it? You agreed to stop the prophecy, not uncover more of it.”

“No. I agreed to keep it out of the hands of your father. Everything else is still up in the air. Why? Because I’m not going to decide before I know. Not having to fear the sun is useful. If it’s something for single people, I’m not going to throw a windfall like that away. It means catching other vampires in their sleep. It means being able to have a meeting an hour after noon and still be able to charm the socks off whatever mortal you talk to.”

“And that’s something to start a war over, is it?” Serana had paced up and down while Talmeni explained, but quickly placed herself in front of the door again.

“The war started the moment we walked into a village with that scroll in plain sight. The news will spread. People will come to take the scroll. Lots of people. And when you’ve got several factions stronger than you coming at you, the thing you do is turn them against each other. That’s what I’m doing. We become the token others argue over, and the more power they think they have, the more power we get out from under them.”

“Is this how you see the world?”, Serana asked, with a horrified expression, “What are you?”

“You mean besides a vampire addicted to skooma who suddenly gets handed the chance to make a friend and a future?” Talmeni shrugged. “I’m a Chiller. I made sure organized crime stayed organized. It means running circles around the ordinators and the guilds and the houses and knowing whose arms to twist and whose throat to cut to make sure you stay in the business.”

“Lovely”, Serana said sarcastically, “Nothing more reassuring than being in the hands of a criminal with no scruples.”

“Vampire. Skooma addict. Trying to dominate dark war with a dagger”, Talmeni repeated, “How are scruples going to help?”

“How can I trust you not just to cut my throat to get the scroll?”

“Besides the fact that I like you? And that both your parents will come after me if I do? And that you’re good at keeping the scroll safe?” Talmeni took a deep breath to calm herself. “Because I take care of my own, I told you. There’s no point in carving out some power if you don’t do it for somebody. Right now, that’s you and me.”

In the moment of silence of Serana digesting that news, Talmeni realized the problem, culture. If Serana had been a Dunmer, these would have been good, solid arguments, and somewhat implicit just in her agreement to work together. But that was because Dunmer lived by the rules of Boethiah and Mephala, and the art of wielding power and mistrust was known to everyone. But Serana was a Nord, and one from four thousand years ago. She didn’t even know that this was how Dunmer were. And it seemed that despite the visage of Molag Bal on her collar, Serana was somebody who believed in trust and altruism.

“And how long will you consider me one of your own?”, Serana asked, clearly not convinced.

“We’re both vampires. How many centuries would you like?”, Talmeni quipped, and then decided to steer the whole conversation back to something important. “Why don’t you want to know what’s in the prophecy?”

“Because a dark war makes for a good time”, she answered sarcastically, “My mother was certain it would result in the vampires going to war against the mortal world, and I don’t want that. There are more weaknesses than just the sun, and the humans know them. We can’t win, and even if we could, what world would that be?”

“With your father doing the ruling?”, Talmeni confirmed with a grim smile, “But that’s not the answer to what I asked. Sure, you want to stop that war. But why don’t you want to know what’s on the scroll?”

“Because a prophecy nobody knows details of can’t be made to come true. Unless people just stumble over a weapon powerful enough to launch the heart of the world.”

“You’d be surprised”, Talmeni muttered, considering that she had managed to stumble across the mace of Molag Bal by sheer accident, “But it’s too late for secrecy. You should have kept the scroll locked up in your tomb if you wanted that. Now it has leaked, and rumor flows from the House of Troubles, so you can be sure that everyone knows in a week. The only way out now is to stay ahead of the curve. Get there first, and smash that bow into pieces or whatever.”

Serana sighed theatrically. “Destroying a god-powered bow, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Let’s destroy the Elder Scroll instead, shall we?”, Talmeni snapped, “You want to stop a prophecy. Don’t be surprised it involves doing the impossible. And even if we can’t destroy the bow, it’s less obvious if you carry it around.”

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion. Both women whipped around and raised their hands, expecting danger. But instead, the inkeeper said through the door: “Brought you some water for washing. Looked like you might need it.”

Relaxing, Serana unlocked the door, while Talmeni hid her dagger behind her back. They both thanked the Redguard woman for the water, but otherwise stayed silent until she had left the room again.

“She’s right, though”, Talmeni commented, picking up one of the soaked cloths from the bowl. “We do look like we just crawled out of a grave. Want me to wash your back?”

“Washing your dirty mind would be my favourite”, Serana commented, also taking a dripping cloth and wiping her hands.

“Now what did I say?”, Talmeni wondered. She got out of her shirt, deciding that she might as well clean more than just her face. Serana turned around rather quickly the moment Talmeni was topless, in a way that spoke to the elf of more considerations than just common decency. She grinned to herself, but didn’t comment. Nothing she could say would make Serana more embarrassed than she was making herself.

She also turned her back when Serana loosened her corset to wash her shoulders. Staring at the wall, she combed her hair, considering the situation idly. “Where did you even find the Elder Scroll?”, she wondered. Her quick lie in front of the jarl had spared Serana the need to reveal it.

“I’m not sure”, Serana answered, cleaning the cloth in the bowl of water. “My mother found them somehow. I think she somehow managed to intercept one of my father’s acolytes, who I guess must have ambushed a moth priest carrying them.”

“That’s not a lot to go on”, Talmeni said, mentally noting the use of plural. The fact that there were more Elder Scrolls involved in this made even more clear that trying to keep the whole thing secret would not work forever.

“At this point, you know as much about the scroll as I do. Turns out you don’t learn much from just sleeping with something.” Her voice started sarcastic, but turned hesitant on the last word. Serana had realized what she had just said.

Talmeni couldn’t resist. She said “Well, at least you should learn which parts are comfortable to lie against” in as neutral a voice as she could manage.

There was a longer pause than neccessary before Serana answered: “None, in the case of the scroll. Let’s focus on the important matters, okay?”

“If you want.” Talmeni summarized her recent thoughts: “Given it involves some godly weapon, I doubt it’s something for a single vampire. So I’d agree more to not let the prophecy come to pass. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what it is”, she quickly added, “I’m just agreeing more to stop it.”

“Great”, Serana commented, in too happy a voice to be serious.

“I also don’t trust this Falion. He knows what we are, and he’s a wizard. That means smart enough to figure out that if the bow does betray its master, it profits us. So here’s what we do, we let them write the letter for us, but we make it clear we’re still musing over where the scroll will be read. Mentioning the College again is going to make Falion try to grant us some boons. I we’re lucky, we’ll walk out of here with some useful things in out pockets.”

“And you think that will work?”, Serana said, full of doubt, while re-braiding her hair.

“I’ll make it work. With magic, if I need to.” That last part was a boast. While Talmeni had read about ways to make mental influences more subtle, she was far from sure. Testing it in such a high-risk situation, especially with a wizard present, wasn’t a good move. But if it came to the worst, she was sure she would get them out.

The innkeeper came by again not much later, asking what they wanted for breakfast, and apologising in advance for the orc. Apparently, he considered himself a bard, despite not having the least amount of musical talent. Talmeni politely got her to leave, claiming they would eat with the jarl later.

Once both were as presentable as they could make themselves in the circumstances, they went back to the jarl’s longhouse down the street. Talmeni wasn’t sure the hour was up since sunrise, but since the sun was fully above the horizon, she decided it counted as late enough. While getting up late had given them some extra energy to stay awake into the day, just seeing the glare of the sun was tiring Talmeni out. She was thankful for the relative gloom of the longhouse ahead of them.

Whether it was time or not, the jarl clearly hadn’t expected them yet. While she had gotten dressed, she was in the middle of a conversation with Falion. The wizard held a book, and a few more had been placed next to the throne, flipped open to some relevant passages. “…that this weapon is Auriel’s Bow I feel certain about. The myths agree that it was Auriel who hid the heart of the world-maker, the one you call Shor. But that does not mean the Daedra are the darkest creatures”, was what Talmeni managed to catch from Falion’s explanation.

The wizard was interrupted by Gorm jumping up from a bench to announce: “They’re here.” He eyed Talmeni and Serana carefully, but did not stop them from stepping closer to the throne.

“You’ve returned”, Idgrod said, shooing the wizard to the side with an impatient wave, “Have you come to a decision?”

Serana thankfully stayed quiet, letting Talmeni launch into the speech she had arranged while walking over to the hall. “We have, and we agree that this scroll needs to be read by a priest. However, these darkest beings you mentioned from your vision worry me. They might learn we’re here, and want to know what’s in the scroll themselves. Can Morthal stand against them? Keep a dark war at bay until the moth priest comes?”

“No place could stand against the Daedra, if they put their mind to it”, Idgrod answered, not convinced.

“Assuming it is Daedra”, Falion said to himself, clutching his book.

“Still”, Talmeni insisted, “There’s places that are safer. The College of Winterhold survived an earthquake, from what I heard.”

Falion looked suitably upset by the mention, but to Talmeni’s surprise it was Idgrod the jarl who answered instead: “I see death and calamity coming to the college, from greed and overconfidence. It would make for a bad place to bring the scroll.”

“Not to mention it is hard to reach, by sea and land both. Especially so for an Imperial delegation, given the Stormcloaks in Windhelm”, Falion added.

“With that logic, we should bring the scroll to Solitude”, Talmeni concluded, “Unless you can give me solid guarantees that Morthal will keep it safe.”

“That we cannot”, Idgrod sighed, “Solitude’s walls and armies, at least, will keep ordinary ruffians at bay. Bring the scroll there, with my blessing. That will certainly also be where the priest will arrive. With the passes blocked, it is safer to come from Cyrodiil by ship.”

“Then by all means, inform them of the scroll”, Talmeni decided, “We shouldn’t waste time, as we’ll be in Solitude long before that ship.” Internally, she was a bit disappointed that Idgrod had given in so easily, without trying to bribe or entice them to stay. Hoping to make some profit off the whole episode, she tried a new angle: “However, our travel to Solitude will also be difficult, given the dark forces standing against us.”

“Indeed”, Idgrod agreed. For a moment, she stared into space, and spoke with a hollow voice. “I see your path leading you through sunless places, far from any roads.” More normally, she added: “Falion can certainly provide you with something to keep you safe.”

The wizard stopped mustering the two vampires and turned towards the jarl. “I have ways, yes. With your permission, I would discuss it personally with them.”

Idgrod waved her approval, and Falion led the two women out of the hall. Given how things had been in Markarth, Talmeni was surprised to learn the wizard wasn’t living in the jarl’s longhouse, but in a house of his own. Maybe it was because of the wizard’s reputation. As he walked along what passed as streets in Morthal, people were throwing him critical, even hostile glances, even more so than Talmeni and Serana, even though they were foreigners.

His house was small, nothing more than a single room with a roof, made crowded by the shelves of books and the enchanting table sharing space with the hearth and beds. A young girl looked up from a book when he entered, and then watched with wide eyes as Talmeni and Serana joined him. “Agni, could you play outside for a while?”, the wizard asked nervously.

“Yes, sir”, she said obediently, and put her book aside. Falion stared intensely at the two vampires as they stepped aside to let her past. He was tense, downright anxious, Talmeni noticed, in a way he hadn’t been before. It passed once the child was out of the house. A weak point, Talmeni thought. Or rather a point of danger. Trying to use the child as leverage would probably make Falion lose all restraint.

“Well, now you’ve got us all alone in a house at the edge of the city”, Serana said brightly, with a smile that showed her teeth.

“There is no need to be like that”, Falion said loudly, then took a deep breath. “I don’t harbor any ill will against your kind.” After a short pause in which neither of the women felt there was a need to say anything, he added conversationally: “I even considered becoming a vampire myself. But in the end, vampirism would endanger my ward Agni, which would defeat the intended purpose.”

“From yourself or the townsfolk?”, Talmeni wondered while taking a chair and making herself comfortable.

“Hah. They would burn me already, if they dared”, Falion barked, glaring at her for sitting down without asking.

“You’re not somebody who makes friends easily, are you?” Talmeni gave him a smile and watched his expression.

“They will sure be happy to hear you made sure two dangers like us left town”, Serana commented sweetly. “What help did you have in mind?”

Falion tought, and while considering this already said absent-mindedly: “For starters, I could cure you. There is a ritual that —“

“Yes, it is nice to hear that you harbor us no ill will”, Serana said with the sarcasm dripping heavily, “We’re only something to be pitied and cured, not hated.”

Falion threw her an angry glance. “I only offer the option”, he muttered, putting Agni’s book into a shelf.

“Like the sawmill offers the option to cut your legs off”, Talmeni commented, twirling her dagger. “We need something to protect us against dark forces, not make us vulnerable to them. How good are you with that enchantment table?”

“I wouldn’t have it if I couldn’t use it”, Falion answered, “If you have the aptitude, I could provide you with an amulet to strengthen your conjuration spells.”

“That sounds useful”, Serana said, “I would take it.”

“Unless you can fit an entire conjuration into a ring, it’s nothing for me”, Talmeni decided. “I don’t do summoning.”

“What is it you do, then?”, the wizard wondered, pulling a small box from a shelf.

“Words. And other things concerning throats.” She gave him a grin when he gave her a puzzled frown. While lounging on her chair, Talmeni had surreptitiously read some of the book spines visible around her. Falion had quite a magical library, but in terms of Illusion, he offered nothing more than Calcelmo had. “I don’t need anything fancy”, she assured him, “Some gold and potions, and we’re good. The most important thing you can grant us is silence anyway.”

“Silence? You mean the spell?”, Falion asked.

“No, your own silence. Once we leave, we were never here. Don’t talk about us to anyone, don’t mention the prophecy or the scroll. Dismiss anyone who asks about us. That kind of silence.”

“After how many people saw you with the scroll?”, Falion asked incredulously, “Even if I don’t talk, the other residents will, and—”

“And what do they know? You’re the mage. Your word has value”, Talmeni interrupted him, “You were the one in the room with the jarl. And if you say we were just two bumbling idiots wo didn’t even know that what they had was an Elder Scroll, that has weight.”

“That clearly doesn’t describe us”, Serana muttered brightly, but Talmeni ignored her, keeping her gaze on Falion.

The wizard was silent for a moment, still holding that box. “Yes, I can do that”, he said, “But only as long as I feel you hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Not to worry. It’s certain the scroll will be read.” Talmeni had to stifle a yawn.

Falion noticed her tiredness, but given his frown before that, he had also noticed the ambiguity of Talmeni’s statement. However, he didn’t comment on that, just said: “Knowing what you are, I won’t keep you up. This will all take me several hours to prepare, but I suspect you’ll be at the Moorside Inn until sunset, won’t you?”

Talmeni didn’t quite feel comfortable with the mage being that good at predicting her moves, but she nodded anyway. Both Serana and her needed the sleep.

“I didn’t know you conjured”, Talmeni commented conversationally as they headed back towards the inn.

“I know a few spells”, Serana answered with a shrug, “But I’m not an expert, I just picked it up from my mother. She was very passionate about it. That and alchemy. She always loved to experiment, discover new things, find new spells…”

“Sounds nice”, Talmeni said politely. It didn’t appeal to her, this kind of idle curiosity, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud.

“It was.” Serana sighed. “I miss her.”

“So what’s your passion? What gets your blood going?”, Talmeni asked with a slight grin.

For a moment, Serana looked away, swallowing some comment. “Of the things my parents taught me, I liked alchemy the best”, she said, then hesitated. In a voice slightly too cheerful, she added: “But of course I was mostly just being a good and happy daughter, but that is not something a vampire should aspire to.”

“Says who?”, Talmeni asked back sharply, feeling the need to defend Serana from whatever had instilled that idea in her, “The whole point of being the one holding the strings is that you can do whatever you want. Whatever, even if it’s not what other people think is right. And who thinks a peaceful house life is wrong? I wish I had one.” She had to stop herself from clamping her hand over her mouth when she realized what she’d just blurted out. It had to have been the exertions of the last few days, and the tiredness of walking through the sun, that had made her start rambling like this.

Serana was quiet for a moment, then said brightly: “Seems the hardened criminal has a heart after all.”

Talmeni snorted, despondently kicking a pebble. Several thoughts were swirling in her head, demanding her to respond, but not agreeing on how. For a moment, there were the faces of Rhiada, and Margret, and Niluva, and some vague, half-remembered smiles from long ago. In the end, it was regret, seeping out of some dark, locked corner of her memories, that caused her to speak.

“Look, I’m good at being a Chiller. When I hold a knife, when I hold power, I know what I’m going. I’ve got experience, and probably talent. But you don’t end up with the Camonna Tong because you’ve got a happy family. You don’t lose yourself in skooma because you’ve got a happy life. And it’s hard to get out, and …and I don’t know if I’m good at being a wife. I’ve never found the words to say to a woman that I’d like to try with her.” Talmeni stared out at the moor beyond the village, feeling tense and vulnerable. Not only because she was laying her soul bare to a woman she only knew for a few days, but also because in the footsteps of the regret, other old emotions and memories were coming back. She’d not thought about having had family before, and now these walled-of parts of herself were crawling into her conscious thoughts.

Through the haze of rising anxiety and fear, of old wounds she’d forgotten she had, Talmeni heard Serana comment jokingly: “You not finding the courage to say things to somebody? I guess maybe impossible things are possible after all.”

“Look, it’s one thing to say to a woman like you that she’s looking good in that corset, and another to say to you that I l—” Talmeni put a hand in front of her mouth to stop herself from speaking. She couldn’t. Not now. Not while a dark war was threatening, not while they were at the mercy of some wizard who knew what they were, not while the sun was glaring down into what felt like her soul, not while her mind was being pulled under by the memories of a childhood of pain, loss, and conflict.

They had reached the patio of the inn, and Talmeni was thankful for the support of grasping one of the poles holding up the roof. Her other hand was tensely, almost painfully, clenched around one of the skooma bottles in her satchel. She pulled it out and popped the cork with shaking fingers.

“Is this wise?”, Serana asked with concern.

“No”, Talmeni answered, trying to concentrate on holding still so she could measure out a dose on her thumb. “But I…I …It’s worse without”, she managed, having to focus on each word before it flew away.

“Let me.” Serana took the skooma bottle gently out of Talmeni’s fingers, measured out a drop, and pressed it against the elf’s lips. Talmeni shivered from more than just anxiety, and gently lapped up the sweet sirup, a feeling of calm coming over her just from Serana’s skin against her lips.

After a few calm breaths, Talmeni felt the energy rise within her. The anxiety, the memories, were gone, and she felt ready, eager, to face the world. The past didn’t matter, the here and now mattered. She was about to take Serana by the hands and finish that sentence from earlier, when the other vampire stepped away and said: “Come, let’s get out of the sun.”

Smiling, Talmeni followed. She could work with this. Serana wanted to sleep, and Talmeni could see to it she got the best sleep possible. She pressed some more coins into the innkeeper’s hands so that they could keep using the room, then pranced over to the bed and smoothed out the blankets so that Serana could lie down. “I’ll watch”, Talmeni said, vaguely gesturing at the door, “Nobody will stop your sleep. I’ll make sure.” She twirled her knife.

For a moment, Serana watched carefully, then laid down on the bed, neatly folding her arms as before and closing her eyes. And then she was still, with no breathing and no heartbeat showing that what was on the bed was anything else than a corpse.

Talmeni paced over to her, looking at the motionless figure. Serana looked helpless like this, and with the enthusiasm that was coursing through her, Talmeni found it hard not to feel tempted. She bent over the body on the bed, not sure if she was planning to kiss those wide lips, or cut the exposed throat. But she stopped herself, remembering that it was only an illusion. Serana was sleeping, and likely, given the nightmares that she’d idly admitted to having, also very lightly. Touching her would probably wake her up.

For a short while, Talmeni stared at the door, intent on guarding, but then had to get up again because it was too boring to just stand and stare. With nothing else to do, she got out a book from her backpack and started reading, or at least trying to. There were words on the page, and she was looking at them, but they then danced away into a memory full of clouds.

At some point, outside the door, the orc started performing a song. It was crude, didn’t rhyme, didn’t follow the rythm, or made much sense, but Talmeni still danced to it, too full of energy to sit still. It was the skooma, she managed to remind herself as the hours wore on and the mania receded somewhat. It removed all worries, and sometimes that meant all inhibitions. She remembered the blood on her hands in Riften, and that sobered her up even more. It was frightening, that even a small drop could still make her have an episode like that. Maybe just all those feelings, and especially those about Serana being that close, had increased the effects of the skooma.

She returned to her book, re-reading passages idly, listening to the sounds outside. Nobody was approaching the door, or spending any time wondering about the two of them staying inside during daytime. As noon, marked by the innkeeper managing to convince the orc to shut up for a hearty lunch, came and went Talmeni started to feel her exhaustion. The skooma high hadn’t helped, and she realized she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

With her last energy, she woke up Serana and explained that it was the other woman’s turn to watch. Then, she curled up on the blanket and quickly fell into a deep but troubled sleep.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was because of their conversation that Talmeni dreamed of being a child. She was playing hide and seek, though the laughter of other children sounded far-away and strange as she sought a hiding place inside a barn. There was the smell of decay in the air, and somehow the sounds from outside became more and more monstrous. She shivered, digging through the hay to hide, terrified of being found. And then suddenly they were in front of her, two rotting, mutilated corpses that she somehow recognized as her parents. She tried to scream when they suddenly moved, pulling her into an putrefying hug, but couldn’t open her mouth.

As the hand grabbed her, Talmeni jerked and got out her knife. She didn’t even think, just reacted from her deeply ingrained reflexes, pulling, twisting, locking the body into a hold while getting her blade ready to stab into the throat.

“It’s me!”, the figure shouted in Serana’s voice, and Talmeni realized that she’d confused dream and reality. She was in bed, Serana lying on top of her, and it was at her throat that she was holding the dagger.

“Sorry”, Talmeni mumbled, relaxing her grip and pulling her dagger away.

“Bad dream?”, Serana asked gently, not moving from her position.

“And bad experiences”, Talmeni answered quietly, feeling both ashamed and acutely aware of Serana’s body being that close.

“Can I stand up?”, she asked, still speaking very carefully.

“I’m not holding you”, Talmeni answered, and moved her hands sligthly further back to illustrate that. Then she noticed the third person in the room, and got tense again.

Serana carefully got out of her arms while Talmeni mustered that intruder with a deep frown. It was another woman, one who was augmenting her appearance with extensive makeup and a deep-cut dress, but right now her expression wasn’t fitting into the picture. She was looking at Talmeni and Serana with clear distrust and concern. “Who are you?”, Talmeni asked bluntly, pointing with her dagger as she got out of bed.

“This is Alva”, Serana answered in her stead, “She noticed me when she came into the inn, and …we should hear her out.”

“You are trespassing in my master’s domain, and taking blood that should by right be his”, Alva said, with a surprisingly deep voice. Like with the outfit, Talmeni had no doubt that with the right attitude, it could be very seductive, but right now Alva wasn’t making the effort.

Her words were worrying Talmeni just as much as Alva’s appearance. Not only because an accusation like that, even if accurate, wasn’t a good way to open negotiations. But because it was clear Alva knew the two of them were vampires, and if Talmeni’s sense could be believed, this woman wasn’t. She couldn’t smell anything, like Serana claimed to do, but there was an irregularity and faintness to Serana’s heartbeat that marked her as a vampire, and Alva didn’t have that. Nevertheless, Talmeni lowered the dagger slightly, and said: “Go on.”

“You should talk to my master”, Alva said, “He deserves an apology, and will certainly be interested to know about you and your quest.” Just say Scroll, Talmeni thought. Of course he would be. “And it seems that you are looking for guidance, something he can also provide”, Alva finished with a glance at Serana.

“Reasonable”, Talmeni conceded, “We said Hello to the jarl, might as well said Hello to the ruler of the night around here.”

“I’m sure you’ll find him wonderful”, Alva said with a dreamy voice, “He is a great man, who has shown me the true colors of the night, and the true power of seduction.” Talmeni threw a glance at Serana if she had any idea where this was suddenly coming from, but the other vampire seemed as surprised by these words. Talmeni wondered if some subtle magical influence was in place here, that made Alva that enamored with her master.

“Right. Give us a moment to get ready. In private.” Serana threw her a warning glance, but Talmeni ignored it.

“Very well. I will wait for you in the cemetery”, Alva decided, “Just follow the path behind the inn up the hill.”

The moment the door fell into the lock behind Alva, Serana sighed and said: “I know what you are going to say, but…” She gestured vaguely. “I need to know what has happened while I was gone. From somebody who knows more than just some vague stories.”

“For your questions, a master vampire is a good place to start”, Talmeni said with a shrug.

Serana looked up, puzzled. “I thought you would disapprove.”

“Of getting to know the situation and possibly finding another person who thinks they’re controlling us when they’re only handing us money?”, Talmeni asked sarcastically. With a grin, she added: “However, I might say ‘I told you so’ later. You are telling a powerful vampire about the scroll, if not even the prophecy, this way.”

“There we are”, Serana sighed and continued in a sing-song voice: “How much nicer would the world be if we all trusted each other as much as you did?”

Talmeni’s grin widened. “You mean more like Morrowind? Works for me.”

“The country that made you an emotionally unstable criminal with no scruples?”, Serana snapped, and then hesitated as she realized what she’d just said.

After a moment of clenching her fingers around her dagger, Talmeni answered, not looking the other vampire in the face: “I’m sorry about attacking you when waking up.”

“It’s not that”, Serana said quietly, “We all have bad dreams. But I never know what to expect. Sometimes you’re sweet, then suddenly you become angry, then you’re cold and calculating…”

“Do you think I want to be like that? To have to hold on to my self while dealing with two different thirsts, and not getting regular sleep, and having to worry about the future of the entire world, and getting attacked by a fetcher of a dragon?” Talmeni shook her head. This discussion would go nowhere. “Let’s just meet Alva and see who her master is.”

As Talmeni pulled her backpack upright to stow away the dirty clothes she’d changed out of this morning, Serana said quietly: “You don’t have to come, if it’s that difficult for you.”

“Yes I do. I’m not going to go home and one evening wake up to a rain of blood and swarms of bats descending on the town.” Adjusting the straps, Talmeni added: “If you want to take the lead, that’s fine. I know you don’t trust me, and want to explore other options, and there is nothing wrong with that. But the fate of all vampires is bound up with you and that scroll, so for better or worse, I’ll stick around. I’m not going to let a future happen in which you or I have to dance to someone else’s strings.”

“An attitude that makes you so different from the thousand other vampires”, Serana commented with heavy sarcasm.

Talmeni shrugged. “They weren’t the ones who entered Dimhollow crypt. But yes, there’s others who’ll say the same thing. That’s why I asked Falion for silence, because rumor is what will call others to this war.”

“Mentioning Falion, he did come by after sundown and brought us some things”, Serana said, gesturing at a small pile of scrolls and potions placed on the nightstand. Talmeni also noticed that there was a golden ring on Serana’s hand that hadn’t been there this morning. “He said he couldn’t put a full conjuration on a ring, so he put them on scrolls instead.”

“Not the only thing he put on scrolls”, Talmeni muttered as she inspected one of the scrolls at random, “This one looks like some fiery explosion if I read it right. I guess he figured out the dark forces are vampires.”

“You can read Daedric runes?”, Serana asked in surprise.

“We Dunmer use them for a lot, so you just pick it up as you go”, Talmeni said with a shrug, stowing the potions and scrolls next to her own supplies in the backpack. One of the scrolls, which featured the double-stroke Jeb of summoning, she put into her satchel for emergencies.

Then, each shouldering their respective load, Talmeni and Serana stepped out of the room. Alva was indeed not to be seen in the inn’s common room, but what surprised Talmeni more was the general lack of people around. “How long did you let me sleep?”, she Serana as they stepped outside.

“It’s probably midnight soon. It looked like you needed it.” Talmeni wondered how one could tell, but didn’t bother asking, too busy trying to find their way.

There was indeed a path behind the inn, running up the side of the hill , which after a few moments brought them to a small graveyard overlooking the village. It was probably the best place for it, Talmeni mused, given that Morthal sat right at the edge of a swamp, and digging a hole in mud was a useless effort.

Somebody was digging at the moment, despite the late hour, and as the two vampires came closer, they couldn’t help but overhear the strange scene. The digger was another woman, whose movements were hurried, almost desperate, and whose words were unfocused and pleading. Next to her was Alva, sounding exasperated and angry.

“Stop that”, Alva said, clearly not for the first time.

“No. Helgi is mine. She’ll come back. She’s here. We play. Helgi is mine”, the other woman intoned between her aimless moving of dirt with her shovel.

“You killed her, you useless piece of meat”, Alva said, “Stop obsessing.”

“No. I saved her. We play. She’ll come back. I came back.”

Alva saw the two vampires approaching and sighed. She stood up straighter and said in words of command: “Stop. Forget about Helgi. Obey me.” Talmeni could follow how the magic grabbed that other woman and overwrote her will, but she didn’t need that to know what was happening. The digger stiffened, dropped the shovel and turned like a statue, staring without seeing. “You will bring these two to Morvarth, and deliver this letter to him”, Alva commanded, pressing a piece of paper into the unresisting hands of her thrall.

“You’re not coming with us?”, Serana asked, saving Talmeni the effort of considering what to do with that information.

Alva turned. “I would love to, but my master has given me a tasks that forces me to remain here.” She gestured at the other woman, who was still standing stiffly and unnaturally, controlled by the magic instead of her own mind. “This is Laelette. She will bring you to the master.”

“If she’s up for it”, Talmeni muttered, not quite quietly enough.

“I ordered her to, she’ll do it”, Alva answered smugly.

Laelette turned her head to stare in the direction that Talmeni and Serana were standing, and after a long and awkward pause, managed to say: “Follow me.” Without waiting for a reaction, she started to walk down the hill, just as awkward in her movements as in her speech.

“That’s goodbye to you, then”, Serana said politely to Alva, who kept standing next to the disturbed grave as Talmeni started walking after Laelette.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again”, Alva answered with a sweet and seductive voice that hade Talmeni grin for being right. “The master will give you a purpose, like he has given me.”

“What a mythical day that shall be”, Serana asnwered in her most sarcastic voice, and hurried after the other two, who were already halfway down the hill.

Laelette wasn’t particularly fast, not with her stilted way of walking. There was something extremely mechanical about it, as if the only purpose in life was putting one foot in front of the other, and the rest of the body was just along for the ride. Not even the gargoyle in Dimhollow crypt had moved in such an unnatural and artificial way, despite being a construct.

They had crossed the bridge to the sawmill and were wandering along an almost invisible path along a drier stretch of marsh when Serana spoke up: “You’re strangely fascinated by her. Is this the first time seeing a thrall?”

“If that’s what she is, yes. This kind of thing was normal during your time?” Talmeni wondered how polite it was to talk like this in front of Laelette. She did look switched off, but that didn’t mean she didn’t hear.

“Among vampires, certainly. You’re an illusionist, you must know that you can impose your will on others easily as a vampire. This is just the last step of that.”

Talmeni frowned. “Nothing left except the will of her master”, she mumbled, deep in thought.

“Don’t tell me you’ve found some scruples”, Serana commented sweetly.

“Complaints”, the dark elf corrected, gesturing vaguely, “Look at her. She’s about as useful a tool as a lump of lead on a stick. The process broke her. You saw how she obsessed about that grave. This isn’t a useful servant, it’s one that gives you more work cleaning up after her.”

“I don’t think it was just becoming a thrall that did that to her.”

Talmeni shrugged. “Still, it’s sloppy.”

They walked on in silence, each busy with their own thoughts. Laelette had taken them quite far into the marsh by now, and Talmeni felt lost. The bright moons were dimming the colors of the night, and even at this late hour, a faint fog was caught between the small and twisty trees. And even without, there was nothing distinctive, no good landmark to orient by, just puddles and waterways among the grey grasses and mosses. Talmeni played with her knife, not feeling as optimistic about any of this as Serana seemed to be.

A larger shape loomed ahead in the fog, and after a moment became discernible as a stony outcrop rising over the marshland. Laelette headed right for it, and without slowing, stepped into a gap in the cliffside. Serana followed, by Talmeni pulled her back to go first, dagger at the ready in case there was an ambush waiting within.

There was clearly something further in, as the air did not only smell of moldering earth and ancient dust. There were hints of blood, wine and even smoke, and after some distance down the gap, Talmeni also became aware of more heartbeats besides those of her companions.

On its path down into the rock, the gap widened, becoming a corridor through the rock that after some twists opened into a cave of appreciable size. Floods and rain had washed mud into the room, and somebody was digging in that dirt by the light of a small candle. As they came closer, Talmeni saw it was a Nord in ragged clothing, who moved with about the same grace as Laelette did. Another thrall, and this one did indeed seem more functional. He was digging a grave, the corpse lying next to him on the ground, extremely pale. Talmeni guessed they had died of being drained by their master.

The thrall did look up from his work for a second, but then his command pulled him back to work. However, footsteps and a heartbeat approached, and another figure stepped into the candlelight, this one dressed more neatly and moving more naturally. She stared at Talmeni and Serana with open suspicion, before noticing the letter offered by Laelette. Talmeni kept her dagger drawn but hidden behind her hip, because this newcomer was subtly holding a hand ready to cast spells.

“To the master”, Laelette explained after enough of a pause that the other woman had already halfway opened the folded paper.

The woman closed the letter again instantly and answered: “Yes, the master.” She stared in the direction of Talmeni and Serana and said: “Follow me.” Talmeni did so with hesitation, because it was clear that while this woman was not as broken as Laelette and the digger, she was also clearly under the control of this master. She hoped she was read enough in Illusion magic to notice if something like this was done to her.

They had just barely passed the grave when a sound made the three of them turn. Laelette, who had stayed behind, had jumped forward and grabbed the digging man, forcing him into the half-dug grave, but that was not why Talmeni raised her dagger. That was because of the long incisors in Laelette’s mouth that were plunging into the man’s neck.

“Stop!”, the better-clad woman shouted, and Talmeni could feel the magic behind the words. “True lifeblood is only for the master”, the other woman recited as Laelette froze in place, “Now go back.” Again, the words were underlined by magic, and Laelette let go of her prey and stumbled backwards. Without a further word, she turned around and headed towards the entrance of the cave.

“You have to excuse us. Lesser vampires are always such a pain”, the woman said, turning back to Serana and Talmeni, who was slowly lowering her knife again.

“I hadn’t expected Laelette to be a vampire”, Serana admitted, also unstiffening slightly. The digger returned to work, absolutely unpertubed by the sudden assault and its equally sudden cessation.

“Didn’t you?” The woman smiled a bit. “The master will explain that to you, I am sure.”

Now even more tense, Talmeni continued to follow, her knife still held ready. The books were pretty clear that the school of Illusion had a severely reduced effects on undead, and that included vampires. Anyone who could turn another vampire into a mindless thrall was bad news. Thankfully, given Serana’s somewhat tense gait, she was sharing some of the same apprehension.

The woman led them further into the cave system through a wide corridor, past a wooden ramp and into an even larger room, which was also lit faintly by a few small candles flickering forlornly on a table. A faint conversation became audible, of a man lecturing another: “True force comes from concentration, not power. The flat of your hand cannot hurt someone, no matter how—”

Hearing them approach, the lecturing man, sitting in a throne at the head of the long table, stopped himself and looked up. It was a face that Talmeni would likely never forget. She knew that hardship marked people, aged them beyond their years. She had seen it in Riften, on Sarthis, on Maul, on Brynjolf, on the workers of the meadery. She knew her own face was lined by tragedy and the years of skooma. But what was just a hint in all those faces was all that was left of his. Bald, full of deep lines that looked almost cut with a knife, and scars that cris-crossed his entire face. And his eyes left no doubt that this was this master his servants talked about. They close to burned with intensity, the only thing left alive in his traumatized face.

Talmeni hung politely back as the woman stepped forward and handed over the letter. The master read it without a word or any expression, then put it aside to look at the two vampires. “Come closer”, he said, more polite than Talmeni had expected. As she stepped closer, the man waved at his companions and ordered: “Leave us.”

The departure of the others didn’t make Talmeni feel any safer. However, Serana visibly relaxed and took the lead. “We are grateful for your hospitality”, she said, and introduced the two of them, thankfully leaving it at only the names.

“It is rare that I receive guests”, the man answered, calmly gesturing the two of them to take a seat, “I am Movarth Piquine.” He looked at them expectantly, but neither woman reacted. Talmeni had never heard of him, and wasn’t too surprised that Serana hadn’t, either.

“Three Blessings”, Talmeni said to cover up the silence.

“Have you fed today?”, Movarth asked, gesturing at the table. Talmeni had already sneaked a glance, and even though his heartbeat was as regular as that of Alva and Laelette, the contents of the plates marked his as a vampire. Raw, bloody chunks of meat were the main course, and Talmeni didn’t want to guess from what source. Movarth took one of the curiously wide-bottomed flasks filled with red liquid from among the buffet and placed it closer to her. “This will fill your belly”, he explained.

Talmeni did feel thirsty, so she took that flask, uncorked it and had a sniff. It smelled like blood, or very close to blood. Out of her eyes, she saw Serana do the same, and then react with clear surprise. To distract from that, Talmeni took her flask and poured it down her throat, emptying it in one big gulp. It also tasted very close to blood, and gave her a similar rush. “Tasty”, she commented, wiping her lips in a overly large gesture.

Thankfully, Movarth did focus on her, instead of on Serana, who had carefully sipped from her flask and was swilling the contents from cheek to cheek with a thoughtful expression. “It is poor fare, I am afraid, but it’s the best I can serve in the circumstances”, Movarth said.

“I wouldn’t call it poor”, Talmeni said, glancing at her bottle. She wished she’d had one or two of those bottles on her trip up to Dimhollow. It would have made everything easier.

“What brings you out here?”, Movarth asked, one of his hands resting on Alva’s letter. The hands were rather large and heavily calloused and scarred, more so than you’d expect. “Would you like to join me?”

Talmeni had a declining answer ready, but held herself back. This was Serana’s idea, and she had to decide how to handle this man. “In living in this lovely cave?”, Serana asked with as polite as tone as she could manage to cover her sarcasm.

The edge of Movarth’s mouth twitched for a moment, but then returned to his impassive expression. “This is temporary. Soon, the town of Morthal will be mine, and the blood of its inhabitants mine to share with those who have pleased me.”

“Quite a feat”, Serana said, in what Talmeni considered to be rather ambiguous in tone, “But for now, I am rather looking for information.”

“Oh, that is a shame. I could use a Volkihar like you”, Movarth commented.

He couldn’t have missed Serana tensing up, but Talmeni tried to cover it up nevertheless: “You know enough about vampires to decide that this quickly?”

“Yes. I had a thorough teacher, and learned much by myself. Enough to know you weren’t turned in Vvardenfell”, Movarth answered.

“Really”, Talmeni answered, holding back her fascination.

“You can move through the sun unhindered, a gift given to only a few bloodlines.” Movarth’s hands tensed for a moment, showing emotion that his face didn’t. Envy, Talmeni guessed.

“Yes, being blinded and exhausted from every single step in sunlight is certainly not a hindrance”, Serana answered, cutting off Talmeni’s musings of how to answer in a way that forced Movarth to reveal more.

The hands clenched again. “Do you burn in sunlight? Does your skin smoke and flake under the glare of Aetherius? Then don’t presume to know what a true burden is.”

“We all have different gifts”, Talmeni said to defuse the situation, “We in return can’t just pass as human like you. Serana sniffed me out before even opening her eyes, and so did a vampire expert.”

“It was surprising to see Laelette’s teeth”, Serana added, “What bloodline are you from?”

“You have not heard of Cyrodiil’s vampires?”, Movarth asked.

Talmeni suspected it was rethorical, but Serana answered nevertheless: “I was …away from the world for a while. And I never left Skyrim.”

“Even if you had, you might not have realized who rules the night in the heartland. Your companion is right, they were gifted the ability to appear human in all regard through a pact with Clavicus Vile. And since then, they have driven all other bloodlines out, through means so subtle few people ever realized there were even other vampires involved. They even used me once.”

“And becoming a vampire was the reward?”, Serana guessed.

Once again the hands clenched. “No. A reminder. One I intend to take to heart.”

Talmeni saw that this was a dangerous topic, best avoided unless it became neccessary to upset the man. She thought about ways to steer the conversation away from it, but Serana was once again faster: “What do you know about the Volkihar?”

A subtle but unmissable change came over Movarth. He relaxed, and his voice took on the secure tones of a lecturing teacher. “They’re the oldest and most powerful bloodline of Skyrim, and have spread all over the province. If you find a mongrel vampire in the wilderness, you can be sure it’s Volkihar blood running through their veins. They have an affinity, even symbiosis, with the cold and ice. Their elders can live in frozen lakes, passing through the ice without even breaking it. It’s surely due to their Nord origins.”

“There really aren’t any other clans in Skyrim?”, Serana wondered, sounding very surprised.

“For now, none who can challenge them”, Movarth said, the implications clear.

But Serana had something else in mind with her line of questions. “What about the Snowbrood?”

“Wiped out long ago.”

“The Nighthollow?”

“A myth from the ages of myth.” Movarth waved dismissively, but Talmeni rather trusted Serana’s doubting expression.

“Lamae Bal?”

Movarth blinked in surprise, clearly not having expected this. “Her tainted offspring still haunts High Rock, but who knows if the Dark Matron herself still lives?”

“Her offspring would be the Lyrezi, Selenu and Vraseth?”

“And the Montalion, Ravenwatch, Antothis, Khulari and so on. I wonder if strife is not part of their very blood, as much as they fight amongst themselves.”

“Certainly something unique to them”, Serana said with heavy sarcasm.

“Were those the answers you were looking for?”, Movarth asked, in an almost challenging tone.

“They helped. I have one last question: Who leads the Volkihar?”

“Nobody”, Movarth said after just a moment of consideration, “They spread across the land not by the command of some master, but only their own volition.”

“That does make them hard to remove”, Talmeni commented, to remind people she was still there. She understood why Serana asked these questions, but the details of who these clans had been that she wanted to know about were even more of a mystery to Talmeni than they were to Movarth.

“If attacked, yes. But if they find their feeding ground cut off, and their enemies entrenched, they will be unable to organize a counterattack for the same reason. That is the disadvantage of chaos against order.”

“Nobody leads them?”, Serana asked, almost desperate.

“None worth mentioning. There are small covens in rank caves where somebody is playing master”, Movarth said dismissively. Talmeni had to fight with herself not to say anything as he went on: “But when I hunted them, the most I could find were impassive elders living in lakes, uninterested in the world except for the source of their next meal.”

“That …I don’t have any more questions”, Serana said, clearly rattled by these news. Talmeni considered putting a soothing hand on her shoulder, to remind her she was not alone even in the case her parents really had both died, but decided against it. In front of Movarth, who was mustering them as closely as she was mustering him, it was best not to show weakness.

“Then, in payment, I would have you answer some questions of mine”, Movarth said, something Talmeni had been expecting for a long time now. She sat up straighter and looked eager, hoping he’d take the bait and ask her instead of Serana.

“I’m sure we can”, Talmeni said with fake confidence.

Movarth eyed the Scroll on Serana’s back, but clearly decided it wasn’t time to be blunt. “What brought you to Morthal?”, he asked.

Talmeni gave him a shrug. “Convenience. We were in the mountains, and this was the closest place to find fresh blood.” After a second, she added: “We’re sorry for poaching in your village, we didn’t know you had claimed it.”

“Aopology accepted. The mountains? Would that be around Eldersblood, or Stone Hill?”

For a moment stumped, Talmeni had to try and recall the map in her mind, to remember if those names had been on there. Serana jumped in and said: “Eldersblood.” Talmeni nodded along, not sure if that was right but unwilling to start questioning it.

“Is that where you found the scroll?”, Movarth asked, almost conversationally.

“Yes”, Talmeni said quickly, before Serana could mess it up, “In an old tomb, guarded by some undead chief. They’re called draugr, right?”

Movarth nodded. “Do you know what it is you found there?”, he continued, slipping once more into his lecturing tone.

“We know how valuable it is”, Serana answered in a hard voice, giving Talmeni a nudge with her boot to keep her quiet.

“Do you?”, Movarth asked, doubting, “And it seems you think I would be unable to pay whatever your asking price is.”

“I wasn’t aware we were asking for an offer”, Serana answered, some warning undertones under the sweet sarcasm. Talmeni had to admit to herself that she was falling in love with that voice, and her way of talking.

Once again the corners of Movarth’s mouth showed the ghost of a smile, but Talmeni found the eyes more telling. He was weighing them up, considering how easy it might be take the Scroll by force or magic. Thankfully, they were still unknowns to him, and he had to assume the worst about the abilities they hadn’t displayed yet. In truth, Talmeni wasn’t sure she knew herself what their chances were. She hadn’t tried using the Illusion spells against another vampire, and Serana was still somewhat tight-lipped about the extend of her capabilities.

Movarth came to a decision, and leaned forward to take a piece of meat from a platter. “My offer is the same as before. Serve me, and I will share the rewards of rulership with you.”

Talmeni gave him a short grin. “Serve you? That would be going against a lesson I learned with pain.” She pulled out the pendant of Molag Bal from under her clothes. “I was reminded of the cost of kneeling in front of the teacher’s chair.”

“You repay my hospitality with rejection?”, Movarth asked, and Talmeni could feel Serana’s warning hand on her wrist.

But she went on, because saying nothing would be worse. “Rejection? No. You might not dictate our paths, but that does not mean our paths can’t go in the same direction for a while. I could certainly help you with securing Morthal, and I believe you can help me, too. I have it on good authority that a war is coming between the children of the darkness, and working together will make sure we are the winning side.”

Movarth chewed silently, obvious about seizing Talmeni up as he did so. She tried to match his stare, although it was hard. He was a man burned, even consumed, by conviction. Talmeni knew she wasn’t. After a long pause, he asked: “Who was your sire?”

Talmeni shrugged. “I never saw a face. They infected me without knowing while feeding, I think.”

“And so you call Molag Bal your master?” It was hard to figure out if Movarth approved or disapproved, as little emotion as he showed.

“Teacher”, Talmeni corrected with feeling, “He taught me the pain that comes from bowing down. Someone like this, I won’t serve, but I will remember his lessons.”

“And you?”, he asked, turning to Serana.

“What use is the name of a sire older than the Nighthollow?”, she asked back with a smile. “You guessed right, though, I am Volkihar.”

“And do you agree with your friend?”

Serana looked at Talmeni with a critical expression. Despite her better judgement, Talmeni felt apprehension about possibly hearing this woman she was infatuated with say something rejecting. After a moment of silence, Serana answered: “Our paths run side by side.”

Movarth ripped another piece of meat apart with his teeth, and continued to stare at her for a while longer. Then, he made a decision. “It is late in the night. I will consider what we said, and we will continue this tomorrow. You probably are also tired from your walk. There are some spare coffins you can use.”

He clapped his hands, and another servant of his approached, given the better clothing probably also a vampire. Movarth whispered him some orders, but not quite quiet enough to be inaudible. The coffins being spare was apparently a lie, as his whispers were pretty clear that two of the vampires had to sleep elsewhere today. When an expression of surprise flashed on the servant’s face, Movarth repeated the order with some magic behind the words.

As they were led into a side cave by the servant, Talmeni felt resolved to never become a subject of Movarth’s, because she knew sooner or later she would end up a puppet like these. She wondered if suggesting an alliance had been a smart move, but it had been the only choice. Outright refusal would have made him attempt to retrieve the Scroll by force.

She hadn’t dared to say anything in front of Movarth, but Talmeni was surprised to learn that “coffin” hadn’t been a euphemism. What was being offered to them as sleeping places were indeed tight wooden boxes of the sort the Nords buried their dead in.

“That went about as well as I could expect”, Serana said once the servant had moved off a bit. “But at least it gives me something better to sleep in than a bed.” She yawned delicately, then pulled the Elder Scroll off her back and dropped it into one of the coffins.

“Better”, Talmeni repeated flatly. To her, even bare stone would have looked more appealing.

“You really are new to vampirism, aren’t you?”, Serana asked, sitting down on the edge of her coffin. “Our bodies are dead, it’s healthier for us to rest like the dead.”

“In my case that would mean cremating me, grinding my bones into ash and scattering me with my ancestors”, Talmeni joked. “Whoever they were.”

“Is that how your people bury their dead?”, Serana asked, lowering herself into the coffin and shifting the scroll around to make space for herself.

“Yes. We are born in the ash, we return to it.” Talmeni tried getting into her own coffin, hoping the wood wasn’t going to split while she was moving about. Once lying down, it didn’t appear as tight any more, having been made for a larger person. Still, Talmeni found herself folding her arms over her chest to avoid touching the sides. It reminder her of her nap in Dimhollow Crypt, in that small burial niche, which had not been much bigger than this.

“Are you managing?”, Serana’s voice came from out of sight, her coffin hidden behind the lid of Talmeni’s from the elf’s current point of view.

“It’s all right”, she answered, and then added: “Although it’s just big enough for one, isn’t it? How did your parent fit together into one?”

“We all had our own coffins”, Serana answered.

“Really? As rich as you must have been, you could have gotten a coffin for two.”

There was a faint sigh, then Serana said: “And here I forgot for a moment who I was talking to. You know vampires can’t have children together, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t thinking about children”, Talmeni answered truthfully.

“Of course. Good night, Talmeni”, Serana sighed, and her coffin lid slammed shut.

Carefully closing her own coffin lid, Talmeni had to wonder what Serana’s parents had been like. On the one hand, Serana clearly missed them, so there had to have been some love there. But her parents had apparently never been particularly close, if they had never considered sharing their sleeping space. In Talmeni’s book, a bit of cuddling before falling asleep was part of a good relationship. But maybe Nords four thousand years ago saw it differently.

Even though the lid was closed, Talmeni didn’t shut her eyes or try to sleep. Not only wasn’t she sure whether Movarth would attempt to take the Elder Scroll while Serana was sleeping, she wanted to do a bit of daytime exploring as well, while her host was sleeping. Those flasks of not quite blood intrigued Serana, and that intrigued Talmeni. In addition, they would be a valuable asset the next time Talmeni would have to do overland travel without the luxury of mortal companions.

It was eerily quiet, waiting in that coffin. Like herself, the other vampires living here made little noise, and only their faint heartbeats marked the point when they fell asleep. Once Talmeni felt sure that the others were all sleeping deeply, she cast her camouflage spell, opened the lid of her coffin a fraction, and slid out. She closed the lid after herself, considering that there was something amusing about the fact that you couldn’t tell if it was occupied without opening it up.

With due diligence, Talmeni first scouted the layout of the rooms, to get a headcount of Movarth’s coven, and see if there were any other exits. There weren’t, and Talmeni wondered how hard it must have been to find a good cave if Movarth made do with one that was a dead end. Comparing heartbeats to sleeping bodies she could find, she decided that Movarth had three vampire servants and three human thralls. With Serana and Talmeni occupying the coffins, two of the vampires had been forced to bed down with the thralls in a different part of the cave.

Movarth himself slept in a small hollow by himself, a niche up the wall behind his large feast table. Or at least that room had a larger and more ornately decorated coffin in it, and Talmeni had not seen the master vampire anywhere else. More interesting for her, however, was the small alchemy table on the opposite wall, and the crate of flasks next to it. The flasks were of the wide-bottomed type he had offered, and filled with the same red liquid.

Talmeni carefully rearranged the flasks in the crate, putting them in more widely spaced, but such that at first glance it still looked like it was fully packed. That gave her four of those potions left over, which she decided was a good enough haul. It would keep her and Serana going for at most six days, but it was better than nothing.

With the flasks safely hidden at the bottom of her backpack, Talmeni went back into the coffin. It seemed clear that Movarth was content to let them sleep for today, and so after just a moment of hesitation, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

When she opened them some time later, she felt rather thoroughly refreshed. The constant nightmares that plagued her nights hadn’t come today. Remembering that her sleep in Dimhollow Crypt had been similarly peaceful, Talmeni wondered if Serana was right about the effect of a coffin.

For now, however, she pushed open the lid of her coffin to find out what was going on. There weren’t many noises around, but Talmeni had the feeling that the cave was quiet at the best of times. Movarth’s servants were not encouraged to talk.

Not long after she had thought that, one of the servants came by, carrying a bowl of water for her to clean herself with. Talmeni took it with thanks, wondering where the water was from. It looked too clean to be from the swamp itself. Maybe a small stream ran nearby, feeding into the marsh. She got out a rag and soaked it, shivering slightly from the temperature. It was certainly as cold as fresh meltwater.

While she had her shirt off to clean herself, Talmeni heard the other coffin open, followed by the noise of Serana standing up, and the a moment of silence. Talmeni finished washing her arm, giving Serana a lot of time to say anything, before then turning around with a friendly “I hope you slept well.”

Serana had been looking, clearly, because she turned extremely hastily when Talmeni did so. “Yes, thank you”, Serana said after a short pause, looking resolutely in the opposite direction, “Can I have the water when you’re done?”

“You can have it now”, Talmeni answered, smiling to yourself, “Only costs you looking at my front.”

“Too great a price”, Serana answered sarcastically, “I’ll just wait.”

“All right. Still, whenever you feel ready to see me without my shirt, the offer stands.” Talmeni turned back, and such didn’t see Serana’s reaction, only heard the noise. It was a sigh, but it didn’t sound annoyed. Maybe it was just her imagination that it was slightly wistful.

Finishing up and getting dressed again, Talmeni left Serana to clean in private, wandering in the main hall of the cave. One of the servants was busy cleaning and setting the large table, and it had probably the noise that had made which had woken Talmeni up.

There was a faint aroma of grilled meat lingering in the room. Talmeni wondered for a second if it would be breakfast, before dismissing that thought. Movarth liked his meat raw, to be able to savor the taste of the blood within. Talmeni did enjoy the taste of blood, but didn’t see the need to limit herself to it. Standing her round in the Silver-Blood Inn and ordering a bit of food to fit in had made her realize that even though other tastes were a bit dulled by being a vampire, it didn’t mean they weren’t there at all.

“A dark elf, in dark clothing, in a dark corner”, the voice of Movarth came from above. Talmeni turned to face him, as he came down the short walkway built to make his sleeping space accessible. “Quite good, but not quite enough if you wished to surprise me”, the master vampire continued, his face eerily lit by the candle he was holding.

“If I wanted to surprise you, you wouldn’t notice until it was a surprise”, Talmeni answered with a shrug. Inside, she felt intrigued by the candle and the comment. She had assumed the bit of light around the place had been to the benefit of his human servants, but now she wondered if Movarth could see the colors of the night at all, or just see normally if well with little light.

“I shall watch my back, then”, Movarth commented casually, sitting down in his place at the head of the table.

“There is no reason for me to cut your throat any time soon”, Talmeni answered, ignoring Movarth’s inviting gesture to sit down next to him.

Movarth looked her up and down, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles. “But you still watch and wait. You don’t trust anyone, it seems, except the woman you protect. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I can’t control what you notice, only what’s possible for you to notice”, she answered with another shrug. It was empty boasting, meant to cover up her surprise at learning just how much this man had managed to keep track of. He’d read her while she had read him.

“And what makes her exempt from your supicion?”, he continued, also clearly continuing to seize her up.

Talmeni gave another shrug to cover up her moment of thought. She had many reasons for why she wanted to trust Serana, but had to find one that would sound reasonable to Movarth. “She placed herself in my power”, she decided on, “That makes her one of my own, and I protect my own.”

Movarth took that information with his usual impassive face. He didn’t answer, because in that moment Serana stepped out of the connecting tunnel to their sleeping place. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting”, she commented politely, not letting on how much of the previous conversation she had heard.

“Not at all”, Movarth answered, “We were just chatting. However, your friend here interests me. How would you be able to help me in conquering Morthal, as you claimed you could last night?”

Talmeni played with her knife as she thought what to say and what to keep quiet about for now. “I’m a Chiller”, she began, “So when it comes to ruling from the shadows without the guards making a move, I know a few things. For starters, it’s pretty clear you need to take care of the jarl and the people both. They don’t much like her, but she’s still in charge of the guard. One wrong word in her ear, and it’s over, but also, if the mob goes after you, she’s not going to tell them to stop.”

“And you of course have ways to accomplish that”, Movarth continued with a dismissive voice, “But you don’t listen to yourself. The true threat, as you note, is the guard. So it is them we need to control, not those who think themselves in power.”

“And Alva is making good progress on that, is she?”, Serana asked, a slight bit of sarcasm slipping through her polite tone.

Movarth did not take it as innocent, though, given how his hands clenched. “She is patient, and so am I. We can afford to be.”

“If you want the guard under you, I’m sure I can arrange that, too”, Talmeni offered, feeling a bit insulted for Movarth just dismissing her thoughts. She wondered if he saw what his control did to people, because if you saw it from outside, that kind of behavior would arouse immediate suspicion. That was the only way his plan of controlling the guard could appear logical to him.

“Before we negotiate over the terms of our cooperation, there are some dicussions I need to have with my bodyguard”, Serana interrupted the conversation, grabbing Talmeni’s arm while emphasizing that last word. “Privately, if possible.”

Movarth gestured around: “This is all I can offer for privacy.”

“What if we were considering going outside?”, Talmeni asked, watching closely for Movarth’s reaction.

His eyebrows moved closer together as he turned to face Talmeni. “And then disappearing into the night without a word? That I won’t allow without some reassurance that you’ll come back.” His eyes wandered to the Elder Scroll that Serana was once again carrying.

Serana gripped the strap tightly, clearly not willing to let go of the scroll. And Talmeni had to agree, it was too valuable to use as a security. Once Movarth had it in his hands, he had the stronger negotiation position, if he even still wanted to negotiate.

Talmeni unhooked her satchel and placed it on the table. “All of my money is in here”, she explained, “Not to mention something I can’t go without. That should be reassuring enough.”

Movarth once against seized her up, his eyes resting on her dagger for a while. Talmeni met his stare without flinching. At the end, his gaze wandered to the table, and the flask of fake blood a servant placed in front of him. That finalized the decision. “I accept it”, Movarth said, pulling the satchel closer.

“We won’t be long”, Serana reassured him, and pulled Talmeni out of the cave.

Once through the first few hollows and past the gap that was the entrance, Serana clearly wanted to talk, but Talmeni was distracted for a moment. “Wow”, she mumbled, staring up at the sky.

“What?”, Serana wondered, following her gaze. “Have you never seen northern lights before?”

“I don’t remember”, Talmeni answered, not able to take her eyes from the spectacle in the sky, “But this is the first time as a vampire. Look at them. The colors of the night and the colors of the day, dancing together.” Talmeni had felt she had almost forgotten how vibrant the daytime colors could be, as washed out a they appeared to her new eyes in the glare of the sun. But there, in the sky, they glowed softly, not dominating, but coexisting, with the new colors that were visible in what mortals considered darkness.

Serana for a moment joined her in looking at the sky. “You are right, they are beautiful. And maybe I should be more grateful, to see them again after four thousand years.”

They stood still for a moment longer, to take in the beauty. Serana’s hand, which still held Talmeni’s arm, relaxed slightly and slipped lower, until it was resting in Talmeni’s hand. When the elf noticed, Serana quickly took it away and focused on earthly things with an embarrassed cough. “Let’s talk.”

“Sure. Let’s start with those blood potions he handed out”, Talmeni decided, going through the list of mental notes she had made.

Serana wasn’t expecting this, and for a moment just stood quiet, confused.

“You were surprised to see them”, Talmeni explained.

“Yes I was. My mother developed the recipe”, Serana answered, looking for some stones or fallen logs to sit down on. “It’s a alchemical mixture meant to replace blood. We used it a few times when travelling.”

“Do you know the recipe?”, Talmeni wondered.

Serana shrugged. “I know most of it. But it requires careful distillation, so don’t ask me to make any. And I could never make it as well as my mother.” She looked mournfully out at the mists hanging between the gnarled trees of the marsh.

Talmeni sat down next to her, trying to find the right words. If she had known that talking about these blood potions would bring up Serana’s parents, she wouldn’t have mentioned it. “Movarth might be wrong about nobody leading the Volkihar”, she said quietly, “He lives in a cave, he doesn’t get out much.”

“So I should rather trust the gut of somebody who slept in her cave for half of recorded history?”, Serana asked.

“Even if, you’re not alone”, Talmeni went on. “Even if there’s nothing left from your past, there’s still a future. Take it from me.”

“Thank you”, Serana said politely, but didn’t seem cheered up. “Maybe I should see the positives. If my father is gone, then stopping the prophecy is a lot less urgent.” She played with the strap of the scroll. “I wish I could just get rid of the thing.”

“Heavy, is it?”, Talmeni joked.

“It makes me feel like someone else. As long as it’s there, nobody sees me, they all just see the scroll. I’m just some girl carrying it.”

“I don’t look at the scroll.” Talmeni wasn’t sure if she was reassuring Serana or herself. She did feel a bit guilty for having thought along those lines when first seeing Serana fall out of her stone coffin. She had to hope that she was past that now.

Serana sighed. “Yes, trying to peek under my corset is so much better”, she said in her brightest sarcasm.

Talmeni had to grin, her gloomy thoughts chased away. “It’s a common interest”, she joked.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Serana’s eyes did visibly wander downwards to Talmeni’s chest, before the vampire quickly turned to look out at the swamp. “Let’s not waste time. Movarth will get impatient.”

“Do you trust him?”, Talmeni asked, also content to return to business. They had a lot to talk about, and this might be the only opportunity to do it.

“You don’t”, Serana answered with slight accusation in her tone, “Even though he’s been very courteous. My father would have had us tortured and imprisoned for poaching, instead of invited for dinner.”

“Your father isn’t the stick to measure with here. Movarth’s patient, but he’s not going to let you keep it. The reason he doesn’t strike is because he doesn’t know us. But once we work together, once he’s seen what we can and can’t, then he’ll make a move, a proper one, instead of just asking for it weirdly.”

“He seems to know a lot already. And if so, why did you volunteer all those plans about conquering Morthal for him?”

“Because I didn’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know”, Talmeni answered. She considered for a moment whether to explain just how much invisible back and forth was going on between her and Movarth, because Serana did seem a bit clueless about these things, but then decided to first ask something off her list: “While you seem to know something about Alva you didn’t tell me. Something to be sarcastic about.”

“It’s nothing important. I just saw her being rejected by one of the townsfolk she was trying to seduce. And heard something about her lover being a murderer.”

“Juicy”, Talmeni commented with a slight grin. That really wasn’t much, but it painted a good picture. Movarth’s plans were built on a shaky foundation, and progressing badly. “Anyway, I talked to him because you want to be in charge. That means playing along in case you want him as an ally.”

“I see. Thank you, I guess”, Serana said, looking first surprised and then thoughtful. After a moment, she added mischieviously: “I’m surprised you let me pull your strings like that.”

“This isn’t—”, Talmeni began, but shut up again. She felt Serana deserved a better answer than just denial. “I am, because it’s not like I’m bound by those strings. Yes, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t insisted, but I could have chosen not to come along. It’s just something I have to go along with to be where I want to be.”

“And are you?”, Serana asked. She still sounded teasing, but Talmeni felt there was some seriousness behind it, a challenge.

“Yes”, she answered with conviction. “I’m watching the northern lights with a good friend. That’s more than I had half a year ago.”

“Yes, the vampire ancient holding your skooma hostage and craving my Elder Scroll certainly isn’t any trouble complicating the picture”, Serana added sarcastically.

Talmeni had to smile. “It’s trouble I chose to get into. If I’d wanted things to be quiet, I could have just let you sleep in your tomb.” She tossed up her dagger, letting it spin three times before catching it again.

For a moment, both were silent, watching the play of colors, both light and dark, on the ground and in the sky. Then, Talmeni decided that as nice as this was, they still had business to deal with. “Sounds like you don’t trust Movarth either.”

“If he is, you know, really burning in the sun like he says, then we can’t trust him with the prophecy. It’s too big a temptation.”

“Glad we agree”, Talmeni said, then had to ask: “Why can we walk around in the sun, anyway?” Not only had Movarth pointed it out, she also vaguely remembered that there had been sermons back in Morrowind that had said the same thing, that vampires could not survive in sunlight.

“It’s a bit of a long story”, Serana said, fumbling with the strap of the scroll, “Are you sure this is the time for it?”

Talmeni had to agree that it wasn’t. “What’s the short version?”

Serana thought for a second, then said: “You might already know that Molag Bal is the original source of vampirism. But what you probably don’t know is that he still grants it to his more impressive followers. And it isn’t that watered down child’s power that you simply contract from another vampire. It’s a new bloodline, with new gifts.”

“Like walking under the sun”, Talmeni concluded.

“My father Harkon, well, the whole family, we became such pureblood vampires. Not really wholesome family activity, but …that’s the short version.” Serana looked away, shuddering slightly from a memory.

“No need to keep explaining”, Talmeni agreed, subconsciously putting a hand on her belly as she remembered her own close encounter with Bal. It wasn’t something she wished on any woman. “Does that mean you can do the ice thing Movarth mentioned?”, she added as another item from her list of questions came to mind.

Serana shook her head. “I have no idea what he means by that. I’ve never done it, and neither have my parents.”

“So let’s just count it as his knowledge being bad”, Talmeni said.

“Still, we need to figure out how to get away from Movarth alive. Or, you know.”

“You could just start walking”, Talmeni said, gesturing at the swamp before them.

“But your money, and worse, your skooma—”, Serana said with faint horror in her voice.

“I can get more”, Talmeni said, forcing her hand to remain where it was instead of wandering to where the satchel usually sat. “Also, I didn’t say I had to come along right away. You leave, I tell Movarth some story, he’s disappointed but gives me my things, I catch up to you in Solitude.”

For a moment, Serana silently stared at the faint track leading from the cave all the way to Morthal. Her eyebrows creased in thought, then her face harded as she reached a decision. “No”, she said, “If I’m one of yours as you say, then we should do things together. I mean, we leave this place together”, she corrected herself, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Talmeni decided not to react to the word choice this time around. This wasn’t the right moment. “That will make it a bit harder”, she concluded, “We might have to play along with being his ally for a day or two. Then we come up with a reason to bring the scroll on a trip to Morthal, and we’re out.”

“That sounds risky, to say the least.”

Talmeni shrugged. “There’s no way to do it without taking risks.”

Serana was clearly not happy with this, and returned to thinking, hoping to come up with a better plan. Talmeni let her ponder things, returning her attention to the sky for a moment. The northern lights were fading, and Masser’s light was by now strong enough to dim the colours of the night, but it was still beautiful.

The noise of approaching heartbeats interrupted their thoughts. They didn’t come from the cave, however, but the swamp. Somebody was coming towards the cave. Talmeni grabbed Serana and pulled her off the log, with the other hand casting a spell of concealment on them. Thankfully, this time round Serana did not push her off, but only gave faint protest as she fell into cover behind the log. Talmeni let go and peeked over the edge to see who was approaching.

They came out of the fog far closer than Talmeni had expected. The heartbeats were faint, so she had misjudged the distance, thinking them still far off. One of the figures was Alva, being driven along by the other. His heartbeat was irregular like Serana’s, leaving no doubt that he was a vampire. In one hand, he held a sword, while with the other he had one of Alva’s arms twisted behind her, to prevent her from escaping.

“Movarth’s hall is certainly drawing the guests”, Serana commented in a whisper.

“Troubles from all corners of the house”, Talmeni muttered, wondering how far the rumor could have spread in a single day. It seemed the dark war was approaching quicker than expected.

As focused as the stranger was on controlling Alva, he did not notice the silent watchers. They heard him bark a few threats as she explained that her master was waiting inside the cave, and then pushed her inside ahead of him.

“Let’s follow him”, Talmeni decided. This smelled like an opportunity to her. Movarth alone was a problem, but if a second faction got involved, there was always an uncertainty of allegiance that she could exploit.

Quietly, they went after the two, squeezing themselves through the crack, tiptoeing past the fresh grave in the first cavern, then taking the walkway to the sleeping area to get ahead of Alva and the stranger.

They didn’t catch the first few sentences exchanged between Movarth and the newcomer, but the tone did not sound particularly friendly. Talmeni dropped the spell, gave Serana a encouraging nod, then stepped out into the main cave as if she had been resting there and just surprised by the noise.

“What’s going on?”, she asked innocently, noting Movarth’s clenched fists and the stranger’s still raised sword. He had let go of Alva, who was lurking in the shadows, massaging her wrist.

Movarth’s head whipped around in surprise, before he relaxed a bit again. “There is no call to threaten my servants”, he said, turning towards the stranger, “I will be hospitable to travelers, as long as they behave in my hall.”

The man also took a moment to muster Talmeni, although he mostly glanced at her bust and then skipped over the rest, dismissing her as another pretty face enthralled by Movarth, like Alva was. Possibly emboldened by that assessment, he lowered the sword. “Apologies, master”, he said, his thick beard and mustache lifting a bit from a rather arrogant smile. Like his voice, his facial hair indentified him as a Nord. “Your servant made you sound less like a friend. Let us talk, then.”

“Have a seat”, Movarth growled, gesturing at one of the chairs, “Tell me your name and business, and I will see if we can’t help each other.”

“I am Lokil of House Volkihar”, the stranger said proudly, “And my business is nothing you need to worry about. I am only looking for information. There are rumors of prophecy, and artefacts of old.”

Following Movarth’s gesture, Talmeni had also sat down, opposite of Lokil, thus she didn’t see what was going on behind her, but the expression of the vampire told her everything she needed to know. Serana had entered the room, and of course Lokil immediately noticed the Elder Scroll. He looked first surprised and then extremely pleased with himself. “I have come to the right place.”

Talmeni was expecting Serana to make some kind of sweetly sarcastic comment, but instead there was an uncharacteristic silence. Movarth was the one who answered: “We shall discuss this after lunch. Alva, return to your home.” His command was underlined with commanding magic, and so were his instructions to his servants to set the table. Talmeni considered it grandstanding, a way to make Lokil feel a bit less secure in his arrogance.

As the first servants entered, carrying fresh meat on platters, Movarth said with clear superiority: “Enjoy this feast by the grace of me, Movarth Piquine.”

Lokil bowed his head for a second. “An old name”, he said, “The pleasure shall be mine.” He threw glances at Talmeni and Serana, who by now had also sat down carefully at the table, but didn’t bother to ask for their names. Based on his expression, his question was not who they were, but why these two among the servants were given the honor of eating with the master.

Talmeni let the meats pass by, but gratefully had one of the blood potions that were passed out, with once again an apology by Movarth about them being poor food. For a while, he and Lokil were passing forth meaningless pleasantries about the food and the weather, all the while clearly also weighing each other up. Talmeni threw in a few comments now and then, just to not be forgotten, but mostly she was also busy observing, to discover what about Lokil made Serana so cowed she wasn’t saying a word.

And then she saw it, the clasp that held Lokil’s cloak. It was an eight-spoked wheel or star of darkened metal, and exactly the same as the one that held Serana’s cloak. It was some kind of Volkihar emblem, clearly, and Serana didn’t want him to notice she was from the same house. With Lokil’s mission of looking for an old prophecy, it was clear that her father’s will had prevailed. Serana was clearly imagining and considering the worst, as tense as she was sitting there, her already pale skin even whither from how tight she held her cutlery.

“You are doing well for yourself”, Lokil said after messily ripping apart a piece of meat, the blood running into his beard. “But we can offer you an even better life.” He eyed the Elder Scroll, and Talmeni placed a warning hand on Serana’s wrist, for her to keep quiet. She was tense, coiled up like a spring, and the way she was holding the knife was not reassuring at all. While Movarth put aside his portion to answer, Talmeni poured herself another cup of the blood potion and placed it next to her plate.

“Offering me what?”, Movarth asked, also eyeing the Elder Scroll but then quickly turning his attention back to Lokil.

“Morthal, for once. That is what you need, not some old prophecy off the scroll”, Lokil said with an arrogant gesture. Talmeni was praying under her breath that Serana would keep on being quiet. She felt her own heartbeat thumping in her ears, and had to stop her hand from wandering to her side. The satchel with the skooma was on the armrest of Movarth’s throne, safely out of her reach.

To her surprise, Movarth managed a chuckle, and a grimace that was the ghost of a grin. “Prophecy? An Elder Scroll is more than that. Only a fool wishes to know the future. With the scroll, I can change it. Time itself has to bow down to its power.”

Given how he grinned, Lokil felt as sure as Talmeni about this being a boast. Even if the scroll had that power, she was sure Movarth didn’t know how to draw it out. “That may be, but that is not what I am offering. Skyrim belongs to the Volkihar. Reject my proposal, and my Lord Harkon will never let your little ‘takeover’ go anywhere.”

Serana reacted to that name, but Talmeni was ready. “May I have a piece of—”, she said quickly, reaching over the table and deliberately tipping over her cup with her elbow. The liquid splattered, and Serana, too focused on Lokil, could not react in time as it spilled over her arm and plate. “I’m sorry”, Talmeni said as all three heads turned to look at the scene, the other topics forgotten for a moment from the surprise.

It wouldn’t last long, but Talmeni was already moving. “So sorry”, she repeated, pulling Serana out of her chair. “We’ll just get cleaned up. My mistake.” Chattering more apologies, she herded Serana into the side room, out of view of the two men, who had only managed to halfway rise from their chairs in that time.

“Don’t tell me, it doesn’t wash out”, Talmeni said while handing Serana a wet rag. “But listen, we—”

“No, you need to listen”, Serana interrupted here, “That man works for my father.”

“I know.”

“If he reports back what he’s seen, my father will come find us. He will tear the whole country apart to get to me and the scroll. We need to kill him!”

“I know.”

Serana blinked. “Then why—”

“Beware the wrong walking path. We need them at each other’s throat, not going after us.” Talmeni wanted to explain more, but hurried footsteps were approaching from the main room. “Fetchers”, she cursed and hurried back to the corridor to stop them from coming in. This wasn’t according to plan.

In the passage, she almost collided with Movarth. “Trying to peek at a lady with her corset off?”, she asked sweetly, aware that it was all said a bit to quickly and fearfully to be believable.

“You are a bad liar”, Movarth said with a grunt, “And a snake.”

“But I’m not the one trying to take the scroll”, she said quickly and smoothly, surreptitiously drawing her dagger. “Its power can only be used by one person, so we should work together to—”

“No. You serve me”, Movarth decided. Talmeni could feel the magic gathering as he opened his mouth to issue a command. “Stand a—”

She reacted by pure reflex, before the spell could erase her sense of self. The hand holding the dagger flashed forward, aimed at Movarth’s throat. But she didn’t even get halfway. Movarth’s hand shot up and slapped hers away, while his other rammed her against the wall.

“Is this how you repay my hospitality?”, he snarled, fangs bare.

Talmeni’s head swam from the sudden movement, and she felt like she was missing a moment, because suddenly there was Lokil there, grinning over Movarth’s shoulders. “Your thralls are a disgrace”, the Volkihar vampire commented, “Your sire made you sound a lot more impressive than you actually are.”

Movarth turned slightly, but not enough to expose himself any attack from Talmeni. “I will deal with you soon”, he growled.

“No, there will be no deal with a dirt-blooded milk-drinker like you”, Lokil spat, “I will take the scroll and wipe your excuse of a coven off the face of Nirn.”

His face frozen with hatred, Movarth fully turned to face Lokil. “Servants!”, he bellowed, “Kill this intruder while I get the scroll.”

Talmeni managed to get her head lined up again, and made a decision. Lokil was already moving past Movarth into the sleeping area, and the master vampire was clearly moving to go with him. Maybe they would turn on each other, but that was too slim a chance. She lunged at Movarth, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back as her other hand came around to cut his throat.

Again, her aim was off as the old vampire reacted instantly. He launched himself backwards from her momentum, throwing her to the ground and landing on top of her. Her dagger clattered away from her hand, and suddenly there were noises and lights, of many faces staring down at her. “Get the scroll”, Movarth ordered, and suddenly the faces were gone again. There had been something else he’d said, but it slipped away before Talmeni could remember it.

Her head felt bad, but she nevertheless staggered upright, trying to face Movarth. “You’re not my first skooma addict”, he commented, his fist coming at her. She moved to block, but instead found herself sprawled on the ground again, her side hurting.

There were more attacks, more comments, but things slipped away. “How is the memory?”, Movarth asked mockingly at some point. All was just a blur, unconnected moments that jumped to her attention, the sharp edges of the memories cutting through her mind like blades. A kick. Her holding Movarth’s arm for a moment as she tried to throw him. The satchel falling off the throne as she tumbled past. Her dagger, just out of reach.

She collapsed against the table. Movarth stood over her, triumphant, raising a boot to give her a final kick. And behind him, somebody screamed, a woman. That gave Talmeni one last burst on concentration. She dodged the boot and vaulted over the table in a clatter of silverware, trying to get some distance from Movarth and his fists. Hot wax from a candle burned her arm, and she stumbled over a chair on the other side, but still, she managed to hold on.

Candles, an unbidden thought rose from her mind. She couldn’t remember the rest of the logic, suddenly she was just moving, grabbing the edge of the table just as Movarth was trying to jump over it, and flipping it over. Movarth managed to still vault to the other side, cursing and rolling while behind him, what remained of the silverware crashed onto the floor.

And then there was a moment of silence. Talmeni was all tense for another attack, but Movarth got up to his feet silently and carefully instead, turning his head this way and that.

“Servants! Light!”, he shouted after a moment, and Talmeni understood. He truly was night-blind, and the candles had not just been for show. They had gone out from flipping the table, and now she had the advantage, able to see by the colours of the night while her opponent was helpless.

No, not helpless, she decided. Trying to cut his throat would not end well. And likely, his shout would soon attract somebody, even though the sounds of battle were echoing from the corridors.

Talmeni took a step towards her dagger, stepped onto a broken plate, and had to jump back as Movarth’s fist swung through the air right at her. He was blind, but not deaf, she managed to think, and in her desperation, tried out one of the spells she had picked up from the grimoires. It had seemed more of a party trick when reading it.

With a quick gesture, she created the illusion of a sound at the other end of the hall. In her state, it was a sloppy thing, not sounding very much like the footsteps she had intended, but it was enough. Movarth spun around and stalked in that direction, trying to track her down.

Before he could find out he had been had, she rushed over to grab her dagger and satchel, then ran out of the room down the entrance corridor. She felt some shame for heading outside without knowing where Serana was, but there was no choice. Footsteps and lights were approaching, she was not able to fight like this, and Movarth was still unharmed.

She stumbled over something, and was just flat on her face in the next moment. Maybe she had tried to catch herself, but the memory was cut out by her anxiety and panic. And then, appearing again out of nowhere as her mind skipped, there was a figure above her, a frightful apparation of a ghostly skeleton, armed and armored, grinning through a haze of purple.

Before Talmeni could react, it was suddenly gone, and instead there was Serana, kneeling next to her. As Talmeni tried to recall, some vague shreds managed to hold on in the whirpool of her mind. Had Serana said “Not her!” and cast a spell? Something like that might have happened. The thing she had fallen over was a corpse in bloody shreds, holding a sword in a mangled hand.

Serana pulled her up, and clearly was considering heading back into the main room to fight, but somehow Talmeni managed to convince her to flee. The words were lost, though, as pictures tumbled through her mind. The front room. The gap outside. The moonlit swamp.

As Serana pulled her along the path towards Morthal, Talmeni managed to get through her aching head. “No”, she said, and pulled other woman along as she headed right, deeper into the swamp.

“But—” Serana complained.

“Come on!”, Talmeni managed, her feet splashing through ankle-high brackish water. Thankfully, Serana followed with nothing more than a sarcastic comment, which Talmeni couldn’t manage to remember, too focused on keeping her footing and picking out a path between the scrubs, the ponds and the stones.

Chapter Text

She wasn’t sure how much later it was, but the larger moon was low in the sky when the panic finally had abated enough that she could stand still.

“Yes, I think we’re as lost as we can be”, Serana commented, sitting down on a stone.

Talmeni didn’t answer, fumbling with her satchel. Her fingers were shaking, and she kept looking back, if there were signs of pursuit. The clasp suddenly seemed like a dwemer lock, unbudgeable and downright mocking. “Nchow!”, she screamed, just about managing to stop herself from hurling the satchel into the distance. “Help. Please”, she stammered, stumbling towards Serana.

She felt the soft fingers against her own as the satchel was taking from her grip, then a moment later the sweet touch of a thumb against her lips. She licked the droplet off it, and took a deep breath. “Better?”, Serana asked, corking the skooma bottle.

Talmeni managed a nod as she closed her eyes and felt the worries melt away under the embrace of moon-sugar.

“Enough that you can explain why you brought us out here?”, she commented, sounding almost playful despite her clear disapproval.

“Because they would corner us in Morthal”, Talmeni said, letting go of the tree she had been hanging on to to stand still. “And they’ll head there first, because they think it’s the only place around we can go to.”

“If I remember the map correctly, that’s because it’s, well, the only place we can head to around here. The rest of swamp or mountains.”

“I know. I know. But we can do it. We’re not lost.” Talmeni turned to scan the horizon, noting how low Masser was in the sky. The night wouldn’t last much longer. “There”, she said, pointing at a series of peaks to the north. “That’s our direction. The last mountain.”

Serana stood next to her and squinted, trying to figure out what she was getting at. “Solitude?”, she guessed, gesturing at the rocky protrusion jutting out from the mountain, and the faint points of light coming off it.

“Yes”, Talmeni said, “Come on.” She stepped forward, now sure of her heading.

“You could at least take your backpack”, Serana commented wearily.

Talmeni froze when the realization trickled down her spine. She had forgotten the backpack. It hinged on the backpack, and she had not managed to remember that. “Thank the Three”, she sighed as the turned around and took it off Serana’s offering hand. “And thank you”, she added after a moment’s thought.

“I’m had to use up some of the scrolls, I’m afraid”, Serana explained with a gesture back across the swamp.

Shouldering the backpack, Talmeni set off again, but stopped at the next puddle they had to cross. “I’ll explain more”, she said, concentrating on the words, “Once I’m feeling better.”

“That’s reassuring”, Serana commented as she splashed after Talmeni through the water.

They had reached another semi-solid piece of ground when Talmeni felt as ready as she could be in the circumstances. Her mind was not feeling great, splintered from the fight and foggy from the skooma, but she had to manage. “Movarth will head to Morthal because he thinks we need blood”, she started her explanation.

Serana gave her a brittle smile and commented sweetly: “A grave miscalculation, of course.”

“Yes”, Talmeni said, tapping her backpack, “He doesn’t know I stole some blood potions. We can head through the wilderness, where he won’t think to look. And where he can’t follow, because he needs a cave to get through the day.”

“Are you planning another march through the day?”, Serana wondered, peeking at the horizon. To their left, Masser was touching the mountain peaks, and to their right, the sky was brightening from the approaching sun. “Because you don’t look up for it. You look worse than after the dragon.”

Talmeni sighed, and leaned against a tree. “That bad, then. The excitement, it was too much. Too many things to plan for. And that fetcher knew how to make it worse.” She felt a few bumps on her scalp. “Aimed for the head, made me forget. I was worse than a rookie against him.”

“Then get your rest”, Serana said, placing a hand on Talmeni’s shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Talmeni peered past her to the south, trying to make out if there was anyone following. But the mists and the moonlight obscured everything. “But—”, she said feebly, holding on to her tree. Serana’s words had been the last push. She felt the exhaustion, the pull of skooma, the release of all the tension, pulling her down into the embrace of sleep.

“I’ll keep watch”, Serana promised with an earnest expression.

“Good”, Talmeni mumbled, closed her eyes, and collapsed onto her backpack.

The nightmares were back, ending with hard fingers touching Talmeni unfomortably all over. And as she got closer to waking, that sensation didn’t go away. By sheer instinct, she lashed out with her dagger. Only as she hit something did she remember how embarrassingly that ended last time.

But as she opened her eyes, it wasn’t Serana who was flinching back from the blade, but a large spider, skittering angrily. Thinking longingly about how uneventful her awakenings in Makarth had been most of the time, Talmeni aimed a kick at the creature’s head, but her boot went wide as it jumped sideways.

Before Talmeni could scramble to her boots, the spider raised its body and fired a stream of foul-smelling liquid from its bottom. Without a conscious thought, her battle reflexes threw her sideways out of the way of the poison. She rolled down a slope and landed in water, the cold splash over her face making her almost gasp, but she stopped herself before she swallowed the brackish water.

“Oh, ‘Blivion!”, Serana cursed, and there was a flash of magic, more felt than seen as Talmeni tried to figure out what had happened to her.

“S’wit”, Talmeni mumbled, grasping around to find her dagger in the murk. Her head felt already shattered, and she hadn’t even fully woken up yet.

The spider made some more noises, but then there was a cracking sound, followed by silence. When Talmeni looked over, the spider was dead, oozing out of dozens of fractures in its carapace. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep”, Serana said apologetically as she walked over and lifted Talmeni out of the mud.

“It’s okay”, Talmeni muttered, feeling ashamed she had needed help. “I used to better at this”, she said to herself, wiping some of the mud off her dagger. “Was that it?”, she asked out loud, looking around if more spiders were lurking in the marsh. The moons were just rising, but the low fog was drifting between the trees as usual, hiding the ground from view.

“Probably”, Serana said, “Frostbite spiders travel alone.”

“Good”, Talmeni said, putting her dagger away. She felt thirsty and out of sorts. Sleeping against the roots of a tree, worried about being followed by vengeful vampires, hadn’t helped her to recover at all. She uncorked the skooma bottle in her hand, then stopped and wondered where it had come from.

Checking her belt, she realized she hadn’t sheathed the dagger, but instead put it in the satchel while taking out skooma. She put the cork in the bottle, then retrieved her dagger. When she shut the clasp of the satchel, she realized she still held the skooma. Concentrating on every step, she sheathed the dagger, opened the satchel, put the skooma bottle in, did not take any other out, closed the satchel, then staggered up to the tree her backpack was leaning against. There, she rummaged around until her fingers closed around the necks of two of the blood potions.

It was probably a waste to use them that early, but Talmeni needed something to stop the clamoring in her head, and blood had less side effects. She had emptied her bottle in a single long draught before remembering to offer Serana hers.

“How many did you steal?”, Serana asked.

“Four”, Talmeni admitted meekly, feeling useless for needing one of them so early.

“Then keep mine for now”, Serana decided after a moment. “It’s not too bad yet.” She turned to the dead spider and added: “But you could give me the bottle you just emptied.”

“Why?”, Talmeni wondered while handing it over.

Serana took out her own dagger and started cutting around on the spider. “Frostbite spiders have potent venom. It could be useful, I think.”

“Makes my backpack smell great”, Talmeni commented. She felt a lot better now that the blood potion had quenched her thirst. She tried to clean herself a bit, but between the murky water and the mud seeped into the cloth, it was not a succesful endeavour.

Serana was smiling, a genuine happy smile, when she stood up with the flask full of spider poison. Talmeni had to swallow and look away, before she followed the intrusive thoughts and kissed those happy lips.

“So you got Lokil?”, Talmeni asked when they set off northward again a short while later.

“You tell me, you fell all over him”, Serana joked, carefully testing the muddy slope before putting a foot down.

“I though it was him, but I don’t trust my memory. With skooma, I’m never quite sure what’s real.” After jumping over a small waterway, she added: “Like that glowing skeleton ghost warrior, was that real?”

“It was”, Serana answered, in a more serious tone, “I conjured it to help against Lokil. He looked very surprised by that. Don’t you have necromancers in this age any more?”

“We do, but people kill them on sight.”

“Oh.”

“Also, from what I hear, people resurrect corpses. They don’t conjure them.”

“That sound …crude”, Serana commented, ducking under a low-hanging branch. “Then again, I suppose few people have the willpower to deal with the Ideal Masters.”

“Probably not”, Talmeni commented absently, trying to spot the looming shape of Solitude through the fog. While it clung mostly to the ground, tonight it was rising a bit higher than the night before, and the stars were faint. “Lucky for us you do.”

“It was my mother, really. She just taught me afterwards”, Serana answered meekly.

“Conjuring, Alchemy, Gargoyles. Your mother had a lot of hobbies”, Talmeni mused, still focused on trying to keep on the right path.

“She had centuries to develop them”, Serana said with a shrug, adjusting the position of the scroll on her back. “But I see what you’re doing”, she added, sounding accusing.

“What am I doing?”, Talmeni asked, surprised by the sudden shift in the conversation.

“You’re just innocently making me talk about my past instead of yours”, Serana said, her sarcasm once again make Talmeni’s heart yearn. “I hardly know anything about you.”

“Neither do I”, Talmeni said, shrugging and thinking of the many closed doors in her memory.

“No, you’re not brushing me off this time. It’s my turn to ask the questions.” Serana’s tone was playful again, but Talmeni had no doubts she was serious.

Thus, Talmeni swallowed another cynical comment and said instead: “You can try, but what should I answer? I’m not lying about the skooma. My past really is gone. My life might as well have begun a few months ago when I woke up in a river after a vampire had his fill of me and dumped me there.”

“Tell me about those months, then.”

With a sigh, Talmeni set off among the trees, in the direction she considered most likely. Once she had ordered her thoughts, she tried her best to explain what had happened. The skooma den, the messages to Markath, the story of Rhiada, Margret and Eola. The shrine of Molag Bal, and his guidance.

They reached the spire of stone that was the far end of the rock bridge on which Solitude was built before Talmeni could finish. In truth, she was thankful for it, because she had dreaded trying to revisit the events of the summoning day, and what it had done to her body. She left it at explaining that Molag Bal had sent her to Dimhollow crypt. “And that leads us to here”, she finished, sitting down on an old stone.

Serana stared up at the towering crag. The city itself was almost invisible from down here, hidden behind the massive overhang of the arch. “And what a nice place here is”, she commented sarcastically, “Now we just have to climb up this wall and we are done.”

“If you can, go ahead”, Talmeni said, putting down her backpack and pulling out the map to consult it.

“Or should we swim?”, Serana asked, gesturing at the wide mouth of the Karth river that flowed under the rock arch and separated them from the harbor of Solitude on the other bank. “The slaughterfish bite hardly at all.”

“You could have a nap”, Talmeni said, trying to match Serana’s sarcasm. “Follow me.”

They walked a short distance around the rock spire, until Talmeni spotted what she had been searching for. She breathed a short sigh of relief. “Right in there.” She pointed at the hewn stone arch of an old tomb somebody had dug into the base of Solitude’s spire.

“Another tomb. Lovely.”

“You said it’s better to sleep like corpses”, Talmeni answered, drawing her dagger and carefully pushing open the door to the tomb. It was dark and the air stale, with nothing moving in response to her intrusion.

Since Serana still looked rather annoyed, Talmeni turned to explain: “We’ll get somebody to bring us across the water. But that means waiting until it’s morning. This is a tomb, and we’re both tired from walking for a whole night, so let’s have a nap.”

“You had this all already planned out when we fled from Movarth’s lair, didn’t you?”, Serana asked, sitting down on the stairs leading deeper into the tomb. She raised and lowered her feet carefully, to massage some feeling back into them.

“Basically.” Talmeni shrugged, trying to find words to express that these weren’t so much thought out plans as just intuitions based on her reading of the situation. “I knew the swamp was better than the road to lose pursuers. And I guess I did figure that vampires think you can’t get over the river here.”

“I suppose I didn’t think of asking for a ferry across”, Serana answered.

“I know”, Talmeni said gently, “It’s easy to forget, to think you’re different from people. Looking at them through glass. But they’re not just food, or enemies. They’re still …people.” She was aware how trite that sounded, but couldn’t think of better words.

Serana rolled up her cloak into a pillow as she considered this. “You may be right. Back— you know. It was basically just my family and my father’s servants who lived in the castle. And he didn’t even consider them fully real.”

“Sounds lonely”, Talmeni commented.

Serana stared unseeingly at the wall for a while, then said: “I guess it was. It was just how I grew up. Living in cities probably makes you see things differently.”

“Not everyone gets to have a castle.” Talmeni adjusted her backpack to find a soft spot to use as pillow. With all the potions she was carrying, it was getting rather bumpy.

“Please don’t think of me as, you know, one of those women who sit in their castle all day? It’s not really me. If you can believe that.” Serana sounded like she was also trying to convince herself of that.

“Why should I? I haven’t seen you sit in a castle even once”, Talmeni joked, making herself comfortable.

“This age has been more eventful that I had expected”, Serana admitted, also leaning back and closing her eyes.

Talmeni had trouble falling asleep, but stopped herself from taking skooma to help in that regard. It was fine just drifting in and out of that dream state of not thinking much, letting the time pass until the sun started to rise.

The sky was being lit by the first rays of dawn when Talmeni stepped outside. Her feet protested, not having recovered much from the few hours of rest, and her head felt a bit stuffed with wool from not quite properly sleeping. She went down to the nearest pond and splashed a bit of cold water in her face, hoping it would help.

Then, followed by Serana, who was genteely trying to hide her yawns, she walked around the large rock spire until they were at the banks of the river. Even though the colors were starting to fade as the daylight got stronger, Talmeni could see the activity at the docks, across the water. Some large trading ships were being made ready, people climbing up and down the rigging and lifting large nets of crates with winches and cranes. Between them, smaller boats were setting out, fishermen who were leaving with the first light to be out in the deep water while it was still morning.

“Talmeni?”, Serana asked with a serious voice that caught the dark elf by surprise.

“What?”, Talmeni asked, turning around to face the vampire.

“Things worked out over the last few days, but if we want to keep being together— working together, I mean”, Serana quickly corrected herself, “Can you share your plans with me? Instead of keeping me guessing about what you’ll do next.”

“I can try”, Talmeni said, “It’s not really something I’m good at, but I can try.” She remembered resentment she had felt, long ago, when heavies in the Camonna Tong had given her orders without context, and sometimes even set her up to fail. It was unfair to do the same to her own, and especially to Serana.

“Do you have plans what to do once we’re in Solitude?”, Serana wondered.

Talmeni shrugged. “Get a room, get a wash, then go to the jarl. We’ll probably get a better deal if we come to them about the scroll, instead of the other way round. If that doesn’t work, find out who the Legion boss is around here and if I can use my knowledge about Margret as leverage.”

“I see you got every angle covered”, Serana said sarcastically.

“That’s the thing. I don’t plan too much, it takes too long. Sometimes you just have to run with what you’ve got. Hey! Over here!” The last words were shouted at one of the boats as it came close to the bank.

Serana joined in, shouting and waving, and it didn’t take long for one of the fishers to row over and greet them. “Got lost in the swamp, did you?”, he asked conversationally as the scrambled down the bank.

“Took a shortcut”, Talmeni said with a smile. “Could you help us across the river?” She rummaged around her satchel and pulled out a few loose coins. “We can pay.”

“No need”, the fisherman said, holding out a hand to help Serana step inside. “It’s not far.”

Nevertheless, Talmeni threw him one of the coins as sign of good will when stepping off the boat on the other side. Then, she almost ran into Serana, who was standing still and staring up at the city towering above them.

“I’d read stories about the Solitude windmill, but I didn’t expect it to be that big. Or still around”, she said, shielding her eyes against the morning sun.

Talmeni stared upwards, where indeed a massive windmill sitting right on top of the city wall was lazily turning in the faint breeze. She’d never heard of it before, and probably would have passed it without really noticing, but it clearly was important to Serana. She was seeing the world outside her castle for the first time, it seemed. Once an appropriate time had passed, Talmeni said: “Come on, let’s get into the city and see it up close.”

It was exhausting, going up the serpentine road to the city gates, and Talmeni was grateful to see that one of the first buildings past the gate was the inn. Dragging her heavy feet inside, she found herself in a bustling common room despite the early hour. There was a bard singing, and some shouts for more mead, that made Talmeni feel a bit at ease. The only thing missing in comparison to Markarth was the vitriolic back and forth between Kleppr and Frabbi. Instead, there was a middle-aged Imperial with a friendly expression, who said: “Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friends. What can I get you?”

Putting some coins on the table, Talmeni said: “A room for two, a bath, and an audience with the jarl. Or whoever is best to talk to about this”, she said with a nod towards the Elder Scroll. “And probably our clothes washed”, she admitted, looking down at herself. The mud had stained her shirt rather thoroughly.

“I can provide you with the first two, no problem”, the barkeeper said, “And for that scroll, that looks like you want the court wizard, unfortunatly.”

“Unfortunatly?”, Serana asked, turning around from having mustered the other guests suspiciously.

The barkeeper lowered his voice conspiratiorially. “Everyone knows she’s visiting the prison regularly. Doing …something to the inmates. Nobody wants to talk about it, though.”

“Really”, Talmeni said flatly, not feeling in the mood for random gossip.

“And she’s always sleeping until late in the afternoon, from what I hear”, the bartender added, “So I can see about getting your clothes clean before you have an audience with her.” He shouted two names, in response of which two people, a young man and an even younger girl, made their way to the bar. “Sorex, go and fill the tub, will you?”, the barkeeper instructed. Given the similarities, Talmeni assumed these two were his children. “And Minette, show them to the upstairs room, and then see about getting their clothes cleaned.”

They followed the girl to the back of the building, and there up the stairs to a floor overlooking the common room below. Serana threw a glance over the railing, then leaned over and quietly said to Talmeni: “The Argonian in that alcove over there keeps looking at the scroll.”

Before Talmeni could answer, Minette had apparently identified the customer based on that comment. “That’s Gulum-Ei”, she said dismissively, “Father says he’s involved in trading. The bad kind.”

“Your father has a lot to say about people”, Talmeni commented conversationally, while filing the information away for later. She had been a bit disappointed to see no Khajiit caravan outside the walls, and was happy to hear that maybe she could get a supplier inside the city walls.

“People say a lot over beer, and think barkeepers don’t have ears”, Minette answered, pulling open a door. “This is your room.”

It was spacious and well-furnished, rather different from the beds for rent in the forts or even Morthal. Talmeni felt that the innkeeper had asked for too small a price for something this good. Compared to Riften and the bunkhouse, where the journey had started, this was pure luxury.

Minette stayed near the door, watching the two of them put their burdens down and then get out of their boots to let the feet have some relaxation. “If you give me your dirty clothes now, they will be done faster.”

“Will they be in time for an audience with the court wizard this evening?”, Serana asked, sitting up a bit more primly.

“I don’t think so”, Minette said, looking the two of them up and down, “You’re very dirty. Did you roll in dragon dung?”

“Certainly”, Serana said brightly, “And waded through the sewers of the Ashpit.”

“It’s high-class mud”, Talmeni commented drily, rummaging through her backpack for the old set of clothes, the ones she had worn in Dimhollow crypt. They looked downright fresh compared to what she was wearing now.

As she handed them over to Minette, and then pulled up her own mud-caked shirt to also hand over, she became aware of Serana’s not just embarrassed but also very hesitant expression. Talmeni stopped and looked at her, which promted the vampire lady to say: “Do you have any spare clothes? This is, well, my only set.”

“I got one dress”, Talmeni admitted. She had not packed for an adventure this long or dirty, or expected to have to share with another woman.

Minette came to the rescue. “I can get you a tunic and pants that my father doesn’t wear any more. You can give them back tomorrow, he won’t notice. Then you can go to Radiant Raiment and buy a dress to wear in the palace. They make really pretty dresses, even if they are mean.”

“The dresses are mean?”, Serana asked.

“No, the ladies making them.” Minette giggled. “How could a dress be mean?”

“It could have written ‘I don’t kiss elves’ on the front”, Talmeni muttered to herself while changing clothes. She had her back turned out of decency, and thus couldn’t see Serana’s expression, but it got another giggle out of Minette.

“I’ll go and get you the clothes”, Minette said, leaving the outfit she had been handed already on a chair as she left the room.

“We could try to get some more sleep if we have to wait until the evening”, Serana suggested, testing the bed and finding it very soft.

“Once we’re clean, sure”, Talmeni said, trying to pull some creases out of her dress, but it was a hopeless task.

Not long after, there came a knock on the door. It wasn’t just Minette bringing the spare clothes as promised, but also Sorex, to inform them that the hot tub was ready and waiting down in the basement.

“Great”, Talmeni said, getting off her chair and walking towards the door.

An embarrassed sound from Serana made her turn around. “Er, you go ahead”, Serana said slowly, “I will, well, bathe once you’re back.”

Talmeni was only slightly disappointed and not the least surprised. “Okay”, she said with a neutral voice, “Your choice.”

Sorex accompanied Talmeni down the stairs to the first floor, but then just pointed her to go on by herself, for the sake of decency. Talmeni did so, fighting a bit with her instincts, which didn’t like being alone in some random cellar. But once she saw the big tub, with vapor rising from its warm contents, she forgot all about it.

She slipped out of the dress, and gingerly stepped into the tub. It was hotter than she had expected, and she felt herself shiver as she sank deeper into the warm water. Her skin prickled, her muscles tensed and then relaxed, and aches she hadn’t realized she’d had started to fade away.

Sitting down facing the stairwell, Talmeni let herself soak in the hot water for a while, just content to feel its sothing touch on her skin. She listened to the faint murmurs of conversation and song drifting down from above, and the sound of her own heartbeat, strengthened and quickened by the hot water soaking her skin. It was pure luxury. Even in Markarth, she had only washed, with water taken from the cold streams running through the city.

There were steps coming down the stairs, and Talmeni slammed open her eyes, one hand alread trying to grasp for her dagger. But then she froze in surprise, because it was Serana, wearing ill-fitting, loose peasant clothes. They were not as important as her expression, though. Serana was blushing. Talmeni had thought it impossible on a vampire, but there really was a redness to the other woman’s cheeks.

“Please don’t make anything of this”, Serana said awkwardly, not knowing where to look. “Because, well, I think I’m making too big an issue of things that shouldn’t be an issue. Like a bath.”

Talmeni didn’t know what to answer. She had some dirty comment ready at the tip of her tongue, but she could see that this was the completely wrong approach for this moment.

And then Serana started talking again, leaving Talmeni wondering if she had just missed some opportunity. “Like all these thing I say. You know, phrases that could mean…And I realized that maybe you never thought of these …interpretations, and it’s just in my head.”

“It’s not just your head”, Talmeni said calmly, trying to be soothing, “But it’s not— I know I keep saying rude things. That’s because most women don’t notice I’m trying to flirt with them. They just think I’m being nice unless I tell them I want them to kiss me. I stopped with you, because I can see I don’t need to.”

“This doesn’t make it easier”, Serana sighed, nervously examining one of the candle holders on the wall.

“I know”, Talmeni said, feeling this had maybe been the wrong thing to say. “But it’s better to keep no secret from your judge’s scale.”

“I’m your judge now, am I?”, Serana asked, a bit of playfulness creeping into her voice. Then, she took a deep breath, pulled down her pants, took off the tunic, and stepped into the water. Talmeni didn’t have time to look away if she had wanted to, and suddenly felt herself hot from more than just the bath.

“There we are. It’s just a bath, right?”, Serana asked, shivering slightly from more than just the change in temperature. She sat with her arms across her chest and the legs pulled in slightly, clearly not comfortable, but persevering nevertheless.

Talmeni didn’t know what to say. She wondered if her cheeks and ear tips were glowing, as hot as they felt from her emotions. She didn’t even know if she was embarrassed or enamoured. If somebody has asked her about some ways to have a nice time with her crush, a hot bath like this would have been one of them. But it all seemed backward all of a sudden. There were things that should have been said before this point, which hadn’t been said, and that she somehow couldn’t bring herself to say.

Serana slowly undid the braids in her hair, fighting with some tangles. “It’s also just so stupid to be — It’s a bit of a cliche, isn’t it, to fall for the first person you see after getting out of your isolated life? There are so many stories where that ends badly.”

The words were like daggers into Talmeni’s heart. To hear at the same time that her crush was also interested in her, and didn’t dare to act on it. “That’s wise”, she croaked, unable to do anything that could hurt Serana, even if it hurt herself. “How rarely wisdom rules our hearts.”

To try and think of anything except the pale, beautiful woman in front of her, Talmeni went and also washed her hair. And as far as distractions went, it was a good one. Between the mud and the tangles, her hair was in desperate need of attention. She rinsed it several times, and had to meekly ask Serana to pass the brush to get it anywhere near looking good again.

Both of them managed to relax, and just treat this as the badly needed cleanup it was. They didn’t say much, except about logistical things like getting the soap and apologising for accidentially kicking each other under water. To Talmeni’s surprise, Serana offered to help her scrub her back, and then even asked to have help with her own. In both cases, they were too busy to get clean to think of anything else. Even though Serana had not been as clumsy getting through the swamp, small pieces of dirt had still gotten in through the collar and clung to her skin. She sighed in relief when Talmeni declared her back mud-free.

“I think I’m awake enough to buy new clothes. What about you?”, Serana asked later, after they had gotten dressed again and were back in their room.

Talmeni paused from helping her re-braid her hair and shrugged. “I could manage”, she said. The hot water hat given her a boost of energy, and helped with the aching feet.

Radiant Raiments was easy enough to find, being just a few houses down the street. At first, Talmeni wasn’t sure if they were in the right place, given the lack of merchandise to see in the first room, but the two Altmer women arguing over a bolth of cloth behind the counter convinced her this was the right shop.

As the two vampires came up to the counter, the argument stopped, and one of the Altmer women said haughtily: “You might have gotten the wrong door. This is a select establishment.”

“Clearly”, Serana said, and Talmeni had to stop herself from smiling.

She marched up to the counter and took a roll of coins from her satchel to place on the wooden surface. “We’re here to get fancy clothes. We’ve got an audience in the palace later, so we need your best outfit.”

“You expect us to just have something ready for you?”, the other Altmer woman asked, even more arrogant than the other, “A Balmora hunting outfit with the Netch leather pants, I expect.”

“I’ll take it if you got it”, Talmeni commented with a grin.

The other woman turned and hissed: “Let me deal with this.” Turning back to her customers, she said with a smile: “If you are having an audience with the jarl, there might be an arrangement we can come to. We need somebody to endorse our wares to the jarl, and—”

“Wearing ill-fitting clothing? No, I won’t stand for it”, the other interrupted her, “You might pull this establishment through the mud, but I will not deliver anything less than perfection.”

As amusing as it was to watch them bicker, Talmeni felt her tiredness coming back. She took out another roll of coins and slammed them on the counter. “If I pay more, do I get some clothes faster with less talking?”, she hissed.

The more quarrulous of the women turned and said: “A customer after my own heart, for once.”

“How about each of you takes one of us, and sees what they have that fits?”, Serana suggested.

“Come along”, the complaining woman said, grabbing Talmeni by the arm and pulling her into a side room. Talmeni gave Serana an apologetic smile, and let herself be dragged into the workshop.

From what little experience Talmeni had with dressmaking, it looked like this place was indeed quite well set up. There were bolts and bolts of fabrics, rolls of trims, dummies covered with half-finished projects that already looked more fancy than Talmeni had ever worn, and diagrams of apparently ways to sew certain pieces together.

“You Dunmer are so hard to make look good. Your skin clashes with every color”, the seamstress muttered to herself, while walking among the dummies to look for something usable. “What is even that rag you are wearing?”

Talmeni tried not to mind the insults, and just took the clothes thrust at her. It was a blouse and embroidered skirt, in sky colours and quite a strong shine. Silk, Talmeni guessed. She got out of her dress and tried them on. The ruffles on the collar and sleeves were a bit unusual, but they did probably hide a bit of play from the blouse not being properly fitted.

“Well, it shall do for today”, the seamstress said with a sigh, “Although even on you, it doesn’t covey the beauty of Sumerset.”

“Look, if you want to make that hunting outfit for me, go ahead”, Talmeni muttered, trying to figure out the neckline. She wasn’t used to having to think about cleavage.

“Is this you, formally comissioning me to create an outfit for you?”

Talmeni thought for only a moment. The clothes she’d worn so far had been simple worker’s things, and compared to Serana’s tailored leather-heavy outfit, had not held up very well to the challenges of the road. “Yes. I need something good-looking and sturdy. Hunting outfit.”

“Then hold still”, the altmer woman said, lifting a tape measure. Talmeni let her take some measurements, again trying to ignore the muttered insulting comments about Dumner body shape and attitude.

When the measurements were done, Talmeni returned to the store room, and stopped dead. Serana had also been outfitted now, in a typical Nord fashion. There was a dress, and a fur-lined robe over it, held by a stitched belt and a gold chain over the breast.

“You’re probably lamenting the lack of corset”, Serana said when Talmeni just opened and closed her mouth a few times without saying anything.

“No”, Talmeni managed, “You don’t need a corset to look great.” At least to Talmeni’s eyes, Serana was always a storybook princess come to life. In her corset, she looked like a vampire princess. Now, she looked like a Nord princess, regal and noble, downright unapproachable by a lowborn like Talmeni.

“Thank you”, Serana answered, shily looking away.

“What do you think of me?”, Talmeni asked, trying to cover up the awkwardness. She lifted the skirt a bit and tried a twirl. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“I hadn’t expected you to be the skirt type”, Serana said, “But it suits you.”

“I like skirts”, Talmeni said, “I just don’t wear them on the swamp.” She twirled again, just for the novelty of it. Compared to the Nord dresses she had bought in Markarth, this skirt was light and playful, downright inviting you to dance.

The bickering between the two Altmer started again while Serana and Talmeni were admiring the new outfits, and was only barely interrupted by Talmeni trying to pay. It was quite an exorbitant sum, but Talmeni decided not to argue. She was too tired to not start threatening people right away, and that would probably be a bad idea.

Her satchel feeling considerably lighter, Talmeni returned to the inn, her new clothes in a box that she carried awkwardly under one arm. Serana followed her, also clad again in the loaned pants and tunic, feeling clearly a bit anxious. “I will pay you back somehow”, she said, not for the first time.

“I take care of my own”, Talmeni answered with a shrug, “And you saved my life several times. You don’t owe me.”

“But, you know—”

“Just forget it.” It wasn’t like Serana had money to pay her back, or that Talmeni particularly cared about the cost. She had not used a lot of her earnings until now.

Back in the inn, Serana made a detour to the innkeeper to have him send a message to the palace about the audience, and have him wake them up once it was time. Then, they both climbed up the stairs to their room, laid down on the bed, and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

It was the knocking on the door that woke Talmeni later, and it was downright a blessing to be ripped out of her nightmare. She held her dagger close as she took the situation in without even being fully awake yet, but there was no danger nearby. Serana was already up, and getting into her new dress.

“It was a good choice not to try and wake you”, Serana commented, tugging at her sleeves. “Thank you, we’re up”, she shouted towards the door.

“It’s hard to sleep knowing you’re helpless”, Talmeni muttered as excuse, and put her dagger away.

She got into her new skirt and blouse, modestly turning away from Serana while doing so. Her belt with the dagger sheath, and the worn leather satchel did clash somewhat with the fine silks, but Talmeni didn’t have time to fix that. She also considered whether to take off her amulet of Molag Bal, since it was plainly visible against the deeply cut neckline of the dress, but decided against it. If Serana could get away with having the visage of Bal on her collar and not causing comment, Talmeni could get away with having an accessory with his face.

Then, following the instructions of Minette about how to get to the Blue Palace, they went out into the city. The sun was low on the horizon, but still blindingly bright, leaving the massive stone buildings as nothing more than sharp lines to Talmeni’s vision. Serana seemed a bit more adjusted to seeing during daytime, given that she did sometimes gasp and hum about sights they went past, but given how she shielded her eyes, the sun bothered her as well.

There were more than a few guards going past, and a lot of soldiers in Imperial uniform as well. Talmeni felt her hands clench and trying to grasp her dagger. She didn’t like this much scrutiny, and her thirst, her lack of skooma, and the beating down sun where bringing out a headache.

She regretted not having taken skooma before going to sleep. But it would have been the wrong choice. The heartache about Serana’s words, the infatuation of seeing her in different clothes and her looking good in all of them, it all would have been too big a temptation for Talmeni. If the skooma had made her manic like that one time in Morthal, she probably would have kissed Serana in her sleep, and there would have been no going back from there.

The Blue Palace was at the tip of the city, flush with the city walls, a huge grey square of a building around a small central courtyard. There were guards at the doors, but they just waved the pair of them through, either expecting them or thinking that anyone with an Elder Scroll probably has legitimate business inside.

Their first obstacle was in the foyer of the palace, from a man coming down the central stairs that wound around a small planter full of lavender. “You must be the travelers with the scroll”, he said, quickly covering the distance. “I am Falk Firebeard, the steward.”

“Three blessings”, Talmeni said as greetings. Serana vaguely echoed it, probably happy not to have to reveal her greetings might be thousands of years out of date.

“Sybille has gotten a surprise visit by another adventurer just now”, Falk said, but gestured up the stairs, “You might have to wait until she has time for you.”

They followed him silently, Serana with the dignity of a noble, but Talmeni couldn’t help but look around and take in the layout and rich decorations of the palace. While the outside had been grey and stark, in here the stonework was decorated and polished, with black and white tiles providing the backdrop for the expensive furniture. At the far end of the upper hall was the throne, richly carved but currently empty. Talmeni did have time to note the guards around the room before Falk led them into a corridor down a side wing.

“The jarl was interested to hear about an Elder Scroll being found”, Falk explained as they walked on, “But I believe Sybille Stentor, our court wizard, will be able to help you better at first. She will know what to ask about matters like these.”

“Thank you”, Serana said, her face not moving. However, Talmeni could see how her muscles tensed about the prospect of being asked questions.

Falk stopped at one of the large doors going off the corridor, and listened for a moment. There was talking going on within, with one voice somewhat raised. It might have been an argument, but as Talmeni caught the accent of the louder speaker, it might just be an orc who had no concept of an indoors voice.

The door was opened, and the orc looked a bit surprised to see three people staring at him. He did look like a warrior, in a leather-covered armor and with a crossbow slung over his shoulder. “Steward”, he said, relaxing a slight bit, “Good. We might have to talk. The Dawnguard can help you more, if you allow it.”

Talmeni had to stop her had from grabbing her dagger, remembering where she head the name before. This was a vampire hunter, and an experienced one at that, she guessed from the getup and the scars.

“Certainly”, Falk said smoothly, “Let me just finish with these ladies.” He let the orc get out of the door, then stepped inside and said quietly: “Sybille, Thane Thorn-Rose is here, with the Elder Scroll and a companion.”

Talmeni threw a short glance at Serana about that fake name, but didn’t comment. Walking around announcing your family name was that of a feared vampire clan was probably a bad idea.

“Let them in”, a calm female voice said, and Falk waved the two of them to step inside.

“You have to excuse my previous guest”, the woman in the mage’s robes said, not getting up from her chair as Serana and Talmeni filed into the room. “The Dawnguard are so eager to find vampires.” She looked up, her yellow eyes glowing under her hood, and a faint grin revealing her sharp canines.

Talmeni was too surprised to react in time, so Serana got the first word. “Are they good at it?”, she asked, with clear amusement.

“He did wipe out a coven in the wilderness after I gave him a hint”, the court mage said with a shrug, “As for the rest, I don’t think Falk will like his tone any more than I did.” Outside, the steps of the heavy orc boots faded away. “But enough of that. I am Sybille Stentor, court mage of Solitude, and you asked to see me.”

“Yes, we—”, Serana began, but then hesitated.

Talmeni, realizing that her friend had to re-consider what to tell, now that it turned out the court mage was a vampire, quickly filled the silence: “We found this Elder Scroll. I’m not sure if the letter from Morthal came before we did, but we need a place to store it. There should be a priest coming here to read it.”

“A message like that did arrive yesterday”, Sybille said, standing up. “May I see?”

Serana hesitated for a second, but then lifted the Elder Scroll off her shoulder and placed it on the table that Sybille gestured to. The mage bent over it, looking at it from several angles, and trying some spells.

Talmeni looked around the room, noting the size of the court wizard’s apartment, and also the age and wear of the furniture. “How long have you been court wizard?”, she idly asked.

“I have been at court since Istlod’s time, but it was his son Torygg who made me the court wizard”, Sybille said, not stopping with her casting.

“Those names don’t mean a lot to us”, Serana said carefully.

“Are you expecting me to teach a thane about the lineage of the high kings? My time is more precious than that”, Sybille answered, looking up with annoyance. “However, this scroll is genuine. It was a wise choice to bring it here. We will have it locked into the vaults of Castle Dour. The legion can be of use for once.”

“Do you trust them to hold off vampires?”, Talmeni asked.

Sybille mustered her carefully. “What makes you believe it will be vampires trying to steal the scroll?”

“Because we pissed off a vampire while getting the scroll here. He’s named Movarth Piquine, if that means anything.”

Based on Sybille’s expression, it did. “Movarth was supposed to have been slain a century ago”, she said. “I am surprised you escaped his influence.”

“We’re more than just pretty faces”, Talmeni said with a grin, tapping her dagger. It was better than admitting how close the escape had been to failing.

“And he might not be the only one”, Serana added.

“How so?”, Sybille asked, sitting back down on her chair.

Serana opened her mouth, but then closed it again, caught in indecision. Talmeni decided to take the risk. “Before we go on, answer me something. Would you like to rule Solitude?”, she bluntly asked Sybille.

The court mage’s mouth creased into a faint smile. “And deal with the petitioners, the thanes and housecarls? No, I have all the power I need.”

Talmeni looked around the room again, and decided to trust her gut, and trust this woman. Sybille was a court mage to one of the highest courts of Skyrim. That was a position that she could have already started a reign of terror from, and hadn’t. “There is a prophecy on the scroll”, Talmeni said, ignoring as Serana started to speak up in protest, “About vampires no longer having to fear the sun.”

“I see why you are that circumspect about it, then”, Sybille said after a second of watching Serana fume in frustration.

“If we are all so open with each other”, Serana said with a brittle smile and sarcastic voice, “I should probably mention that my real name is Serana Volkihar. Daughter of Harkon Volkihar, who will also want this scroll.”

“Well, well, that is something”, Sybille said, then turned to Talmeni. “And I suppose you are Lady Famyne, then.”

“No, just Talmeni.” That was an interesting name though, and Talmeni decided to try and remember it if she ever needed a fake title.

“You don’t seem surprised”, Serana wondered about the subdued reaction of the court mage.

Sybille smiled arrogantly. “My duty as court mage is to know things. My scryings have revealed that the vampires are on the move. They also see this as a time of portents. But that is my business now. You have done your part.”

Talmeni recognized that dismissive tone of voice, and she wasn’t going to be brushed off like that orc. “Have we now?”, she answered, her fingers drumming on the sheath of her dagger, “We haven’t agreed to hand over the scroll yet.”

“Do you believe the guards will let you walk out with it again?”, Sybille purred, “The Elder Scrolls are all claimed by the Empire.”

“And does the Empire provide a finder’s fee?”, Talmeni asked, giving the mage a humorless grin. Serana, realizing the way things were headed, gave a small sigh.

“You are not as subtle as you think you are”, Sybille answered, shifting position on her chair slightly, “But I will bite. Name your conditions.”

“Ten thousand drakes, and I want to be there when the scroll is read.” Talmeni felt a bit grateful that Sybille had not called out her threat further. Trying to intimidate mages was always a risky affair, even if this one had a reputation to lose, if she started to blow up people in the middle of the palace.

“Nobody would pay that kind of money for an Elder Scroll”, Sybille said calmly, and to Talmeni’s frustration, was probably correct. That was the problem with these kinds of items. They were worth a lot of violence, but not a lot of money. “Your payment from the Empire will be two thousand septims.”

“Three thousand”, Talmeni said automatically, just to not give in too quickly.

“Two thousand. And I will ask for you, while you are staying in this city, to be my guests at the palace.” To keep an eye on us, Talmeni read between the lines. Sybille didn’t even try to sell it as the hospitality it was as well. It would probably be weeks until the priest arrived, and low as the price for the room at the inn was, it would add up.

“I don’t say no to a free bed and food”, Talmeni said with cheerful brightness and held out her hand to seal the deal.

Sybille took the hand, but said: “I also expect you to restrain yourself when feeding. I have an arrangement with Ahtar, the warden of dungeons in Castle Dour. If you need blood, you will get it from there.”

“Works for me. No need to give the Dawnguard too many hints”, Talmeni agreed, and let go.

“Do you agree as well?”, Sybille asked Serana, who nervously hovered at the edge of the conversation.

“You two are giving me a lot of choice, are you?”, she asked bitingly. “Yes, I accept.”

“Good. I will inform the steward.”

Talmeni watched with interest how Sybille had a servant fetch Falk Firebeard, and how she just told the man what he had to do. He tried to protest, but the mage only asked “Or what?”, and he acceded. Her gut had been right, Sybille Stentor was exactly where she wanted to be in the world, and the prophecy was of little use to her. Talmeni wondered for a moment if she would have had a similar life like that, if she hadn’t betrayed Thongvor for the Empire’s coin.

They were assigned a guest room on the ground floor, just as spacious as Sybille’s apartment, even if not as luxuriously furnished. Serana sighed when seeing the beds, probably dreading the nightmares that would come from sleeping on them. By the time they had retrieved their baggage from the inn and made themselves comfortable in the room, the sun had set, and most of the palace inhabitants gone to bed. It was silent, except for the patrolling guards on the night shift wandering through the building.

“Why did you just blurt out the prophecy like that?”, Serana asked. Talmeni had expected the question, and rather felt surprised it had taken that long until she had asked it. “What makes you trust her?”

“She is where she wants to be”, Talmeni said, “She doesn’t need the sun gone to keep her power. And I don’t trust her. But she knows how to negotiate like a Dunmer. She knows it’s best for me not to betray her, I know it’s better for her not to betray us. That’s something you can build on.”

“Yes, how could I forget who I was talking to”, Serana sighed, but then gave Talmeni a faint smile, “And yet it somehow just makes me trust you more.”

Talmeni stopped in the middle of uncorking the skooma bottle. “Why?”, she wondered.

“Because, you know, you don’t act that way towards me”, Serana said quietly, looking away.

There was an embarrassed pause as Talmeni considered it. She was letting her guard down in regards to Serana, that was true. Because Serana was trusting, and pure, in a way most other people were not. Because Talmeni had a crush on her. The smart thing would be to step away, and deal with Serana like with anyone else. But it would be the heartbreaking thing. “You’re…You’re one of my own”, Talmeni stuttered, as an explanation.

“And you take care of your own, I know”, Serana finished the sentence.

But it was an excuse, Talmeni admitted to herself. She hadn’t treated Eola like that, because Eola was somebody who was at home with duplicity and betrayal as herself. To cover up her embarrassment, Talmeni went on with uncorking the skooma and measuring out a drop on her thumb.

Serana watched with concern. “Did I …say something bad?”

“No”, Talmeni quickly answered, “This isn’t because I’m nervous. This is just a nightcap. So I don’t get the craving.” She licked up the drop, waited until it had dissolved on her tongue, then put the bottle away. Despite the careful rationing, she was aware of her supply getting lower. She hoped that the next few days would be quiet enough to allow her to find a dealer here in Solitude. That Argonian who had watched them in the inn was probably a good start.

There was a knock on the door. Serana got up and opened it, while Talmeni stopped her hand from drawing the dagger. This was the jarl’s palace, nobody would attack them here.

Outside stood Sybille Stentor, the Elder Scroll over her shoulder. “I am going over to Castle Dour”, she offered as an explanation, “Come along.”

Serana threw a glance at Talmeni, who just shrugged. This wasn’t quite according to what she had expected, but nothing she felt worried about. Making sure the satchel sat on her shoulder properly, she stood up and followed the court mage, Serana falling in step beside her.

The city outside was as soundly asleep as the castle itself. Looking up at the moon, Talmeni guessed it was long after midnight. Few people had reasons to be awake at this time, and that was probably why Sybille had chosen it for carrying the scroll to the vault. Except the three of them, there would be no witnesses.

Talmeni twirled her dagger and tossed it up and down to pass the time as they walked the entire length of the main street stretching over the arch. She was impressed that Sybille was so calm, even though she had to know that the two vampires following her could just as well kill her here and take the scroll back, also without witnesses. There wasn’t a reason why Talmeni would do it, but if she had been in Sybille’s shoes, the suspicion would have been there.

Castle Dour loomed ahead, a cliff of high walls topped by higher towers, creeping up the side of the mountain. Banners with the wolfs-head of Solitude and the dragon of the Empire both hung at the sides of the massive gates, and there the the faint flickering of torches coming from above, where sentries walked their nightly round.

There was also light coming from an open door in the courtyard, leading to one of the towers at the back of the castle. Sybille had expected this, given how confidently she headed towards the door. Inside, past a small antechamber, was what looked to Talmeni like a war room, dominated by a large table covered by a map of Skyrim. Markers dotted the map, small flags and figurines, and stacks of paper covered what free space remained.

Two people were waiting, impatiently getting off their chairs as Sybille entered. Both wore heavy Legion armor, and while Talmeni had no knowledge about the insignia, the sheer amount of decoration on the armors made her suspect that these were very high-ranking members.

“I can’t say I like being kept up this late shortly after the New Life festival”, the older of the two, a gray-haired man, said instead of a greeting.

“Who are these two?”, the woman, younger-looking but battle-scarred, asked in a sharp tone, looking at Serana and Talmeni.

“These are Lady Thorn-Rose and Talmeni Othran. They are the ones who found the scroll.”, Sybille Stentor said smoothly, then turned to the two and gestured at the legionaries: “And these are General Tullius and Legate Rikke.”

“It is my pleasure”, Serana said with a regal smile.

“General”, Talmeni said as a greeting, “It’s an honor. Margret spoke highly of you.” She watched his face, but the blank expression was not the poker face of somebody hiding their surprise, just the blankness of somebody not caring to think about things. She guessed that as general, he had too many people under him to remember every name.

“Yes, yes”, General Tullius said, waving dismissively. “Whoever they are, where we keep the scroll is no business of theirs. They’ll have to stay here.”

Sybille looked at the two of them, if there were any complaints, but Talmeni just gave a shrug. Legate Rikke gestured at some chairs for them to sit down on, and then the three of them, the two legionaires and the court mage, disappeared through a side door.

“Certainly high security”, Serana commented sarcastically, looking around the room.

“Seems the best they have”, Talmeni said, getting back up to study the war table. She glanced at the stack of documents near Markath, and was satisfied to see the words “Cidhna Mine” among the notes.

“Let’s hope it’s good enough.” Serana also threw some glances at the war table from where she was sitting, and after a while said quietly: “Let’s also hope we never need one of these.”

“It’s their scroll now”, Talmeni said, “Let them add Movarth and your father to the map if things get dicey.” But it wasn’t a sincere dismissal. Talmeni once again had to wonder what truly was the weapon Molag Bal had intended for her to find inside Dimhollow Crypt. The scroll was locked away safely, but Serana wasn’t.

“Can you really just stop worrying because of that?”, Serana wondered.

“No. I just hoped you would”, Talmeni said, and then gave her a smile. “Now you’re no longer the woman holding the scroll, Lady Thorn-Rose.”

Serana had to grin from hearing that title. “I’m not sure if being a lady is more me, either.”

Talmeni swallowed her comment about growing up in a castle. Serana didn’t need to hear it. She deserved the same chance to have a new future, unburdended by any past, as Talmeni had been granted.

In the silence, Talmeni wondered if she could think of something uplifiting to say, but failed. She had to admit that intimidating people came easier to her than calming them. Or making them friends. Probing her distant memories, she couldn’t recall anyone smiling at her who wasn’t also wreathed in skooma smoke.

Her gloom was interrupted by the Imperials and the court mage coming back, without the scroll. The general was grumbling about mages, daedra and other dark forces, clearly dissatisfied with the situation. Talmeni understood the issue just too well. When your foes could control minds, become invisible, and with the right spell even walk through walls, as a soldier with nothing but a blade and some armor, you did feel outclassed.

“It seems I have to thank you for finding the scroll”, the general said wearily, clearly not happy. “And the Empire should show some gratitude.” He sullenly placed two large rolls of coins on the table.

Talmeni politely thanked him, not caring how disgruntled he was about paying as long as the pay itself was good. She pocketed one roll and offered the other to Serana, who just politely waved for her to carry it.

“Come along”, Sybille said once the exchange was complete, waving Talmeni and Serana to follow. To their surprise, she however left the room through a different door than they had entered.

“Where are we going?”, Serana asked, sounding more confused than anxious. Talmeni envied her innocence, and tried to relax her grip on her dagger.

“To the dungeon, where else?”, the mage answered, “I am thirsty, and I suspect so are you.” Talmeni threw a glance backward to see if the legionaires had heard that, but the two of them had already left the room, probably headed for bed.

The dungeons were larger than Talmeni expected, not just some holes in the cellar, but a multi-story circular room with cells all around. It was silent this late in the night, and with only a single torch still having a bit of fuel left, also nearly completely dark, but Talmeni could feel the dozens of heartbeats of the prisoners.

Sybille confidently led them down to the lowest level, getting a set of keys from below her robe. “These are all Stormcloak traitors”, she said in a quiet voice, “Take your pick.”

Talmeni just pointed at the first occupied cell, not particularly caring about details. Sybille unlocked the door, then asked Serana the same question. Talmeni let them move off while soundlessly walking over to her victim. While she had her fill, feeling a rush from tasting real blood after the days of drinking the alchemical replacement, there were the sounds of more cell doors being unlocked. As she concentrated on letting go, to not get taken in by the heady feeling of draining somebody’s life, some noises almost slipped past her attention.

There was a gasp, the start of a scream, then a long silence, followed by a body falling to the floor. One of the heartbeats had stopped. Talmeni stepped outside, exchanging glances with Serana, who was also looking around a bit surprised by this. Sybille Stentor stepped out of a cell, ineffectually wiped her blood-streaked mouth, and just asked: “Are you done?” Her yellow eyes were clearly glowing in the darkness.

Serana clearly felt repulsed by this, but politeness forbade her to comment. Talmeni wondered if Sybille was also that wasteful when there wasn’t a war regularly producing new prisoners. Not to mention that a corpse was likely to attract attention, especially one completely without blood when there were vampire hunters asking around. The power gained from completely draining their life seemed hardly worth it. But Sybille apparently saw that calculation differently.

They were out of the castle and halfway down the avenue to the palace before any of them spoke again. “You seem quite good at alchemy”, Serana said towards Sybille. “I saw all those potions in your shelves.”

“Just by-products”, Sybille said dismissively, “I am researching the old magic of the Reach-witches.”

“That sounds fascinating. Could I, I don’t know, help out somehow? I’m—”

“I don’t need apprentices.”

Talmeni could feel the frustration coming off Serana. Not wanting her friend to go empty, the dark elf tried a different tack: “Have you got any grimoires about Illusion magic?”

“Of course”, Sybille said proudly. Talmeni hadn’t expected any other answer. Anyone who considered themselves a competent scryer had to have some books about it.

“Good. I’ll loan some from you, for the usual fee”, Talmeni went on, taking a few coins out of her satchel to jingle. “And some books about alchemy.”

“You?”, Sybille asked, incredulous. After a moment, she added: “Well, perhaps I have something for your comprehension level.”

Talmeni knew she was being insulted right now, but ignored it. Having Sybille underestimate her was a useful advantage for later, and right now had no downsides. “Let’s hope so”, she answered cheerfully, “I hate being bored.”

“I’m sure we find something to keep busy during the night”, Serana tried to reassure her, not having noticed it was a performance. However, once the words were out, Serana did notice how her words might be understood, and looked away, embarrassed. There wasn’t even a need for Talmeni to grin or wink.

Sybille led them to her suite and gestured at her shelves of books with some bad grace. Talmeni was quite pleased with the selection, which covered far more than what Calcelmo had been able to offer, even if you excluded all the books about divination. Serana clearly had a similar reaction, and took some time to decide what to read first. When she managed to narrow it down to three books, Talmeni just paid for all of them.

The moment the transaction was done, Sybille close to chased them out of her room, claiming she needed to go to sleep. “Good to know the court mage is sleeping at normal hours”, Serana commented sarcastically as they carried their books down to their room.

“She’s getting up before sundown”, Talmeni reminded her, “It’s probably better for being in court with the humans.”

“You said you lived in a city”, Serana remembered, “When did you sleep?”

“Height of the day, usually. Went to bed when the morning market was winding down, got up when the first drunks wandered to the tavern.” Talmeni took off her satchel and yawned. “But I think I’ll turn in early today. It’s been a long day.”

“I’m not sure I could sleep yet”, Serana said, eyeing her books.

“That’s okay. Unfortunatly we got separate beds”, she commented, flopping down on one of them.

Serana shook her head, but didn’t comment further, just took one of her books to start reading. Except for the flipping of the pages, the room fell silent. When Talmeni re-opened her eyes for a moment later, not quite yet asleep, Serana was still sitting in the same chair, reading without ever taking her eyes off the book.

Talmeni had expected the nightmares, and this night they were thankfully tame, but still their terror lingered a bit as she got out of bed in the afternoon. The palace around her was lively and noisy, the sound of heartbeats coming from many directions. Only Serana wasn’t awake, but rather still sleeping, neatly laid out as always, on the other bed.

Seeing the position of the bookmark in the first book, Talmeni wondered how long the other vampire had stayed up. Clearly until long after sunrise. Letting her sleep it off, Talmeni decided to have a bit of a wander around Solitude, to get a proper feel of the city, and to also get the clean clothes from the inn. Yesterday, the innkeeper had been forced to apologize for the clothes not being ready yet when Talmeni and Serana had moved out.

Talmeni slipped into her drab Nord dress, putting the fancy court clothes aside for now. They were good for catching the eye, but right now she wanted to blend in with the crowd. It was a kind of magic by itself, how much you could disappear from people’s minds just by wearing the right kind of clothes and walking the right way. In her past as a Chiller, she had used that more than a few times to slip past Ordinators and other kinds of trouble.

Now, she used it first to eavesdrop a bit on a session of Solitude’s court. The jarl, a young woman named Elisif, was clearly inexperienced. She kept bowing to the torrent of opinions coming from the other courtiers, who all clearly had their own agendas dressed up in fancy words. Sybille was there, but stayed silent except for a few sarcastic comments. Not even she noticed Talmeni hovering at the edge of the room, demure like a servant.

Once she was satisfied, Talmeni slipped away. Her gut had been right about Sybille, the woman was where she wanted to be, and had no need for the Elder Scroll. In a court like this, a single word at the right moment was all the power you needed, and gave you no obligations or attention. She certainly handled being a court mage better than Calcelmo in Markarth, who didn’t have enough aptitude for politics. People there had noticed that he was neglecting his duties over his obsession with the Dwemer.

Solitude itself was lively enough, despite the Legion taking many of the resources for the war. Talmeni listened to the singing lessons at the Bard’s College for a moment, wandered around the market, and then had a chat with Gulum-Ei. The Argonian turned out to be a rather tough nut, dismissing her attempts at talking business rather bluntly. It made Talmeni still rather sure he was a fence, just a very selective one. It would be a task for later, to get him to open up. For now, she finished up her stroll by getting the cleaned clothes, finding out when the next Khajiit caravan would be due, and listening to the rumors floating around the inn room.

When she came back to the palace, Serana was still asleep, even though the sun had set by now. Talmeni ignored her intrusive thoughts about kissing those wonderful lips, and just sat down at the table to read her new grimoire.

It was frustrating, not so much because of the language, even if mages always had this tendency to use far too long words. But rather because the author, like that of the other books she had read, didn’t seems to consider subtlety as important. Talmeni liked the idea of persuading people with magic, but she wanted to leave no traces. Unless you broke the mind completely like Movarth did with his thralls, sooner or later the magic would run out, and somebody would ask questions. Still, there were a few useful hints in the book, and some techniques she felt tempted to try out, if she could find a target.

Chapter Text

Some chapters in, Serana stirred, and then gracefully unfolded. “Rise and shine”, Talmeni greeted her.

“Shine?”, Serana wondered, “That’s not really…”

“You know what I mean”, Talmeni just shrugged, and then pointed at the heap of clothes she had left on a chair next to Serana’s bed. “Your things got washed.”

“Thank you”, Serana said, and disappeared behind a room divider to get dressed. When she came back out, she was wearing her vampire outfit again, looking and moving a bit more comfortably than she had in the heavy Nord robes. “How late is it?”, she asked, adjusting her cuffs.

“Sun went down some time ago”, Talmeni answered, flipping a page in her book, “You must have stayed up until noon.”

“I didn’t mean to, you know. It’s just that this book was so fascinating. Did you know that by now they developed laboratory methods to determine the deeper virtues of ingredients without having to rely on wortcraft?”

Talmeni tried to figure out the sentence in her head, but gave up. “No. Not much of an alchemy person”, she admitted.

“Not even poisons?”, Serana wondered, “Storybook rogues always use poisons.”

“They got their uses”, Talmeni admitted, “But for me, the not having them didn’t get in the way of using them. Threatening to poison someone does most of the work. You don’t need to go through with actually doing it.”

Serana was too enthusiastic about her book to comment on that. She picked it up and leafed through it while saying: “My mother would love to try out some of these methods. She always hated wasting ingredients on figuring out sympathies. It was always so hard to get a word out of her after staying up all day to watch the retort and then not discover anything.”

”You really love it, though”, Talmeni commented with a smile. Even though she hardly understood a word, she could see how happy just talking about all this made Serana.

”Not the not getting anything, no. But the grinding and mixing and distilling, it was great.” She paused for a moment, then said more quietly: “I loved both my parents. My father was always regal, so composed and sure. But my mother…we were like the best of friends. Spending time with her, sharing secrets with her, trying different mixtures together, it was wonderful.”

Serana’s face clouded as she returned to the present. Quietly, she opened her book at the bookmark, and continued reading. Talmeni let her, not sure if an uplifting comment about alchemy would help, and also bent over her book.

It was hard to concentrate, though, because after a while it became clear that thinking about her parents had dispelled the joy that Serana had felt. She was just staring at the page, playing with one of the corners, her brow creased in thought.

Talmeni put her book down. “Talk to me”, she said, “What’s on your mind?”

Serana opened her mouth, closed it again as she thought of something else, then started speaking: “Maybe we should go look for my mother. I’m not willing to give up hope just yet. I know she said she would confront him, and that he’s alive, but still…” She sat up a bit straighter, trying to look less gloomy. “If nothing else, we should look for the other Elder Scroll.”

There we are, thought Talmeni. It was somewhat relieving to hear that it was only two scrolls, not more. “If you want to look for your mother, I’m with you”, Talmeni said, putting her book aside.

“Just like that?”, Serana asked, amused.

“Just like that.” Talmeni had to admit to herself that she was even willing to miss the Elder Scroll being read if it meant spending more time with Serana. Neither Power not blood, not even skooma was as addicting as seeing her smile.

“Even if it means heading to my father’s castle?”

“What do you expect to find there?”, Talmeni asked. Serana’s father clearly hadn’t gotten hold of the second Elder Scroll, so it wasn’t the obvious location to start looking.

Serana tried to order her thoughts. “My mother’s laboratory, at least. She kept detailed notes, so maybe we’ll find some clues there. I understand her better than anyone.” She hesitated for a second. “Also, this will sound silly, but…there is something my mother said when we left to…I guess to lock me away. Even if that sounds harsh.”

Putting the book aside and focusing on Talmeni, Serana continued: “She said she had hidden the other scroll somehere Harkon would never bother to search. She repeated it, asked me if I had listened. It was important to her. And I just remembered that I never saw my father visit her laboratory. He barely came to the garden. Too …peaceful.”

“You need to know somebody very well to gamble on a risk like that”, Talmeni said, considering the situation.

“Is a century-long marriage between vampires enough for that?”, Serana asked, amused. More serious, she added: “I also feel that she wouldn’t leave the scroll unguarded. Whereever she hid it, she could also hide herself. I know she went to confront my father, but I don’t think she went there expecting to die. She would have had some escape plan. And some way of keeping an eye on things.”

“Yeah”, Talmeni agreed, “That’s also easier from somewhere close by. Only question is how we get to the laboratory quietly.”

“That part I have figured out”, Serana said with a smile, “There’s an inlet on the northern side of the island, barely used. We had it build for bringing supplies in the castle, but it turns out vampires don’t need much of that. At worst, there might be a few thralls around. And from there, we can use the cistern under the castle. It has a passage into the courtyard.”

“So all we need is some friendly fisherman to bring us to your castle.”

“It’s just along the coast, it shouldn’t be too expensive”, Serana mused. “We should probably get everything prepared to be ready by sunrise.”

“We should also tell Sybille”, Talmeni added. Looking at the shadows of the moons outside, she added: “And maybe ask her about going to the dungeon for another drink. It doesn’t look like she’s usually going every day.”

“That is something the prisoners probably feel happy about”, Serana said, pulling the backpack out of the wardrobe.

Talmeni wondered how much the prisoners did know. On the one hand, the direct witness would be dead after Sybille was done. On the other, corpses without any blood left in them weren’t easy to hide. She wondered if whatever rush Sybille got from killing people was worth the extra hassle, compared to just quietly draining them of a bit of blood in their sleep.

They went up to Sybille, who opened the door to her apartment rather angrily, clearly unhappy about being interrupted, and once they had explained the situation, just handed them the key of the prison with a stern reminder to bring it back once they were done. Talmeni felt a bit taken aback by this level of trust, but just let it be. That same trust meant they were free to leave without having had to explain why or where they were going.

A few hours later, Talmeni and Serana were down at the docks, well fed and with the backpack on their shoulders. Around them, the fishermen got their boats ready, cursing about the East Empire Company and its large trading ships blocking the harbor. While Talmeni was still trying to get the glare of the first rays of the morning sun out of her eyes, Serana went and started asking the fishermen.

“We need to get to a castle along the coast to the west”, she explained to the first person who had nodded when asking if he would ferry people. “On an island, near the first fjords.”

“Never heard of that place”, the fisherman said quickly, and moved into the crowd before Serana could get another word in.

The next one Serana asked said “I’m not headed that way” once she had explained the destination again, and also moved away immediately.

“Gods forbid”, the third exclaimed, fear in her eyes, “Not for all the money in the world.”

“Why?”, Serana asked, before this one could also move off.

The fisher licked her lips in thought for a second before stammering: “Well, it’s a difficult coast, and with the winds, it’s…It’s certain death, and that’s the end of it.” She hurried away to her boat.

“Let me”, Talmeni said when Serana fumed about her lack of success. This was clearly a situation where politeness wasn’t going to get you far.

She walked up to a fisherman who was currently checking the sail of his boat, and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Three blessings, friend”, she said cheerfully as he turned around in surprise.

“Who are you?”, the man asked, letting go of the rigging.

“I’m Talmeni, this is Serana. And you?”

“Jolf. Could you—”, then fisherman asked, with an uncomfortable expression.

“We need a boat to bring us to a place nearby”, Talmeni interrupted him, not letting go of his shoulder, “And you look like a man interested in making money.”

Jolf still looked uncomfortable, but the mention of money made his bearded face relax a bit. “Well, it would depend on where you want to go and how much you’re paying.”

“I’m willing to negotiate. Let’s do it as a game”, Talmeni said with a grin, “I choose one of three options to convice you, and then you say yes or no. Option one, I put some more money into your hand.” She took his unresisting hand and pressed a small number of coins into it. Fifty septims, a reasonable sum for a transport service for two people.

Jolf looked at the money and said: “Well, I guess I can play. Where are we going?”

“To the castle on an island west of here”, Talmeni said, and was ready when Jolf tried to bolt. She tightened her grip on his shoulder, and he barely managed to take a single step back.

“That place is cursed! No way”, he said loudly.

“I see. My turn again”, Talmeni said, still smiling. She got out a few more coins and heaped them in the sailor’s hand.

“Every sensible sailor knows to stay away from that place.”

“Really.” Talmeni grinned, and played with her satchel. “I forgot to mention what the other options are, didn’t I?”, she said while taking out a hundred septims. “Option number two is that I take my dagger and start making a few holes”, she said, still with a pleasant tone.

Jolf didn’t open his hand to have the septims put into it. “I don’t want to play any more”, he said.

“Ending the game isn’t among your moves”, Talmeni said, throwing the septims into his boat and fishing for more in her satchel.

“They say anyone who steps foot on that island dies an early death”, Jolf said.

“I can afford a few years off my lifespan”, Talmeni said casually, hesitating for a moment for effect before she threw the next batch of coins into the boat. “What about you?”

Jolf looked into her eyes, at the dagger on her belt, and at the heap of coins at his feet. And his resolve was clearly wavering. “It’s a two-day trip”, he managed.

“Good thing I packed supplies, then”, Talmeni said, throwing a few more coins on the heap. The morning sun was not helping her mood, and she was well aware that her cheerful voice was by now rather strained.

It had the desired effect. Jolf looked like somebody who feared the next complaint would not be answered with coin any more. “Just bringing you there?”, he asked hesitantly.

“There and back, please.”

Jolf shivered, and opened his mouth. Talmeni took it as another incoming complaint, and drummed on her dagger for a moment before then throwing another handful of coins down. The fisherman’s eyes didn’t leave the weapon as he croaked, defeated: “Come aboard, then.”

“You have a way with people”, Serana commented sarcastically as Talmeni helped her down into the boat.

“Fear is a black hand of Mephala”, Talmeni answered, taking off her backpack and putting it here Jolf was indicating, “Bring it to every argument.”

Serana clearly didn’t like that explanation, but didn’t have time to answer. Jolf, in between gathering up the coins, explained where they should sit, and what they should not touch. At first he was hesitant, as if expecting Talmeni to stab him, but then got more confident when she just nodded along to his rules.

Before long, they were underway, cruising against a gentle breeze blowing under the arch of Solitude. Serana craned her neck, fascinated by the sight of the rocks far above, and the buildings visible on its edge. Talmeni kept her eyes lower, first to keep an eye on Jolf, then because the motion of the boat was making her uneasy.

She gripped the edge tightly as a wave lifted the boat up, and wondered what vampires threw up when they got nauseous. She hadn’t eaten ordinary food since Fort Dunstad, which had long since passed through her system. When the boat rounded the lighthouse and got rocked by the larger waves of the open sea, Talmeni closed her eyes and redoubled her grip. She felt like taking some skooma, but doubted she could pour herself anything without spilling the entire bottle.

“Are you all right?”, Serana asked. Talmeni opened her eyes for a second to check if the other vampire was affected, but Serana looked fine. “First time on the sea?”, she asked after a second when Talmeni didn’t answer.

“Seems so”, Talmeni managed, covering her mouth as the boat rolled into a dip between two waves.

“It helps if you look at the horizon”, Serana suggested.

Talmeni tried for a moment, but the sun was well up by now, and to her there was no horizon, just a white glare filling the world, streaked with a few shaded lines from the waves. “I think I’ll just lie down”, she mumbled, and crawled downwards until she was lying stretched out at the bottom of the boat.

It didn’t make it much better, but after a while her tiredness did get the upper hand and dragged her into something approaching sleep. She wasn’t sure how often she was woken up again, as the rocking motion of the sea followed her into her dreams, tilting and throwing around the world, adding a layer of confusion and disorientation to the already disturbing visions of her nightmares.

At felt like hours later that she properly fell asleep, the nightmares and the shaking both fading for a while, until a particularly violent wave woke her up for good. For a second she wondered if she was still dreaming, because Serana was lying snuggled up to her. Of course, the small boat didn’t leave enough space for her to sleep anywhere else, but it was still surprising to have her body that close. After a moment, Talmeni felt also a bit ashamed that she hadn’t noticed somebody touching her in her sleep. The seasickness was making her vulnerable.

Carefully, as not to wake up the still sleeping Serana, Talmeni tried to get up and see what the situation was. While she had known that it was inevitable to be at the mercy of Jolf’s seafaring for a while, she still had to quiet her paranoia by making sure they were actually heading towards their destination. The sun was indeed glaring from up ahead, low on the horizon and slightly red, so they were heading west as intended. More, she could not make out before another wave forced her to hold on to the boat again.

“The sea doesn’t play games”, Jolf commented over the sound of the waves. He sounded smug to see the woman who had intimidated him that helpless. “And Kyne won’t fear your dagger. Consider yourself lucky she’s sending fair winds for now.”

“Really”, Talmeni just answered, unable to put any bite into her tone. She felt sick, thirsty and out of sorts, and didn’t have any relief for any of it. It wasn’t a state in which she could spar with words.

To her shame, Serana also began to stir after rolling into the empty space left by Talmeni’s body. She heaved herself up to the bench next to Talmeni, and also looked around. “Where are we?”, she asked, shielding her eyes to look south.

“We just rounded Kyne’s Aegis”, Jolf shouted back, hanging onto the rudder as the boat rolled through another wave. “We’ll land on the island ahead and camp for the night.” He gestured in the direction of travel, but Talmeni didn’t try to look. It would have meant staring right at the sun, and making out anything in the glare.

Serana tried, and apparently saw enough to turn around and ask: “Could we go further? I can take over the rudder again if you need a rest. I’ve got good night vision.”

Talmeni stayed quiet, although it was interesting to note that Serana had apparently experience with boats. In hindsight, it wasn’t too surprising, given her home was on an island, but Talmeni hadn’t thought about it before.

Jolf shook his head. “No offense, lady, but this isn’t the place for it. It’s one thing to keep the boat straight before the Northern Watch, but it’s another to navigate the Giant’s Coast. You see the rocks in the water? There’s reefs all around us, and icebergs coming with the winter. And that’s not the worst.” He gestured south, where Talmeni managed to barely make out the jagged outline of a mountain range against the sky. Those were the same mountains she had seen from the south, the Haafingar range that ended at Solitude, but their northern sides were even steeper and sheerer than their southern slopes. “Once the sun sets, the wind will turn, and push us out into the open sea.”

Talmeni put a hand on Serana’s shoulder. “Look, I also want—” She had to stop to not throw up from another wave rocking the boat. “I also want this over quickly, but we shouldn’t get ourselves killed.”

“Yes, let’s be alive when we arrive”, Serana said with somewhat strained attempt at humor. She held on to the bench, watching both the sea and Jolf, as he expertly steered the boat. To Talmeni, it all looked very technical, with the adjustment of sails, the pulling on ropes, and the pushing of the rudder. Serana clearly understood more of it, as her expression wasn’t one of worry but of interest.

They reached the island Jolf had chosen, a desolate place, nothing more than a stretch of gravel between two rock formations jutting out of the water. Talmeni jumped off the boat the moment gravel crunched under the keel, happy to have solid ground under her feet, only to be called back by Jolf. “We need to pull the boat up”, he instructred, screwing with something at the base of the mast.

“What?”, Talmeni wondered, tottering back towards the boat.

“If we leave it in the water, the waves will wash it away”, Jolf explained, pulling out some bolt. Talmeni jumped in surprise as the mast suddenly tilted forward, falling over until it was lying on the bow. She hadn’t expected it to do that.

Accepting that Jolf knew what he was talking about, she joined him and Serana in pulling the boat onto land. It was heavier than excepted, and the few times a high wave helped them lift the boat, it always made Jolf declare that it was not high enough yet. Only when it was right at the crest of the gravel strip did he declare it safe, ordered it turned over, and prepared some sleeping places beneath.

The sun set while Jolf was having his meal, with Talmeni and Serana politely declining to join in. They watched silently while he then laid down under the boat and wrapped himself in his blanket.

“Now we just have to pass the night somehow”, Talmeni commented quietly. The island offered little in terms of distractions.

“Do I dare to ask what your suggestions are?”, Serana asked, clearly expecting Talmeni to say something dirty.

Talmeni grinned, feeling happy to know this woman knew her so well, and decided not to bother spelling things out. “Let’s give him some distance so he can sleep”, she said with a nod towards Jolf, and climbed up the farther of the two rocks. “We can watch the moon rise for a start”, she said, as it turned out to empty air.

Serana hadn’t followed immediately, and was struggling to get up the slope that Talmeni had climbed so easily. It was because she was holding one of the blood potions in her hand, and tried to climb with only the other. It was hard-going on the wet stone, and Serana looked grateful when Talmeni leaned down and pulled her up.

“Thirsty?”, Talmeni asked with a nod towards the potion.

Serana shrugged. “No more so than usual. It looked like you could use some, though.” She held out the bottle as an offer.

“I look thirsty?”, Talmeni wondered, taking the potion.

Serana didn’t answer, just looked down at Talmeni’s satchel. She had one of her hands in there, clenched around a skooma bottle. Talmeni took it out with a grimace and deliberately closed the flap of the satchel again, even if she knew she’d be fingering one of those bottles again as soon as she stopped paying attention.

“I’m fine”, Talmeni said, not even convincing herself. “We need those for emergencies”, she explained, gesturing with the potion, “If I’m hungry tonight, there’s Jolf.”

“He can’t support the two of us for three nights”, Serana said cautiously, her face full of concern.

“Still”, Talmeni decided, “Nothing will happen tonight, so I don’t need to be at my best. I’ll put it back.” She swung herself down to the rock wall and climbed carefully back onto the gravel, ignoring Serana’s concerned expression from the top of the rock.

Serana’s rummaging in the backpack for the blood potion had thrown some things around, and Talmeni spent a moment trying to get it back into order. Doing so, her hand closed around the spine of a book. She pulled it out, but it wasn’t one of her grimoires of Illusion, but rather one of the manuals of Alchemy that Serana had bought. She put it back, on top of the rest of the things in case Serana wanted to read it later.

When she was back on the rock, the moonrise was already over. It hadn’t been a particularly impressive one in any case. Masser’s rise was always hard to make out as a vampire, as it went above the horizon just as the sun set, and at the moment Secunda was a long distance off, not rising until the early morning hours. However, the sea itself was an impressive sight by itself, especially to Talmeni.

She couldn’t remember having seen such large waves before, or the bobbing ice floes being driven about by them. It looked gloomy, downright dangerous, especially in the colors of the night. There were banks of fog in the distance, either thrown up spray or low-hanging clouds, drifting across the sea like intangible ships. The wind howled over the rocks and waves, with a whistling that made it very appropriate that people called this the Sea of Ghosts.

After a while, Talmeni decided to strike up a conversation. “You’re an alchemist, then”, she said, starting with the first topic that came to mind, “Explains the callouses, at least. They’re not— I just noticed them”, she quickly added when Serana looked at her hands in surprise. “I can’t really complain, when mine are much worse. Comes from carrying mead crates for years.”

Talmeni realized she was rambling nervously. The problem was that her heart was racing, because against this backdrop of an icy sea, Serana looked even more regal and mythical. She was like a painting come alive.

“I guess we held hands often enough for you to notice”, Serana said with a smile, feeling her own palms for a moment.

Taking a deep breath instead of blurting out that she wanted to hold those hands some more, Talmeni tried to say something useful. “What I actually wanted to ask, is there anything you really liked doing with alchemy?”

“Many things”, Serana answered, smiling faintly at the memories, “My mother had many ideas she wanted to research. I guess there was one that was my own, though. I thought we could maybe improve the quality of the distillates in the retort using some kind of cooling. I experimented for several weeks with Frost Salts and other cryogenic agents.” She looked at Talmeni, and studied the expression for a moment, then had to grin: “You didn’t understand a word past ‘improve’, did you?”

Talmeni gave up on trying to look interested. “Not really”, she admitted, “It does sound fun, but I’m not good enough in alchemy to follow that.” Looking down in shame, she mumbled: “Or any good, really.” She hadn’t even understood the processes involved in mead-making, for all the years she’d worked there.

“You’ve never done alchemy?”, Serana asked, surprised, “I find it hard to believe you really don’t have a use for poison.”

“I’m not a murderer”, Talmeni said, “I’m a Chiller. It’s enough if I threaten to poison people, I don’t actually need to have poison for that. Same with the dagger, really.” She pulled it out and sent it spinning in the air, catching it by the handle as it came down. “The secret of weapons is: They are the mercy seat”, she quoted, twirling the dagger around her wrist.

“That is a sentence so deep that only a priest or a philosopher would ever say it”, Serana said with biting humor.

“It was a god. Or at least the priests said the god said it”, Talmeni answered with shrug, “It’s still true, though. You show a weapon so you don’t have to kill people with it. You can turn people inside out with your magic, but showing people your hands doesn’t make them fear. But a blade near their face, that they understand.” She tossed her dagger over to the other hand and gave it a spin there before throwing it back.

“You’re good at this”, Serana commented, watching the glinting blade.

“It was my job, shaking people down”, Talmeni answered with a shrug, “You’re either good at it or you’re dead.”

“No, I meant the knife-thing. You know, making it move like that”, Serana explained.

“Same thing. It’s my way of making people notice the blade.” She watched herself play with the dagger for a moment before admitting: “But it’s calming. Doing this, with the knife? It’s something nobody can take away from me. It’s something I’m good at.”

“Have you ever tried juggling?”, Serana wondered.

“No. Never had the time.”

Serana turned slightly to look at Talmeni in concern and wonder. “You were always working, without pause?”

“No. Yes. Thing is, being a Chiller isn’t a job you just have and then go home from. There’s always something. Ordinators. Superiors. Your people, getting in trouble. And it’s not making a lot of money, once you paid your share, and your own. You’re happy to just find some sleep and some food when nothing is going on.” She bit down the comment about how not everyone could live in a castle with too much money and free time. Serana didn’t need to hear it.

“You must have relaxed somehow.”

“Sure. That’s what the skooma was for.” Talmeni pulled a flask out of her satchel. “That’s what I can remember. And it’s what makes sense. It doesn’t take much. You don’t need books, or training, or some atelier or things. One sip, and you’re happy.” She put the bottle away and added grimly: “Until you wake up and can’t remember anything any more.”

Serana looked shocked, and saddened. Talmeni felt a pang of guilt for being that blunt about things, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. It was an old resentment, coming with the memories, of people in large houses, hoarding money, while she was outside, hungry and angry at the world, turning the words of the sermons around in her head to find her way.

After a moment of silence, Serana said: “I’m sorry. It’s not fair to ask you that. I can’t even imagine what it’s like, to lose your memory. To look back and just see …nothing.”

“It’s not like that”, Talmeni said, “It’s like a house full of rooms, and the doors are locked. Sometimes, something crawls through the gaps. Sometimes, one of the doors unlocks. And sometimes, I find a way to open one of them myself. But I’m not really trying, to be honest.”

“Why not?”

Talmeni shrugged. “What’s the point? It’s the past. Even if there’s happy moments to remember, I’d only pine for them. They’re not worth all the bad things I’ll find first. The past is past. I can just make new happy memories now.”

“By helping me break into my father castle?”, Serana asked sarcastically.

“Maybe. Sitting next to you watching the sea counts as well.” A particularly high wave crashed against the rock, showering them in spray. “Most of the time”, Talmeni added sourly.

“Maybe in time you’ll find something less capricious”, Serana said, wiping some water off her face, “You deserve to be happy.”

Happiness, Talmeni thought. It wasn’t something she had consciously sought in the past. Money and power, that’s why she had done things. To make sure nobody could pull her strings. Happiness had been just some by-product. Thinking about her time in Markarth, Talmeni concluded quietly: “There’s books, I guess.”

“Books?”, Serana wondered, her thoughts having wandered in that moment of quiet.

“Some of the stories I read in Makarth were nice”, Talmeni said.

“Anything in particular you liked?”

Talmeni tried to sort through her memory. It was patchy, not just because quiet nights had also been when she’d taken skooma. A lot of the books hadn’t left much of an impression in hindsight, as much as she’d devoured them in the moment. “The Poison Song was good. Very creepy. It’s about the sixth house and—” She realized that trying to explain the book would require explaining the entirety of Dunmer house politics to Serana first.

“You like creepy stories?”

“I liked that one”, Talmeni said with a shrug. “Maybe it’s also that it felt like home.”

“I can understand that. I always loved reading stories of other places, and imagining I’d travel there one day.” Serana sighed wistfully. “Have you heard of Topal the Pilot?”

“Vaguely.” That was an exagerration. Something about that name stirred in Talmeni’s memory, but she wasn’t sure why or from what context.

“They say he was the first to sail around Tamriel. There was a song about him, about all the wonders he saw on the way. I used to know it by heart.”

“Maybe you can sing it to me when we’re not in danger of waking up our pilot.” Talmeni gestured towards the sleeping Jolf, who was by now snoring.

Serana looked embarrassed. “I said I used to know it. It’s been a century since I tried to recite it. What about you? Do Dunmer sing songs?”

“Sort of. We’ve got a whole caste of warriors for writing poems, the Armigers. They do it for a living. If you found some of their popular works, I could probably join in. And I think there’s some nursery rhymes I remember. Maybe.” Talmeni wasn’t sure if she wanted to try and probe her memory deeper in these matters. She felt whatever happened in her childhood was probably better left forgotten.

“Once we’re back in Solitude, we could go to the Bard’s college and see what songs they sing in Skyrim in this age.”

Talmeni thought back to the evenings spent in the Silver-Blood Inn. “As long as it’s not Ragnar the Red, sure.”

“What’s that about?”

Serana looked genuinely interested, but Talmeni couldn’t get herself to like the song enough to give more than a dimissive description. “One Nord killing another for being a loudmouth. It’s supposed to be funny, I think. And yet they call us the bad guys.”

“Yes, a vampire without scruples is clearly a good judge of character.”

“You forgot pointing out that Dunmer don’t have a sense of humor”, Talmeni added with a slight grin.

Serana turned around and looked at Talmeni with surprise. “People say that about you? That seems, you know, unfair.”

“It’s pretty fair. We’re not funny people. We don’t laugh, or tell jokes when we’re drunk. Or lay on the sarcasm as thick as certain Nord vampire princesses.”

That produced a giggle from Serana, and a smile. Both stabbed Talmeni in the heart, making her want to hug and kiss this woman. She became aware of her hand once again playing with the skooma in her satchel, not just because she craved it, but because it would make it easier to say the words, and reach over and do these things she wanted to do with Serana. But this wasn’t the time or place. Talmeni took her hand out of the satchel and focused on the waves instead.

For a while, they were silent, just watching the sea. With the sun down, the wind had indeed turned, and even picked up in intensity. The waves piled higher, striking against the little island from both sides, and above them, the sky was filling with clouds.

After some time, Serana spoke up again, quietly and thoughfully, frowing at the sight. “Do you think we are monsters?”, she wondered.

Talmeni didn’t even stop twirling her knife to think. “We are”, she answered simply.

“That’s a horrible way to think about yourself”, Serana whispered, barely audible over the waves.

“I see it as pragmatic”, Talmeni answered, but swallowed the explanation as to why when making out Serana’s expression. “Do you regret becoming a vampire?”, Talmeni asked, trying to get the conversation to a less abstract topic.

Serana opened her mouth, and then closed it again. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before”, she managed after a monent, “I…I don’t know. I think…mostly I hate what it’s done to my family in the end. My father’s not exactly the most stable, and eventually he drove my mother crazy with him. And it all ended with me being locked underground for who knows how long. But before that, it was …” She trailed off, looking conflicted. “What about you?”, she asked.

“If I wasn’t a vampire, I’d be dead”, Talmeni answered with a shrug. “Floating upside down in a canal in Riften for getting on Maven Black-Briar’s bad side.”

“That does make the moral quandary very easy”, Serana answered sarcastically.

Talmeni didn’t bother asking what that word meant. She took a deep breath and went for another approach. “Because of becoming a vampire I could cut back the skooma. Because of becoming a vampire I met you. Because of becoming a vampire, I …” She swallowed some dirty thoughts about having seen Serana undressed. “…I’m here, being your friend. Being happy. That’s why I don’t regret it.”

Serana looked at Talmeni’s face, surprised by the outburst.

“Yes, I’m happy, even if I don’t show it”, Talmeni snapped, but then managed to get a hold of herself. Maybe she should have some skooma just to stop her emotions from running wild. “Sorry”, she mumbled, “I’m no good with philosophy.”

“Maybe you don’t need to”, Serana said, looking up at the sky. The colors of the night deepened as the moon disappeared behind thick clouds. “It’s probably good to have somebody to hold you …I mean, to keep you grounded. You know.”

“I could do both.” Talmeni couldn’t stop herself, she only managed to restrain herself from taking Serana’s hand to hold it.

“I know”, Serana sighed wistfully, and stood up. “Come on.” Talmeni scrambled up, a bit confused. Seeing her expression, Serana gestured upwards: “The Sea of Ghosts is sending its most romantic weather”, she explained, underlined by the rumble of thunder, “Let’s find shelter before it gets really started.”

They helped each other down the rock, and Talmeni had to force herself to let go of Serana’s soft hands once they were both back on the gravel. By the time they had reached the upturned boat, the first raindrops were falling from the sky, and when they had managed to sort of sit in a crouch beneath it, it was already raining steadily.

Silently, Talmeni handed Serana her book, as it seemed about the only way to pass the night that was left to them. Serana took it gratefully, mouthing “Thank you”, and then tried to get comfortable. In the end, she leaned against Talmeni, who had also retrieved her grimoire, but found it hard to concentrate.

The way Serana was just so comfortable and trusting around her was wonderful, but made Talmeni want to so much more. She wanted to stroke her black hair, currently so conveniently close, leaned against her shoulder, and then maybe kiss that pale forehead and work her way down.

Again, her hand was around the skooma bottles, but she pulled it out empty. If she said too much, did too much, both of them would regret it. And Serana deserved her peace of mind, even if it meant Talmeni had to silently suffer from longing.

She passed the night somehow. Some if it was spend reading. Some of it was spent enjoying just feeling Serana leaned against her, her soft breathing, her gentle movements when she turned the page.

At one point, Serana muttered: “What, really?”

Talmeni perked up, making a questioning voice.

“It seems the moon has an effect of the purity of calcination”, Serana explained in a low voice, barely audible over the drumming of the rain on the hull above them, “My mother had some ideas in that direction, but she never managed to get it working in experiments. Maybe that’s why she’d built— No, it still doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t?”, Talmeni asked, although she wasn’t sure she would understand the answer.

“A project of my mother’s”, Serana said with a shrug, “You’ll see it tomorrow.”

That morning came slowly. The rain abated after a while, but the wind and the high waves kept going until the early morning hours. Sometimes the surf got high enough that Talmeni feared it would reach them under the boat, but thankfully it always drained away through the gravel before getting her feet wet.

Jolf woke up before the sun rose, and fumbled around in what little moonlight made it past the clouds. He had a breakfast of dried fish as the first light of dawn brightened the horizon, then instructed his two passengers to help him carry the boat back down into the water.

Talmeni helped as best she could, but she couldn’t stop herself from yawning a few times in between. She looked forward to getting her own sleep once the preparations were done.

Thus, she wasn’t in the mood to be frightened when Jolf suddenly froze from seeing a shape rise out of the waves. It was some animal, brown-skinned and massive, topped by a small head with three tusks and two small eyes. It flopped onto land and made some warning noise, rearing itself on two flippers. Behind it in the water, more brown shapes were carried by the waves onto the beach.

Tired, Talmeni just glared at the thing and said, with her magic behind the words: “Go away.” After all the hesitation about using her power because of subtlety and vampires, she was happy to face something where she could just use it freely.

The horker shrieked, made a messy turn on the gravel, and disappeared back into the water. It left a wake as it put as much distance as possible between itself and Talmeni, and the others of its herd followed suit.

“You’ve got a way with animals”, Jolf commented with awe in his voice.

“I got a way with fear”, Talmeni corrected him with a unnerving grin, and was happy to see he got the message and pulled the boat into the water without further attempts at conversation.

The second day of travel passed more easily than the first, with Talmeni managing to fall asleep quicker despite the constant movement of the boat. Her nightmares were also bearable, and she wanted to believe it was because of Serana lying that close to her. When Jolf shook them awake in the evening, Talmeni even managed to hold herself back from grabbing her knife.

The sun was still rather high up in the sky, so Talmeni asked “Are we there?” before managing to pull herself up far enough to look over the boat’s edge. The view was about the same as yesterday, except a few fog banks that hung here and there over the water.

“As close as any sensible sailor gets to this island”, Jolf said sourly, “You tell me how to find a landing spot in that. It’s reefs and cliffs all around.”

Talmeni followed his gesture, shielding her eyes against the sun. Ahead was a large mass of fog, crowned by the silhouettes of some stout towers or houses. Behind her, Jolf kept lamenting: “And if that cursed fog wasn’t there, you’d see the fjord behind it. They say from that still come the screams of the first vampire, when her dark master had her way with her.”

“The fog is a good sign”, Serana muttered, barely audible even to Talmeni. Out loud, she said: “Keep going around the north side until you’re right opposite the fjord.”

Jolf opened his mouth to complain, saw Talmeni’s expression, and shut it again. He muttered angrily while letting out a bit more sail and ordered them to hold on. The boat drifted forward, at what felt to Talmeni like a snail’s pace, until Serana decided it was the right spot. “Now right towards the island, please.”

“You really want to risk it? Divines save us. I want you at the front as a lookout.” Jolf gestured at Serana, who scrambled towards the tip of the boat.

Talmeni just sat down near the mast and watched. She wasn’t about to admit it, but she felt very anxious. She was out of her element. There was nothing here she could control. Jolf was already at his limit, threatening him more would not help. And the sea and the fog and the reefs in the water were impersonal, merciless killers you couldn’t fight.

Jolf reduced the sail to a tiny sliver, and sat at the rudder clutching it with white knuckles. Ahead of them, the wall of fog loomed, brightly lit from the sun. As it came closer, it washed out the entirety of Talmeni’s vision. The world was white, except for dark streaks that were their own shadows in the mist.

Things bumped into the hull as the waves carried them forward, but Serana insisted it was only small ice floes, completely harmless. She had to repeat several times that the way was clear for Jolf to stop muttering.

It got darker, both from the setting sun and the mass of fog now behind them. Talmeni, not having much else to do, looked up and saw the massive shape above them. It was a castle, made up of several wide square towers, rearing high into the sky. As they came closer, Talmeni saw some of that height was cliff, the whole edifice was built onto a rocky outspur defying the ocean. “It’s massive”, she muttered, trying to gauge scale.

“It’s something all right”, Serana commented drily, before shouting a command at Jolf about turning starboard.

In the glaring sunlight, the castle looked dark and forbidding, but that wasn’t what Talmeni noticed the most. There were no windows between the massive stones, it was just gapless walls from the base all the way to the pointed roofs. It made sense, of course, as a vampire would rather not have any sunlight inside their home, but it made Talmeni uneasy. There would be no way out, no quick escape once they were inside.

To their left, a figure passed them in the fog, so close Talmeni was expecting the hull to scrape against it. It was another one of those bat-faced, winged statues like in Dimhollow crypt, baring its fangs against the stormy sea. Jolf’s heart made a jump as he saw the monstrous visage, and Serana had to calmly call out: “It marks the breakwater. Hard to port now.”

They turned, and the waves abated somewhat. Ahead of them, set into the base of the cliff, rectangular building shapes became visible. Not long after, the hull did scrape against rock, as Jolf steered it into the inlet of the docks and bumped against the edge of the walkway. All three of them tensed, to see if that noise attracted any attention, but the whole edifice stayed completely quiet.

Chapter Text

“I’ll have a look around”, Talmeni said quietly, and after two tries managed to get back onto dry land. The fog hung thickly even in this hollow under the cliff, revealing not much more ahead of her than a set of stairs leading up the wall. She took them quietly, dagger at the ready, at any moment expecting movement, or any kind of sign that they had been detected.

Except for tendrils of fog, nothing moved. The stairs gave access to a few bare landings looking out over the little harbor, and then ended at an ancient oak door. Talmeni crept closer, noting the dark brown color of the hinges and nails. When she was right next to it, she tried the handle, which didn’t budge at all, merely flaked slightly from the touch. The lock and the hinges had rusted into immovable masses from the sea air. Nobody had come from here in a long time, and nobody would get through here without making a lot of noise.

She went back down and circled around the harbor to the other side. At the point nearest the cliff, the path went through some arches holding a balcony above. In this alcove, a trickle of water came from a barred opening in the wall, fell down into a basin set into the stone, and then flowed under a rusty grating out into the sea.

And that seemed to be it. Talmeni walked until the worked stone gave out on the other side. It was possible to scramble on, over a ledge at the bottom of the cliffs, past fallen boulders and outcrops, but on that path, also nothing moved except the waves.

Talmeni felt unerved by the silence and lifelessness of the place. She had expected some kind of guard, given that this dock gave you access to probably the very heart of the castle above. But there was nothing except weathered stone and rust.

Serana and Jolf were tying the boat against the stone bollards lining the harbor walls. The fisherman jumped and dropped his rope when Talmeni stepped out of the fog announcing: “Nothing. This place is deserted.”

“By the divines, woman, you walk like a cat”, Jolf muttered fearfully, groping for his rope and tying a knot into it.

“So we are safe?”, Serana asked, more composed than the fisher.

“Seems so”, Talmeni said, not willing to fully drop her guard, “The only door up into the castle is rusted shut. Probably hasn’t been used in a century.”

Serana looked up into the fog to where that door was, frowning. If she had any thoughts about it, she didn’t voice them. It was probably the wiser choice, given that Jolf was jumpy enough already without knowing one of his passengers knew this castle well.

“We should still go prepared for everything”, Serana said, and hauled up Talmeni’s backpack to rummage around in it. Jolf watched apprehensively from his seat at the rudder as Serana handed Talmeni potions and scrolls and the two of them stowed them about their persons.

“Just get some sleep”, Talmeni said to the fisherman when she had put the last magicka potion into her satchel. “We’ll be back before sunrise.” Serana looked doubtful, but Talmeni suspected that trying to make the man stay for a full day in this creepy harbor wouldn’t work. His fear would win over his honor.

They left him sitting there, huddled into his boat, and walked into the fog. “Where to?”, Talmeni asked, letting Serana take the lead.

“There’s an outlet of the cistern around — ah, there it is. On some days, this would smell just... be glad you weren’t here then.” She stopped at the arched-over waterfall and looked up. “If I remember correctly, the bars can be levered open. It’s a secret escape tunnel.”

Talmeni took a closer look at the barred opening. At first glance, it did look solid, but the bars weren’t actually driven into the rock. Instead, they connected to a metal frame over the rim of the hole, which had two horizontal rods fitted into the stone, creating a crude hinge.

“Give me a leg up, will you?”, Serana asked, trying to climb up to the opening. Talmeni cupped her hands and lifted her, trying to ignore Serana’s shapely leg that close to her face. After a few seconds of trying to gain hold, Serana managed to get a grip on the bars and pulled. The whole frame tilted as expected, but did so with a loud and tortured groan of rust.

Both vampires froze for a second, awaiting any kind of reaction. Then, Serana decided it was safe and climbed up into the drain. “Come on”, she called down to Talmeni, holding out a hand to pull her up.

Talmeni took it, but kep her dagger ready with the other hand as she scrambled up the rock.

“You’re tense”, Serana commented when they were both crouching inside the drain, trying to keep their feet away from the film of water flowing down its center.

“People don’t build escape tunnels you can just get into”, Talmeni said, squeezing herself past Serana to be in the front. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but there had to be something, some way that would make this path easily to follow in one direction but impossible to the other.

Serana thankfully waited silently as Talmeni stood ready and listened. And indeed, there was a noise, barely audible over the hollow booming of the waves coming from behind them. Breathing, labored and wheezing, and the sound of footsteps. Clawed footsteps on stone, if Talmeni wasn’t mistaken.

She had managed to cast her camouflage spell just in time on both of them when a shape came down the drain. It looked dog-like, except for the head, which was just bare skin over bone, with no nose or ears, but a mouth full of blank teeth, sticking out like a thicket from the jaws. The beast stalked down the drain, its large claws scraping against the stone, and it sniffed the air with a sound like wind whistling through rocks.

“Good boy”, Talmeni mouthed to carry her magic influence. She didn’t want it to run in fear, merely to accept them as friendly, and ignore them. It seemed to work, as after sniffing Talmeni’s knee, the thing turned around and left the drain again.

Serana was about to comment something, but Talmeni gestured her to be silent. There was a voice above, and the sound of more clawed paws wandering about. An actual living, thinking guard wasn’t what Talmeni had expected for a secret tunnel, but at least now she knew what she was up against.

Quietly, one step after the other, Talmeni crept up the drain. The voice from above drew closer, although not yet close enough to make out words. It sounded a bit like a conversation, although Talmeni could only hear one voice. It also sounded female.

Staring at the dagger she had drawn without thinking, Talmeni realized things were about to get complicated. The easy solution was to come out of the drain and kill the guard before they could call for backup, but if it was Serana’s mother, hiding in the sewers from her husband above, then cutting her throat was the wrong thing to do.

Talmeni reached the end of the drainpipe at the same time as the unseen watcher bent down to look in. The woman’s eyes widened when she made out the movement in the drain, and Talmeni reacted by pure instinct. She jumped forward, grabbed an arm and twisted it around the stranger and she moved past. The woman was fast and stronger than her frame suggested, but Talmeni was in her element. They rolled over the ground, wrestling, but before long, Talmeni had one hand secured over the woman’s mouth, and the other holding a knife to her throat, while her legs pinned the woman’s arms to her body.

“Nobody move”, Talmeni hissed as loudly as she dared at the audience around her, putting some magic into her words. She had only seen vague movements during her mad dash, and only now realized it was more of those black-skinned skull-faced hounds like the one that had come down the pipe. They looked ready to pounce, but her spell had been strong enough, and they hesitated.

The woman struggled in Talmeni’s grip, trying to mutter past the hand clamping her mouth shut, or to get her arms free. Talmeni did her best to hold on without accidentially stabbing the dagger into the neck. Under her breath, she cursed that of course she had the bad luck to try to threaten a person who wasn’t having it. It was either madness or conviction that drove that woman to struggle. Talmeni guessed the former, given the muttering.

Serana appeared in Talmeni’s view, looking concerned but also slightly amused from how the dark elf was being dragged through the dirt by the wrestling. Talmeni gritted her teeth and regretted not having any skooma yesterday. She could feel her mind beginning to fracture from the tension. Any more stress, and it would break her memory again, and leave her with nothing but scraps to try and navigate by.

“This your mother?”, Talmeni asked towards Serana through her aching teeth. She’d taken a blood potion along, but not taken it yet, as not to unnerve Jolf. Now the thirst was getting worse from the stress.

Serana shook her head, the movement looking strangely ghostlike from the camouflage spell affecting her. “Can you let go of her mouth? I want to ask her a question.”

Talmeni adjusted her grip, because the woman was trying to bite. “Ask first, then I’ll let go.” Hissing into the pointed ear in front of her face, Talmeni added: “You hear that? We’ll ask you a few things, and if you scream instead of answering, we’ll turn your guts inside out.”

The struggle subsided slightly. Talmeni couldn’t see what the stranger’s expression was, but she could see that Serana looked not very hopeful when bending down to ask: “We’re looking for Valerica. Do you know her?”

Against her better judgement, Talmeni let go of the mouth. The woman immediately raised her voice. “I’ll show you all! Attack, my bea—” The rest was a gurgle as Talmeni jerked the dagger upwards into the throat.

It took a minute for the death throes to be over. It seemed an eternity to Talmeni, especially as the hounds on either side were getting resteless, tensing and growling. This woman had tamed them, Talmeni realized, and if not for her illusion magic, they would have torn her apart.

Letting go of the corpse, Talmeni took Serana’s offered hand to get back up. To her surprise, Serana didn’t look very disapproving of how things had turned out. “I guess it was a mercy”, she whispered while looking at the dead woman.

Talmeni took in the appearance of her victim for the first time. It had been an Altmer woman, although you could only really tell by the height. Her skin was pale as the snow, except for dark veins running just under it. The half-open mouth revealed the sharp fangs of a vampire, and the irises of her bloodshot eyes were of the same yellow as Serana’s.

Guessing from the paleness and the rather small outflow from the deep wound, Talmeni whispered: “Blood fiend?”

“Almost. She must have tried living off the death hounds”, Serana said, after a short look around.

“About those, let’s move”, Talmeni said, holding her knife ready as one of the growling beasts stared at her, “I don’t know how long my control lasts.”

“Over here”, Serana said, climbing out of the drain and onto a proper walkway. Talmeni followed, trying to keep the death hounds in sight as they wandered around, some of them also jumping out of the sewer channel leading to the drain.

It left her little time to take in much of the environment, especially through the pounding of her cravings invading her mind. This were apparently the castle sewers, although rather spacious, as sewers went, with vaulted arches and enough space to walk upright.

Serana barely hesitated when choosing corridors to go down, clearly having been here before. Talmeni, wondered if this was the route she had taken to get out of the castle before being sealed up inside Dimhollow crypt. After all, she could hardly have carried the Elder Scroll out through the front door.

There were more hounds, which they just avoided by moving quietly, and at one point what looked like the sleeping place of the vampire they had ambushed. It was nothing more than a flimsy wooden box of a coffin and some scraps of cloth and paper, heavily scrawled on.

Of the tunnels, one room remained in Talmeni’s memory clearly. They were taking a detour to reach some switch when walking into it. It was higher than the others, the vaulting far above Talmeni’s head. Very dim torchlight came through a grate in the ceiling, and there were faint heartbeats audible from above. But what filled the room and made both women hesitate for a moment were the piles of bones. They reached up halfway to the grate, despite the rummaging of the death hounds pulling them apart to reach whatever flesh was left on them. And the skulls made clear that these had been humans and elves.

It made Talmeni understand why Serana was worried about being a monster, because this was the refuse pile of a vampire’s diet. Humans died so that a vampire could live. But a cynic part of Talmeni tried to divide the height of the pile by the four or five thousand years that the castle had stood, and compare that to the amount of people the Ordinators had killed in the pursuit of justice in a year. Or the amount of people that Maven Black-Briar had killed in the course of her business interests over her short human lifetime.

Not long past the room of bones, they headed up some stairs next to a small drain that was the main source of the trickle of water they had followed all the way. It came from a large basin having its own separate room above the rest of the sewers. This was the cistern, Talmeni guessed, collecting the rainwater and overflowing into the sewage below.

Here, there were no hounds, and Serana relaxed enough to whisper: “You’re pretty good at Illusion magic.”

“Hm?” Talmeni was busy trying to listen for sounds to give a full answer. But except for the trickling of water, the place was silent.

“You know, to affect death hounds. They’re undead, after all.”

Talmeni felt an icy trickle down her spine from that revelation. “Good thing I didn’t know that”, she muttered. If she had, she wouldn’t have tried using her magic.

“Well, we made it to the courtyard”, Serana said brightly, pausing in front of a door. The moist air had also coated its hinges in rust, but unlike the one at the docks, the latch of this one still worked. She pulled it out, and stepped beyond into what smelled like fresh air.

Talmeni followed, her head still pounding, as Serana had a look around. “Oh no... What happened to this place? Everything’s been torn down... the whole place looks... well, dead. It’s like we’re the first to set foot here in centuries”, Serana quietly exclaimed as she took in the rotting plants and fallen stone around her.

Serana jogged up some steps, Talmeni trying to follow without falling behind, but then had to stop at a pile of stones clogging up a doorway. “This used to lead into the castle’s great hall”, Serana explained, “It looks like my father had it sealed up. I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was beautiful, once. This was my mother’s garden. It... do you know how beautiful something can be when it’s tended by a master for hundreds of years?”

“I can”, Talmeni answered, sitting down on a stair and pulling out the blood potion from her satchel. She vaguely remembered having seen the gardens of Mournhold once, which had been tended by just a single gardener ever since their replanting after the Argonian attacks, two centuries ago.

“She would have hated to see it like this”, Serana said to herself, not really listening as she wandered among the dead trees and dried-up ponds.

With some blood in her, Talmeni was calm enough to actually take in the sight. The garden must have indeed been the work of a master, because surrounded as it was on all sides by the tall towers of the castle, very little daylight would find its way to the ground. Even to Talmeni’s night vision, the blocks of the castle walls were dark and colorless, lending an air of gloom to the scene.

“That’s not just age that did this, is it?”, Talmeni said to herself as she discovered that part of the heap of rubble next to her was a massive stone bench, broken in two and turned upside down.

“No”, Serana called up, “If I had to guess, I’d say the moment mother fled the castle, father went on a rampage. Knowing him, anything at all that reminded him of her was just destroyed. Although apparently even he couldn’t do anything to this stupid thing.” Serana gave a kick to the offending piece, causing a hollow metallic bong.

It was a sundial, set into the ground of the garden at its approximate center. It was not a small thing on a plinth like the sundials Talmeni felt familiar with, but a massive sculpture, the circle twice as wide as she was tall, and with a solid gnomon sticking out to a height almost as high as she could reach. Weather and time had dulled it somewhat, but here and there was still a golden sheen to the thing. Around the circle, instead of numbers, circular plates with symbols on them had been set into the metal, made of glass or enamel, the only remaining bits of color in the place.

“What’s the matter with it?”, Talmeni asked, getting up and taking up a more comfortable position leaning against a railing. The stairs up to the old entrance door were widened into a series of terraces, giving a good overview over the garden below. If the benches hadn’t been thrown around and ripped apart, you could have sat here and enjoyed the beauty.

“It’s a moondial”, Serana said with a sullen voice, “…what’s the point of a moondial? But my mother loved it. I don’t know. I guess it’s like having a piece of art, if you’re into that sort of thing.” She looked for a second like she wanted to kick the gnomon again, before giving a shrug and stomping off the circle. “Let’s see if there’s any door out of here left intact”, she said over the metallic ringing of her footsteps.

Now that she knew what it was supposed to be, Talmeni could make out the symbols at the edge of the dial despite the dirt left on then from the rampage. It was twelve moon phases, from new to full and back, but arranged in no apparent order. Something about that made the suspicion in Talmeni’s mind even stronger. She vaulted over the railing and walked over to have a closer look at the thing. “You don’t like it?”, she asked Serana conversationally, as much to find out more as to help her friend deal with was clearly pent-up emotions.

Serana, halfway up the stairs at the other side of the courtyard, turned around. “It was just a pointless waste of time and money, if you ask me. Why didn’t mother…” She looked close to tears. Talmeni came over and had her sit down on the steps to calm her down a bit. “It just reminds me of how everything went wrong”, Serana said after a moment of keeping it together, “The prophecy was one thing, but that storm, and this bloody moon-dial, that’s when I lost my mother.”

“I’m sorry”, Talmeni mumbled, unable to formulate a longer response until she could calm down. Serana had without thinking grabbed her hand and held it tight.

“We used to be inseparable”, Serana said, “She taught me so much about cultivating quality ingredients. And …I could talk about everything with her. There were no secrets. Until she had that thing built.”

Talmeni put her hand over Serana’s, hoping it was enough to help her deal with this. If she’d had a free hand, she would have put it around Serana’s shoulders, but now both were gripped tightly as Serana recalled her misery.

“There was a storm ruining the northern towers, and Valerica brought in some elven artisans to repair them. She had the whoule courtyard walled off for months, and then …She said the towers were too damaged to be of use, and that she’d had them install the moon-dial, and …” Serana took a deep breath. “It was like talking to a stranger all of a sudden. I’d try to visit my mother in the garden, and she’d quickly shoo me away saying she was much too busy. Or she’d send me out to search for ingredients. I didn’t mind seeing the world, but…”

“You wanted your mother back, I get it”, Talmeni finished the sentence for her. She looked up at the towers rising above them. It was hard to make out because of the angle, but the roofs didn’t look particularly damaged, despite thousands of years without repair. The suspicion in Talmeni’s mind was solid by now.

“I don’t know what I’ll say to her if we find her”, Serana said quietly. “Will I even recognize her?”

“When we find her”, Talmeni said as reassurance. She patted Serana’s hand for a moment, until her grip relaxed, and then got up.

Serana watched from her seat on the stairs as Talmeni walked up to the moondial, tense and cautiously. “What are you doing?”, she asked, sounding still upset but also slightly amused.

Talmeni righted herself, realizing that sneaking up to a piece of metal was indeed stupid. She also remembered her promise to share her plans with Serana. “Well, here’s what I think. Vampires don’t build castles that fall apart after a winter storm. And if you want to hide something useful in your house, make people think it’s something you keep because it’s beautiful.”

Fully deliberately, she stepped on one of the moon symbols at the edge and put her full weight on the foot. Something went click, and the symbol moved several inches into the floor. Talmeni grinned, happy to be right.

“It never did that before”, Serana commented, getting up and walking closer.

Talmeni bent down and started wiping dirt off the symbols. “Well, have you ever stepped on them before?”

“Not really. Very clever, mother”, Serana said under hear breath. Louder, she asked: “How did you know it would do that?”

Talmeni rapped a knuckle against the large metal baseplate of the moon-dial, to illustrate the sound it made. “It’s hollow under here. Now, did your mother ever tell you anything about moons? Any kind of silly rhyme she made you repeat or something?”

Serana watched while Talmeni kept cleaning the moon symbols, and then startled a bit as the one Talmeni had pressed jumped up again. “Not that I can remember”, she answered hesitantly, not taking her eyes off the hidden button.

“Anything about Khajiit?”

“Why Khajiit?”

Talmeni finished with her clearing, and stood up. “They got some kind of thing with the moons”, she answered, “But I guess that’s not it, either. And none of those plates look worn down. To the four corners with it.”

“You think there’s some kind of code?”, Serana concluded. When Talmeni nodded absently, she added: “But if none of them look worn down, then it must change regularly.”

“Agreed”, Talmeni said, clenching her hands in frustration. “Help me think like an ancient vampire alchemist, will you?” She wondered how safe it was to just try things out. It was unlikely there would be booby traps, because she doubted Serana’s mother would risk killing her daughter over playing with the dial, but that didn’t mean there was no anti-tampering mechanism in place.

“It can’t be too complicated a code, or she’d have to spend time calculating it”, Serana mused, also walking along the circle and inspecting the moons. “Try the current moon phases.”

“All right. Masser waning into half”, Talmeni muttered, and pressed the corresponding symbol. It also clicked and receded.

“When we fled from Movarth, Secunda was …”, Serana mumbled while adding the days since she had seen the moon last. She pointed. “Try that one over there.”

Talmeni did so, and then took a step back. Both held their breath for a moment, but nothing happened.

“That’s not it, then?”, Serana said with disappointment in her voice.

There was silence while both considered things, then the two buttons jumped back out. Talmeni voiced her suspicion, in case it helped: “I think it stays in long enough for a third symbol.”

“I suppose there was enough time to discover a third moon”, Serana said sarcastically.

“Sounds like a Khajiit thing to do”, Talmeni tried to joke, but probably didn’t get the tone right. But that wasn’t the right track. Whatever it was, it had to have been something that a vampire knew four thousand years ago. Talmeni looked at the gnomon, and up at the walls of the courtyard. Some paranoid sense told her that there was something deliberate about a sun-dial being put into a place where the light only reached it close to noon during the summer days. The sky was less cloudy this night than the last, so that there was a curtain on moonlight coming in from above, lighting one of the towers about halfway down.

“Shadows”, she muttered, and decided to try her crazy thought. After some gesturing with her arms to measure the angle, she sprung into action, first pressing the Masser and Secunda phases again, then jogging over and driving her heel into another symbol west of the gnomon.

There was a clonk, and a grinding noise. One half of the metal place lowered itself slightly, then turned, revealing a steep and narrow staircase winding down around a central column. “Turns out my mother is sneakier than I thought. I wonder what she’s hiding?”, Serana commented, staring down the hole.

“Let’s find out before it closes again”, Talmeni commented, jumping down into the opening. Serana followed not a moment too soon, as not a heartbeat after she had taken the first step, the plate started grinding back again. Serana tried to go faster, missed a step, and tumbled into Talmeni’s arms.

They both stood there for a while, clutching the other and hearing the other’s loud heartbeat, while behind them the secret door closed noisily. “Thanks”, Serana mumbled, getting her foot back but not letting go of Talmeni’s arms. “How did you figure out what to press?”, she wondered.

Talmeni had to bring her thoughts around for a moment. She was regretting having wrestled in the sewer not long ago, because it meant her clothes were full of filth, and not appropriate for Serana to hug. “It’s a moon-dial, like you said”, she managed, “So I just pressed where Masser’s shadow would be. Well, the dial’s shadow from Masser.”

“I know what you mean.” Serana took a deep breath and let go to have a look around. Their tumble had brought them to the bottom of the stairs. On the central column holding the mechanism, there was a simple button, that Talmeni very much suspected would open the door again. But opposite of it, a narrow tunnel led into the distance. Serana glanced along it. “That leads to where she had her laboratory. Before the collapse, I mean.”

“If it was a collapse”, Talmeni said to herself as they set off down the tunnel.

Serana heard it, and asked: “You mean…”

“Your father can rip stone benches in half with his bare hands. Can’t be much harder for your mother to punch out a few roof beams and pile up some rubble in a doorway to make things look ruined.”

For a while Serana turned this over in her head. “That almost makes sense. I just wish she hadn’t kept it a secret from me.”

Talmeni shrugged. “Maybe she tried to keep you safe. It’s a mother thing.”

They stopped talking, because they reached the end of the tunnel. There was a wall blocking the way forward, but Serana didn’t hesitate to pull the chain hanging out of a hole next to it, and the whole thing slid upwards on a hidden mechanism. Behind it was a cellar room, full of the usual things you’d expect in a cellar, covered heavily in spider webs.

“I guess we found the place he’d never search”, Serana said quietly, walking through the cellar. Talmeni glanced at the things in the shelves. They, and the shelves were rather well preserved for their age. It had to be the dry air in here. It was as dessicated as that of a tomb. “Her laboratory was near the top”, Serana added, starting up the stairs.

Talmeni rushed after her and pulled her back, putting a finger to her mouth. There was a sound coming from upstairs, a bit like dice being thrown, but as regular as footsteps. Serana, realizing they were not alone, moved at a more stealthy pace, and carefully peeked into the next room before sidling into it.

There were a few skeletons on patrol, their glowing blue eyes the only light in the darkness. Even though they must have been placed here as watchers, they were not clever enough to make out Serana and Talmeni as they carefully picked their way through the rooms.

The tower had been richly furnished once, and despite the age still looked impressive. They snuck from room to room, always upwards, through dining halls, small apartments and even what looked to Talmeni like a chapel, although the sanctum was blocked by rubble. There were more skeletons around, just as easily avoided as the ones before.

What worried Talmeni more was how lost Serana seemed. She had to stop and look around a lot, and more than once they had to backtrack because what she had thought would be the stairs turned out to be a bricked-up doorway.

The last room they reached was some sort of atelier. Blocks of stone were placed around the room, abandoned in the process of being carved into statues. Some were close to finished, showing clearly the grotesque shape of a gargoyle, like the ones that had protected Serana in Dimhollow Crypt. Others were still crude outlines in the stone.

Emboldened by the lack of skeletons, Serana said: “I guess this is where she made the gargoyles. I never knew.” She looked around and frowned. There were no other doorways, nor stairs leading further up. “I know she redecorated, but unless I miscounted floors, this isn’t the t—”

The rest of the sentence was drowned out by the sound of shattering stone. Two of the statues suddenly moved, stone fragments and dust snapping off them in a choking cloud. They stepped forward, massive claws raised, sniffing the air. Their first glance went at Serana, who had gone pale and frozen from surprise, but then they turned to Talmeni.

Serana’s mother had been a master sculptor, given how much menace and hatred she had managed to carve into those bat-like stone faces. Talmeni felt herself draw her dagger, but there was no point. These things didn’t have any weak spots, any soft tissue for her to stab into. They were pure stone.

Out of ideas, Talmeni spent the rest of her magic to turn herself fully invisible. She needed time to think. Only as the creatures waddled over to where she had been standing, found nothing and then turned to Serana did Talmeni realize what a precarious situation she had left her friend in.

Serana had her hands ready to cast magic, but also looked worried. Her blood magic would also do nothing against these things. The gargoyles sniffed the air uncertainly as they got closer. They weren’t sure she was an enemy, but clearly also not sure she was a friend.

Talmeni looked around in panic, trying to find a way out. Serana, backing away, was almost in the doorway. The two gargoyles were wide enough that Talmeni couldn’t slip past, not without touching something and thus discharging the invisibility magic. But there was not much else. There was a table in the middle of the room, holding the chisels, and a fireplace at the far end, and that was it.

Her suspicious mind dragged her sight back to the fireplace. It looked clean of soot and ash, as if never used, and had two candle holders on each side of the chimney. Both of them were bare of candles, and covered in cobwebs, but not quite the same nevertheless. One had, despite the ages of decay, still a slight sheen on polished brass on its edges.

It was nothing more than a suspicion that made Talmeni dart over and pull on the metal, but she had been right to trust her intuition. In the same moment her invisibility disappeared, the back of the fireplace started moving upwards to reveal a passage beyond. “Over here!”, Talmeni shouted, swinging herself through the opening, scattering the dried-up logs that had been stacked in the fake fireplace.

Serana looked up, but so did the gargoyles. They saw Talmeni, and given how their massive claws clenched, there they had no doubt about whether she was an enemy. Serana had a small head start, but the two stone creatures were faster than they looked, the floor shaking as they sprinted after the vampire, clearly intent on disembowelling Talmeni.

She had found the lever on the opposite side, and held it, heart thumping, fighting the urge to pull it right now and shut out the sight of those two stone brutes approaching. The sound of grinding stone made her jump. Staring at her hand, she realized she had pulled the lever from sheer nervousness.

Serana tried to accelerate as she saw the opening closing, and frantically dove forward through the narrowing gap. Talmeni just barely managed to shake of the shock of having acted without noticing, let go of the lever and pulled Serana further in, before the stone closed over her shins.

There was a faint rumble from the false fireback slotting into place, followed by a much louder one as one of the gargoyles collided with the fireplace. The floor shook, and a bit of dust cascaded from the ceiling, then things went silent again.

“Sorry”, Talmeni mumbled, feeling wretched for having almost killed Serana. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry…”

“If you’re sorry, what about me?”, Serana wondered, “I was the one who was stupid enough to talk.”

“I didn’t know it was that sensitive”, Talmeni said, almost unable to see from her shame, “I didn’t mean to. I panicked. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t crush you…”

And then, Serana was suddenly there, hugging her. Not just holding her, but really, fully hugging her, pressing herself into Talmeni’s shaking body. “It’s all right”, she whispered, “We’re safe. I’m here.”

The thumping of Talmeni’s heart didn’t get any quieter, but it changed reason, from fear to the excitement of being in the arms of the woman she loved. Talmeni returned the hug, squeezing tightly, never wanting to let go.

After a long time, Talmeni managed to breathe deeply, and unclench her limbs. She let Serana get up and sighed: “I should have taken skooma yesterday.”

“You’re doing fine”, Serana reassured her, patting her shoulder. “And you found another secret door.” Looking at the right stairwell leading upwards, she added: “Leave it to my mother…always smarter than I gave her credit for.”

“Really?”, Talmeni said with a tired grin, “You know what draws attention in a vampire’s castle? Candlesticks. You guys don’t use any, except to hide secret doors.”

Serana looked embarrassed for a second. “Well, I guess it fooled me, at least. Come on.” She held out a hand to help Talmeni up, which the elf took gratefully, and didn’t let go as they followed the narrow stairwell to the top.

After a few turns, they emerged into a large room that took Talmeni a moment to take in. There were shelves all along the walls, crammed with all kinds of weird things, from books to pickle jars. A part of it to the left was raised up to man-height to form a balcony that allowed overlooking the space below. But while this clearly was the top floor, and the laboratory that Serana had looked for, it didn’t quite look like Talmeni had imagined an alchemist’s laboratory to look. There was only a single workbench on the right hand side, and it didn’t hold any beakers or retorts. And in the center of the room, surrounded by a ring of candles, was a large circular depression consisting of several stone rings.

“She really redecorated since I saw it last”, Serana commented, wandering aimlessly to take in the sights.

“What’s this for?”, Talmeni asked, gesturing at the ring in the floor. It looked ominous.

“Some kind of summoning circle or portal”, Serana answered after barely a glance, “Looking at the equipment and materials, it looks like she was trying to advance her necromancy again.”

“Lovely”, Talmeni said sourly. It was a cultural reaction. The sermons of her childhood had been very insistent on the sinfulness of necromancy. Looking around, she added: “However, she’s not here. So much for hiding where your father wouldn’t look.”

Serana gave her a brave smile. “We always knew it was a long shot. But I just know there is going to be something here, even if just a hint. She wouldn’t gave gone through the trouble of hiding this place so well otherwise. Have a look around, maybe we’ll find some notes.”

Talmeni reluctantly let go of Serana’s hand to haver a closer look at the shelves. To her untrained eye, there wasn’t a clear order to how things were stored. Bowls full of glowing dusts would be next to books, next to jars full of bugs. Half of the things had probably been valuable alchemy ingredients once, but time had shriveled them up. In many places, spiders had spun their webs between the jars and the shelves, before also dying in this dry tomb of a place.

Something made Talmeni turn around. It hadn’t really been a gasp or even a sharp intake of breath, but something had caught Serana’s eye. Wandering over, Talmeni saw her staring at a bundle of bones, the string moldered away and the bones yellow with age. They looked a bit like finger bones, except each was almost as wide as a thighbone.

“I remember getting those dragon bones”, Serana said quietly, “It took me months, until I decided to dig up one of their burial mounds because there wasn’t any other way. My mother said she’d used them to potentise one of her reactions, but…” She gestured at the bones sitting untouched on the shelf. “She just left them there. It was all just to get me out of the castle.”

Talmeni placed a hand on Serana’s shoulder, trying to think of words to say. But she didn’t know any. None of them seemed appropriate in this place and at this time.

“I don’t even know who she is any more”, Serana close to sobbed, “If I ever knew at all. The Valerica I knew was loving, and she’d never…” She turned to Talmeni. “She was practically smirking as we left home. Almost like she was proud of herself. Like she didn’t want to just stop my father…she wanted to stick it to him, too. What kind of person does that?”

“I don’t know”, Talmeni lied. She took Serana by the arms. “Look, we’ll know for sure what she’s like now when we find her. But …I don’t know much about your mother, but those centuries of being happy tending a garden? Those weren’t fake. That was real. She loved you. She probably still loves you. It’s just…when bad things happen, it changes you, forces you to do things you don’t like. Look at me. I’d be a great wife, if I had found the right woman. But I got tangled in the Camonna Tong instead, and then in skooma, and now what’s left to love? That prophecy, your father getting obsessed, that pushed your mother the same way the Old Men pushed me.”

Serana took a deep breath and looked at Talmeni while considering this. “You may be right”, she sighed, “But yes, we won’t know until we find her.” She took another deep breath and stepped out of Talmeni’s embrace. “So we should keep looking.”

“Sure”, Talmeni said, letting her arms fall to her sides. After a moment, she felt forced to add: “But if you need a hug to deal with things, I’m here.”

“So selfless of you”, Serana answered, voice full of sweet sarcasm, and then turned back to inspecting the shelves.

Talmeni also returned to the other side of the room to continue the search, although she wasn’t really sure what she was looking for.

Just as she had taken one of the books off the shelf to look at the contents, she was interrupted by Serana’s soft voice. “Those things you said about yourself”, the vampire was saying hesitantly, “I know I made fun of you for not having any scruples, but…I think there is a lot of you to love. I mean, you know…” Serana’s voice trailed off, and she was probably looking flustered and embarrassed.

Talmeni didn’t turn to look, because she couldn’t dare to show her own face. She could feel the blush. The tips of her ears had to be glowing, and her cheeks pure crimson despite being a vampire and her dark skin. Some part of her was screaming at her to turn around and say the words and then kiss her, right on her wide lips. And Talmeni wasn’t sure why she didn’t. Not because she didn’t want to. She wanted it so much, to say “I love you” to a woman like that.

Instead, she croaked “Thank you” and tried to focus on the book in her hands. It didn’t look right, so Talmeni placed it back in the shelf and took out the next one. But she felt so distracted as to be useless. Every little noise Serana made, the swish of her cloak, her breathing, the way she took the books off the shelf and put them back, all of them were so very loud to Talmeni’s aching heart.

Talmeni was about to move on to another shelf when she realized that one of the stacks of paper held down by a jar full of dessicated somethings looked too thick to be merely lining put down to prevent stains. She carefully pulled them out and had a look.

It was only three sheets of paper, but each off them was folded several times, becoming almost too wide to hold when she pulled them open. They were building plans, she realized when studying the fine tracing remaining on them. The first showed the moon-dial in the courtyard. Talmeni had no idea about the clockwork, but the gnomon and the moon buttons were identifiable even to her untrained eyes.

The second looked like some kind of coffin or grave, set vertically and apparently meant to be lifted up and down by the mechanism around it. Talmeni guessed that it was Serana’s resting place in Dimhollow crypt, but didn’t bother to study it further, because she felt a certain inevitability about what the third would show. And indeed, as she folded it open, she saw a ground plan of the remodeled laboratory she was standing in. There was the balcony, and the big circle in the middle, and what looked like magical arrays of some kind.

Talmeni tried to read the spidery script next to the diagrams, but had to admit defeat. “Serana?”, she had to ask, “Can you read Aldmeris?”

“An elf asks a human if she can read elvish?”, Serana asked back, grinning.

“Blame Veloth”, Talmeni said with a shrug, and spread the blueprint onto the work table.

“I don’t know all the dialects, but I’ll give it a try”, Serana answered, coming over. She raised an eyebrow when noticing what the plans were about, and quickly bent over them to make out the dense script.

“This is unbelievable”, she announced after a while, “The circle, it’s not for summoning, it’s actually a portal to a realm of Oblivion. One that can be held open long enough to go there and back, even without a sigil stone. What were you summoning, mother?”

She kept reading, her finger tracing over the unfamiliar script. “Ehlada?”, she muttered, “That can’t be right, can it? Shouldn’t it be et’Ada?”

“It means soul”, Talmeni commented. “Our souls, compared to those of the gods.”

Serana looked up. “I thought you didn’t speak Aldmeris.”

“I said I can’t read it. We don’t write Dunmeris in these letters.”

“Oh yes, you used Daedric letters, you said…” Serana bent back over the text. “So if this is soul, then the whole means what, Soul Stone Garden?” She looked up. “The Soul Cairn?”

“Don’t look at me”, Talmeni said defensively, “I don’t know Oblivion beyond the House and the Corners.”

Serana looked at the circle in the center of the room, her face darkened by speculation. “My mother had a lot to say about its dangers.” She stepped back from the table and darted over to one of the shelves. After a few seconds of rummaging, she got out a small book and flipped through its contents, her face full of alarm and worry.

As much to distract Serana from her anxiety as to not be left out of the loop, Talmeni said: “Hold on a moment. It’s your turn explaining the plan.”

Serana looked up from the book, thoughts derailed. “What plan?”

“Okay, not plan, but you know something about that place your mother fled to, and I don’t, and I’d like to know it before we head there.”

Looking from the circle to Talmeni and back, Serana asked: “You think she’s— why?” The last word was sharp and full of suspicion.

Talmeni drummed against her dagger while trying to follow her own logic. It had been a gut instinct, to think that Serana’s mother was, if anywhere, behind that portal instead of somewhere in the castle. “Because somebody who put a secret door behind secret guards behind a secret door doesn’t trust any of them”, she managed, “Because it’s the best security. Even if your father rips the moon-dial out, slaughters his way up the tower and finds this place, he’d never open the portal. It’s somewhere he’d never search.”

Serana stared at the portal some more, then at the book in her hands. “This will be a lovely reunion”, she sighed sarcastically, “With a mother that some criminal with no scruples can by now better understand than her own daughter can.”

“This isn’t me knowing your mother”, Talmeni lied, feeling relieved to hear that Serana found her sarcasm again, “It’s just guessing from what you said about your father. His mind, I do understand. I’ve met people like him before. But anyway, we’re getting sidetracked. What’s the Soul Cairn?”

“It’s a realm of Oblivion”, Serana said, gesturing vaguely, “Well, a tiny sliver, ruled over by beings called the Ideal Masters. They, — well, do you remember the undead I summoned? Back in Movarth’s lair?”

“That glowing skeleton thing, yes.”

“Well, the Soul Cairn is where I conjured it from. It’s a common thing among necromancers. When you resurrect a corpse just like that, what you get is a puppet, limited by what it could do in life. But the Ideal Masters have found ways to, well, they would call it purifying the living into extremely powerful kinds of creatures. Far more powerful than anything a mortal necromancer could do.”

“I get the picture”, Talmeni said sourly. It was something she had to work on if she wanted to live with Serana, getting over her revulsion for necromancy.

“I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. It’s a a bit, you know, mystical”, Serana said, idly playing with a page of the notebook, “And I know that sounds weird, coming from a mage. But the important thing is that you can trade with the Ideal Masters, to be allowed to summon their servants, and maybe more.”

“Trade”, Talmeni repeated flatly, having cynical thoughts about it, “I’m pretty sure it’s not gold they want.”

“No, what they want is souls. Nobody really knows why, even if there are lots of theories. Some say they feed on them like we feed on blood. Others think they use them as payment to an even higher power…almost like a currency. A very strange currency. My mother thought they might even be responsible for soul gems. She suspected that the souls inside of them don’t just vanish when they’re used…they end up in the Soul Cairn.”

“Souls as currency. Disgusting, but makes sense”, Talmeni summarized, ignoring all the magical things she didn’t understand, “Souls both have power and information.” She looked at the circle, and said slowly: “And so does an Elder Scroll. How many centuries of safety do you think the Ideal Masters would offer for one?”

“Too many”, Serana whispered, looking even more pale than usual, “Almost all the stories about the Soul Cairn end with the Ideal Masters duping the necromancers, who end up dead or wishing they were dead. My mother was very careful in her dealings with them. She wouldn’t be so foolish as to—”

“Not foolish, but desperate”, Talmeni tried to fill the pregnant pause, “We talked about this. When you’re up against a prophecy, you have to think big, and either steal, borrow or buy the power of a god.”

Serana turned this over in her head. “You could be right. After Molag Bal, maybe she thought it couldn’t get worse.” Talmeni stared down at her belly, unable to stop the memories of her own close-up experience with the father of vampires, missing how Serana shuddered and shook her head. “Anyway, is that good enough for you? I need to figure out how to open this portal.”

Talmeni leaned against the table and took a deep breath, returning to the here and now. “Yeah, I think I got the picture. Let’s get her out.”

Serana also got herself somewhat comfortable as she read the journal she had retrieved from the shelf. Talmeni watched for a moment, but got bored and turned to look at the blueprints she had found. While she couldn’t read the script, the sheer complexity of them were telling enough.

While she wouldn’t tell Serana, it was clear that her mother had been planning this for years, if not decades. Locking her daughter into Dimhollow crypt hadn’t been some desperate act done to somehow deal with the sudden appearance of an Elder Scroll, it had been the end game of some elaborate plan. Talmeni knew she was missing some piece of the picture, her gut instincts told her so. Even though she didn’t have a clear picture of Serana’s mother yet, things didn’t quite add up.

“This really is amazing”, Serana said after a while, “It’s not just a portal to the Soul Cairn, it’s one she can control. You know, to open and close it as she needs, no matter where she is, as long as ingredients remain to fuel it. It’s ingenious. If she is careful with it, she could make a single batch last for centuries.”

“Explains how she pulled the door closed behind her”, Talmeni said after musing over that for a moment. “Question is, can you open it?”

“Well, I know her notation for the ingredient portioning, and it’s likely wel’ll find some of them around here”, Serana began enthusiastically, before her face fell a bit, “But the problem is her blood. It’s what binds the portal to her. Without it, the whole process doesn’t work.”

“Can’t you use somebody else’s blood? Your mother already has the power to open the thing, what we need is that you or I can do it.”

Serana looked at the notes again. “It will be difficult. She wrote of careful attunement of the spell to herself. Mistakes with these kinds of portals can be …gruesome.”

“You’re her own flesh and blood”, Talmeni said, “Can’t be too different, can it?” In her thoughts, she added that not only was she Valerica’s daughter, both were vampires from the same clan. Whatever magic was in their veins, it would be the same in both.

“Certaily easier than trying to attune you”, Serana agreed, staring down at the journal for a moment, then motioning Talmeni to move over so she could look at the blueprint again. “Yes, I think I can see a way”, she announced after a while. “And what’s a few hours re-tracing spells, right?”, she added sarcastically.

“The night is young”, Talmeni answered with a shrug. She played with the skooma bottles in her satchel, wondering if there was enough time to have a drop, to make the headache go away.

Serana noticed, and added: “I don’t think you’ll get bored. There’s a few places you could lay on hands …I mean, assist me in making this work.”

Talmeni couldn’t help herself. “I like the sound of that. Where do I put my hands?”

“Well, you know, it …”, Serana mumbled, embarrassed, and then managed: “We need three ingredients: Soul gem shards, finely ground bone meal and purified void salts. My mother should have some lying around, but it might not be enough. So you’ll make more while I see about the ritual circle.”

Wandering over to a shelf, Serana pulled out a small bowl, and said: “Yes, I think you can start with shattering some soul gems.” Talmeni watched her purposefully walk across the room to a different shelf and pull out a flat stone bowl of some kind, and a hammer. It was clear that Serana knew her way around, from the centuries of having helped her mother shelve things. To Talmeni, there was no order in any of it.

“So I just hammer them until they break?”, Talmeni wondered, looking at the soul gems that Serana pressed into her hands.

“Exactly. Until they are about this size”, Serana explained while gesturing at the bowl she had retrieved first.

Talmeni couldn’t shake a bit of reluctance before placing the first of the soul gems in that flat stone bowl. It had a shallow rim, and almost no curve, good for keeping the shards contained when things shattered too violently. Soul gems to her were valuable things. Even the tiny, petty ones, were pretty rare finds, worth a lot to the right buyer. And these were large, high-grade ones. Talmeni felt like she was destroying money.

Still, right now they needed shards, not money, so she dutifully raised the hammer and smashed it down on that purple, irisdescent crystal. After two blows, it fell apart, and after two more, the fragments shattered further.

Ignoring the noise of the hammering, Serana meanwhile was walking up and down the room, comparing things to the blueprint, examining drawings on the wall and floor that Talmeni had not really registered as significant. Conjuration seemed a lot more complicated than Illusion, and she was happy to not have to deal with the technical things.

Serana came by again, declaring the amount of shards large enough, and put the hammer and bowl aside, to instead bring a small sieve, a mortar and pestle, and a bowl of some grey powder. “I need you to sieve this bone meal”, she explained, “Everything that doesn’t go through, throw into the mortar and grind it down further.”

“Even finer?”, Talmeni wondered, looking at the already flour-like consistency of the bone meal already before her.

“I’m afraid so. We need its surface as conduit of the magical forces, so large pieces are basically inert”, Serana explained. Talmeni just nodded, not trying to follow the process.

She was, even though the work was monotonous, actually feeling happy. Helping Serana out, doing something productive with her hands, it felt like a slice of a life Talmeni had never really had. Maybe, once this was over, she could open an alchemy shop with Serana, and be her assistant and wife.

Serana also placed some aparatus on the table, and filled some compartment of it with a black powder that sparked as it was poured. The void salts, Talmeni guessed, and was happy when Serana explained that she didn’t need to do anything there, just watch the aparatus as it did the work.

Talmeni got on with her sieving and grinding while Serana, apparently having done all measuring she needed, began adjusting things. Here she painted an extra rune into a diagram with charcoal, there she adjusted the position of a candle around the summoning circle slightly.

“This is strange”, Serana at one point called down from the small balcony overlooking the circle. She was examining a stone bowl on a pedestal next to the railing-free front side of the balcony, and her expression was one of confusion. “There should be fuel in the bowl, but it’s empty. If my mother went through here, why isn’t there any left?”

“Maybe it got used up?”, Talmeni mused, emptying the contents of the sieve into the mortar for another grinding pass. “If she kept checking up on Harkon, she might have opened the portal a lot of times. She could have lost track, and ran out while being on the wrong side. It would explain why she hadn’t gone to get you for four thousand years.” There was another option in Talmeni’s paranoid brain, besides the possibility that the portal hadn’t been in use at all. Valerica had put so many security measures in place, Talmeni could imagine her just pulling the door closed behind her as yet another layer of safety.

“That …that would be even worse than what I was thinking”, Serana said, “There is nothing living in the Soul Cairn for her to drink blood from. If she’s trapped…”

Talmeni could sense the despair from down here. “Then let’s hurry and get her out”, she announced, pointedly grinding the tiny flakes of bone in the bowl.

Serana looked like she was about to make a sarcastic comment, but then just shook her head and continued her adjustments. It wasn’t too long until she declared it done, measured out several cups from the materials that Talmeni had provided, and carried them up to the stone bowl on the balcony. Talmeni followed, interested to see how this magic would play out.

“Now, if my mother’s calculations are correct, this should be enough to keep the portal running for a year”, Serana said, upending the ingredients into the bowl and giving it a stir. She took out her dagger and took a deep breath. “You should probably stand back.”

Talmeni obediently stepped back a bit, although she would have like to see things from up close. She wondered just exactly how gruesome a mistake with a portal could get. She had heard mages boast of turning people inside out. But Serana looked so hesitant that Talmeni wondered if it would be something even more severe.

After several times of putting the knife to her skin and drawing back again, Serana mustered the courage, slit her hand and let some blood fall into the bowl. With a crackle of lightning, the blood spread through the ingredients, causing them to light up in a sickly purple glow, which slowly got deeper as Serana muttered some magic syllables under her breath.

Talmeni jumped and grabbed her dagger when she heard the scrape of stone on stone, taking a moment to realize it wasn’t any trap, but the portal opening. The shallow stone steps of that summoning circle in the center of the room where turning, and rising, floating into the air, held by traceries of energy of the same hue as the glow over the bowl.

Beneath them should just have been more stone, or possibly the sight of the room below. Instead, as the central circular plate lowered itself, if revealed first pale violet mists, and then, far below, a grey and barren land, with dead trees and rows of grave stones.

“By the blood of my ancestors…She actually did it…created a portal to the Soul Cairn. Incredible”, Serana sighed, holding her hand, staring at the curved stones of the bowl forming a crude ladder leading down into that circular opening into a different world.

“Let’s get your hand healed”, Talmeni reminded her, pulling out a healing potion from the satchel.

Serana took it absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off the glowing portal. Talmeni had to admit that it did look ominous, downright hungry. And the way the stone steps were just floating in the air was also not very reassuring. Talmeni tested the first with her foot, and found it as stable as one resting directly in the earth, even though all it was attached to were ghostly tendrils of magic.

Chapter Text

They set off, descending stair by stair. When they passed through the rim of the bowl, Talmeni turned to have a look at the edge, if there was any kind of seam. But it really was just as if the laboratory had been built floating above the landscape below, and now they had just removed the stone between it. From below, the stone circle was set into a bowl of masonry that was attached to nothing. It just floated below the stormy sky, looking ethereal and ragged at the edges.

Serana stopped and gasped, forcing Talmeni to stumble awkwardly as not to run into her. When she wrenched her sight from the portal behind then, Talmeni could see what had affected Serana like that.

It was the vista stretching in front of them. From the height of the staircase, they had a good view of the land, and Talmeni had never seen a more desolate and gloomy place. The earth was as grey as dust, the vegetation was sparse and dead, and the rolling landscapes was covered with death. Gravestones of all kinds, from the stone cairns of ancient Nords to the formal slates of the Imperials, dotted the landscape like some kind of fungal growth, and between them rose larger buildings, mausoleum and crypts, their gothic spires rearing towards a stormy sky.

There was no sun or moon in that sky, not even stars. Instead, it stared down with a blackness that was hard to look at. Talmeni, after months of living with the colors of the night giving her guidance, found herself disoriented by seeing darkness, true, absolute darkness again. She averted her eyes, and instead focused on the few dots of light visible in the landscape below.

They were also unhealthy-looking things, giving off a light that seemed only to exist to cast unpleasant shadows. Some were large magical flares, sitting on top of huge towers like beacons. The towers themselves seemed to crumble under that light, bricks of stone floating around them as if once there had been walls trying to contain the unhealthy glow. And between them, topping the mausoleums and graves, were large floating crystals, emitting the same purple hue.

“It’s so huge”, Serana voiced the unspoken thought between the two. If Talmeni had been forced to give a guess about how large a tiny sliver of Oblivion might be, she would have said something maybe the size of a house, maybe less. This however looked large enough to contain the entire Karth valley from Markarth to Solutide. “How will we find my mother in this?”

“Let’s hope that question crossed her mind”, Talmeni sighed, wishing she’d found a moment to have some skooma. The sky was getting on her nerves. “Any hints in that journal of hers?”

Serana looked at the slim volume she had taken along. “Not really. The closest thing I can find is that the Ideal Masters weren’t any help.” Frowning at the last entry, she added: “In the good news, it seems the portal always opens to the same spot. So she should be nearby, at least.”

“If we’re lucky, she’ll have left some sign.”

“One that the other inhabitants haven’t erased over four thousand years?”, Serana asked back in her bright sarcastic voice.

“Can’t hurt to look. It’s that, asking those inhabitants for directions, or following the path.” Talmeni pointed down at the end of the stairs, where they connected smoothly to a track of lighter color leading into the distance.

“Seems like a good time to ask what the worst thing is that could happen”, Serana commented, but started walking again. Talmeni followed her, keeping an eye out for any movement. Opening such a portal couldn’t have gone unnoticed, but no guards were hurrying towards them that she could see. However, closer to the ground, a light fog was clinging to the ground, obscuring the sight of everything except the distant beacons.

They had gone just a few steps from the end of the stairs when there was movement, of a skeleton patrolling between the gravestones next to the path. Talmeni cursed under her breath and tried to push Serana down and out of sight, but the vampire wasn’t having it.

She shook off Talmeni and marched right towards the skeleton, which turned its head and then, noticing them, raised its axe and shield. Talmeni cursed a bit louder and hastened after Serana, trying to understand what made her friend act like this. Maybe the skooma withdrawal hade made Talmeni miss something.

Serana didn’t flinch when the Skeleton began to charge, axe at the ready. Instead, she intoned loudly: “You Swore. To Serve. Your Lord. Commands.”

Talmeni flinched, expecting more skeletons to come charging out of the mist towards that noise. But instead, the only sound was the thunder of the storm above, and a whistling voice like a wind through a haunted grave, coming from the skeleton. It lowered its axe and answered: “We die. We pray. To live. We serve. I serve Her Will. I walk Her Way.”

When nothing else happened for several frantic heartbeats, Talmeni managed to unclench her hands slightly and hissed: “What whim of Sheogorath’s made you do this without warning me?”

Serana turned around, looking puzzled for a second before she realized. “Right, I’m sorry. It’s old things my mother told me, ways to deal with the undead of the Soul Cairn. This is a Boneman, and if you know their oath words, they have to obey you.”

“Oath words”, Talmeni repeated flatly, feeling a bit ambushed by this information.

“It’s, you know, like I said a bit mystical. There’s incantations of power that you can use to affect these undead, like the oaths of the Bonemen, or the words of rest and ending for Wrathmen.”

“This would have been nice to know before you scare me to death”, Talmeni grumbled, putting her dagger away.

“I could say I’m sorry again”, Serana answered with a grin, “Or maybe knowing the words will cheer you up?”

“It would be a start.” Talmeni looked around, but the scene seemed safe enough for some lecture.

Serana looked inward for a moment, repeating things under her breath. “From fifty Fathers Frozen in slavepast Rip from the wraithloom Sunder the lifeweave Lock tight in earthgrip Hold firm in gravefast”, she said out loud.

Talmeni blinked, and tried to repeat. “From fifty Fathers frozen in …er.”

“Slavepast”, Serana repeated. “From fifty Fathers Frozen in slavepast Rip from the—”

“You know what, you do it”, Talmeni decided, because this kind of memorization was not going to work in her current state of mind. “If we ever return, I’ll learn it before we go in, but right now, let’s just ask this guy where Valerica is and get going.”

They turned to the Boneman, who had not moved at all during the entire conversation. “Tell us where to find Valerica. Your lord commands”, Talmeni ordered, in as haughty a tone as she could manage.

The skeleton opened its jaw and moved it rythmically as if speaking, but there was no sound except for a faint squeaking from its joints. When it seemed done, Serana added hesitantly: “I think their magic allows to only say, well, the oath words.”

“What’s this pile of bones good for, then?”, Talmeni barked, stopping herself from kicking the thing. “Don’t tell me, we’ll have to find an Ideal Master to get useful answers.”

“If that”, Serana said quietly, “My mother doesn’t say what an Ideal Master looks like. They could be underground, flying above us... They might be the ground. And neither us of brought any souls to sacrifice to them.”

“Great”, Talmeni growled, throwing her dagger from one hand to the other. “Let’s just keep looking, then.” She turned around and stomped back towards the path, trying not to scream at anyone. This would all be so much more bearable through a haze of skooma, but she didn’t dare take any. Not in as hostile a place as this.

Serana and the Boneman followed quietly, letting Talmeni work through her frustration on her own. As they walked on, the landscape drifted by, the fog making things even more eery and desolate than it had appeared from above. A few times, they stopped at buildings along the side of the path, so see if there were any markings that could have been from Valerica, but never found anything definite.

There were a few other inhabitants they stumbled into, but they were as unhelpful as the Boneman. Most were what looked to be souls, or fragments of souls, faded ghosts of people just standing or sitting around. They seemed only barely aware of Serana and Talmeni approaching, and if they answered at all, it was with a faint lamentation of their fate. Death and this realm had broken their minds, Talmeni suspected.

They had just passed through a massive, house-high wall that seemed to serve no purpose, when one of the regular lightning bolts from the sky struck quite close by. The air tasted burnt, and the crack of thunder made Talmeni’s ears ring and her feet insecure. “Soul shards, bone meal and lightning dust”, Talmeni muttered, “That portal couldn’t have led anywhere else.”

“You’d think a vampire would be right at home in this place. You’d be wrong”, Serana added sourly.

Not long after, they passed another forsaken soul, but this one to their surprise this one had a pertinent comment to make: “Well, look what we have here... someone with flesh on their bones.”

“What’s the matter with you?”, Talmeni hissed, not feeling like conversation.

The soul, who looked like a human man, possibly Breton, in rich clothing, lamented: “Let’s just say I sold something to a guy who turned out to work for a whole coven of necromancers. How in the name of Zenithar was I to know the ingredients were phony? Do I look like someone that would double-cross a necromancer?”

“You look like someone who doesn’t know when to shut up.” Talmeni had her dagger drawn and some threats ready at the tip of her tongue, but she doubted mere steel would do anything against a disembodied soul.

Serana placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Maybe let me do the talking for the time being?”, she asked, gently pushing Talmeni aside. “Not to downplay your life’s story, but what my friend meant with her question was rather why you can talk to us.”

The soul drew himself up arrogantly. “Lady, what would a merchant be if he couldn’t talk to people?”

“Poor”, Talmeni muttered, mostly to herself. She had to admit that right now she wasn’t a good conversationalist. The lack of skooma, the excitement so far, and this impossible world with its black sky were all just too much for her right now.

“Certainly not as sucessful and observant as you”, Serana said with a sarcasm that the merchant thankfully didn’t spot, “And maybe you could help us in that regard. We are looking for Valerica, and if you have, you know, seen her, that would help us a lot. She should be, well, fleshy like us, and wear also a symbol like this.”

“The rude vampire lady?”, the soul answered, “Yes, I know of her. She stays at the Boneyard, just up the hill.” He pointed at a large building visible in the distance. It looked a bit like a fortress, with a wall encircling the top of the hill. Facing them was a large gatehouse, flanked by two towers turned beacon. Further along the wall were more towers, also disintegrating into floating stones at their tops, but without the eerie glow. It was not a welcoming sight, and Talmeni’s instincts were to avoid buildings like that, because it would house powerful people, who a single Chiller could do nothing against.

But Serana’s face lit up in joy. “Thank you so much”, she said towards the merchant, then grabbed Talmeni by the hand and dragged her towards that fortress in the distance. “Seems you were right, asking people was the way to go”, Serana said happily, “Soon we’ll all be out of here.”

“Can’t wait.” Talmeni did feel a bit better from hearing that news, but it didn’t make the headache go away, or stop the constant thunder from getting on her nerves.

They hastened through more morbid landscape. In a shallow hollow before the hill, there were fields of bones, thrown together into deep piles at several points. It wasn’t all human and elf bones either. There were giant skulls, and what might have been dreugh carapaces, even the remains of a dragon. But they didn’t stop to look, but started the ascend up to the gatehouse now looming far above them.

It was even more massive than it had appeared from the distance, as the gate was so large it defied perspective. There were some roofed-over structures like deep alcoves in front of it, and a massive set of stairs connected it to the ground below.

When they climbed the stairs and could see the gatehouse in its entirety, they saw two things that made everything else irrelevant. The first was a female figure, clad in clothes of similar make as Serana’s, wandering between the columns. “Mother? Mother!”, Serana shouted, running forward until she collided with the second thing, a magical barrier spanning the length of the terrace. It went all the way around the fortress, from what Talmeni could see, defining a clear inside and outside. Valerica, if this was her, was inside, and Serana and Talmeni were outside.

The figure turned, and Talmeni’s doubts fell away. This was Serana’s mother, as she had a very similar face, only more worn by age. Her yellow eyes widened as she spotted the two of them outside the barrier, and she announced, as suprised as her daughter: “Maker... it can’t be. Serana?”

Pressed against the barrier as if trying to melt through it, Serana said with tears in her eyes: “Is it really you? I can’t believe it! How do we get inside? I have so much to tell you.”

Talmeni had expected a similarly tearful reaction from the mother, but Valerica’s face instead turned frightful and paranoid. “Serana? What are you doing here? Where’s your father?”, she asked in the stern tones of a disapproving mother.

Somewhat confused, Serana answered: “He doesn’t know we’re here. What happened to you? Did you create this barrier?”

“You shouldn’t have come”, Valerica said, shaking her head, and not approaching the barrier any further, even though her daughter was fervently clawing against it, trying to not only see but also touch her mother after all this time. Turning to Talmeni, Valerica asked, her voice turning even more harsh: “Did you put her up to this?”

“Me?”, Talmeni asked, not having to fake the tone of surprised innocence, “I’m just here as muscle.”

Valerica didn’t answer, just looked Talmeni critically up and down, with an expression that with every second turned more and more into disgust.

“You don’t think I’m a good match for your daughter”, Talmeni said the unspoken insult out loud. Serana turned her head, looking at her with an annoyed expression.

“Of course not”, Valerica sneered, “What are you, even?”

“A Dunmer”, Talmeni said, “The skin tone is normal.”

“I know what a Dunmer ist, there are more than enough walking around here. But they at least have a sense of style. Did you cut your hair with a knife? And your clothes, it’s as if you’ve rolled in sewage.”

“It was, and I did”, Talmeni said, twirling her dagger, “Your sewage, to be precise. And yet—”

“Please, stop this, both of you!”, Serana shouted in a tearful voice, “This isn’t how I wanted this reunion to be.”

Talmeni put her knife away, feeling ashamed. She’d let herself be goaded into antagonizing Valerica, without considering how it would affect her friend. Seeing how close Serana was to tears, she stepped over and pulled her into a hug, glaring at Valerica over Serana’s head, daring her to make a comment.

Valerica looked affronted to see Serana accept the hug, but swallowed her acidic judgment. Looking at Talmeni, she said quietly: “No matter what you think of her, the best thing for Serana and the world is if you return her to Dimhollow crypt and seal her inside the sarcophagus again.”

“What?!”, both Serana and Talmeni said at once, unable to believe that this was the main concern of a mother in this moment. “Why?”, Serana added, turning out of Talmeni’s embrace to stare at her mother.

“Because that is the only way to prevent your father from completing the prophecy”, Valerica said, as if it was self-evident, “I ransomed a fragment of it from one of the Ideal Masters. ‘The Blood of Coldharbour’s Daughter will blind the eye of the Dragon.’”

There was a moment of silence as both of the women parsed that sentence to see what Valerica was getting at. “The Eye of the Dragon is the sun, I guess, however you figured that out”, Talmeni said, “But shouldn’t be Coldharbour’s Daughter be some kind of Daedra?”

“You claim to be a vampire yet you don’t know about the Daughters of Colharbour?”, Valerica sneered.

“I was bitten, not handed a manual”, Talmeni spat.

“That much is clear. Listen carefully. We are devout followers of Lord Molag Bal. Tradition dictates the females be offered to Molag Bal on his summoning day. Few survive the ordeal. Those that do emerge as a pure-blooded vampire. We call such confluences the Daughters of Coldharbour. Serana and I underwent this ritual, in honor of Harkon and Bal.”

“You went through this willingly?”, Talmeni said towards Serana, unable to believe it.

It was Valerica who answered instead: “It was expected of her, just as it was expected of me. Being selected as an offering to Molag Bal is an honor. She wouldn’t have dared turn her back on that.” Talmeni didn’t turn to look. The expression on Serana’s face, of shame and bad memories, was saying so much more than Valerica’s words.

“So to prevent your husband from killing you or his daughter to get at your special blood, you sealed her up and went here yourself.”, Talmeni finished the chain of logic that must have gone through Valerica’s head.

“Well, at least that much went into your thuggish skull.”

Talmeni had a barb ready at the tip of her tongue, but it went unsaid. Something inside Serana snapped, and she shouted, slamming a fist against the barrier: “This ‘thug’ has done more for me in the brief time I’ve known her than you’ve done in centuries!”

Valerica looked surprised by the outburst, and then her face darkened. “How dare you!”, she shouted back, “I gave up everything I cared about to protect you from that fanatic you call a father!”

Serana slumped slightly as the anger left her again. “Yes, he was a fanatic... he’d changed. But he’s still my father. Why can’t you understand how that made me feel? Being stuck between the two of you?”

Valerica’s tone also softened, but her eyes didn’t. Talmeni could see that if anything, they burned even more fiercely with hatred and conviction. “Oh, Serana”, Valerica said, switching from angry matron to loving mother, “If you’d only open your eyes. The moment your father discovers your role in the prophecy, that he needs your blood, you’d be in terrible danger.”

To Talmeni’s relief, Serana wasn’t falling for it. “So to protect me you decided to shut me away from everything I cared about?”, she shouted, her anger back with even more force, “You never asked me if hiding me in that tomb was the best course of action, you just expected me to follow you blindly. Both of you were obsessed with your own paths. Your motivations might have been different, but in the end, I’m still just a pawn to you, too. I want us to be a family again. But I don’t know if we can ever have that. Maybe we don’t deserve that kind of happiness. Maybe it isn’t for us. But we have to stop this prophecy. Not just postpone it.”

The light went out in Valerica’s eyes. She suddenly looked smaller and older, much older. It was downright cruel, to destroy her belief in her daughter, but it had to be done. Serana had been forced to go through the same thing, when seeing the dragon bones lying around unused, to admit that hope and nostalgia had made you blind to what had happened to the relationship.

“I’m sorry, Serana. I didn’t know... I didn’t see. I’ve allowed my hatred of your father to estrange us for too long. Forgive me”, Valerica pleaded softly. “I wish there was another way, but…” She left the sentence hanging in the air.

Serana turned away, not able to look at her mother. Talmeni thought about going over and hugging her, but decided that this last-minute attempt to shame Serana back into her tomb was more important to deal with. “Serana isn’t going back into that coffin”, Talmeni said towards Valerica.

“And you would decide that for her, now?”, Valerica asked back.

“No. I decide it for myself. If you want to lock up all Daughters of Coldharbour, it’s not just Serana you need to hide. You’ll have to lock up me, and Lamae Bal, and probably a dozen others.” In the face no only Valerica’s but also Serana’s surprised stares, Talmeni added: “It’s been four thousand years. You’re not the only worshippers of Molag Bal.”

“You are a Daughter of Coldharbour?”, Serana asked, unable to believe. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know there was a word for it. Or that it mattered.”

Valerica sneered again. “You must be mistaken.”

Talmeni pulled out her amuled of Bal. “My memory might have a few holes, but you can be dammned sure that I know what I’m talking about here. Being tricked into offering myself on Bal’s altar and getting turned into his plaything isn’t something you forget. Ever. I tried. But several bottles of skooma and the memories are still there. So I am not going to have some fetcher tell me it doesn’t count!” She hadn’t meant to start shouting, but it was that or collapse into a heap as the memories of that night flooded back. She could still feel the pain between her legs from Molag Bal’s idea of love.

“I thought you were bitten by another vampire”, Serana mumbled, confused.

“I was. And then I found an altar to Bal, and did a ceremony on his summoning day. I didn’t plan any of this, but I’m thankful it happened this way round, because at least I had some sharp teeth to bite.”

Again there was a surprised, downright shocked pause as both the Volkihar vampires stared at Talmeni. “What?”, she barked, not having expected this.

“You bit the Lord of Domination?”, Valerica repeated, unable to believe.

“Yes. In the shoulder. I wasn’t going to just let things happen to me.” Talmeni realized she was screaming and shivering, from trying to not recall what happed before and after that bite. “Can we stop talking about this?”, she asked, “I’m not making you tell me about your nights with him, am I?”

There was the sound of a skooma bottle being uncorced, and Serana started and hurried over. She grabbed Talmeni’s hands halfway to her mouth, and held them tight. Talmeni was about to scream and shout and throw her off, but the sorrowful expression of Serana’s face stopped her, as did the feeling of Serana’s soft hands on her own.

After a moment of struggle, Talmeni managed to get control of her arms again. She lowered the opened skooma bottle, put the cork back in and whispered: “Thanks.” It was an ordeal to put the bottle back into the satchel, but having both hands free to hug Serana was worth it.

“I’m here. It’s all right”, Serana whispered back in a calming voice, returning the hug.

The moment of bliss was interrupted by Valerica clearing her throat. “You may be right”, she said carefully, clearly trying to hide her emotions, “But what alternative is there to exile?”

Talmeni turned to look at the old vampire woman. “Killing Harkon, for starters. He’s the one who wants this prophecy come true.”

“If you believe that, then you’re a bigger fool than I originally suspected. Don’t you think I weighed that option before I enacted my plans?”, Valerica said, some of her old fire returning, “He is a master of blood magic and beloved by Molag Bal. You could cut him a thousand times, and he would not spill a drop of blood. He cannot be killed by mortal hands.”

“Very helpful”, Talmeni said sourly, sitting down on the stairs. She had to admit to herself that she felt a bit out of ideas. Serana after all had pressed her on the same point, that stopping a prophecy was hard work. But just like Serana’s idea of preventing the details being known hadn’t worked, this whole locking up the keys to the prophecy wouldn’t work. Not once the knowledge spread.

There was a moment of quiet, as each of the vampires took a deep breath. Behind Talmeni, a quiet conversation started. “Can you let us in?”, Serana asked.

“I’m sorry, but this barrier isn’t mine. The Ideal Masters erected it, when they couldn’t claim my soul. I’ve since made sure they can’t destroy it without my cooperation, but it is a waiting game”, Valerica answered, also quietly.

“But…what about blood? Are you okay? I’ve got a blood potion, if you—”

Valerica returned to her haughty tone. “We are pureblood vampires, not some half-breed rabble. The thirst does not control us. And as long as I have purpose, my will will not waver.”

There was a pause as Serana considered this. Talmeni also made a note, although she didn’t feel like testing whether Valerica was right. The long walk down from Dimhollow had been bad enough.

After a few moments of silence, except for the distant thunder, Serana asked: “What about the Elder Scroll? Do you have it with you?”

“Yes, it is safe in here. Nobody can get at it while I live.”

“Thats, well, good”, Serana said hesitantly. Talmeni didn’t need to see her face to know she was still wanting to actually touch her mother, not just exchange words through a transparent wall.

But the mention of the Elder Scroll brought a seed of an idea to bloom in Talmeni’s mind. Standing up, she announced: “When a mortal can’t kill Harkon, what about a god? What if we could get Auriel’s bow?”

“The bow that calls forth the rays of the sun?”, Valerica asked in incredulous tones, “Why would you even have to ask? But there’s no point in debating hypotheticals.”

Serana also looked surprised, but it turned to worry instead of disbelief. “You can’t be serious”, she said.

“I am”, Talmeni answered simply, taking the first step down, “Come on, I think we’re done here.”

With an indecisive, hunted expression, Serana looked from Talmeni to Valerica and back. She didn’t feel like she was done.

Valerica however spoke first. “Dark Elf, a moment”, she ordered, before Talmeni could take the next step.

“It’s Talmeni”, she said, turning around.

“Talmeni, then”, Valerica corrected herself, “Come here and let me see your face.”

While she didn’t particularly look forward to being inspected in even more detail, Talmeni felt there was something new in Valerica’s tone, a level of respect that had been completely absent before. She turned around and walked right up to the barrier.

“You know where the bow is?”, Valerica asked, although it sounded more like a statement. She was mustering Talmeni’s face and expression closely.

It was a game Talmeni felt good at. Remaining calm and looking composed and assured in the face of scrutiny was by now an ingrained reflex. “I know how to find it”, she simply said. Valerica didn’t need to know more.

“And you would risk Serana’s life, and the life of every human in Tamriel, for the sake of finding this bow to kill Harkon with it?”

“The alternative is four thousand years of doing nothing”, Talmeni answered, “And the life I risk is my own. Whether Serana follows me is her decision.”

“If you care for her, then walk the path alone”, Valerica said, “Don’t let her follow your foolishness.”

“Keep her all safe and locked up like you have?”, Talmeni hissed, “No. I love her, and I’ll not hurt her that way. She is one of mine, but she is her own. If she wants to follow me, that’s her choice. Just like it should have been her choice to lay down on that cold pyre.”

Valerica was staring in Talmeni’s eyes with a strange intensity, as if not actually looking at her. Then, she blinked and lowered her head. “Maybe it should have been”, she addmited quietly. Somewhat louder, she added: “And if you are really the person Serana chooses to follow, as much as it shames me, there is nothing I can do.”

“You could come with us”, Serana suggested, placing her hands against the barrier and looking it up and down, “We can destroy whatever sustains it from this side.”

“No”, Valerica said quickly, “Do what you must, but I’ll not set foot on Tamriel unless Harkon is destroyed.” Looking at the sky, she added: “And if you want to go through with this plan, you should leave this place without drawing attention to you. If you face the Keepers, the Ideal Masters will know, and they will send worse to get at your souls.”

“But—” Serana began, clinging to the barrier.

Valerica put her own hand against the barrier, the closest she could get to touching her daughter. However, she was looking at Talmeni, and said harshly: “Swear you will not let Harkon have her. My curses will follow you to the end of time if he touches so much as a hair on her head.”

Talmeni ignored that threat, and just walked over to Serana and gently pulled her away. After a moment of hesitation, Serana did let go and turned around. She didn’t say any goodbyes, just started walking down the stairs, back the way they had come. Talmeni threw a last glance backwards, but the stairs and the slope of the hill were hiding Valerica from view.

They were trudging through the field of bones again when Talmeni noticed: “Where is that Boneman?”

Serana shook off some of her gloom, and joined Talmeni in looking around. They were alone, with no moving skeleton visible anywhere the fog allowed them to see. “This can’t be good”, Serana said, raising a hand ready to sling magic.

“I guess we were noticed, Keepers or not”, Talmeni decided, “Let’s go.” They both picked up the pace, to reach the portal before the mist could spring any nasty surprises on them.

When they passed through the wall again, Talmeni froze in fear. Where there should have been the glow of the portal ahead was nothing but dark, stormy sky. “We’re trapped”, she cursed, drawing her dagger.

“What?”, Serana wondered, now suddenly being the one in the lead.

“The portal is gone.”

“I closed it”, Serana revealed, “I can open it again, look?” She waved her hand vaguely, and suddenly a staircase rose from the dust, and a stone pimple formed out of bricks above it.

But at the same moment, they heard a sound from behind, a noise from the air that wasn’t the constant thunder. It sounded like wings. Turning, Talmeni saw the massive reptilian shape heading towards them. “Why is it always dragons?”, she hissed, and started running. Serana didn’t waste any breath, and also broke into a sprint.

Talmeni wished she knew how close the dragon was, but didn’t dare to turn around. It had been a distant shape in the clouds when she had spotted it, but now the wingbeats sounded extremely close. She should have made them invisible again, like in Bromjunaar, but now it was too late. She could never manage the concentration while trying to sprint.

They had reached the first of the stairs when the dragon roared. Or rather, it spoke. “Saraan”, it thundered, with a voice that shook the earth. It felt like there was magic in that speech, or something older than magic, but Talmeni didn’t bother to stop and try to understand.

Her only concern was that Serana suddenly slowed, as if she couldn’t move her feet any more. Talmeni dragged her on, up the stairs, one at a time, hearing the dragon pass overhead and coming around for another approach.

There was the edge of the portal, and the promising, almost homely sight of the laboratory beyond. They climbed up the steps to the balcony, and Serana didn’t even wait until they had taken their last foot off the stairs before she closed the portal.

For a second, the massive face of the dragon could be seen staring up the hole. Its skin was green and pustulent like that of a zombie, and it shouted something once again. “Laan Tinvaakdrem”, the syllables echoed around the room, before the last stone slotted into place and deadened all sound.

Chapter Text

“Friend of yours?”, Talmeni tried to joke while pulling herself up onto the balcony.

Instead of a wonderfully sarcastic answer, there was silence from Serana. Talmeni crawled over, expecting the worst, but her friend was still alive, or at least moving. She just had other things on her mind. “She’s really gone”, Serana said after a while, quietly, “The mother I thought I’d had is gone.”

Talmeni opened her mouth to answer, but didn’t quite know what to say. She closed it again, and just silently helped Serana onto her feet.

“Those things I said…”, Serana kept talking, unable to deal with things any other way, “I never thought I would say them, but I should have said them a long time ago. I should have seen what she had become, but …After my father lost himself, she was all that was left. And she fed me her opinions of him, and I believed them without question. I feel so stupid.”

Turning to Talmeni, Serana continued with tearful eyes: “I loved them, both of them, with all my heart. But they couldn’t love me back. ‘Power takes precedence’, my father used to say. I guess that’s what all worshippers of Molag Bal see, in the end.”

It was a bit of a hollow gesture, but Talmeni went and put the amulet back beneath her shirt, out of sight. She wondered if it was safe to ask whether Serana ever truly worshipped the Daedric Prince, or if she had only gone through the motions to please her parents.

But Serana had too much on her mind to give Talmeni a pause formulate a response. Standing up straight, Serana said: “Well, we followed her trail of breadcrumbs all the way to the end, and that’s it. We can go home now.” After a moment, she mumbled: “If there is a home.”

“I’ve got a place in Markarth, if you need a home”, Talmeni said quickly, trying to say something, anything, to help Serana out of her gloom. “It’s big enough for two for certain, and I’m sure we can get a carpenter to make us some coffins.”

“How selfless of you”, Serana said, some sarcasm creeping back. “But being home isn’t about having a house. I mean, yes, it’s a part of it, but it’s about feeling safe and loved and …” She looked at Talmeni’s hopeful yet concerned expression and sighed: “I know what you’re going to say. But, well, this isn’t the place, or the time. Let’s just return to Solitude.”

Talmeni silently agreed, although she didn’t quite feel happy about just dropping the topic. There were so many things eating away at Serana, she needed something positive in her life. But maybe it was better to wait, until she had calmed down. And also maybe when Talmeni was feeling better, instead of thinking through a pounding headache and thirst.

She had a magicka potion from her satchel, then cast the camouflage spell on the two of them again. Now that they knew what to expect, the trip back down the tower and through the sewers was quicker than their way up. As they passed the courtyard, Serana shot a glance at the collapsed doorway that according to her led to Harkon’s court, but she didn’t say anything.

Back at the docks, they were relieved to see that Jolf had stayed where they had left him. He reacted with fear to being woken, and was surprised to see them again. While he grumbled about being woken up so early, he felt happy to leave the cursed island as quickly as possible. To Talmeni’s satisfaction, he didn’t ask any question about what they had seen, or if they had achieved what they had set out for.

Talmeni stayed up until sunrise, at which the island and the castle were already just a distant fog bank, and soon disappeared from view. While today, the waves didn’t feel as high as on the way out, Talmeni still slept uneasily. The talk with Valerica had brought the horrors of the summoning night back, and the sky of the soul cairn had added new fresh layers to her nightmares. The few times she woke, she could see sometimes Serana and sometimes Jolf keeping the rudder, but neither said much.

They made camp on a different small island as the sun set, although it was a lifeless and desolate as the first. Ice floes piled against its shore on the seaward side, creaking and slipping as the waves threw them about.

Feeling the shattered edges of her thoughts cutting through her thinking, Talmeni got out the skooma bottle basically as soon as Jolf had his dinner. She shouldn’t have put it off so long, but there hadn’t been a chance. Now the long abstinence and the tension of all that had happened in the castle were making themselves felt. Talmeni had to concentrate to keep her hands steady enough to measure out a drop.

She licked it up, closed her eyes and waited for the tension to go away. But she felt nothing. The noise of the ice still scraped directly over her thoughts, and the headache and thirst still pounded in her mind with edges like razor blades. Talmeni measured out a second drop to lick up.

Her hands were already in position to measure out a third when she realized what she was doing. She managed to tear her hands apart and force the cork into the bottle, but could still feel that craving, that thirst to sink into a proper high, instead of just this useless rationing.

Looking around, she found Serana sitting some distance away, at the highest point of the island, where some grass had managed to grow above the line of the surf. Talmeni walked over, sat down next to her, and held out her satchel, saying: “Hold on to this for me, please.”

Serana looked up from what she had been doing, saw Talmeni’s expression, and gently pried the satchel from fingers that didn’t want to let go. Once she was free of the weight, Talmeni sat down next to Serana, trapping her traitorous hands between her knees so they couldn’t wander off.

“Everything all right?”, Serana asked, putting the satchel down opposite of Talmeni.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow”, Talmeni said, hugging her knees, “I just can’t trust myself right now.”

“Hard to believe what a simple stroll through a ruined castle can do to you”, Serana said with bright sarcasm.

Talmeni grimaced, shifting her bottom to find a comfortable sitting position. “Look, I love you for your sarcasm”, she said with a tortured voice, “But I don’t feel well enough to joke about this.”

Serana looked down at the bottle of blood she was idly playing with. “I’m sorry”, she said quietly, “I was thinking about myself. I should remember you have, well, your own struggles.”

“It’s fine”, Talmeni said, ripping out a clump of grass from the stony ground. She could see from how Serana was staring at that bottle how much she was still trying to work through. Compared to blowing up at your mother and burying your hope of having a happy family ever again, a headache from skooma withdrawal seemed minor indeed.

After a moment of silence as Talmeni tried to order the thoughts in her head, she managed to say: “I’m here if you want to talk. Or just need a hug. And …” Talmeni had to pause, because the thought had just slipped away again. She tried to recapture it. “There is one thing I want to say.”

“What is it?”, Serana asked, not looking up from her bottle.

“It’s…” Talmeni twisted the strands of grass between her hands as she found that turning the thoughts into words was more difficult than expected. “I’m probably wrong, but I think humans think about family different than we do. Elves, I mean. We can live to a thousand, so it’s not just parents that can be around. Or grandparents. I think one of my great-great-grandparents is still alive.”

Talmeni stared at the braid in her hands, trying to figure out where her thoughts had wandered off to. “I think it makes it easier, being a vampire. Because you already know it’s centuries until your parents die. They can’t be your parents for all that time. I mean, yes, they are, but they…They don’t have power over you forever. You move out, become your own person. You stop being a child, and stop being a child to your parents. I mean…You’re still their child, but you’re not a kid. If you understand what I mean.” After a moment, Talmeni admitted: “I’m not sure I do. This is hard.”

“You may be right”, Serana said, toying with the bottle. “They were my parents, and I thought it was my job to love them and to please them. You know, it feels like I just gave, and never got anything back.”

“Yeah, I think that is what I tried to say. Maybe.” Talmeni tried to un-twist the grass, but the fibers were breaking apart, leaving her with tiny flakes between her fingers. “And also that Valerica can’t treat you like you’re young. You’re both centuries old, those extra thirty years she has don’t count for much.”

Serana looked at the horizon. “I’ve never thought about that. You’re right, I always thought of her as, well, my mother. You know, somebody who has all the answers.” She paused for a moment, thinking, before adding: “My father did, you know, the whole becoming a vampire, so that things wouldn’t change. That he would always rule over his domain, and we would always be his family. But then he changed, and lost it all because of that. Ironic, really.”

Talmeni wiped her hands against each other, trying to get the clinging flakes off. They were slightly itchy, but it was still a distraction from the storm inside of her. “Say no elegies to the melting stone”, she commented Serana’s revelation, her mind not quite focused on the present.

Because Talmeni had realized she’d said it out loud, twice now, that she loved Serana, without even noticing. And she dreaded the moment Serana noticed it, and confronted her over it. Because Talmeni wasn’t sure if she could say it again to Serana’s face. And because she didn’t want to be rejected again.

Talmeni looked around, trying to have the conversation move anywhere else. She found a topic when discovering that Serana had returned to moodily staring at the unopened bottle in her lap. “There’s another thing I should say”, Talmeni began, trying to nail down her thoughts so that she could get them in the right order when speaking.

“What is it?”, Serana asked, looking up.

Gesturing towards the bottle with her dagger, Talmeni said: “Don’t overdo it. The not drinking, I mean. I know what your mother said, but…” Tapping the pommel of her dagger against her palm, Talmeni tried to explain: “I’m an addict. I know it’s bad to keep using. But it’s also bad to not use it. You think the craving is just thirst, but it’s not. It’s…” Serana looked confused, but Talmeni didn’t know how to phrase it better. She tried one last attempt: “Look, you’re screwed taking it, and screwed not taking it. But there’s a place in the middle somewhere where it doesn’t hurt as much. I’m telling you so you don’t learn the hard way.”

“But if my mother is right…”, Serana answered weakly, staring at the bottle.

“And if she’s wrong? It worked for waiting in that dead place, sure. But that’s not the point. The point is—” Talmeni rubbed her forehead, trying to figure out what the point was. “How do you feel? You keep staring at the bottle. If it’s because you keep thinking about drinking it, then drink it. Before you rip out Jolf’s throat tomorrow.”

“I do feel, well, the thirst”, Serana said, “But it’s not much stronger than it usually is.” She put the bottle aside and looked at Talmeni. “And I think this isn’t about me, really.”

Talmeni looked up from scratching lines into the dense earth with her dagger. “Yes, fine”, she growled, “This is me. I put off taking skooma for too long, and now I’m paying. I should have taken some before we got to your castle. But I didn’t know. Dogs and vampires and statues and skeletons and another fetching dragon! And I have to keep you alive through it all.”

“Yes, alive is what we are”, Serana said brightly. Less sarcastic, she added: “And you don’t need to worry about protecting me. I can take care of myself.”

Talmeni hacked at the earth. “Look, you’re a good sneak. No question. And a better mage than me. And alchemist. And …” She pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to concentrate. “But it’s me who has the hiding spell. It’s me who looks for traps, who listens for patrols. It’s my job. Because I l— Because you’re one of mine, Four be dammed!” She threw the dagger down and marched off, unable to sit still any longer.

That kind of question shouldn’t have affected Talmeni like this. But she felt raw, and exposed, almost naked, as if people could look right through her skin and at her soul beneath. She knew that came from the skooma, from the withdrawal and the small dose, but that knowledge didn’t help. Her emotions were still in turmoil. And that she had blown up at Serana, the one person she didn’t want to hurt, made everything worse.

After a moment, Serana stood up and walked over to where Talmeni was pacing up and down at the shoreline. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”, she said carefully.

“This isn’t you”, Talmeni quickly answered, “It’s the skooma. It makes—” She kicked a stone into the ice-covered surf. “Thing is, it can hit you in many ways. Make you slow, or make you move, or whatever. It changes on what you feel when you take it. But it also takes control. You can’t stop yourself. You do things because you think them.”

“Is that why you are so hesitant to use it?”

“Yes. Because when you’re here…” Talmeni had to look away from Serana’s corset-enhanced bosom, and her so gentle and loving expression, before she did or said something she would regret. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Because I’m one of yours, I know”, Serana said brightly, “But maybe you don’t need to—”

“I killed a man”, Talmeni said, before she could stop herself. “Back in Riften. Took some skooma. Next morning, I’m covered in blood, and they fish a corpse out of the canal. I know how easy it is to cut throats. I always think about it when looking at people. I can’t stop it.”

Serana’s expression faded as she digested that confession. Talmeni felt guilty for putting those worries out there. Everyone had thoughts like that, especially vampires. And it was Talmeni’s responsbility to deal with her own problems. “Just keep your distance”, she said, walking off to the other end of the island.

It didn’t feel like she was far enough away, but the island was too small to go further. Thankfully, Serana was smart enough not to follow, but instead retreated under the boat, to read a bit further in her book.

Somehow, Talmeni made it through the night. She didn’t bother to remember much of it, except for the regret of being who she was. She wished she could be a better person for Serana, but in the end, she was an addict and a killer.

During the day, as she slept in the boat, her nightmares were filled with visions of drowning. Every time she was pulled under the surface, unable to breathe, or move, she would find herself pulled into something yet worse, until finally she felt herself back in the viscous blue emissions of Molag Bal’s lovemaking, and could feel his cruel and insatiable presence above her. Looking for her, to drown her even deeper in his dominance.

When a hand grabbed Talmeni by the shoulder, she grasped it tightly, wanting to hold on, to be pulled out of this torture, and back into the air. “It’s just me!”, she heard Serana shout, and opened her eyes.

They were back in Solitude, surrounded by ships and the noise of the docks. Talmeni looked at her hand, which was gripping Serana’s arm tightly. She wanted to pull the other woman close, to be hugged and to hear that everything was all right. But remembering how things had played out in Morthal, Talmeni saw that Serana was reading the situation differently. Mumbling an apology, she forced her fingers to open.

Chapter Text

They helped each other out of the boat and back onto dry land. Serana already looked towards the city above them, clearly wanting to go back. But Talmeni felt there was still a loose end to take care of. She turned to Jolf, who was tying his boat to the docks, and said: “You’ll stay quiet about all this.”

Jolf looked her up and down. “No need to threaten me, lady”, he said, “I just want to forget it ever happened.”

Talmeni threw him a bit of money for emphasis, then hurried after her friend. Despite the sun still being rather high in the sky, there was little traffic up the road to the city gates. People were still out working, Talmeni suspected. It meant that the city guard could be very thorough in watching who was coming and going.

There were a lot of guards at the gate, and not all wore the wolf-head of Solitude or the dragon of the empire. Talmeni felt a shiver in her spine. Something had gone wrong while they had been away, and she very much suspected it had to do with the Elder Scroll.

And that suspicion was confirmed when the moment they got under the scrutiny of the guard, one of them recognized them and shouted: “You! The general is looking for you!” Talmeni had barely time to put her hand on her dagger before the rest of the soldiers closed in. None of them had their weapon drawn, but that didn’t feel reassuring, not when surrounded by so many.

“Well, how can we ingore such a polite request?”, Serana said sarcastically. Talmeni couldn’t share her optimism, but still felt slightly relieved to see her smirking again.

In the moment of discussion as the guards figured out how many would escort them to Castle Dour, Talmeni could examine the mercenaries also guarding the gate. She had seen that style of armor, with the riveted leather squares, before. When she remembered, she gripped her dagger more tightly. That was one of the Dawnguard, a vampire hunter. Things must have gone seriously wrong if they had gotten involved.

That conclusion became even more clear the further they went into the city. The guards were on alert, and the people nervous. It felt familiar, like something Talmeni had been part of before. She could vaguely remember it, some kind of coup. It had made people realize what they had thought of as secure and powerful was neither. It was times like this when the balance of power could shift quickly. If she’d been here to create a power base, Talmeni could have used that uncertainty. But since she wasn’t here for that, she couldn’t help but think that somebody else was.

The feeble candlelight of the war room in the castle was a relief after the sunlight outside, but that was the only good news. The three people in the room all looked unhappy. While she had expected it from the general, whose wrinkles showed he never looked different, that his aide was also concerned was more telling.

Talmeni didn’t recognize the face of the third person, but she only had to look at the armor to understand. The leader of the Dawnguard, a bald redguard with carefully groomed beard. But the most striking thing about him were the eyes, which had rings under them like he hadn’t slept in days, and yet blazed with an intensity of conviction that was frightening. It reminded her of Movarth’s haggard face.

“I hope you had a good time, wherever you wandered off to”, the general greeted them with tired sarcasm. “Meanwhile, we—”

“Just a moment”, the dawnguard leader interrupted him. Holding up a hand in a gesture of magic, he growled: “I don’t like the look of that one.”

Talmeni tensed, getting ready to make herself invisible in case this man would cast anything dangerous. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Serana also surreptitiously readying her hands.

From the man’s hand came a glow of sunlight, blazing to Talmeni’s eyes, and stinging in a way that normal sunlight did not. She hissed, unable to help herself, and drew her dagger from sheer instinct.

The light flared out, and the Dawnguard had his hands on his warhammer as he announced: “They are both vampires!”

“They didn’t mention that”, the general’s second said, drawing her sword as well.

“Lower your weapon, Isran”, Sybille’s harsh voice commanded from a side door. She stepped into the room, looking as composed as always. “These two are under my protection, and if you step out of line, the jarl will have to reconsider your charter of operating within her domain.”

“You are asking for much, court mage”, the general yawned, straightening his stance, “And I don’t think you can just speak for the jarl.”

“By all means, throw away your only chance of recovering the scroll”, Sybille answered, reaching the table. Talmeni lowered her dagger, feeling a bit vindicated in her paranoia. The scroll, stolen from under the nose of the Empire, that would for certain get everyone anxious.

The other two lowered their weapons reluctantly. Isran, if that was indeed the name of the Dawnguard leader, glared at Talmeni and said: “Don’t feel like you’re on my good side, because you’re not. You’re a resource. You’re an asset. In the meantime, don’t make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity, because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it.”

Talmeni gave him a grin, but Serana was quicker with a suitably nasty response: “Thank you for your kindness. I’ll remember it the next time I’m feeling hungry”, she purred, crossing her arms.

Turning to Sybille as the only one who seemed to have any actual input in the situation, Talmeni asked: “Can you fill us in? Who stole the scroll, and how?”

“An old enemy I did not expect”, Sybille said, with a bit of regret shining through her veneer of self-assurance. “Some fools resurrected the Wolf Queen Potema. Falk sent an adventurer to stop them, but apparently they were too late, and now her spirit is free to wreak havoc on Tamriel. I don’t know how she learned of the Elder Scroll, but as soon as she did, she stole it, using a way of controlling minds stronger than what my wards were capable of handling. A force so strong that apparently the only one capable of resisting it is you.”

“Me”, Talmeni said flatly, not quite sure what it was about. Her mind was many things, but she didn’t feel like it was particularly resistant to influence.

“We would all be grateful if it were different”, Sybille said, her disdain for Talmeni clear from the tone, “But my scrying is clear. If it’s not you, and you alone, who goes to fetch the scroll, they will fail.”

“Something you could have told us before”, the general growled.

“I did tell you, you sent your soldiers regardless”, Sybille brushed it off.

“Why is he here, then?”, Talmeni asked, gesturing at Isran. She felt the tiredness of the long travel falling off her and she could sense the power again. These people were desperate, had to go to her for help. She held all the strings, and it felt as exhilarating as usual.

“Because that wasn’t the only attempt to steal the Scroll”, the general’s second answered, “We captured a woman named Alva who seduced some guards into trying to take it.”

“That would be Movarth’s attempt, then”, Talmeni concluded. She wondered if Harkon would also try something. Given that Serana had blown up his first scout looking for the scroll, maybe he hadn’t learned of it yet.

“It will not be the last”, Sybille prophecied, “The master vampire himself hasn’t appeared just yet.”

“Thankfully, that is your problem”, Talmeni answered with a slow grin. She was watching the general, who looked impatient. She suspected that his superiors were less than happy about him. Talmeni hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the civil war, but it was a stalemate, which couldn’t look good to the pencil-pushers in the Imperial City. And now the matter with the scroll would be another black mark on his record.

Serana gave her a small nudge with a foot, clearly not happy with that relaxed attitude. Talmeni ignored it, still reading the faces in the room. She wondered how far she could push them, how much money and influence she could squeeze out of being literally the only hope. But she remembered her musings from last time. If the price was too high, then they would resort to violence. Not on Talmeni, given that they needed her, but on Serana. And there was little Talmeni could do to protect her, in this situation.

“Divines take you Dunmer”, the general whined, “You think this is some kind of profit-making scheme, don’t you?”

“You don’t reach heaven by working for free, general”, Talmeni said, giving him another smile. “Let’s not waste words. Same price as last time.”

“You must be out of your mind”, the general scoffed.

Talmeni twirled her knife. “Do you want me to start negotiating, then?” Internally, she was cheering. This was her element. Not the sneaking, and certainly not the fighting, but rather this shaking down, using fear and power to influence people who thought they were untouchable. “I’ll start counting up until you say yes, how about it?”

“Damn you. Fine. I’ll have your money.”

“And I’m there when the scroll is read.” Talmeni felt relieved that he had caved so easily. Escalating until they considered the possibility of taking Serana as a hostage hadn’t been the plan.

“Only if you get going immediately. We let this sit for too long already.”

Talmeni opened her mouth to complain that she had just arrived, but closed it again without voicing that thought. She could see how much the prospect of this Wolf Queen having the scroll was worrying not just the Imperials, but also Sybille.

“Very well”, Talmeni decided, “Get me a drink, and I’ll be on my way.” She would have liked a bath and a change of clothes, but the more urgently she interpreted the general’s request, the less likely he was to object to any demands.

“Remember your place, vampire”, Isran answered, hand still on his warhammer.

“You’d like her facing the Wolf Queen while crazed with thirst?”, Serana asked sweetly.

“I will take care of this”, Sybille said sharply, “This does not concern the Dawnguard. You have your orders, and they are easy enough to follow.”

“We will talk about this later”, Isran growled, but relaxed. Talmeni watched him carrefully, not feeling ready to drop her guard. It had to be very hard, for a vampire hunter to agree to not just let his prey go, but to allow them to feed.

Sybille ushered Serana and Talmeni down the stairs into the prison. Once they were out of earshot, Serana commeted sarcastically: “You have hired some very reliable support there. I’m sure we’ll all sleep safely while the Dawnguard watches over us.”

“They don’t know about you, do they?”, Talmeni asked more bluntly.

“I would be a sorry mage if I let this brute’s crude spell reveal me”, Sybille scoffed, “And if you had been more strategic about your arrival, we could have avoided you being seen for what you are as well.”

“We will keep that in mind next time we come back from a long journey”, Serana chirped. Talmeni was happy to let her talk now, as matching her sarcasm with Sybille’s arrogance was fun.

“What were you doing?”, the court mage asked sharply.

When Serana looked uncertain, Talmeni jumped in to answer: “We were looking for an ally. But it didn’t work out. They were too scared of the future to change it.”

Sybille didn’t comment, distracted by the logistics of drinking the blood of prisoners who were still awake. Talmeni solved the problem by putting one of them to sleep using a spell, ignoring the dimissive comment by the court mage when she didn’t then kill the prisoner.

“Back to business then”, Talmeni said as Sybille was leading them away from the prison, “Who is this Potema and where do I find her?”

“Potema Septim was the High Queen of Skyrim by marriage, and started the War of the Red Diamond to put her son on the imperial throne. She—”

“The last Septim died two hundreds years ago, so it’s something like four hundred years since then”, Talmeni translated for Serana.

“She was ambitious and cruel, and when the war didn’t go her way, she turned to necromancy and daedra-summoning.”

“The perfect tool for a wise and just ruler”, Serana commented bitterly. Thankfully, Sybille didn’t pick up that she was talking about her parents more than this old queen.

They had stepped back out into the courtyard of the castle, and Sybille led them towards the back, where a large oblong building stood tall even above the towers. “She was one of the most powerful necromancers to ever walk the earth, but not strong enough to withstand the Imperial legions.”

As Talmeni crossed the threshold into the impressive, cavern-like room inside that building, she felt uncomfortable. It was like needles under her skin, stabbing her over and over. As she saw the figures in the stained glass windows opposite the entrance, she understood why. This was the Temple of the Divines, and their holy power was affecting her. “Do we have to go this way?”, she asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pain.

It didn’t work. Mage and Volkihar vampire both turned to her with surprised expressions. “Are you all right?”, Serana asked, genuinely concerned.

“I’ve been better”, Talmeni said with a strained grin, forcing her hand to let go of the satchel. Some skooma, her addiction was telling her, would take the edge off.

“Go back outside”, Sybille ordered. Talmeni thankfully stepped back into the walled-off plaza in front of the temple, and took a deep breath. The court mage looked her up and down, wondering: “So you are hurt by holy places.”

“Why aren’t you?”, Talmeni wondered.

“Very few vampires are vulnerable to divine power”, Sybille said, “Mostly the weaker strains found around the Illiac bay.” She mustered Talmeni more closely.

“I get it, depends on the type. Well, back to this Potema”, Talmeni said, not wanting to dwell on this weakness of hers.

“She was buried under the temple, together with whatever remained of her undead armies.”

“Strange place for it”, Talmeni commented. After all, Solitude’s Hall of the Dead was further down the arch, and would have been the place where you expected people to be buried.

Sybille shrugged. “The Imperials might have thought the Temple above would stop her from rising. And if nothing else, the old tunnels were convenient. According to the records, a lot of cadavers had to be interred at once.”

“Certainly nothing bad can come from burying a necromancer in her own crypt”, Serana commented.

“She didn’t dig these tunnels. They were made by the Gray Host in the second era.” Looking at Serana, Sybille added: “A thousand years ago. But that is not relevant today.”

“Right. So, old tunnels full of undead. I can do that. Do we know what Potema is like?”, Talmeni asked.

“She should be a ghost of some kind. I assume she plans to use the Scroll to reincarnate in her body again, and then resurrect her army to conquer Solitude.”

“Lovely”, Serana commented.

“Let me guess, there isn’t the time to get me a magic weapon?”, Talmeni sighed.

“Are you sure I can’t come with her?”, Serana asked Sybille, sounding downright pleading.

“I would hardly insist on her going alone if I weren’t”, the court mage answered haughtily.

“But—”

“It’s better this way”, Talmeni said. Alone, she only had herself to worry about. If Serana was there, she would be distracted and anxious about keeping her safe, and that would bring out the headache.

Talmeni rummaged through her satchel. “Hold these for me”, she told Serana, handing her the remaining bottles of skooma. Alone, it was better if she did not have the temptation that close.

“No, you won’t get rid of me that easily”, Serana said loud, crossing her arms.

“This isn’t just because of Sybille’s vision or whatever, it’s—” Talmeni stopped herself. She didn’t know the right words. Saying out loud how vulnerable being near Serana made her feel would not just hurt the vampire’s feelings. Sybille would also hear it, and Talmeni didn’t trust her enough to show weakness like that.

The court mage spoke up when Talmeni didn’t: “If you are concerned, there is no need. We don’t expect her to face Potema.” Turning to Talmeni, she continued: “Your task is solely to retrieve the Elder Scroll, by any means neccessary. Returning Potema to her rest is, as you so aptly put it, our problem, not yours.”

“Trust me”, Talmeni managed, “I can do this. Sneaking into a place, getting out with something ancient. You know I’m good at that.”

“And then a dragon comes along, let’s not forget that step”, Serana sighed sarcastically, and took the skooma from Talmeni.

“Are you ready, then?”, Sybille asked, slightly impatient.

Talmeni hesitated. She was wondering whether to say something to Serana, to reassure her that she cared for her. Maybe even say out loud that she loved her. But no, if this went wrong, leaving Serana with the heartbreak of fresh love being ripped away was cruel.

Instead, she turned to the court mage. “I have one more condition”, she said, pulling out her dagger and pointing it at Sybille. “You keep Serana safe. She is not a hostage. If Isran gets anywhere near her while I’m gone, I’ll blame you. More than blame. Clear?”

“If it gives you peace of mind, I suppose I can accept this ‘threat’ of yours”, Sybille answered with close to a yawn. “Now, pay attention. Inside the temple, turn left once inside the nave, to the stairs in the western wall. There is a collapsed wall in the crypt, through there you will find Potema’s catacombs.”

“Easy enough”, Talmeni agreed. She swallowed a comment about how much Sybille was underestimating her by dismissing her warning like this, and rather counted the potions and scrolls in her satchel again.

Sybille handed over a small iron key. “This unlocks the door to the crypt. I convinced the priesthood to close it off for the duration of this emergency.”

Talmeni took it, took a deep breath, and then turned back towards the temple. She hoped that holy aura would stop once she was inside the catacombs, as she couldn’t imagine going through an entire tomb while feeling those needles under her skin.

Just as she was about to threshold, Serana spoke up. “Talmeni”, she said, and then hesitated. As she turned, Talmeni could see Serana’s hesitant expression, before it changed in her sarcastic smirk. “If you don’t come back, well, as alive as you are now, I’ll have some words to say”, she warned jokingly.

But the words she hadn’t said were the ones that were stabbing Talmeni in the heart. Again, the thought of baring her heart crossed Talmeni’s mind, of saying out loud that she loved her, and then hearing Serana also admit she loved her back. But it wasn’t right. Not now.

Stumbling, Talmeni crossed into the temple, and the stabbing pain distracted her from the heartache. A few priests turned their head when she close to jogged through the room with a pained expression, but didn’t stop her when she went down the stairs to the crypt.

The door securing the crypt was just made of iron bars, and with a lock that would be easy to pick even if you didn’t just kick the whole thing off the hinges. Even through the pain, Talmeni could conclude that it wasn’t the barred door that prevented further incursions by undead. Potema clearly didn’t want to come out again.

Once through the broken wall, the pain from the temple did stop, and Talmeni took the time to listen and get her bearings. What had been walled off was a corridor, of similarly well-dressed stone as the temple above. It meant that since this Gray Host had dug these tunnels, somebody had gone back through and refurbished them. Once again, Talmeni had to wonder if the old Imperials who had defeated Potema had been smart in throwing her down here, or if hadn’t been part of some elaborate plan.

The sound of footsteps brought her attention back to the present. She cast her spells of camouflage, drew her dagger, and set out across the dust-covered flagstones. There was a clear path through the dust, probably from the Imperial soldiers that had been sent down here before her.

The corridor ended in a two-story room, with a gallery overlooking the lower floor. From there, Talmeni could spot the first guardians of Potema’s crypt, two undead that were idly patrolling below. One of them looked rather like a draugr, with leather-like skin taut over the bones, even though the armor was newer, and of better make.

But the other caught Talmeni’s attention more, because they still had a heartbeat, even if an extremely weak and irregular one. They wore fine clothes fit for a jarl’s court, but moved more like an animal, hunched over, sniffing the air, and growling at tiny movements.

A blood fiend, Talmeni guessed. An ancient vampire courtier, never properly killed, but locked down here for centuries. In a tomb without blood, or any living thing that they could drink. It felt cruel, but the Imperials had probably thought it fair, for being the courtier to a Queen of undeath who had instigated a civil war.

Talmeni slipped past them, out through the far door of the room, and into some kind of cistern. There, she evaded another one of these newer draugr, which was apparently set here to guard the water, even though the undead wouldn’t need it for drinks.

The rooms got less carefully constructed as they went on, with the bare rock peeking through here and there, and the stonework becoming simpler. And while the first few rooms had looked more like storage of some kind, these were clearly tombs. Stone sacrophagi were set into the floor and lined the walls, while in other place, pits had been dug and filled with what must have once been cadavers. Now, they were just heaps of bones, seeming in places almost as deep as the piles in the Volkihar sewers.

There were more undead, patrolling through the rooms aimlessly, as easily avoided as the first. While most were the draugr kind, Talmeni did stumble over more blood fiends, and the more she saw, the more puzzled she felt. The blood fiends looked wrong in ways more subtle than their minds lost to bloodlust.

It took her until she saw one holding on to a pillar to realize what was wrong. They were blind. As she tiptoed closer, she tried waving a hand in front of their face, without any reaction, even though her spell could hardly be strong enough to obscure her at this distance. She stared at the fiend’s eyes. They should have been blood-shot, but instead were dark, from edge to edge, not even reflecting the colours of the night. They looked like pieces of charcoal, and Talmeni shuddered, wondering what could have caused this.

A few rooms on, she found a vampire who seemed rather more lucid, even if he was muttering as he worked. Talmeni listened for a moment to his ramblings about building an army, but didn’t need to guess what it meant. In the room, on raised stone slabs, were the corpses of the legionaries sent down before her. The vampire was working on them, with knifes and tongs and foul-smelling liquids. Talmeni guessed that they were being embalmed, to serve as more of these draugr-like soldiers patrolling the halls.

Talmeni cut his throat out of general principles, and only wondered about why he hadn’t succumbed to bloodlust as he was bleeding out on the floor. She went through his pockets, finding not just a key, but also a sigil pin. It wasn’t the eight-pointed wheel of the Volkihars, but some kind of skull or helmet, with long tails off the bottom. She pocketed it, resolving to ask Serana and Sybille about it later.

The key turned out to belong to a large grille in the floor, granting access to a spiral stairwell further down into the rock. Reasoning that things were locked because they were important, Talmeni took the stairs.

At the bottom, she found herself in more tomb halls, with coffins piled so dense it was hard to walk between them. More than once, Talmeni had to crawl into a nook or on top of a sarcophagus to evade the undead patrolling the rooms. If they were patrolling. It seemed to Talmeni that their movements were more purposeful than those of the people above. Hopefully it meant that she was getting close.

Not long after, as she was once again squeezing her way through rows of coffins, a blue light suddenly filled the room. It streamed from a door ahead, not coming from any lamps, but apparently ribbons of light in the air itself. They swirled part Talmeni, suddenly turned, and disappeared into one of the coffins.

Talmeni held her dagger read when the coffin’s lid was ripped open, but had no place to flee as a gaunt figure climbed out of it and blocked the narrow path between the sarcophagi. It was a blood fiend, with pale skin and dark veins under the eyes, baring long fangs, but when it opened its mouth, it talked normally. “A little thief enters my domain”, the fiend purred, almost seductively, “Have my guard failed me so?”

Seeing that she was discovered, Talmeni dropped her spells for now. “Blind guards aren’t much of a threat”, she answered, standing slightly more upright but holding her dagger still out in front of her.

The fiend didn’t answer for a moment. For the fraction of a second, it looked like it would attack, with hunger in its eyes, and the long fingernails ready to scratch. But then, it jerked back, and continued with the same arrogant voice, that somehow didn’t quite fit with the figure it came from: “They gave their eyes in service to me, for a purpose much greater than they could ever hope to achieve.” The fiend stepped forward: “And so will you, little thief.”

Behind this strange creature, two of the draugr things were coming into the room, likely attracted by the noise. They were just watching for now, but it didn’t matter. Talmeni was well and truly trapped.

“Come now”, the blood fiend said, the mouth merely gawping wide as the words came out.

As it rushed forward, Talmeni aimed a quick stab with the knife at it, before backing away into the door. She fumbled with the handle, nervous and out of sorts, as the fiend came closer. It moved irregularly, as if fighting some inner beast. Sometimes, the movements were sedate and measured, sometimes they were wild and beastlike. Sometimes, different limbs moved in different ways, giving the whole thing even more of a nightmare appearance.

Talmeni wrenched the door open, fell through it as she dodged under the hungrily grasping claws of the blood fiend, and stumbled backwards over stairs in the floor. She tried to right herself, but suddenly there were draugr around her, bearing down.

She was sure that she had tried to struggle, but her exact actions were gone from memory. The tumble down the steps, the vision of that strangely intelligent blood fiend, it had messed up Talmeni’s head, causing her memory to stutter. There were some unconnected scraps of dodging and stabbing, but that was all she could recall as she was held in a tight grip by two of the draugr, forced to kneel on the floor.

In front of her was the blood fiend, looking slightly disheveled by extertion. The once plush robe was frayed and ripped. Talmeni tried to remember if that came from her, but most of it had probably just the creature hurrying through the narrow corridors and getting caught on coffins.

But what was behind the fiend was more important. In the centre of this oval room, on what looked like a stand hastily constructed from pieces of wood, was the Elder Scroll. Talmeni felt happy to have found it, but that her capturer had brought her here boded nothing good.

“Do you know what this is, little one?”, the blood fiend asked, gesturing at the scroll. Without waiting for an answer, she continued: “This is an Elder Scroll, and from its pages flows the greatest and most terrible wisdom in the world.”

“Tell me about it”, Talmeni said sourly. She had to admit to herself that following Molag Bal’s command to find Dimhollow Crypt had gotten her into a lot of trouble, most of which involved this scroll.

“I wonder if those fools trying to keep it from me even understood what it was they held.” Talmeni wondered if this figure in front of her was Potema. She certainly had the bearing and the speech of a queen. “But I am learning. Oh yes, I am learning. There is no limit to the secrets this scroll will reveal to me.”

Turning back to her prisoner, the blood fiend went on: “If you swear fealty to me, I will let you partake in the offerings of prophecy. You could become my general, walking the world unmolested by the sun, driving my armies across the face of Tamriel.”

“Really”, Talmeni said, testing slightly how well the draugr were gripping her. They weren’t well trained in subduing prisoners, that much she could make out. If one of them lessened its grip, she could have the other thrown off in seconds.

That Potema had learned of the prophecy of the sun was worrying, but Talmeni didn’t waste much thought on it, given that getting out alive was her first priority. Thankfully, the fiend seemed inclined to keep talking, giving her more time to take in the situation.

“You are lucky indeed, as the signs revealed to me are right”, Potema went on. Talmeni looked around the room as she listened. It looked like some kind of perversion of a court room. There was a throne at the far end, empty except for a crowned skull, and three rows of steps around the oval walls. Where there should have been seats of the lesser councillors, there were stone sarcophagi, most still closed. There was a door behind the throne, but Talmeni thought she could remember coming in through a different one, now behind her.

Meanwhile, the blood fiend explained: “This weak and foolish Empire has let this become an age of strife. There is a civil war in this province, my province. And the dragons have returned, which means only a single condition stands in the way. Among the night’s children, a dread ruler shall rise. Shall that be you, little one?”

“I don’t rule”, Talmeni said automatically, without thinking much about it.

“Then I will find another use for you”, Potema said, “Maybe you shall see more on this scroll than these wretches.”

Talmeni felt apprehensive about seeing the blood fiend stagger its incongruous way down to the Scroll. While it was one less pair of eyes watching her, the two guards didn’t seem distracted by the way their apparent ruller was picking up the scroll and then, pulling at a metal rod at its side, unrolling it.

While Talmeni hadn’t been sure what to expect, seeing somebody read an Elder Scroll, she wouldn’t have imagined this. For a few heartbeats, the figure was completely still and motionless, staring not so much at the writing on the scroll, as through it. Staring, without blinking, while the eyes seemed to burn from the inside, turning as black as coal.

And if that hadn’t been bad enough, as the blood fiend stepped back, it seemed to split. One was the fiend, falling to the floor, clawing at its useless eyes and babbling incoherent scraps of sentences. The other was a figure made of light, formed by blue traceries in the air.

“Well, that is interesting”, Potema’s voice came up from the pit. As the ghostly figure turned, and the blue ribbons for a second gleamed off a crown in its hair, Talmeni had to stop herself from shuddering. Now she understood what was going on, and how Potema had managed to steal the scroll in the first place.

And worse, as the ghost climbed back up the stairs, Talmeni realized it was her turn. Either she swore fealty to this ancient necromancer, or she would be possessed, and her eyes used up to read more of the Elder Scroll.

There was no warning, no question pretending to be mercy. Potema simply sprang forward, turning into ribbons of light as she moved, which bore down on Talmeni.

She wondered if she would feel anything, if it would be like going to sleep, or if she would be aware, trapped inside her own body, watching herself do things she didn’t want. Talmeni wished she’d had some skooma, to just drown herself in that, instead of having to be conscious as somebody tried to steal her will from her.

The ribbons hit, and Talmeni closed her eyes, but after a moment of silence, she opened them again. Potema was still there, standing in front of Talmeni. “What?”, the ghostly queen asked, and tried again.

This time, Talmeni kept her eyes open, and saw how the ribbons of light were deflected, forced back as they tried to enter her body, scattering like droplets on a stone. On her chest, something glowed under her clothes, in the cold blue light of Coldharbour, fading only as Potema reformed again.

It was the amulet, she realized. Whether intentional or simply from the nature of its maker, the symbol of Molag Bal she had been given after the rite on his summoning day was keeping her safe, preventing anyone from taking over her mind.

As quickly as Talmeni had realized this, she tried to forget it, so that Potema couldn’t discover this weakness. To cover it up, Talmeni came up with a boast: “I spat in the eye of the Lord of Domination. Do you really think I’ll let my strings be pulled by some whining specter?”

It clearly hit home, as Potema ordered in her most haughty voice: “Kill her!”

One of the drauger let go of Talmeni’s arm to draw its sword. She jumped immediately, turning behind the other, using its grip against it, and grabbing the weapons from its sheath to have something to defend herself.

Potema screamed as one of her draugr fell headless down the stairs, and raised a hand to throw magic. Talmeni jumped out of the way, down the stairs to where she had seen her dagger lying around. Beheading the draugr with its sword had worked, but she still felt more at home with a smaller blade. Lightning split the stone behind her as she jumped again.

Potema was almost upon her, her ghostly form now crackling with lightning, and Talmeni just let her battle reflexes take over. She leaped over the Elder Scroll display, grabbed it by the strap, and swung it through the air. One of the handles caught Potema on the side of her head and bowled her over, but Talmeni didn’t stop to examine how much damage that had done. The second draugr was bearing down on her, axe raised high.

She had vague memories of managing to catch the blow with the scroll, but after that, her mind gave out. She fell, she stumbled, and woke up in a soft bed in Solitude.

Chapter Text

Serana was looking down on her with a faint smile. “How are you feeling?”, she asked, sounding almost happy.

Talmeni tried find out how she had ended up here. Staring at the ceiling, she dredged her memory for clues. There had been waves of draugr coming at her, and a weight on her shoulder, slowing her down. “I got the Scroll out, right?”, she said.

“If that’s the first thing you ask, then I suppose you must be all right”, Serana said with a smirk. “Yes, you came back with the Elder Scroll.”

“Good”, Talmeni said, and let her head fall back into the covers.

A while later, the door opened, and Sybille and a servant entered the room. “It seems she has recovered”, the court mage said when seeing Talmeni focusing on her.

“I’ve been better”, Talmeni said, wincing as more memories came back. She’d used the summoning scroll, the one Falion had prepared. There had been some kind of woman coming out of the portal, with four arms and a snake tail.

When she returned to the present, it was to alarmed shouting. She was holding the servant in her arms, in her usual death grip with the knife pressed to her throat. “Calm down”, Sybille demanded, loudly.

Talmeni tried to reconstruct the last few seconds. She had reconized this woman, from the cave. Not the tombs of Potema, because there had only been undead, but before that. The headache cleared a bit, and she remembered: “This is one of Movarth’s thralls. I saw her in his lair.”

“Are you sure?”, the court mage asked, clearly not believing.

“Can you risk it?”, Talmeni asked back, “Go and secure the scroll, now. And clean this up.”

Sybille and the servant disappeared, and now Talmeni was sitting upright at the edge of the bed, holding her head. “I remember a road. On the coast?”, she wondered out loud, trying to place a memory.

Serana, who was now sitting in a chair some distance from the bed, nodded. “We found you wandering beneath Solitude. You must have come out of a gap in the cliffs somewhere.

Yes, that seemed right. Talmeni remembered the light from outside, moonlight, and then the fall. She’d lost her footing, and both her hands had been full. It was strange that Potema hadn’t used that moment to attack. No, at that point she’d managed to shake the pursuit, using that summon.

“Do you feel well enough to walk?”, Serana asked.

“Sure”, Talmeni said, “It’s my head that’s hurting, not my feet.” She swung herself off the bed, and walked towards the door. It looked like she was back in the Blue Palace, in the same guest room they had slept in before.

“We do need your head, you know”, Serana said sarcastically, ”Your feet also worked fine when you were wandering around looking as if you, well, had never seen the city before.”

”You asked me some questions”, Talmeni remembered. She also remembered trying to answer, but she suspected it hadn’t been particularly useful.

And now they were in front of some other building, further towards the castle. Talmeni tried to recall, because she was sure that hadn’t been all said between her and Serana. But seeing the impatient faces in front of her, she put those thoughts aside.

One of them was Sybille, the other she didn’t know yet. It was an elderly man, wearing some kind of priestly robe. After a moment, she remembered that double-braided ring symbol as belonging to Arkay, the human god of death. And there was a name pretty fresh in her memory. Styrr, maybe.

“Are you sure what you brought is the skull of Potema?”, the old priest asked.

Talmeni tried to make sense of the question. Had she carried a skull? She’d made a grab for it in the melee, that much came back to her. And it would explain why her hands had been full, even after she had put the Elder Scroll across her back properly. “It was on a throne, with a crown on top”, she said, sticking to what she knew for certain.

“You have taken quite a risk, bringing it along”, Sybille commented, “Why?” The last word came out sharply, full of suspicion.

“Because when we Dunmer need to put an ancestor to rest, we use their ashes for it. She’s not ashes yet, but still. Potema’s remains.” Not sure if she had already mentioned it, Talmeni added: “Should allow you to stop her from possessing people.”

The priest looked thoughtful. “I will sanctify her remains with the rites of Arkay. This might not be enough, as powerful as she is, but it should weaken her considerably. If she currently has a host, she should be unable to leave them.”

“Good”, Talmeni said, sagging against the low wall across the path. Even thought she had just woken up, she did feel tired.

“Possession certainly explains a great many things about how she was able to steal the Scroll”, Sybille said, still mustering Talmeni. “But not why she was unable to possess you, like she did with the legionaries.”

“Nobody gets to pull my strings”, Talmeni answered, not bothering to explain more. Sybille could go on wondering.

After a moment, Sybille gave up trying to glare Talmeni into revealing more, and just said: “I will adjust my magical defenses accordingly. Together with the Rites, this should remove Potema from the equation.”

Talmeni nodded hesitantly. She wondered if Potema would even try again, given how much she had already learned from the Scroll. Maybe she should have played along a bit, to find out more about what the Wolf Queen had discovered about the how and the where. All she had been told was the when, which while troubling, didn’t help in stopping the prophecy from coming true.

“With the scroll safe, all that’s left is for me to get my payment”, Talmeni said.

“General Tullius will not be happy about this”, Sybille commented, waving them to follow her to the castle.

Despite the pouding headache, Talmeni managed to hold on to the memory of walking up the street. This was as bad as when she’d come back to Riften after the skooma trip in Redwater Den, the way her head felt full of sharp fragments, which she jumped between without understanding why.

“How much skooma did you guys give me?”, Talmeni wondered out loud.

“As much as since last time you asked, five minutes ago”, Serana said with fake cheer.

Talmeni winced. The conversation was indeed familiar. “This is bad”, she admitted to herself.

”I should have come with you”, Serana said.

“No. Potema would have possessed you, and —“ Talmeni gestured cutting a throat. “This way, the only thing lost is my memory. Fetching skooma. The moment things get tough, my mind shatters, same as if I’d take it.” She would never be as good at scraps as she used to be, Talmeni realized. It had been a vain thought to even consider it, and this was now the fourth time she was paying for that arrogance.

Looking over at Serana, she corrected herself. It wasn’t arrogance, not solely. If it meant Serana got some peace of mind, the closure she desperately needed, then the risk of heading into danger, even if it was more dangerous thanks to the skooma issues, was worth it.

“You can complain all you want, next time I’m coming with you”, Serana promised, serious for once. “At least to make sure you take your skooma.”

“I—” Talmeni closed her mouth, not having a good answer. The arrival in the war room saved her from thinking of one.

The general was as grumpy as usual when he saw them come in. “You Dunmer and your mercenary honor”, he growled, “As if Stormcloaks and vampires weren’t bad enough. We should just put that scroll on the first ship out of here and be done with it.”

“That’s not the deal, general”, Talmeni reminded him, gratefully taking the rolls of coins offered by his assistant.

“Do you even know how much these Dawnguard want to guard this scroll for us?”

“If you do the negotiating right, nothing”, Talmeni guessed, “They want that scroll kept out of vampire hands as much as you.”

“They also want your heads on a spike, don’t forget that. It’s my mercy that keeps you alive or whatever right now.” The general waved dismissively. “Now get out of here, some of us have a war to plan.”

“So do we”, Talmeni muttered as Sybille led them back out of the castle. That dark war that Molag Bal had prophecied now seemed to be there.

“Can I have my share this time?”, Serana asked unexpectedly as they were back on the busy streets of Solitude.

“What for?”, Talmeni wondered while handing over one of the coin rolls.

Serana turned the money over in her hands. “There is a good alchemist shop in town, and I thought I could shop there, and then make some potions.”

“Good idea”, Talmeni said, checking her satchel. Her fractured memory claimed she had drunk several of the potions she had taken along, and indeed, it was practically empty. “And now we’ve got the time for it”, she mused.

“I’m sure no more vampires will come to interrupt our holiday”, Serana said sarcastically.

“Right now, it’s somebody else’s turn to deal with that. For me, it’s time for some fresh clothes and a hot bath.” She pulled at a sleeve, which not only had still the caked mud from the Volkihar sewers on it, but also now a grey mixture of grave dust and cobwebs from Potema’s tomb. Here and there was also blood, likely her own. It was unlikely this shirt still usable as anything except dusters.

“I think you deserve that, at least”, Serana agreed.

Before Talmeni could stop herself, she suggested: “Want to join me for the bath?”

Serana smiled wistfully, but shook her head. “Now I know you’re back to normal”, she joked.

They returned to the palace, where Falk the steward not only was happy to arrange for a bath and a change of clothes for Talmeni, but insisted on paying them a bonus for returning Potema’s skull. Talmeni was happy to be paid more, although she considered the gratitude of the jarl’s court the more valuable currency.

And despite her dark premonitions, the next few days were quiet, although Talmeni was not ready to call them peaceful. There was no further attempts by Potema, and according to the grapevine at least, the hole in the temple was being bricked up again. Neither were there any obvious attempts by Movarth.

It left the two of them with some free time to actually relax. Talmeni invested a good portion of it getting to know the people of Solitude, spending the evenings in the Winking Skeever. It was certainly instructive to listen to the rumors, most of which came from Corpulus the bartender, and even more illuminating to run into Talen-Jei, an Argonian who tried to rope her into a scheme involving the lighthouse.

Talmeni didn’t take long to notice the catch in the deal, but she strung him along with equally vague promises until he revealed quite a bit about the operation he worked for. It sounded like the Legion had managed to drive organized crime out of the city rather efficiently, leaving people like Talen-Jei and his siblings floundering. For a moment, Talmeni considered moving in at the top, and giving things a bit of a shake-up, but decided against it, at least until the whole prophecy business was done.

Serana didn’t often come along, spending her nights with a nose in a book, or more often, in the alchemy laboratory. But she seemed very happy, grinning with childlike glee when she presented her night’s brewing results. The crowning glory to her was when she returned with a new bottle of blood potion, having managed to recreate her mother’s recipe.

Talmeni called in at Radiant Raiments, and was told that her order was ready. While expensive, Talmeni felt it had been worth every drake. The leather pants were sturdy and comfortable, and while the top felt daring, with its large cleavage and bare shoulders, it allowed her to move freely.

And it was a look that got the attention from the person Talmeni wanted it from. When she returned that night to her rooms, clad in the new hunting leathers, Serana at first didn’t notice, too focused on her book. “This is strange”, she said, pointing at a passage, “I read up on the Gray Host that Sybille mentioned. It was an army of vampires that attacked the region, and you would expect…”

Her voice trailed away as she looked at Talmeni. “…expect…”, she repeated, distracted.

“Speechless?”, Talmeni mocked her, walking closer and playing with her amulet a bit to draw attention to the top. Serana didn’t disappoint, and clearly was flustered by what she saw.

“You look, well, good”, she managed, “It suits you.”

“Thank you. Now we can adventure together in style.” Talmeni pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “Or whatever else you feel like.”

“I feel like I should call you Lady Othran now”, Serana said, with a faint blush visible on her pale skin. “Or, you know…”

“I’m not sure where Sybille got the Othran from, but I don’t think it’s my family name”, Talmeni sighed. With a smile she added: “I’ll just have to take it from my wife, then.”

Serana looked away, blushing more strongly but smiling. Talmeni considered telling her she loved her, but decided against it. Serana was right, she needed to see a bit more of the world first, instead of just falling for the first woman in her path. Although given her bookishness, it was unlikely she would meet many people.

Talmeni felt the silence got a bit too long and awkward. “So, Gray Host”, she said conversationally, pointing at the book, “Are we going to have to face them, too?”

“Er, no. They’re long gone”, Serana said, looking at the book, “Admittedly, there were two, so we might not rule them out completely. But what I found strange is that my father wasn’t involved in either of them.”

“Not involved in a way the history books write down, at least”, Talmeni mused.

“True, but Harkon being who he is…”, Serana thought out loud, “If there was an army of vampires trying to conquer the world, he would want to lead.”

“Of course”, Talmeni agreed. Any disciple of Molag Bal would find it impossible to accept any position that didn’t give them dominance.

“Does the name Rada al-Saran mean anything to you?”, Serana asked, reading a bit further.

“Sounds Redguard, but no. Never heard of him.”

“It seems he was the leader of the second Gray Host, the one that attacked Solitude in the Second Era. It’s really amazing my father just let it happen. And he’s not the only one. In another book, there was a mention of Majorn the Ancient as leader of the Volkihar.”

“Your father really let things slide”, Talmeni agreed. A memory came back to her. “I have a guess.”

“Really?”, Serana wondered, her face doubtful.

“Potema decyphered parts of the prophecy using the Elder Scroll, and she blubbed out some things that need to happen before it can come true. One of them was the return of the dragons. Now, maybe your father did also discover that while you were gone.”

“And he would wait until the conditions were right, and the dragons had come back, yes!”, Serana agreed, “That might make sense. After all, what’s time to a vampire?”

“Something you can still use better than sitting in an old castle”, Talmeni said, standing up, “Or than just reading at all times. Come on.”

Serana looked at the hand being offered. “What do you have in mind?”

“Join me for a drink, Lady Volkihar?”

“But we already went yesterday—”

Talmeni waved her hand. “Not blood. Drink. They’re serving a pretty good spiced wine in the Wiking Skeever. Not quite sujamma, but you’ll like it.”

“And once you’ve got me drunk, Lady With No Name, what will you do then?” Serana was smirking despite the suspicious tone of the question.

Talmeni swallowed her first, lewd answer, and said instead: “We could visit the bard’s college, see if we can’t learn some songs we like. After that, who knows?”

“The night is young, is it?”, Serana joked, and took Talmeni’s hand, “Well, maybe I could experience some of those things I usually only read about.”

Talmeni wasn’t sure what those things were, but based on how she smiled, Serana did have a good time, both drinking, and then trying to learn one of those Nord songs. When they returned to the Blue Palace close to sunrise, both tired, Serana did admit that she would like to do it again.

The next evening, they both however had to take it a bit slower. Talmeni hadn’t thought she’d drunk that much, but still felt hung over. When Serana suggested to have a quiet night just making some potions, she readily agreed. While she still couldn’t understand the theory behind it, Talmeni did feel useful, grinding and measuring while Serana mixed and planned.

As fun as it was, the looming clouds of worry never quite disappeared. Every evening Talmeni spent in the tavern, she heard new rumors. The Dawnguard were not content to sit still, but rather sent parties out hunting, and apparently did clash with vampires regularly. The dragons and the Stormcloaks weren’t idle either. If all the rumors were true, then doom was closing in. The rebels conquered fortress after fortress, and dragons burned whole cities to the ground. Thundering voices were coming from High Wrothgar, apparently from fierce battles fought between dragons and the Greybeards. Talmeni didn’t believe half of it, but it was clear things were chaotic out there.

The worst news was not one she heard, but saw. It was a rather slow evening in the Winking Skeever, which she had mostly spent playing cards with Gulum-Ei the fence, when the stranger entered. She could hear his irregular heartbeat even without turning around, and when she did, she was not surprised yet alarmed to see the eight-spoked wheel of the Volkihar on his cloak.

She put the cards down, muttered an apology to Gulum-Ei, and went over to the bar. “Fancy a drink, traveler?”, she asked seductively.

The vampire turned, and recognition dawned. He mustered her closely for a second, looking at the amulet of Molag Bal she wore openly now, as the outfit couldn’t hide it, and also staring at her eyes, clearly suprised by the color. However, it did not soften his expression, and he answered curtly: “I’ll help myself, thanks.”

“No can do”, Talmeni answered, tapping a few fingers against her dagger, “This is a city. There’s rules and rulers.”

“And that ruler thinks he can hinder my search?”, the vampire asked, leaning a bit closer and trying to look threatening.

Talmeni gave him a confused expression, without acknowledging his threatening expression. “Of course”, she answered, filing his innocent mention of a search away for later, “The king who sees in another his equal rules nothing.”

“I’m working for someone who is his better”, the vampire went on, in a even lower hiss, “Get in my way, and it will go badly for you and your so-called ruler.”

“That sounds like diplomacy, sir”, Talmeni said, still keeping up the innocent act, “If you talk to my Lady Thorn-Rose, I’m sure she’ll agree to some terms.”

Corpulus walked up to take orders, but Talmeni waved him away while the vampire thought. He was weighing her up and down, clearly trying to determine how much of a threat she could be. What Talmeni found interesting was that he never bothered to look around the room, at the guards off duty near the door, or the Dawnguard in the back, who were keeping a close eye on the conversation, clearly suspicious of anyone Talmeni talked to. But this vampire saw humans as powerless and therefore unimportant.

“Fine”, he agreed gruffly, “I’ll talk to that lady.”

Talmeni asked him to follow, leading him out of the tavern and down the street. She wondered where the best place was to get him alone in the dark, without arousing suspicion. The guards were after all alert and patrolling the city with torches, not wanting to be surprised by creatures of the night. Her best bet was the cemetery, she decided. It was off the patrol paths, but a reasonable shortcut to the palace.

As they walked past the market, Talmeni inquired innocently: “What should I announce you as to the lady? She would like to know before meeting you.”

“Then tell her I am Stalf, ambassador for Orthjolf of the court of Lord Harkon, sire of the Volkihar clan.”

“That’s a lot of titles”, Talmeni said, making sure to sound impressed even though she mostly considered it vain, “What brings a high-born such as yourself to this city?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“You don’t want me to announce it to her lady? If it’s important, she’ll see you quicker.”

The vampire grunted. “Fine. Tell her I’m looking for an old prophecy.”

Talmeni put her hand on her dagger. It was good she managed to intercept him before he’d gotten his share of rumors about the Elder Scroll in the Winking Skeever. “That’s something”, she agreed as if surprised, “Maybe you should talk to the court mage after my ladyship. She’s very good at seeing the future.” The were at the cemetery now, and Talmeni hung back a bit, gesturing at the narrow path: “After you, my lord.”

She had played her role of eager but not particularly bright courtier well enough, as Stalf didn’t hesitate for a second before taking the lead. He took a few steps, opened his mouth to say something, and then was quieted forever. It had been almost too easy, as he’d been flat-footed and Talmeni had come from behind, grabbing him and cutting his throat in one smooth motion. She knelt down next to him until he stopped moving, then pulled the clasp off his cloak.

Leaving the corpse where he had fallen, for the guards to clean up later, she hurried to the Blue Palace. Since it was still rather early in the night, there were servants still up, cleaning and tidying up the places they couldn’t go to during the day. There also was light coming from Sybille’s room, not the flickering of candles, but a blue, magical glow. Talmeni gave the door a cursory knock and entered, too alarmed by the news to wait.

Sybille was casting something, a complicated ritual that created lines in the air, tracing out pictures and movements. Talmeni only caught a small fragment before Sybille lowered her arms and turned around angrily, the lines disappearing. “What is the meaning of this?”, she barked.

Talmeni threw her the Volkihar pin. “The Volkihar are on the move”, she added as explanation, “Better prepare your defenses for them.”

Sybille caught the emblem, then looked at her fingers, which had been stained by the blood still remaining in the grooves. Talmeni hadn’t bothered to wipe it down. The court mage calmed down, and said with a resigned voice: “I see. I suppose your partner couldn’t deign to convince them against this course of action.”

“Serana isn’t with the clan any more”, Talmeni reminded her, “If she was, she would have brought the Elder Scroll to their castle instead of here.”

“This is significant. We have held back Movarth and you dealt with Potema, but the Volkihar are rather different, both in power and approach. General Tullius will insist that we remove the scroll from the city quickly, and I feel forced to agree.”

“That wasn’t the deal”, Talmeni said, forcing herself to remain calm.

“We will keep our bargain, not to worry. The priest will arrive tomorrow”, Sybille revealed.

“Good”, Talmeni sighed. As much fun as it had been to just live in the city, she did look forward to having a proper goal again, instead of just waiting.

“You are hoping to find something specific on the scroll”, Sybille commented. It wasn’t phrased as a question, and Talmeni wondered if the mage had foreseen something in that regard.

“I am, yes”, Talmeni answered, poker-faced.

“If I were to divine the answer instead, would you waive your requirement to witness the reading?”, Sybille asked, examining the Volkihar pin.

Talmeni was about to just decline when she reminded herself of how much the situation had changed. It was better to reconsider her position before deciding something like that. “You’re worried about the reading”, she said both to buy time and to understand Sybille’s position.

“According to your ramblings, you know the dangers of reading an Elder Scroll. An unprepared mind will be struck blind, irrevocably. It can even happen to a Moth priest, if they are too hasty in reading.”

“I see. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to stick to the Scroll”, Talmeni decided, “No offense, but we’re talking gods and world-ending events here. Something an Elder Scroll will have a better sense of.”

“Then be there tomorrow afternoon when the ship arrives. I will go and tell the general of this.” Sybille gestured at the Volkihar pin, then ushered Talmeni out the door.

Chapter Text

The next day was very busy, as the general clearly took the arrival of a Moth Priest very serious. City guards, legionaires and Dawnguard were lining the route, and Talmeni was sure even more were hiding out of sight, keeping watch of everyone approaching. And down at the harbor, a whole delegation of courtiers, not just Sybille but also thanes and the jarl’s housecarl were waiting while the ship was docked. Talmeni felt slightly out of place among them, even in her fine clothes.

The Moth Priest didn’t look particularly worth the effort, as a bald man with bushy beard, wearing a faded grey robe and simple sandals. He wandered down the gangplank, followed by an escort of legionaires in very impressive armor. Penitus Oculatus, one of the courtiers whispered to another, the Emperor’s personal security force.

But as the priest stood in front of Sybille and looked not at, but through her, Talmeni saw that maybe this frail old man was more than he appeared. His eyes had a look, as if they were seeing through things to a deeper truth beneath, and if that wasn’t enough, Talmeni believed she could make out blackened scarring on them, from where the Elder Scrolls must have taken their toll.

The monk, who was announced as Dexion Evicus by his escort, didn’t seem to notice the efforts taken to protect him, as he chatted in a soft and gentle voice with Sybille and the other courtiers. They were all interested in news from Cyrodiil, and Dexion did his best to answer them. However, his vague utterances seemed to Talmeni as indicating that he knew little himself. Outside the Scrolls, he probably cared little for the political situation.

In the palace, Dexion was immediately brought up to the court room, where not only the jarl was waiting, but also general Tullius, holding the Elder Scroll personally. Behind him, Talmeni could see Serana, politely trying to yawn. As usual, Serana had kept mostly to her own nocturnal schedule, and this was extremely early in the morning for her.

There was a short speech by the jarl, about returning this scroll to the care of the Moth Priests, followed by the general stepping forward and putting the scroll into Dexions hands. “Keep it safe”, the general muttered, something Talmeni suspected wasn’t part of the protocol.

“We will treasure it, and learn from it, jarl Elisif”, Dexion said, cradling the scroll in his arms.

“Could you read from it?”, the jarl asked, out of what seemed to Talmeni to be genuine interest, “I would love to know some of the future.”

“Oh, certainly”, Dexion said, with suppressed excitement. He shifted his grip on the scroll, grasping the rod that could pull it out of its case, then hesitated. “Is there anything in particular you wish to know?”

“Can a Scroll be read with such accuracy?”, Sybille asked, surprised.

“I cannot predict what my reading will be”, Dexion explained, “But an Elder Scroll contains many secrets, and many possible futures. I may guide it to reveal something pertinent.”

“I see”, the jarl said, then lapsed into thoughtful silence.

Before she could say something, Talmeni gave a cough. She threw a glance at the general and said quickly: “If I nobody else has anything, I’ve got ideas.”

General Tullius looked more unhappy than usual, but waved her forward. Talmeni noted how jarl Elisif looked downright grateful to have him make a decision. “Go ahead”, the general grunted at Talmeni.

She licked her lips, a bit nervous despite herself. Not only hadn’t she imagined such crowds when the scroll was read, doubts were entering her mind. When she had first learned of the prophecy, discovering it had been her only goal. But now, she wasn’t so sure any more. The little fragments she had been given had painted maybe a good enough picture. And on some level, Serana and Valerica were right. While you couldn’t stop rumor, you could still make sure the information was hard to get.

Remembering what she had said to Valerica, Talmeni decided that there was only one part of the prophecy she actually still cared about. “I’m looking for a weapon”, she said out loud, “One powerful enough to kill even the oldest vampire.” There were a few mutters around court, and surprised expressions on the faces of the general, Sybille, and Isran, who was lurking around the back of the crowd.

Dexion nodded, and announced: “Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate”, then pulled open the Scroll. Talmeni didn’t bother to watch the scroll itself, like most of the court did, but rather focused on the priests’s eyes, how they stared and read, and changed.

“I see”, he announced, in a faraway voice, “a darkness. There is a place you must go, through rushing water and treacherous ice. And there is …a map. Bring me a map!” There was a moment of chaos, then somebody got their wits together and stepped forward with a map of Skyrim in their hands. Dexion, without taking his eyes off the scroll, pointed at a spot with uncanny certainty. “There”, he went on, “Go there. Claim your weapon from the vampire of old. There will— no, my vision darkens”, Dexion said sadly, “And I see no more.” The scroll was pulled back in its case by itself as he lowered his arms.

After a moment of quiet, the general took charge. “You”, he ordered, pointing at one of his legionaires, “Bring him to the guest rooms, let him rest. The rest of you, secure the building.”

“If you allow, I will discuss this revelation with my associates”, Sybille said quickly, stepping forward and taking the map from the courtier.

“Please do so”, the jarl asked. To Talmeni, it sounded almost begging.

“Come along, then”, Sybille said towards Talmeni and Serana, once she had short discussion with the courtier about where exactly the finger had landed.

“In a moment, I need to get something”, Talmeni said, hurrying to the stairs downward. What the priest had been handed had been a mall overview map of Skyrim, the sort useful for learning where the holds were. But her detailed adventurer’s map would be more helpful here.

When she had grabbed it from her backpack and went back up to the mage’s apartment, she walked in on a heated scene. “You won’t shut me out”, Isran was growling from the door, “Such a weapon belongs in the hands of the Dawnguard, not some vampires.”

“We are only discussing its location, something which I don’t think you have input for”, Sybille said haughtily, “And besides, shouldn’t you be mustering your men? The Volkihar can after all attack at any time, even during the day.”

This seemed to be the wrong approach to Talmeni. “Let him in”, she ordered, leaning around his bulk to be able to see into the room.

Sybille rolled her eyes, but waved for Isran to step inside. Talmeni followed him, noting Serana’s tense expression, and closed the door. This kind of discussion was better held in a closed room, where not everyone could overhear.

Talmeni threw her map to Serana, then turned back to the vampire hunter. “I’m hurt you still don’t trust me after this”, she said with fake offense, “If I’d wanted a weapon like this not to be used, I wouldn’t have bothered to ask where it was, would I? The only thing to be angry about is that it’s not you who gets to use it.”

“I don’t trust vampires, as a rule”, Isran growled back, “Who says that you won’t use it against my kind, next?”

“Who say you won’t?”, Talmeni asked back immediately.

“You—”, Isran said, putting a hand on the axe in his belt.

“It’s a fair question”, Sybille interjected, “One that the Empire will also ask, once this is all over.”

Isran relaxed a bit, realizing that they were right. “I see”, he said quietly, and put his axe back.

“Besides, Serana and I need it more. If you and your men can kill the vampire ancient guarding it, then you don’t need that weapon, you could just walk up to Castle Volkihar and go for it.”

“Yes, Harkon loves suprise visits”, Serana said sarcastically, looking up from the map.

“While me and Serana, we need it against him. She’s an alchemist, and I’m just a street rat.” Remembering her new fancy outfit, Talmeni corrected herself: “Well, a street rat with money, now.”

“You’re not making any sense”, Isran insisted.

Talmeni tried a different approach. “Let’s put it like this. You can risk a hundred of your men getting that weapon for you, and a hundred more to use it against Harkon. Or you could just risk us. You said it yourself, we’re an asset. Don’t waste us. Right now, we’re willing to kill a vampire lord for you, for free. It’s not something happening that often.”

“And you’d bring the weapon to me once you’re done, would you?”

Talmeni nodded. Given how she had reacted to a mere temple, she didn’t want to carry around a holy artefact of the Aedra for any longer than needed. “If you swear not to use it on us right away, sure.”

“See it like this, Isran”, Sybille added, “Of all the vampires in the province, these two were willing to work with the Empire against their own kind. That should grant them a stay of execution.”

Isran was quiet for some time, mulling this over. “I will give you a week”, he said, “Then I will send my own hunters after this weapon.”

“I can work with that”, Talmeni said, giving him a slight bow in thanks. She’d had worse conditions, back when she’d been with the Camonna Tong. A week was certainly enough to disappear, if neccessary, especially in the trackless forests and tundras of Skyrim.

“Then you have your deal, Isran”, Sybille said sharply, “And can leave us to the rest.”

“Don’t rile him up”, Talmeni said wearily, not wanting to be sabotaged in the last second, “Besides, the where isn’t going to be a secret. I saw the look on Thane Bryling’s face. She’s also looking at a map right now, trying to work this out. And so will Tullius, once he’s got the monk back on the boat.”

“It might get crowded if everyone comes along”, Serana joked. She waved them over, to where she had spread Talmeni’s map on a table. “It should be one of these two”, she explained, pointing to a spot in the western end of Haafingar, “Deep Folk Crossing, or these unnamed ruins to the north of it.”

“Deep Folk Crossing is nothing more than an old Dwarven bridge”, Isran commented.

“Yes, bridges should be avoided when looking to go through rushing water”, Serana said sarcastically.

“It looks like both are a few hours south of Mor Khazgur”, Talmeni interjected, not wanting to have an argument. “That might make for a good place to start.”

“The orcs will not just let anyone in”, Sybille said, “But you might find an itinerant hunter or merchant of theirs who will at least show you the way there.”

“Looks like the best route is via Dragon Bridge”, Talmeni mused after trying to measure the distances with her fingers. “Three or four days of travel. We should provision for that”, she said towards Serana, who understood and nodded.

“Then I believe we are done here”, Sybille said, with clear undertones.

“We’ll let you get back to work”, Talmeni said, rolling up her map. Isran grunted some goodbyes and left, but not after another suspicious and warning glare at Talmeni.

Back in their own rooms, Serana revealed: “I have enough Blood Potions prepared to get us there and back, if we stretch them a bit. So we can leave right away, if you want.”

“Just because Isran gave us a limit doesn’t mean we have to hurry”, Talmeni said, putting the map back into the backpack, “Just use tonight to make a few more, if you can. I’ll go see if there’s an orc who is going to this Mor Khazgur. We’ll travel to Dragon Bridge over the day.”

“It will be a long day, then”, Serana commented.

“There’s a carriage leaving tomorrow morning. We’ll sleep in the cart. How else did you think I made it to Dimhollow Crypt?”

“What, you didn’t fly on a dragon, a daring adventurer as yourself?”, Serana said sarcastically. More quietly, she added: “It was, well, brave of you, to stand up to Isran like that.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to, if Sybille had been smarter about things”, Talmeni complained. It seemed to be a common vampire trait, to not take mortals seriously any more. Which was especially stupid when the mortal in question had made it very clear that he did consider himself an equal.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I bought something for you”, Serana remembered, rummaging through the array of tools and bottles on her desk. It had accumulated over the days, as she expanded her alchemical research.

What she held up was a kind of metal stopper, to be fitted over a bottle. Thankfully, Serana explained before Talmeni had to admit her confusion. “It’s a measuring spout. When you tip it, it lets out only a single drop of liquid each time. I thought it might be well, useful to you. So you don’t have to rely on other people to measure it out when things get, you know. Bad.”

“That’s a thing?”, Talmeni wondered, taking the spout and examining it. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to alchemy. This is going to save my life. I could kiss you.” Realizing what she had just said, Talmeni quickly added: “Figure of speech. You know what I mean.”

Glancing at Serana, Talmeni was surprised to see a disappointed, almost hurt expression. With dread, she remembered that Serana was also suppressing feelings, and that her saying that couldn’t help, either way. She considered taking it back, and offering an actual kiss. But no, the moment had been lost.

“Let’s pack our things”, she mumbled, going over to the backpack and pulling it out of its resting place in the shelf.

It was easy enough to pack, although Talmeni had some apprehensions about the amount of bottles they would be carrying. They were useful, certainly, but they also made noises, and, if things went wrong, were pretty fragile. Talmeni did her best to cushion them with the clothes.

Leaving Serana to her alchemy for now, Talmeni had a drink at the Wiking Skeever, not only to see if there were any orc travelers, but also to gauge the fallout from this evening’s events. Not surprisingly, the reading of an Elder Scroll was the hot topic, and Corpulus was bursting with rumors and conjectures. To Talmeni’s chagrin, not only had her question for a vampire-killing weapon become known publicly, but also the approximate position of its location. Thankfully, there were no adventurers in town, who might have decided to try and race to Mor Khazgur to find that weapon.

Neither were there orcs who were traveling that way. Even though it was a more difficult hike, it seemed Mor Khazgur traded more with Markarth than with Solitude. Talmeni had met a few of them in the Silver-Blood Inn, and Hogni had gotten the non-human meat from their hunters. For a moment, she wondered how Eola and her cult were doing. Probably fine, given Eola’s talent for slipping through danger.

She returned early, deciding to rather help out Serana with the Blood Potions instead of wasting her time over an ale. Serana was happy to have the help, sending Talmeni to chop and mix things, while she was busy with the retort and the filters. She explained parts of the process as she performed them, and while Talmeni couldn’t follow the details, she started to get a picture. The Blood Potion was still blood, but from an animal, which normally was worthless to vampires. Part of the herbs infused it with a good approximation of the human life spark, while others served to keep the blood fresh, so it wouldn’t clot and dry.

“If there was a market for vampires, we could make a killing with these”, Talmeni commented conversationally while pouring powder out of the mortar and into a glass, “They make travelling so much easier. Or just living, really. No sneaking around looking for guards snoozing on their watch. And I have some dirt on a butcher in Markarth, he’d give us blood for free.”

“First you would have to stop people like Isran from trying to crash the market”, Serana answered, distracted by watching the flame under the retort. Talmeni saw that she was busy, and didn’t try to make more conversation.

They went up to Sybille to inform her of their plans some time after midnight, and then were out of the city as the sun rose. The Dawnguard at the door held them up for a moment, but they backed down quickly when Talmeni challenged them to double-check things with the palace.

When the carriage driver arrived to harness the horse to his cart, there was a small crowd waiting already. Serana and Talmeni weren’t the only travelers seeking passage today. Talmeni idly wondered how many of them just wanted out of the city because of the rumors of vampire attacks, and the new security measures taken by the guards. While she saw the opportunities in things going wrong, most normal people would fear the uncertainty it brought.

It was the usual uncomfortable sleep that Talmeni got in the carriage, wedged into a corner, and this time also used as a cushion by Serana. Still, the nightmares weren’t too bad, and except for one interruption, Talmeni slept soundly.

That interruption was the feeling of needles under her skin, like in the temple. It wasn’t just a night vision either, rather it got stronger as Talmeni woke up more. Looking around, she at first couldn’t spot the source of holiness that could have caused this. After all, they were on a lonely road through the forest, with the hills rising to the north and the plains visible to the south.

Then her gace fell on the ruins on top of the cliffs, passing by above them. “That must be Kilkreath Temple”, Serana’s soft voice explained. Looking down Talmeni saw that she had woken up, too. “It’s a temple to Meridia, Lady of Infinite Energy. It’s said she hates Undeath in all forms.”

Talmeni swallowed her question about whether Serana could feel it, too. After all, the other passengers were listening. Instead, she commented after a moment of watching: “It looks ruined.”

“Yes. I suppose the priests of the Divines didn’t like people worshipping her. But her power lingers.”

They watched the ruins disappear around a bend in the road, then fell back asleep.

It was not yet sunset when the carriage stopped in Dragon Bridge. Talmeni didn’t take much time to see the sights, rather wanting to use the general milling about as the guests got off the carriage to disappear into the hills. However, Serana delayed for a bit, wanting to see the actual bridge the village was named after.

Nevertheless, they were outside the village by the time the sun went down, following the Karth river upstream as best they could. Is was harder than it had looked on the map, as not far from Dragon Bridge were the last of the Karth falls, where the river left the ragged hills of the Reach and fell into the gorge that would eventually bring it to Solitude. The ridges of stone that formed the falls merged with the hills on both sides, making the terrain hard to traverse. There were a few tracks, just as likely from animals as from hunters, that snaked up and down the slope, but more than once they had to climb over the rough rock.

Talmeni felt grateful for her new clothes, as they fitted perfectly and made moving through the rough terrain quite easy. After they had reached the top of the first set of falls and the terrain leveled out, it was downright pleasant as a hike. The landscape glittered from the snow, and ahead of the the jagged cliffs of the Reach painted impressive silhouettes against the distant mountains. Serana also seemed elated to be out in the world, stopping here and there to examine a rock or unusual plant.

They slept in a small cleft in a rock wall, first the one, then the other, so that one could keep watch. Talmeni measured herself a drop of skooma, thankful both for Serana’s gift of that measuring spout as well as the Khajiit that had stopped by Solitude and allowed her to refill her reserves. With that, her watch went by quickly, and the sleep was also rather pleasant, as crammed into a gap as she was. It probably counted as close enough to a burial to keep the nightmares away.

The next night, they passed above a campsite in the wilderness. Forsworn, Talmeni suspected, but they didn’t bother to confirm. As nice as the landscape was, the long hours of hiking were exhausting, and neither of them wanted the detour down to the camp at the edge of the lake. They slaked their thirst with some Blood Potions instead.

Before sunrise, they had made camp on a small cliff overlooking what was according to Talmeni’s map the Druadach river, which flowed down from the mountains, under Deep Folk Crossing, and then over some falls to join the Karth in a lake below. It meant they were making good progress, and would hopefully have a lot of the night left tomorrow when they arrived at their destinations.

That next day started off badly. The weather, having gotten cloudier over the last day, turned into a snowstorm as they approached the mountains. It was not so bad as to make them lose their way, but it was hard going against the whistling wind. For a moment, they considered whether to detour north and seek shelter in Mor Khazgur, but they decided against it.

Chapter Text

In the flurry of snowflakes, they didn’t spot the first bit of the ruins until they almost stumbled into it. What they had thought just a crippled pine standing at the side of a mountain path turned out to be an old, weathered stone pillar.

It was of the same color as the stones around them, but despite the age, it was clear that it had been worked with care. There were deep channels in each side, and small, long worn down decorations jutting out at regular intervals. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”, Serana asked over the howling wind.

“Not really”, Talmeni answered, putting down her backpack, “Let’s have a bit of a rest, and have a look around.”

The storm lightened as they wandered around, and quickly they discovered three more of these pillars, one still half standing, the other two fallen down and covered with earth. “They look like fence posts”, Serana mused as they sat down in the lee of the standing pillar.

“Must have been a large fence”, Talmeni agreed, “And it’s not Dwemer. I think we found our ruins.”

“Let’s hope they have some cellars left”, Serana said, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. Even to a vampire, the cold and the storm was uncomfortable.

Carefully, testing each step through the thickening snow, they walked up what they guessed had been the old path. It was somewhat uneven, but free of obstructions, leading in tight curves higher into the mountains.

The snow had stopped, although the wind still howled, when they arrived at the main ruins. They lay nestled into a wide valley between the towering Druadach mountains, and even for all their wear, they were as impressive as the sight of Volkihar castle rising over the fog.

It had once been a castle of some kind, of a style that neither had ever seen before. There was an artfulness to the construction, one that Talmeni had never seen before outside of the Tribunal temples. There were buttresses and pointed arches, large opening that must have once been windows, and decorative crennelations at the top.

They hurried through what might have once been gardens, although now only a cistern remained, in which water gurgled hollowly, far down below, and took shelter inside the first door they could find.

Shaking the snow out of their cloaks, they had a look around. “By the Three”, Talmeni commented, not sure what else to say. The inside was no less ornate than the outside, and, sheltered from the wind, more of the stone carvings remained. In its glory days, this place must have been a palace.

“I can’t say I was expecting this”, Serana said quietly, looking around the large corridor they had stumbled into.

After a few exploratory steps down the corridor, Talmeni felt forced to comment: “Whoever decorated this liked bats.” She gestured at the point where a column met the arches of the ceiling, which had been carved with large, leathery wings as decorations.

“It’s certainly very ornate”, Serana agreed, and knelt down in one of the doorways. A surprised murmur made Talmeni turn around.

There was a corpse there in the door, now nothing more than a skeleton covered in dust and rust. Serana had wiped some dust off, revealing the rust had once been a breastplate from armor, but what drew their attention was the skull.

“This was a vampire”, Talmeni concluded, seeing the sharp canines on the otherwise human skull.

“They were killed in battle”, Serana said, pointing at a large gash in the armor.

“Doesn’t look like a raider to me.” Talmeni wiped some dust off the long shape next to the corpse, which turned out to be the remains of a sword. It had also a certain wing-like shape in the crossguard. Or at least that’s what it looked like to Talmeni’s imagination, as the rust had obscured all details.

“Lovely. An ancient vampire castle”, Serana quipped, “And we’re already tired.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about more defenders”, Talmeni reassured her, “This place is dead.”

“Maybe they fell to whatever equivalent of the Dawnguard was around in their age”, Serana wondered.

“Not without putting up a fight, though”, Talmeni said, gesturing at the far door. The wood there hadn’t rotted, and it was clearly visible that it had been hacked open by vicious axe blows.

“Do you think we have the time to explore this place?”, Serana asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“I hadn’t planned on heading anywhere else tonight”, Talmeni said, “Besides, we should check if there’s a vampire-killing weapon around.”

“Wasn’t it first darkness, and rushing water?”

“Rushing water and ice”, Talmeni corrected her, taking out the skooma. This time, she wouldn’t push her luck. A drop now would save her trouble later.

“Well, then. Don’t be, you know, impatient.”

They wandered on, through the many abandoned rooms. If there was any doubt this had been a vampire’s place, it was soon dispelled. Not just by the sturdiness of the construction, which spoke of long-lived inhabitants, but also by several rooms with rows upon rows of coffins. It seemed almost enough for an army, especially when they also discovered old storage rooms full of weapons and armor.

“They must have gotten unlucky”, Serana concluded, putting a bat-topped staff back in its rack after a short examination. “Somebody attacked them before they could march out. A pre-emptive strike.”

“Taking over the world is a hobby for vampires, is it?”, Talmeni tried to joke.

“We try not to make a habit of it”, Serana answered sweetly.

They passed a few more rooms, some more thrashed than others. Marks on the walls showed that the invaders had come through here, and that they had not held back with magic. There were more skeletons as well, not all of them human. These vampires had made use of Death Hounds as well, and some other kind of macabre abomination, human-shaped but much larger, with massive claws on their fingers.

“This wasn’t just a warlord’s lair”, Serana said after another few rooms, rummaging through the remains of a desk, “They were researching, as well. Alchemy of some sort, and necromancy. I wish we had more time to see if there’s any notes left intact.”

“The world doesn’t need more necromancy”, Talmeni muttered, staring at the rack of embalming tools next to the bench.

Serana didn’t insist on discussing this further, but rather led them on to more rooms. Eventually they reached the far wall, where the wind had blown snow through the broken windows and the moisture had obliterated all traces of what had once been in this room.

However, Serana didn’t leave immediately. She insisted on digging through the snow for a piece of the window glass, to understand why a vampire would let the sun into their lair like that. Talmeni guessed that just like Movarth, maybe these vampires couldn’t see in the dark, but didn’t stop Serana from wrapping a larger fragment of the red-tinted glass and stowing it in the backpack.

Having kept it until last, the entered what must have once been the great hall of the castle, dominating one side of the structure. It was larger and more impressive than the temple of the Divines in Solitude, which it resembled with its curved far end, and the high, vaulted ceiling. Once, the large arches might have even held stained glass windows like those in the temple, but time had destroyed them, leaving nothing but a rusty, collapsed lattice. Part of the ceiling had collpased as well, but thankfully it seemed that it hadn’t been structurally relevant.

However, in one regard this didn’t look like a typical great hall. “This is made up like an office or laboratory”, Talmeni commented, looking around. There were workbenches and desks, covered thickly with debris, and one wall was obscured by high shelves. Despite the open windows, things were in good condition, maybe sheltered by the direction the hall was facing. “Seems like whoever ruled here liked to use their hands, like your mother.”

“Lady Thorn”, Serana said.

“Who?”

“That’s what she called herself”, Serana said, “It was on some of the papers I looked at.”

“I wonder if it was her real name”, Talmeni idly said, distracted by the heap of fallen stones from the ceiling. There was something beneath them, something metallic and white.

While Serana thumbed through a few of the intact books on the shelves, Talmeni put her backpack aside and started digging, shifting a few of the stones out of the way to see what was underneath. The white turned out to be bone, from some kind of creature crushed by the fallen ceiling. Removing a few more stones, Talmeni saw it was huge, more than man-height, with sharp claws and what appeared to be small wings. The skull was large and animal, with vampire-like canines.

“Seems her research was into making monsters”, Talmeni said, bending down to pick up a small piece metal near the collarbone, which had been the gleam she’d noticed from afar. It turned out be a brooch, worked in gold and silver, untarnished despite the age. It showed some kind of emblem, of a monster head, stylized with many spikes. “Must have been some favourite pet”, Talmeni concluded, based on the value of this jewelry.

Serana looked up distractedly from her book, opened her mouth to comment, had another look at the revealed skeleton, and said quietly: “No, it’s her.”

Talmeni looked at the skeleton again, then back at Serana. “This is Lady Thorn?”, she asked, disbelieving.

“Yes”, Serana said, still quietly as if awed or frightened, “She was a Vampire Lord. It’s a gift given to some pureblood vampires and their immediate descendants, the ability to transform into a beast of strength and magic. My father could do it, too.”

“What about you?”, Talmeni wondered, drawing some quick conclusions from that explanation.

Serana shook her head. “No, it’s only my father. And those of very pure Volkihar blood. But not me and my mother. Molag Bal didn’t consider us worthy of it.”

“If I were you, I’d complain about that”, Talmeni commented, idly pulling a few more stones aside.

“Why didn’t I think of that, complaining to the Lord of Domination?”, Serana asked sarcastically.

“Not by whining, obviously. But he’s a voice from an altar. Easy enough to get some leverage over that.”

Serana didn’t answer, distracted by examining the skeleton. “If she died like this, it must have been in battle. It wasn’t just some accident of the roof collapsing on her.”

Talmeni pulled another stone aside and hesitated. “I don’t think it’s the stones that killed her”, she said slowly, gesturing at the sword wedged between some of the ribs. “I think this did it.”

Serana came over and had a look. Despite the corpse around it decomposing, and the long centuries since, the sword gleamed as if new. It was a strange weapon, with two blades next to each other, separated by a maw-like gap with small barbs on both sides. The handle and croosguard were gold, sculpted like coiling snakes, and at the centre, a large red gemstone gleamed.

And there was something more, a depth to its lustre, or just a feeling in the air, of something deeper and more primal than magic. Talmeni had thought herself unshakeable, after all she had seen, but the sight of that blade brought out some goosebumps.

“It might sound cliché”, Serana said carefully, “But that sword is, well, evil.”

“You can feel it too”, Talmeni said, not bothering to frame it as a question. There was a thirst coming from the sword, one so insatiable it filled the air around it. Talmeni stepped forward and stretched out her hand.

“You’re not going to touch it, are you?”, Serana asked, frightened.

“Yes I am. Whatever else this sword is, it killed a vampire lord. That’s what we were looking for, remember?”

“I guess it’s more fitting than Auriel’s bow”, Serana sighed, clearly still doubtful about that sword.

Talmeni also had her doubts, but was willing to take the risk. She wasn’t really at home with swords, but in the end, a weapon was a weapon, and against somebody like Harkon, who could intimidate even other pure-blooded vampires, she wanted all the advantages she could get.

When she gripped the hilt, the shock was almost physical. It flowed up her arm, with want, no this need, this addiction to blood. For a moment, Talmeni just stood there, trying to breathe without opening her mouth. It was like being without blood for days, this feeling that her teeth were trying to escape, to find something to bite.

“Are you all right?”, Serana asked, worried when Talmeni just stood there like a statue.

To her surprise, Talmeni found that she was. “I’m fine”, she said, pulling the sword out of the stone pile. As strong as the hunger was, it wasn’t changing her. Cravings had been part of her for so long that this one could not take her over. And there was something else beneath, some extra sense the power of the sword gave her, making the world shaper and clearer in a way she couldn’t quite define.

“Are you sure?”, Serana asked, looking at Talmeni’s faraway expression.

“Skooma has done worse to me”, Talmeni said to explain, then gestured towards the entrance, “I’ll see if there’s a sheath or something I can use in the armory.”

Serana looked like she had more complaints, but Talmeni cut the discussion short by leaving the room. There certainly were reasons to be cautious about something like this, but Talmeni was prepared to take those risks. The whole thing, starting from hiking up to Dimhollow crypt, had been taking risks, and if anything, the stakes had gotten higher.

Most of the leather in the armory had either dried out or rotted, but Talmeni managed to scrounge together enough for a ill-fitting, makeshift sheath, which at least would prevent her from cutting her own legs by shoving the sword under her belt.

As she put the pieces together, she noticed she was still carrying the gold and silver brooch she had taken off Lady Thorn’s corpse. If it was silver, she wondered, as it had not tarnished over the ages. It was valuable and beautiful, and Talmeni couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. Instead, she attached it to her cloak, replacing the simple wooden pin and ring that had held it before.

She took another look around the armory, feeling a bit estranged by the project that must have taken place here. Talmeni couldn’t understand why you would want to rule over land, and conquer people with armies. True power, her time as a Chiller had told her, was so much more personal. If you knew who your own were, and who the actual people were who were opposing you, things were so much clearer than just flags on a map.

Sybille understood that. Serana and Valerica seemed to have understood it. Even Movarth had grasped it, if somewhat inexpertly. And for a moment she wondered, if Harkon might not understand, or be taught to understand that principle. After all, he had given up his lands after becoming a vampire, the way Serana had told it.

When she returned, Serana was examining the other wall of the room, the one that wasn’t covered by shelves. On it was a carved mural, which Talmeni had on first impression assumed to be just a decorative relief, but clearly was something more.

It looked a bit like a tree on its side, or a sketch of a river and its tributaries, with straight lines branching off from one another. Here and there were symbols and little labels carved into the stone.

Noticing that Talmeni had come back, Serana said: “It seems what Lady Thorn was researching was vampirism itself. She was keeping track of all the blood lines.”

“That couldn’t have been easy”, Talmeni guessed. She wouldn’t even where to begin with gathering information like that. Sitting in a tavern listening to rumor certainly wouldn’t do it.

“Well, she did have a lot of time on her hands she didn’t know anything else to do with”, Serana said brightly, wiping dust off one of the inscriptions, and frowing for a second.

Now that she knew what she was looking at, Talmeni could make sense of the thing. “Hey, there’s you”, she said, pointing to near the front of the chart, where the eight spokes of the Volkihar were carved in front of the start of three lines. Next to it was carved the all-too familiar visage of Molag Bal.

“And over here is our old friend Movarth”, Serana added, pointing to a branching line near the end of the large mural.

Talmeni wandered over, noting in passing how two of the Volkihar lines petered out relatively quickly, comparatively speaking, while the third lasted a while longer. Movarth was indeed labeled into one of the lines, branching off another. When Talmeni followed it back, it became shallower for a while, as if tentative, before merging into another. At that point, there was an Imperial-sounding name carved into it, and two symbols next to it. One seemed to be a tower flanked by two fangs, the other was a horned mask.

“I wish I could make a rubbing of it”, Serana sighed, standing back, “Did you remember to bring my ten paces wide and a hundred paces long roll of paper?”, she joked. “This is so fascinating. I never knew there were so many influences on vampirism. Note the sign of Clavicus Vile, there on the imperial line? There’s Vaermina over there, on these three bloods, and Namira over there, doing something with the Nighthollow. And Sanguine there, and Sithis over there.”

Talmeni went back to the very first line at the beginning of the mural. Lamae Belfoag, it said, and was marked with two symbols. “Any idea why the knot of Arkay is here?”, Talmeni wondered.

“I wish I knew”, Serana said, looking wistful. Talmeni felt clairvoyant for a moment. Once this dark war was over, and Serana was free of her past, she would for certain come back here and study this mural in more detail.

Talmeni peered along the carved line of Lamae for a moment. “Seems she is still alive”, she concluded, as it continued in full depth over the entire mural.

“At least she was by the time Lady Thorn was killed”, Serana corrected her, “I’m not sure if it’s to scale with the actual years, but there’s a few mortal rulers marked out at the bottom, to date events. It’s a bit sparse here at the end, but unless I’m misremembering my history books, it seems somewhere in the middle of the Second Era.”

Taking in the whole mural, Talmeni felt young all of a sudden. She didn’t quite know how old she was, but seeing the enormity of vampire history, from before the numbering of years, all the way to now, she felt like barely out of her teens. Not even the oldest of the Dunmer had lived through as much history as those, the oldest of the vampires, had lived through.

She had just noticed the same strange helmet or skull symbol she had seen in Potema’s lair next to one of the names when their relaxed exploration was interrupted. A wave of magic washed over the ruin, passing through the walls and crackling along the floor. It passed through them like fog, but as Talmeni turned, she saw that part of the energy had remained where the skeleton of Lady Thorn still lay half-buried.

“Lovely. I was just thinking of triggering a trap”, Serana commented with heavy sarcasm.

Talmeni was relieved that her friend could still joke, but corrected her: “It came from outside.” She hurried over to a window, and glanced outside.

There was movement in the old garden, near the cistern, but a much closer noise forced her to look the other way. With the clattering of stone, the skeleton of Lady Thorn was rising, an evil glow shining from the sockets of the cracked skull.

The skeleton floated up into the air, the bony wings behind it beating leisurely, revealing the full size of a vampire lord. Talmeni was still frozen, unable to think of where to attack a creature with no flesh and no throat, when there was another flash of magic, this one from Serana.

With what looked like an annoyed expression, she sent a spike of ice into the thing, ripping the spine apart and scattering the bones. The glow in the eyesockets faded as the skull bounced around the room, and then it was only dead bones once again. “And you wonder why my mother preferred the creatures of the Soul Cairn”, she commented sarcastically, lowering her hands.

Talmeni shushed her, and waved her to take cover. From outside the door, which she now regretted having left open, came the sound of more skeletal footsteps. There were so many they started to blur together, until it was like the dicing tables in a cornerclub. “This isn’t good”, Talmeni muttered, having dark suspicions.

Serana came over, crouching next to Talmeni under the windowsill. “They seem to be ignoring us”, she commented, keeping an eye on the door.

Talmeni forced herself to stop staring at Serana, who she was reminded was wearing a revealing corset that was all the more enticing for being up close, and had another peek out the window. “Can’t be easy, raising an entire army at once, can it?”, she asked, hoping she was wrong.

“Why, it’s a common parlor trick”, Serana answered brightly.

“Was that sarcasm?”

“You have to ask?”

“Sorry.” Talmeni watched as the groups of undead marched out into the garden, and towards the big cistern. “Then we’re in trouble. This is Potema’s doing.”

“I thought she was out of the race”, Serana wondered, also peeking over the windowsill.

“Weakened. But she still had lots of time, and lots of eyes, to read the Elder Scroll. She doesn’t have to chase rumors. She knows the where, maybe better than we do. And she’s a powerful necromancer.”

Both of them saw how the army of skeletons reached the well, and without pausing, stepped over the rim and fell into it. “The cistern?”, Serana asked, unable to believe her eyes.

Once the last skeleton had disappeared, Talmeni vaulted out the window and jogged over to where the large circular cistern yawned in the ground. From here, the gurgling of water was very loud. Looking in, she saw that it wasn’t actually a cistern, it was a hole dug to an underground river. It rushed with force and speed at the bottom of the well, the changing waves reflecting the moonlight from above.

“Darkness and rushing water”, Serana quoted, joining Talmeni in staring down.

“No choice but to try and catch up”, Talmeni sighed, and before she could have second thoughts about it, vaulted over the stone rim of the well and let herself drop into the river.

The second thoughts came fast, before she even hit the water, but by that point it was too late. She hit the surface and submerged, and by the time she bobbed back up, the circle of sky above had disappeared.

The water was icy cold, barely above freezing, and the power of the flow too strong to even think of swimming back. It rushed her through a rough rock tunnel, whose jagged protrusions quickly demanded her entire attention. She ducked and dived, avoiding the lower parts of the ceiling, fearing every second that some unseen outcrop would hit her on the head.

Thankfully, the ride was over quickly, but Talmeni couldn’t even begin to guess how far into the mountains that had carried her. The river flowed over a stone lip as the tunnel widened, and fell into a small lake below. For several fearful seconds, Talmeni didn’t know which was was up, as the water around her churned and rolled, and dragged her along. Then her feet found solid ground, and she managed to half swim, half wade out of the cauldron.

The waterfall had formed a small lake here, where the water was more placid, before rushing out again at the far side, in a still rapid river now hemmed in by rocky banks of the larger tunnel around it.

Talmeni sat down on a rock and was waiting for the water to leak out of her clothes, when a dark shape went over the waterfalls and into the turbulent waters below. Without hesitating, Talmeni waded back in, trying to keep her footing against the current, stretching out her arms to catch the shape being thrown around.

Serana grabbed her by the hips, almost throwing her over, but together, they somehow managed to gain footing, and help each other back out of the water. “Skyrim’s caves, always fun to explore”, Serana muttered while shaking water out of her sleeves.

“That’s adventuring for you”, Talmeni commented, tipping the water out of her satchel, “I prefer cities.”

“Let’s hope we find a way back out”, Serana said, adjusting her corset.

“Listen”, Talmeni hissed. Over the sound of the waterfall, it was difficult to make out, but there was some other roaring, from up ahead. “Come on, let’s try to catch up”, she said, getting to her feet and following the river bank deeper into the cave.

“No time to tip out my boots, is there?”, Serana commented.

Talmeni stopped, and waited until her friend had done so. Thankfully, she could see that following the skeleton army at least wouldn’t be a problem. Not only had they left a clear track through the cave, they had encountered some spiders along the way, and lost a few of their own in fighting them.

Once Serana felt dry enough, they followed the trail, past the spider corpses, into a passage leading away from the river itself, through a crossroads that appeared to have been used as a camp by a smuggler or refugee, down another passage, and into a larger cave. Here had been the source of the roars Talmeni had heard earlier, two trolls, which now were as dead as the spiders, surrounded by the remains of a lot of shattered skeletons. “She’s not very sparing with her minions”, Serana commented, kicking a skull aside.

“It’s Potema”, Talmeni commented. She had the feeling that even during life, she had not cared the least for the lives and the wellbeing of those who served her.

Chapter Text

There was silence up ahead, but the trail continued strong, into another larger hollow of the cave complex. It had once been inhabited, too, and not just by some smuggler. There was a large kind of structure built into the cave, a shrine of some kind, a tiny, roofed-over space containing a basin of water. It was made of a white stone very unlike the dark walls of the cave, and gilded to boot.

Surprised by this weird building, Talmeni took a moment to notice the heartbeat in the room. It was weak, not because it came from a vampire, but because the person was dying. Next to the shrine was a small camp, made from wood and scraps, and leaned against a rough shelf was an elf, holding a deep wound in his chest.

Both of them rushed over, and Serana pulled out a healing potion from her own pack before even attempting a greeting. The man, paler than any Altmer Talmeni had seen before, took it gratefully. It wasn’t just his skin that was snow-white, but also his hair and his armor, which was made of some kind of bleached leather.

“Thank you”, he said, in a Merish dialect that Talmeni had not heard before. Its accent was not like that of Altmeris, and the diction was old-fashioned.

“Who are you?”, Talmeni asked in Dunmeris, helping the man to his feet.

“Knight-Paladin Gelebor, of the Great Chapel of Auri-El”, he said, still somewhat weakly. The potion had stopped the bleeding, but he clearly needed more time to recover.

“Yes, it is very majestic”, Serana couldn’t help but note with sarcasm, looking at the tiny shrine. Her Merish was some kind of pidgin of several dialects, Talmeni noted, probably learned from books.

“This is but a wayshrine”, Gelebor explained, “A step on the path of touching the sky in honor of Auri-El and achieving enlightenment. This is the first, far from the sun, to represent the unenlightened state of the initiate.” Serana looked a bit confused, so Talmeni translated an abridged version for her.

Then, Talmeni turned back to Gelebor and asked: “That’s fine, but we’re actually hunting a ghost. Did somebody with an army of skeletons do this to you?”

“Yes. It was a man, but speaking with a woman’s voice. He, or she—”

“It’s a female ghost possessing a male body. Use She.”, Talmeni explained.

“I see. She demanded the bow of Auri-El from me, but did not listen to my offer. She just tortured me until I opened the way for her.”

It couldn’t have been a long torture, or it would have still been going on when Talmeni and Serana had entered. Gelebor seemed to value his own life quite highly for somebody wearing the getup of a warrior, but Talmeni wasn’t going to accuse him of that out loud.

“You want to give the bow to her?”, Serana asked in surprise, getting the tenses slightly wrong.

“I make the same offer to any seeker coming to my cave”, Gelebor said.

He clearly wanted to say more, but Serana interrupted him with her sarcasm: “Happens often, does it?”

“Every few centuries, somebody finds their way here. They request Auri-El’s bow, and I request their assistance. It’s been repeated so many times, I can’t imagine it any other way.”

“Must be a difficult task, if nobody accepts”, Talmeni concluded.

“It is. I ask you to walk the pilgrimage, to reach and kill Arch-Curate Vyrthur …my brother.”

“Your brother?”, Serana asked, surprised.

“The kinship between us is gone. I don’t understand what he’s become, but he’s no longer the brother I once knew. It was the Betrayed... they did something to him, I just don’t know why Auri-El would allow this to happen.”

Serana had trouble with his Merish again. “The what?”, she asked.

Talmeni translated: “The Betrayed.”

“Who are the Betrayed?”, Serana asked, carefully pronouncing the unfamiliar syllables.

“They are the twisted remnant of my kind. I call them the Betrayed, because that is what they were, when they sought refuge with the Dwemer. They were poisoned and enslaved, and became these …twisted creatures that do not deserve the name Falmer any more.”

“You are a Falmer?”, Serana exclaimed in surprise. Turning to Talmeni, she said: “I thought you said they were gone.”

Talmeni shrugged, as this history was a new to her as it was to Serana. Gelebor supplied a bit more as an explanation: “We are. I might be the last uncorrupted Falmer left in the world.”

“What about your brother?”, Talmeni asked, since that was the important topic.

Gelebor sighed. “He might still appear uncorrupted, but his heart is no longer touched by Auri-El. He became hard, and distant, and one day, he betrayed us all. He opened the doors of the Chapel to the Betrayed, and they swarmed us, and slaughtered everyone they could reach. I escorted a small group of surivors down the valley, but by the time I returned, it was too late.”

“But your brother survived?”

“Yes. I see him sometimes, when I tend to the other wayshrines. He is up on the balcony of the Chantry. He just…stands there and watches, as though waiting.”

Talmeni digested that information for a while, then made a decision. “I can’t promise anything, but…Letting the ghost get her hands on the bow would be bad, for the entire world. We’ll stop her. On the way, we can at least check in on your brother.”

Gelebor nodded thankfully. He rummaged around in the shelf and pulled out a large silver vessel. It was fine craftsmanship, and Talmeni couldn’t help but estimate how much it would be worth to the right collector, especially if they knew it was Snow Elf craftsmanship.

“This is the initiate’s ewer”, Gelebor explained, gently handing it over, “Once the Initiate completed his mantras, he’d dip a his ewer in the basin at the wayshrine’s center and proceed to the next wayshrine. Once the Initiate’s enlightenment was complete, he’d bring the ewer to the Chantry’s Inner Sanctum. Pouring the contents of the ewer into the sacred basin of the Sanctum would allow him to enter for an audience with the Arch-Curate himself.”

Serana took a moment to translate that in her head, then sneered: “All that just to end up dumping it out? Makes no sense to me”

“It’s symbolic. I don’t expect you to understand”, Gelebor answered testily.

“I do”, Talmeni said, before there could be an argument, “From what I hear, the Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces involved drowning yourself and taunting a Dremora. Carrying water is straightforward, compared to that.” Talmeni weighed the ewer in her hands. She was a bit worried about doing a holy pilgrimage, though, given how temples affected her.

Gelebor looked puzzled. “Which grace is symbolised by the drowning?”, he wondered.

Talmeni racked her memory. “Courtesy, I think. Don’t ask.” Like many sermons, the steps of the pilgrimage were allegories to allegories, and could take a lifetime to unpack.

“Yes, that has to be religious”, Serana mumbled sarcastically in Cyrodiilic. Talmeni had to grin.

“I won’t keep you any longer”, Gelebor said, “Please hurry. I fear this ghost you chase will force her way into the Chantry, sooner or later.” He stepped gestured them towards the shrine with its basin of water.

Talmeni steeled herself as she stepped through the arch of the shrine, but thankfully it was not very holy, giving her only a feeling like her skin was a bit dry. She pulled the cork out of the neck of the ewer, and plunged it into the water in the basin.

All the pain that had been missing before came now, making it feel like her hand was being ripped to shreds. She suppressed a scream, and just barely managed to stop herself from dropping the ewer in surprise. The moment a bit of water was inside, she pulled it out and stepped back, taking deep breaths to get over the shock.

“Now what?”, Serana asked, looking around for another exit to the cave.

“The way will open to you”, Gelebor said, gesturing at the shrine. Some magic flowed into the far wall, and with a bright flash, formed a magical doorway inside the arch. Beyond it, there was a cave passage, lit by strange red growths that glowed faintly.

“Until later, then”, Talmeni said, and hurried into the doorway. Serana hesitated for a second, but then followed.

From the other side, the portal was suspended between two broken columns, set in a small marble platform in the dark cave. Talmeni gave Gelebor one last nod, then set off along the cave passage.

“Let’s hope we eventually find our way back out of this again”, Serana commented wearily.

“Potema trusted it”, Talmeni answered, trying to walk faster. The conversation with Gelebor must have given Potema more of a head start again.

“But she can walk through walls.”

“Not any more, remember? She’s weak outside of a host.” Talmeni tried to listen to the sounds ahead. There had to be another waterfall of some kind, given the distant roaring. It covered up most other noises, unfortunatly. Talmeni drew her dagger, to be ready for ambushes.

There were none, although rather soon, they stumbled upon signs of the previous party having been ambushed. There were more shattered skeletons, some lying in sprung traps, other next to pale corpses of some kind of humanoid cave-dweller. They had long, elf-like ears, no eyes, a nose that was a mere two slits, and a mouth full of sharpened teeth.

“Those must be what Gelebor called the Betrayed”, Talmeni said, “The Nords made them sound like some kind of fairy tale monster. You know, the sort that comes in the night and steals boys who suck their thumbs.”

“The Falmer were once such a proud race”, Serana commented sadly.

“Don’t trust the Dwemer”, Talmeni agreed, “Thankfully, we Dunmer learned that before we ended up like this. Come on.”

There were more passages, the earth trodden flat by the passage of the skeleton army. After a few antechambers, they opened into a large cavern, one which had been turned into a village of sorts by the Betrayed. Talmeni slowed, down, keeping the dagger ready, but nothing moved in the entire village.

“Looks like there was a battle”, Serana commented, pointing at the scattered bones lying everywhere. Here and there among them were the rusted weapons of Castle Thorn. “But where are the opponents?”

“Potema made them follow her”, Talmeni guessed from the shape of the footsteps leading out of the cave. There was a waterfall at the back of the village, a massive sheet of falling water, like a liquid curtain. At one end, a small overhang allowed passage, over a small and slippery ledge of rock, leading to the cave beyond.

Serana hesitated here and there, fascinated by the glowing plants and mushrooms growing along the cave walls. She considered them clearly unusual, but Talmeni dragged her away, not wanting to waste time.

But when they entered the next bigger cavern, even Talmeni had to pause for a second to take things in. It wasn’t just small glowing stalks here, but a whole botanical garden of strange blooms and fungi, glowing in red and purple and blue. The path led on as arched stone bridges over a gleaming lake below, the banks of which were luminescent with strange vegetation.

And not just vegetation. As they climbed the ledges on the far side, they came across a fresh cadaver, a kill of the group in front of them. It looked like a sabre cat, a predator common to the Reach, but its fur was a dark olive, except for glowing stripes of green.

“We should have come here in more peaceful times”, Serana sighed as Talmeni pulled her onwards.

“Agreed. Let’s make them peaceful”, Talmeni said, looking upwards. They were in another cave, large and cylindrical, with a spiraling ledge leading upwards. But what had caught Talmeni’s attention was the faint covering of snow on the ground. And indeed, far above them was an opening, revealing a cloud-covered sky.

They scrambled up the slope, finding themselves with a surprising suddenness back in the open air. Ahead of them was a small valley, with trees growing on the slopes, and small, ice-crusted streams running down to a tiny pond.

“We must be somewhere in the Druadach mountains”, Serana said, “It’s said there’s many hidden valleys, between the unclimbable mountains.”

“When it comes to touching the sky, the top of the mountain is a good place to start”, Talmeni commented, looking around. Ahead of them, peeking through the trees, was another wayshrine. “Come on.”

They hurried as best they could, although the break they had taken in Castle Thorn had by now worn off, and the exhaustion of two days of hiking slowed them down.

Talmeni gritted her teeth, filled the ewer in the basin of the shrine again, then looked around to where the undead had gone off to. There were a few old steps, leading to a pass between two hills, which seemed the most likely place.

The pass led to an even larger valley, one that made both of them once again pause to take in the sight. It seemed that in the summer, there was a massive waterfall here, emptying into a narrow lake curving away to the north. But now, with the winter holding everything in icy grip, the far side of the lake was a massive wall of solid ice, hanging in icicles and sheets as large as houses from a cliff that seemed as long as the arch of Solitude.

Above this curtain of solid white, a mountain reared, and halfway up to its peak, there was a gleam of more earthy white. A building and a balcony, Talmeni realized. This had to be the inner sanctum of the chantry that Gelebor had been talking about. Unfortunatly, it overhung a cliff no less sheer and ice-covered as the one above the small lake.

Serana ripped her out of her considerations. “Over there”, she shouted, pointing at the frozen waterfall, “They’re climbing up the ice. Come on!” Talmeni followed her finger, and also spotted the dark figures that were scrambling up the ice. They were quite adept at it, but still very slow, as they carefully scratched holds into the slippery ice.

As they hurried down the winding footpath to the lake, Talmeni spotted another wayshrine, the opposite way along the lakeshore. And beyond, it looked like a more gentle rise in the terrain. “Hold a moment”, she said, stopping Serana from sprinting towards the climbing figures, “Climbing after them is madness. They’ll drop icicles on us, and we’ll never catch up. But over there, we can just walk up, and maybe head them off. Step on a few fingers when they reach the top.”

“You may be right”, Serana said, and followed her. Seeing their opponents had given them a second wind, and they managed to work up to a jog as they followed the lakeshore to the next wayshrine.

Talmeni stopped to fill her ewer, although the pain was once again excrutiating. And even worse, is seemed slow to fade, and every time she moved her hand, it hurt even more.

The far slope was snow-covered, but there were more stone steps of the old pilgrimage path underneath, allowing them to keep up a bit of speed as they hurried to the top of the cliff.

“Oh dear”, Serana said, and halted.

Talmeni joined her, realizing the problem. The wide expanse of snow ahead of them was too flat to be solid ground. It was another lake, on top of the waterfall, frozen over with a solid sheet of ice.

“Too late to turn around”, Talmeni sighed. She took a few careful steps, listening carefully to any creaking that might herald the ice breaking up.

Slipping, sliding, barely managing to hold their balance, they made their way forward. But it was slow, far slower than Talmeni liked. Unless they got lucky, Potema and her horde would reach the top before they could cross the lake.

Talmeni felt the movement more than she saw it, of something massive under the ice. She hesitated, but before she could look down, it broke through the ice in front of her, raising its serpentine neck against the sky. Massive wings unfurled, flapped with such force that the wind knocked Talmeni off her feet, and carried the dragon into the sky. It was unlike the others she had seen, with a flat and wide tail, coloured red and blue, but Talmeni was too alarmed to take in details.

She scrambled to her feet, muttering a curse, and turned to look for Serana. The vampire was still standing, but staring with wide, panicked eyes. Not at the dragon in front of them, gaining height, but something behind Talmeni. Fearing the worst, Talmeni turned, and what she saw made her almost drop to her knees. There was a second dragon, a twin to the first, shaking a few shards of ice off its wide head, and also rising into the air.

“Run”, Talmeni suggested, and turned around again. She pressed her feet against the ice, trying to will it less slippery with her mind, and then lifted one. As she fell forward, she got her foot under her just in time, and then the other, scrambling madly over the ice while above her, the dragons roared.

She felt the wind and heard wings behind her, and out of sheer paranoid instinct, lunged sideways as best she was able. Through where she had just been lanced a column of fire, slamming into the ice like a solid, and vaporizing it instantly. Hot steam billowed into the air, obscuring the ground, but Talmeni felt sure she could see ice floes bobbing in channel carved by the heat of the dragon’s breath.

Her mad dash had made her slide over the ice, and when she was able to turn her gaze from the steaming gash, she saw how it was carrying her to the edge of the lake, where the frozen waterfall dropped down. She scrabbled at the ice, cursing as her right had hurt with every movement, and somehow managed to stop herself.

As she got to her feet and picked up speed again, she saw Serana ahead, not running but standing in a combat-ready position, staring at the sky. As Talmeni watched, Serana fired a blood-red projectile from her hands, which flew faster than any arrow, but not quite fast enough. The dragon dived under it, and banked to come around for another attack.

Serana was aiming again, not noticicing the other dragon as it came from behind. Talmeni shouted a warning, trying to run over, but merely fell down as her feet slipped. Serana looked around, saw the dragon, managed to just barely get out of the path of its fiery breath, slipped on the ice, tried to grab on as a slab of it rose and turned, and disappeared into the water.

Talmeni crawled forward, her eyes fixed on the ice floe that had betrayed Serana, but she had barely made it a few steps when the other dragon arrived. It flew over the channel, breathing not fire but ice. With a crackling like old tinder, the steam crystallized in the air, leaving a series of jagged tips of ice where there had been open water just a moment before.

“Serana!”, Talmeni screamed, managing to get back upright, and stumbling forward, unable to believe what just happened. Serana would be trapped under the ice, unable to come up for air, or escape. Maybe Talmeni could hack at the ice, make a hole, let her out. But there was no time, not with those dragons circling above. “Serana”, Talmeni repeated quietly, noticing she was crying.

This wasn’t how it should end, she thought. Not by some random dragon attack, not so close to freeing her from her past. Not before Talmeni had found the chance to tell her that she loved her. Before she had a chance to kiss Serana.

The dragons wheeled around again, and Talmeni steeled herself, ready to jump when they breathed fire. She wanted to kill them, but she had nothing, just illusions and a dagger.

With her eyes fixed to the sky, Talmeni didn’t see it coming. Suddenly, something gripped her ankle, and from the shock, her mind skipped.

The next moment, she was flat on the ice, holding on to Serana’s arms, who where gripping her tightly. Serana herself was hanging there, halfway through the ice, screaming in panic, wanting to be pulled up.

Talmeni tried, but then saw the movement in the corner of her eye. She let go, gave Serana a kick as the only way to push off anything, and just barely managed to roll out of the way as the lance of fire passed between them. It was so close she could feel the heat, pressing against her skin.

And there was no time to look for Serana, barely even time to get to her knees. Through the billows of steam, Talmeni saw the other dragon. Not coming in to close the gash in the ice this time, or even to breathe at all. It was skimming right over the surface, maw wide open. From Talmeni’s perspective, it was nothing but mouth full of teeth, approaching with murderous intent.

It wasn’t any conscious decision that made Talmeni grab the sword. It was pure instinct to go for a weapon as death was approaching, and only the circumstance of her right hand being hurt that she went for the one accessible to her left.

As she touched the hilt of the sword, the world again felt suddenly more focused. Her thoughts were fizzing, and her reflexes in overdrive. In that final, desperate moment before the dragon was there, she drew the sword, falling sideways from the movement, managed to grab it with both hands, and aimed a amateurish swing at the dragon’s eye.

And then it was there, rushing by faster than a horse, heavier than a warship. The blow of Talmeni’s sword connecting rocked up her arms and drove her over the ice as the blade ripped a bloody gash into the dragon’s long face.

Talmeni had expected a spray of blood, but instead, the spurt coming from the wound flowed backwards, leaping through the air and coating the twin blades of her sword. And then, faster than she could blink, the blood was gone, as if absorbed by the blade.

She looked up to see the dragon roaring in pain, out of balance from the sudden attack, missing the end of the lake, colliding with a stone, and tumbling head over tail into the snow field beyond.

Talmeni got up with some vague notion of striking a killing blow, but before she could stumble the rest of the way across the ice, Serana was back. She waded onto land in front of her, rising from the ice as if it was not there at all. When she saw the dragon bleeding, she raised her hands and let loose her magic.

It was a gruesome display, as the spells injected themselves into the dragon’s blood, and caused it to change. It boiled and crystallized under its skin, tearing through scales and flowing forth from dozens of new wounds. The dragon tried to get up, but its legs buckled under it, and its wings were pale and cracking.

Talmeni gave a warning shout as the other dragon approached, but Serana had already lowered her hands and was running. Not away from the flying dragon, but the other one, jumping into cover just as the fire scoured over the rocks.

It was just a moment too late that Talmeni remembered the spell Serana had cast on their first meeting. The dragon burst. One moment, it had been a reptilian monster, the next it was a skeleton surrounded by a exploding cloud of red.

By an instinst she could have sworn came from the sword, not herself, Talmeni maneuvred it in the way of the approaching shower of blood. Around her, the ice was splattered solid red as the wave hit with a sound like a summer rain, but when she looked down, she was clean, and in her hands the sword gleamed, the last droplets disappearing as she watched.

Serana jogged over the ice towards her, looking concerned. “How did you move so—”, she asked once she was close enough.

“No time!”, Talmeni shouted back, keeping her gaze on the other dragon. “Can you do that again?”

“If you can make him hold still, maybe. My magicka—”

She fell silent as the other dragon wheeled around and saw the corpse. It roared, in a voice that shook the earth and caused avalanches off the distant mountain: “Zeymahi! Nahkriin!”

Talmeni watched as the dragon circled above. They were intelligent, she realized, and now that it had seen what the sword could do, it would keep its distance. And given that it could just melt the ice away under them and leave them stranded in the lake, it didn’t need to get close.

Thoughts raced through Talmeni’s mind. She turned to Serana. “Do you trust me?”

“To the end of the world”, Serana answered solemnly.

“Good.” Talmeni cast two spells on her and ordered: “Under the water, now. And wave that sword around, make sure it’s seen.”

Serana looked surprised for a moment, at her own blurred form, and at the illusion of the double-bladed sword in her hand. But she heard the urgency in Talmeni’s voice, and didn’t ask for clarification. She just jumped at the ice, and disappeared into it.

Talmeni cast the camouflage spell on herself, then hurried over to the gap left by the dragon’s breath. Water, she reasoned. Under water, it couldn’t use its fire breath, not without boiling its own snout. It had to bite, and just hopefully, the illusions would be enough to make it pick the wrong target first.

Even though it wasn’t far from the edge of the lake, the water was deep when Talmeni jumped into it, and full of churned mud to boot. She could barely make out Serana, floating just a bowshot away. But that low visibility would be to their favour, she hoped. She concentrated, using a bit more of her magic to cause balls of light appear in her free hand, as if she was casting.

And then, with a force that made Talmeni’s ears pop, the dragon was in the water with them. It had folded in its wings, moving like a snake by twisting and undulating its flat body. Talmeni sent another ball of light towards it, wondering what gods she had to pray to to hope this would work out. That Serana would look threatening enough with the illusion of the sword that the dragon would keep away from her, and that Talmeni’s lightshow was close enough to Serana’s display of blood magic to draw attention.

Out of the turbulent, muddy water, the dragon head shot forward, right at her. Talmeni raised her sword, fighting against the water dragging at her arms. She felt slow, too slow, and could do nothing but wish that she hit something soft as the maw reached her.

Her memory skipped, taking with it the moment of impact. Next she remembered, she was being dragged along, holding onto the sword handle sticking out of a nostril, lying flat on the dragon’s wide snout.

Above her, the ice rushed closer, and she realized the dragon was trying to scrape her off. She managed to roll sideways off its snout just in time, getting battered by loose floes at it broke through the surface, but at least not being the one who broke the ice.

And the whole time, she could feel the sword in her hand, absorbing the blood from the wound, with what felt like joy. You’re an addict, she thought, just like me. But unlike her, this addiction was not tempered by rationing and restraint. It was the pure need, the distilled exaltation and craving for that moment when the substance flowed through your veins. It was not just a want, it was something like gravity, a pull that couldn’t be stopped. So strong it was like a faith, unable to stop even in the face of the gods. Or a dragon. Bloodthirst, she thought. That was was this sword was, what the magic inside it had forged it to be.

The dragon snorted, and shook its head, trying to dislodge the blade, but the movements were slow and weak. The sword was drinking, insatiable in absorbing its blood. Talmeni felt she understood why the previous owner had left it sticking inside Lady Thorn after killing her. The emotions of the blade, the raw power and need, were something that could overwhelm somebody, and make them feel out of control.

She slid off the dragon’s head, pulling the sword out, once she saw the first of Serana’s spells hit. As she staggered away, not bothering to watch the end, she felt the price of her own addiction. The world was wheeling, and things were suddenly there, then gone, as she sat down on a stone and pulled out the skooma bottle.

Things were still a bit fractured after a calming drop, but at least the headache was gone. She didn’t remember going over to the wayshrine sitting here at the edge of the lake, but the pain of plunging the ewer even deeper into the basin to put some more water in stayed with her.

So did seeing the movement ahead. Here, a river was flowing through the end of the lake and down to the other in a not fully frozen over waterfall. And up it was moving a group of pale creatures.

Talmeni got up, to sprint after them now that they were back on solid ground, but Serana grabbed her hand. “Wait”, she said, gesturing at something behind them, “See how the river bends left? This mountain path over there might be a shortcut.”

Her head stuffed by the skooma, Talmeni couldn’t argue with that. And in addition, she felt distracted by feeling Serana’s hand in her own, something that hadn’t happened for such a long time. It was still as lovely as the first time round.

Chapter Text

They climbed up the narrow path, nothing more than a strip of gravel between rocks. A moment later, they were climbing down again, into a gorge with the river not far below. Talmeni couldn’t quite hold on to the whole journey, just scraps and unconnected moments. After the climb, they were inside a glacier for a while, feeling their way across a ledge far above the water below. And then, they were following a narrow valley with more of the strange huts of the Betrayed built into the cliffs.

What Talmeni also remembered was some chatting between her and Serana. She wasn’t sure just exactly where it fit in, and it wasn’t much more than exhausted babbling after the extertion that had been a fight against two dragons.

Serana had asked the question she’d meant to ask on the lake: “How do you move so fast?”

Talmeni had shrugged. “You’re not the first one saying that. Just a knack, I guess.”

And at some point, although she couldn’t recall if earlier and later, Talmeni had commented: “Seems you can do the ice thing after all.”

“You never know until you try”, Serana had answered brightly.

Talmeni had smiled. “Would be nice if vampirism came with a manual, wouldn’t it?”

“Many things would.”

And the other thing that she could take note of was that they were still behind, despite the shortcut and the fights that Potema had to be fighting. She was driving her minions forward with breakneck speed, not caring if any were lost, as she simply raised more from the creatures trying to oppose her.

Serana and Talmeni were racing across a bridge, to a massive building set into the side of the mountain, just in time to see the horde of pale being climb in through a broken window high up in the facade.

“Please tell me you know any flying spells”, Serana pleaded, exhausted and out of ideas.

“No, but it’s a good thing I kept my promise”, Talmeni answered, wandering back across the bridge. There, at the other end, was the last of the wayshrines. She got out her ewer, forced her right hand to close around the handle, and plunged it into the basin. It was pure torture, and when Talmeni pulled it back out, she for the first time realized that her hand was darkened by bruises. This pain from a holy site was not just in her mind. The needles under the skin were real, she realized, and had to shiver for a second.

The filled ewer in hand, she tramped back across the bridge, finding Serana in the inner courtyard, in front of a golden statue. It was two or three times as high as a man, and showed a regal elf in flowing robes, two struts rising from his hands to hold up a sun disk with short, wavy rays. “I’ve seen statues like that before”, Serana commented, “This temple must be as old as I am.”

“When this is done, I want to not have to deal with ancient artifacts for a decade, all right?”, Talmeni sighed.

“And here I thought you wanted me to move in with you”, Serana joked, joining Talmeni in walking up the staircase to the entrance behind the statue.

“Well, except that.” Steeling herself against the pain she would feel inside, Talmeni pulled the cork from the ewer one last time. In front of the door was a small basin in the floor, also shaped like a sun. She poured the water in, feeling the shock of a holy rite all through her body, and dropped the ewer from a numb hand as the lock on the door turned and then opened.

Leaning on Serana, she stepped inside. Her fears had been right, even though this temple had been abandoned for thousands of years, its holy strength still lingered, needling her all over, overwhelming what little solace the drop of skooma had brought.

They moved through a bizarre and ghastly display as they passed into the main room. Around a sun symbol on a pedestal, there were frozen figures, icicles hanging from their limbs and gluing them to the floor. They were the deformed shapes of the Betrayed, but even on their monstrous faces, their expressions of abject fear were readable. They had tried to shield themselves, or to flee, but it had not worked, and now their failure was preserved for all eternity.

“Look at their teeth”, Serana mumbled, “Some of them were vampires.”

Talmeni didn’t take the time to confirm, more focused on the sounds of battle ahead. There were shrieks, and crashes, and loud and haughty exlamations. As they hurried through the corridors, they noticed that it wasn’t just Potema, there also was a male voice declaiming his opinions with arrogance.

“An impressive display, but a wasted effort. You delay nothing but your own deaths!”, he said in the same Merish dialect that Gelebor had used, followed by more crashes and shrieks.

“The only life that could be lost here today is yours”, Potema sneered back, in the stilted Aldmeris that most human speaker used.

“Child, my life ended long before you were born”, the unknown man said, downright wearily. “This has gone on long enough.”

Nevertheless, the sound of fighting went on, now joined by the footsteps of something massive. Talmeni picked up the pace, racing through the corridors that ice and stone were trying to reclaim, until she tumbled down a large ice shelf, and into the room of battle.

Serana jumped after her and pulled her upright, just in time to see a gigantic frost atronach fall in front of them. It hit the floor with a loud crash, shattering into ice blocks. The room itself looked shattered, with large stone shards scattered over the floor, and the pillars holding up the ceiling crumbling as they watched.

It was hard to make out who was winning, and not only because of Talmeni’s fracturing mind. The fighters on both sides were Betrayed, clawing and biting each other, with a worrying ferociousness.

In the middle of the hall, untouched by the melee around her, was the figure of a blood fiend, standing haughtily and proclaiming: “I am the Wolf Queen! By my order, the Vigilants were destroyed, and so will you!”

The swarm of resurrected Betrayed, having come out ahead, surged forward, to a lone figure on a throne at the end of the hall. The figure stood up, and said with conviction as he summoned a massive surge of magic: “No... I won’t let you ruin centuries of preparations.”

The magic scythed into the walls and columns, and broke them apart, throwing them forward into the room. Talmeni had a short vision of the pale undead beings ripped apart, and of the twitching shape that was the fiend possessed by Potema being crushed under the collapsing ceiling, then the blast hit her, as well. She tried to duck and roll, but it was not enough. Stones battered her already hurting body, until she felt too weak to even stand.

As the noise died away, Serana said quietly: “Are you alright? Come on, we can do this. I know we can.” Her hand carefully pulled Talmeni upright.

There no longer was a hall left standing. A few arches remained, but what had moment ago been a room was now as open to the sky as the balcony beyond.

And on that balcony, there were two figures. One was the man, who looked spent, clutching a railing as he ascended to the raised platform at the edge of the balcony. The other was the gostly shape of Potema, glimmering blue in the moonlight.

“I told you”, Potema said, although her voice sounded far off, as if carried by the wind, “I cannot be killed. All you achieved is that now, I shall take your body instead.”

The necromancer’s ghost jumped forward as blue ribbons, but never arrived. With surprising speed, given his apparent exhaustion, the man’s hand shot forward, and grasped around empty air. “Puny specter”, he sneered, as around his hands, the shape of Potema reformed.

He had her by the throat, and he was squeezing his fingers together, while the ghostly, insubstantial hands of Potema tried to claw at his arms, to pry his fingers away. There was a croak and a moan, and then, there was nothing, the glow dissipating like morning mist.

The man looked down at Talmeni and Serana, who had been too surprised to move. “Stop skulking in the rubble”, he commanded, his voice firm despite the exertion.

As they stepped closer, Talmeni got a better look at him. This was another Falmer, wearing the same kind of white leather armor as Gelebor, and having a similar face. Vyrthur, she concluded with little doubt. But what did give her pause was his heartbeat and his eyes. It was not the heartbeat of a living elf.

“Well done”, he said towards Talmeni, “You’ve done exactly as I predicted and brought your fetching companion to me.”

“Are you talking about me?”, Serana wondered.

“Yes. At long last, I shall have my revenge.” He stepped off the platform again, looking at Serana with hungry eyes, glowing yellow in the night.

Serana noticed them, and gasped. “´You’re…you’re a vampire? But Auriel should have protected you…”

Vyrthur clenched his fists, the comment clearly having hit a nerve. “The moment I was infected by one of my own Initiates, Auri-El turned his back on me. I swore I’d have my revenge, no matter what the cost”, he explained, with a voice hard as steel, “And now I shall.”

“You want to take revenge…on a god?”, Serana summarized, sounding stunned by the enormity of that idea.

Vyrthur grimaced, in a smile that was worse than even Movarth’s failed attempt. “Auri-El himself may be beyond my reach, but his influence on our world isn’t. All I will need is the blood of a vampire and his own weapon.”

Serana helped Talmeni sit down on a piece of rubble while considering the implications of this. “The blood of a vampire…Auriel’s Bow…It was you? You created that prophecy? But how…the Elder Scrolls…”

Talmeni wished she could join in, but that blast had been too much. Her head was full of fog, her limbs were aching, and her strength was spent. The energy that had brought her this far was gone. All she could do was try to stay upright.

“Stupid child, have you forgotten who Auri-El is?”, Vyrthur sneered, “He controls time itself. And I am the Arch-Curate, and his bow is in my control. I shaped the future to my needs, ensured that one day, no matter what anyone did, the last ingredient would come to me.”

“The blood of a pure vampire. The blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour”, Serana said in leaden tones, making the connection. “So that’s all I ever was”, she said, trying to be sarcastic through her despair, “Just some pawn of fate. The woman with the valuable blood.”

“Are you looking for sympathy?”, Vythur sneered, “Your kind infected me, ruined my life. It’s just fair that one of you dies to fulfil my revenge.”

Serana raised a hand in an unmistakable gesture, and said defiantly: “Well, too bad for you…I intend on keeping my blood.”

“Ha!”, Vyrthur barked, “Of course you fight. But it will not change anything. I know I will succeed, because I shaped the future so that I will. You will struggle, and fail, and your blood will be mine. It is written.”

As Serana stood there, hesitant, Talmeni stared, unable to believe. Not about the power of the bow, or that Vyrthur had created the prophecy. But that it would end like this, that all her attempts to stop the prophecy, to fight against fate and to sever the strings that bound Serana had been futile, merely rushing her along on a path that had been laid by somebody else.

The words spoken by Dexion tumbled through her mind. She should have noticed earlier, considered the literal meaning, not what she had thought it said. Through rushing water and darkness, she had gone where she had been fated to go. To where Vyrthur had made them go.

The amulet of Molag Bal felt heavy against her chest, and her despair turned into anger. This wasn’t how it would go down, she decided. Vyrthur would not get to pull her strings, whether he could control time or not. Her fate was her own.

As quickly as the anger came, it drained away. She felt so weak. It wouldn’t matter much if she joined Serana in the fight. These were two mages from an age of myth, one who could shatter buildings with a gesture, the other who could boil the blood inside your body. All Talmeni had was a sword she hardly knew how to use, a talent for hiding that was useless on this balcony, and illusion magic that would not do much against a mind as driven and focused as that of Vyrthur. She was weak.

“I’m not going to die like this!”, Serana shouted, her indecision turning into anger, calling magic into her hand. Vyrthur laughed, raising his own hands and summoning his own magicka for a counterattack.

And then, it came to Talmeni in a flash, that she could turn that weakness into strength, and Vyrthur’s drive against himself. Just before the first spell could fly, she grabbed Serana’s arm and pulled it down. “Stop”, she said loudly, and the other two vampires, paused, surprised by her sudden movement.

“Don’t fight him”, Talmeni said to Serana, “There’s no point.”

“But—”, Serana began, but Talmeni placed a finger against her lips.

Turning to Vyrthur, she said loudly: “You need a Daughter of Coldharbour for your prophecy. I’m one, and I volunteer.”

“What?”, shouted both Serana and Vyrthur at the same time, unable to believe their ears.

“You heard me”, Talmeni said, taking a step forward. Vyrthur looked confused, clenching his hands, staring at her blue eyes, looking for a sign she was lying.

Serana spun her around. “You can’t do this!”, she shouted. “He’ll kill you.”

Talmeni opened her mouth, and tried to find the right words. “We can’t fight him”, she began, “Look at me. My hand is a mess, and I’m dying from being in holy ground. At least this way, you get to live.”

“No, I—”

Talmeni grabbed Serana’s arms. “You said you trusted me to the end of the world. Well, this is it. Trust me. Please.” She wanted to say so much more, but couldn’t, not while Vyrthur was listening.

Serana’s eyes filled with tears as Vyrthur’s hands fell on Talmeni’s shoulder. “Come, child”, he said, confident once again, “Let us end the tyranny of the sun.”

He pulled Talmeni closer to the centre of the balcony, where a six-sided dome rose somewhat incongrously from the floor. “Don’t try anything”, he said in warning tones to Serana, “You can’t stop the inevitable.”

With a wave of his hand, he cast a magic on the dome, which caused it to rise from the floor, revealing a shrine like those along the pilgrim’s path. But this one did not have a basin of water in its center. Instead, over a pedestal floated a bow, elven in shape, but gleaming pure white, as if lit by the sun itself.

“Kneel now”, he ordered while retrieving the bow from its reliquary. Talmeni fell to her knees, feeling the holy aura burning on her skin like the heat of a campfire. She wondered if she was up for it, but it was the only solution she could think of. And in the end, even if it did fail, she had saved Serana’s life. That alone was worth all the pain.

Vythur pulled out a knife with his other hand, and raised it high, laughing triumphantly. “Let twilight fall and blood spill!”, he shouted, “This night will last forever!”

“No!”, Serana shouted, raising her arms.

Vyrthur’s head whipped around, and the knife halted in its path. But Talmeni was already moving, jumping from her crouch, hand on the hilt of the sword, pulling it from her belt and ramming it into Vyrthur’s chest in a single smooth movement.

His head turned back, eyes wide with surprise. “What?”, he muttered, as Talmeni drove him backwards until he was pressed against the steps of the balcony, caught between the sword and the stone.

Talmeni could feel it, how Bloodthirst was drinking, taking all the blood and life from Vyrthur, all that had kept him going for four thousand years. He tried to push her away, but it was too late, his movement too weak. “No”, he whispered, through lips that were turning blue, “It was inevitable. The future—”

“Nobody pulls my strings”, Talmeni said with satisfaction, watching the light go out in his eyes. Bow and dagger fell from his lifeless fingers and clattered on the floor. A last curse died on his lips, unsaid, and then he was still.

Talmeni dropped to the ground, unable to stand any more. She slowly tried to crawl away from the bow, to get some reprieve from the pain and the burning.

“You killed him”, Serana said, sounding stunned. Remembering herself, she came over and helped Talmeni to sit down one of the stairs. While Talmeni fumbled with her satchel, Serana continued, with an accusing tone: “You planned this. He’d let his guard down during the sacrifice ceremony, and you could stab him.”

Talmeni didn’t say anything at first, still busy with her satchel. The inside was a mess, with water at the bottom and the coins jumbled all about as their paper wrappings had dissolved. So had the labels on the potions, but thankfully there were the colours. Talmeni pulled out a red one, managed to remove the cork, and drank deeply.

Once the healing potion did its work, she could move again, although the bruises on her hand didn’t disappear. And she knew she was still living on borrowed time. If she stayed here long, the sanctity of the place would fry her again.

Still, she owed Serana an explanation after putting her through this. “Not just that”, she said, “The future he made was about a fight. And about you. In his book, I was just there to bring you here, then die. When I volunteered, he lost control. He thought things were going right, but they were going my way instead.”

Serana stared at Vyrthur’s corpse, still slumped against the stairs opposite. “He ruined my life”, she realized, “He caused all this, my father’s obsession, my mother’s fear, my imprisonment. And for what?” She bent down and picked up the bow. “Just, well, revenge.”

Talmeni had her own thoughts about it. She doubted the long wait had been part of the plan. No, Valerica had learned the prophecy from the Soul Cairn, where the sun, and maybe even time, couldn’t properly reach things. She’d done well, buying four thousand years with her desperate scheme, and forcing the prophecy to become so much larger than a single family. But she’d lacked the courage to use those years, to fully derail the tracks of fate. And so things had taken their course, right up till now.

Their musings were interrupted by the sound of magic. At the far side of the wayshrine, a portal opened, revealing the worried face of Gelebor. It brightened up when seeing them, and he stepped through the opening with a happy smile. “So, the deed has been done. The restoration of this wayshrine means that Vyrthur must be dead and the Betrayed no longer have control over him.”

“It’s not the Betrayed who controlled him”, Serana said, turning the bow over in her hands, “He was a vampire, and he used them, to get revenge on Auri-El.”

Gelebor was silent for a moment, looking at the drained corpse of his brother. “I see. That would explain much”, he finally said, kneeling down next to him. He pulled out the sword, shuddering as he touched it, and dropping it like it was it was a slimy frog.

“You don’t look very sad”, Talmeni noted.

“I mourned my brother a long time ago”, Gelebor said, carefully laying down the corpse and folding his arms. “This was merely the end of something else.” Standing up, he sighed: “Deep inside, it brings me joy that the Betrayed weren’t to blame for what happened here.”

“Why?”, Serana wondered.

“Because—”

“Can we talk somewhere else?”, Talmeni interrupted him, “There’s a lot to be said, so maybe we can do it in a place that doesn’t grill me from the inside out?” When Gelebor looked confused, she added: “I’m allergic to holy places. Long story.”

Gelebor gestured behind him. “We could return to my camp at the Wayshrine of Illumination”, he suggested.

Talmeni noticed the brightness in the sky. Behind the mountains, dawn was approaching. “Cave sounds good”, she said, feeling a bit vindicated that it wasn’t just the exterion that was making her tired.

“You can bring the bow”, Gelebor continued, “After all, you have fulfilled your bargain and I can’t think of a more deserving champion to carry it than you.”

Serana hesitated, looking at the bow still held in her hands. Talmeni could see her uncertainty, and could guess what it was about. “Keep it”, Talmeni said to Gelebor, and saw that Serana looked grateful, not surprised, to hear these words.

“After all you went through, you don’t want the bow?”

“It’s too dangerous in our hands, you know”, Serana explained, “It would allow people to finish what your brother started. Keep it here, and keep it, well, safe. Then, with any luck, the world doesn’t have to end right now.”

As Talmeni went over to retrieve her sword, Serana added quietly in Cyrodiilic: “Let’s hope one vampire-killing weapon is enough.”

“You do me, and this chantry, even greater honor than I could deserve”, Gelebor said, gently taking the bow from Serana and returning it to its reliquary. “And I wish I could be a better host, but I can offer you nothing except a warm fire.”

“So little, when we are standing here in soaked and frozen clothes”, Serana said, managing sarcasm in Merish.

Talmeni followed silently, trying to keep away from the bow as they went through the portal. True to his word, Gelebor stoked up the campfire in his little camp, and bade them to sit down and dry their clothes.

Steaming from the heat, Serana explained what they had discovered about Vyrthur and his plans. Talmeni helped a bit with translation, but she couldn’t concentrate any more. She’d been so close to death so often today, had faced so many dangers, and experienced so much pain, she just wanted a break. Skooma and sleep, and a night free of dreams.

She managed to keep her willpower up against the lure of skooma, but could do nothing against the tiredness. While the conversation droned on, with Gelebor explaining something about how the Betrayed were showing signs of becoming more intelligent, Talmeni just fell over and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

When she woke up, it was in the crossed-hands pose of a corpse, and with Serana next to her. The fire had burned down, and Gelebor was nowhere to be seen.

The memories of the last night came back to her, and she had to wonder if they were real, or some skooma-induced hallucination. “By the Three”, she muttered, as she re-lived the moment a dragon’s maw had come right at her.

Her hand went to her hip by sheer reflex, seeking the skooma bottle, to try and drown these memories. But ther was nothing, no skooma, not even a satchel. Sitting up in panic, Talmeni saw that somebody had taken it and placed it next to the fireplace to dry out. The dying embers of the fire were reflected off an array of bottles and a heap of coins.

The movement woke Serana, who opened her eyes and unfolded. “You’re awake”, she said with a smile, “You had me worried yesterday, you know, falling over like that.”

“Did yesterday really happen?”, Talmeni whispered, wincing from remembering Vyrthur blowing up the room. The falling stones had thrown the pale Betrayed around like children’s dolls.

“No, just a very coherent nightmare that left you some souvenirs”, Serana said brightly.

“So it did happen. It’s hard to believe.”

Serana nodded. “All this talk of changing the future, or creating a prophecy, it’s a bit far-fetched.”

“Not just that”, Talmeni said, testing her right hand. It still felt sore, but didn’t as such hurt any more. “All of it. An ancient vampire’s castle, a living Snow Elf, a forgotten temple, killing two dragons, killing a four thousand year old vampire. It’s the kind of stuff heroes do. Fated people, like that dragonborn people talk about. Not me. A few months ago I was a helper at a meadery, for Mastery’s sake!”

“Who are you and what have you done with the Talmeni ready to go up agains the gods?”, Serana joked, sitting up and pulling in her knees.

Talmeni sighed, trying to make sense of the clamour in her head. “I talk big, I know. It’s a Chiller thing. You don’t get things by thinking small, by being cautious. But it’s talk. I never thought I would actually get this far.”

“But you did, and I’m grateful.” Serana gave her a thoughtful smile. “And maybe you don’t need a special birthmark or some old song about you to be a hero. Maybe, just being there, at the right time, doing the right thing, is enough.” She grinned shily. “It is enough for me.”

“Thanks”, Talmeni muttered, feeling her heart ache. It was such a beautiful smile. And in all her years, in all that she could remember, nobody had ever been so deeply grateful for her presence.

“Are you all right? You still look a bit, you know, distant”, Serana wondered.

“I’ll be fine”, Talmeni said, but then decided that she indeed wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t push her luck. “A hug would be nice, though?”

“Just a hug? You really have stopped aiming high, have you?”, Serana joked, shuffling over and holding out her arms.

“It’s early in the night, give me some time”, Talmeni tried to joke back, an let herself be enveloped my Serana’s arms.

She closed her eyes and just let herself disappear in the feeling of somebody else holding her. She wrapped her arms around Serana and put her head on her shoulder, feeling her warmth and gentleness. Talmeni could feel tears in her eyes, from long distant memories, in which she had been hugged like this, comforted and protected. And there was just this feeling of safety, that quieted even her paranoia and her addiction. Talmeni wished the moment could last forever.

Serana sighed deeply after a while, whispering: “This is nice.”

“Hmmm”, Talmeni just hummed, feeling a tear running down her face. She could feel Serana’s heartbeat as if it was her own.

Slowly, the moment faded. They let go of each other and sat up again, trying to think of the tasks ahead. “Where is Gelebor?”, Talmeni asked, a bit suspicious by him leaving them alone is what was technically his home.

“He’s probably in the Chantry, cleaning up or performing some service for the setting sun. He did one for the sunrise, after you fell asleep. To give me time to take care of you.” Serana looked away. “You now what I mean.”

Talmeni grinned, but stayed on topic while she went over to re-fill her satchel. “How long did you two talk after I was out?”

“For a bit. But it was difficult for me, so it wasn’t very informative. He did ask about your skin color, though.”

“Of course he did”, Talmeni said drily, putting on the sword belt. “Did he mention if there’s a way out of here that’s not swimming up a waterfall? He has to get his firewood somehow.”

“Yes, there is a way out, past the junction up there. I think it leads somewhere close to the old ruins, too.”

Talmeni adjusted the strap of the satchel and set out. “Great. Then let’s go, before somebody steals my backpack.”

After a few steps, she realized she was walking alone. Turning around, she saw that Serana was still sitting there, frozen with what looked like indecision. “You remember what happens next?”, she asked, hollowly.

Talmeni patted her sword. “Yes, we—” Then it hit her. While to her, it was only killing some vampire, for Serana, it was so much more. Lord Harkon was her father. Talmeni sat back down, and asked gently: “Do you feel ready do to this?”

Serana took a deep breath. “I don’t think you can ever be ready to kill your parent. I’m doing my best not to think of him as my father, but…I’m not Gelebor, that’s for sure. And I’ve been thinking, now that Vyrthur is dead…”

Talmeni tried to work out what line of thinking Serana was pursuing with this. “It’s about the prophecy being dead, isn’t it?”

“He must have been trapped by fate, same as me, making him obsessed with fulfilling it. And now he could be free again.”

Talmeni considered what Serana had mentioned about her father. She wasn’t going to say it out loud, but to her at least, he had sounded like an awful person even without the obsession. “Vyrthur is dead, yes”, she said slowly, thinking as she spoke, “But the whole corrupting the bow thing probably still works, if anyone else tried it.”

“I want to talk to him, give him a chance”, Serana said, ignoring Talmeni’s musings. She looked at her friend and added, doubtfully: “You disapprove.”

“No. Not with mercy. It’s just…” Talmeni gestured at herself. “I’m no good in a straight fight. That wasn’t just some fib I told to distract Vyrthur. If you confront him, and things go badly, you have to fight him. I can stab him in his sleep, but I can’t win a sword fight against him. Just keep that in mind.”

“I will. But thank you. And if he really attacks me over some old prophecy, then at least I’ll know for sure he no longer sees me as his daughter.”

“I’ll be there for you”, Talmeni promised, standing up and offering Serana a hand. When Serana took it, she pulled her up and into another hug.

After a moment of surprise, Serana unfroze and returned it, tightly. “Thank you”, she said, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

She also packed her things she had taken out to dry, and set off, back through the narrow tunnels of this cave network. Past the crossroads, there were a few giant spiders trying to attack them, but after having faced dragons and ancient vampires, a few wild animals didn’t faze them at all. Serana killed one to harvest the poison, and Talmeni just shouted at the others to go away.

It was a difficult and narrow climb up a shaft to reach the outside, but did indeed leave them within sight range of the old gates of Castle Thorn. The castle itself was unchanged, except for the disappearance of the skeletons from its dusty halls.

“I wonder who infected Vyrthur?”, Serana mused while Talmeni shouldered her backpack.

“Want to add him to the mural?”, Talmeni said brightly, gesturing over.

“At the least, yes. It also had to have been somebody of pure blood, to overcome the protection of a god.”

“Or Vyrthur has just always been an impious bastard that Auri-El didn’t consider worth protecting. It’s more common in high priests than you think.” Talmeni looked around if there was anything worth taking with them, but couldn’t find anything of immediate value.

Her gaze fell on the scattered bones of Lady Thorn. After a moment of hesitation, Talmeni gathered them up, placed them back among the stones, and build a cairn over them. Serana, once she realized what Talmeni was doing, joined in wordlessly. Even though this vampire had tried to conquer the world, somehow Talmeni felt she deserved a better grave than the wilderness.

Then, they left Castle Thorn and its secrets behind, and turned northward. According to Talmeni’s map, it would be a long hike across the foothils and then around the peaks of the Haafingar range, to reach the northern shore.

“There is a fort marked in at the coast, not far from your castle”, Talmeni explained, pointing at the map, “We should be able to get a boat there to set over.”

Neither considered making the return journey to Solitude first, and taking a boat from there. Isran would have never allowed Talmeni to keep Bloodthirst. Even just from it hanging on her hip, she could feel its craving and addiction.

Still during the first night, they passed Mor Khazgur, but didn’t stop there. Despite the late hour, there were still sentries on the high wooden walls, and neither felt like sneaking inside just for some blood. From there, they turned east, following a faint trail which, according to Talmeni’s map, probably connected the orc stronghold with the Jehanna trade road along the Haafingar ridge.

“It’s a shame we can’t sleep together — I mean at the same time”, Serana said as they made camp after sunrise.

“I know what you mean”, Talmeni said, sitting down and rummaging for her flask of skooma. “When I’m sleeping next to you, the nightmares aren’t as bad.”

Serana blushed and looked down, smiling, but didn’t say any more, just laid herself down to sleep.

The next night, they passed some old ruins that Serana recognized as having seen from the castle, and beyond those, found the trade road. It not quite obvious at first, as the snow covered it heavily. This early in the new year, few merchants dared to try a road as high and northerly as this. While small avalanches had laid snowdrifts over the cobbles, Serana and Talmeni found the road still passable on foot.

They left the descent for another night, camping on top of the ridge. From there, they could see the island of mist that was Volkihar castle, and even some of the towers jutting from its top. They could also see the lights of the fort on the coast, which was a great relief. While Serana had made some potions of water walking, according to her own experiences, trying to cross the open sea was not easy thanks to the strong waves.

Getting down turned out to be harder than expected, as the cliffs were sheer and steep. They had to detour quite far to find a spot where it was possible to descend down to the sea, and Talmeni suspected it was after midnight when they finally arrived at the keep.

Despite the late hour, there was still a guard at the gate, who was sharp eyed-enough to spot them in the night and shouted “Halt!” as they walked up.

“Don’t worry, we’re not here to attack”, Serana said brightly.

“You have no business here, so keep walking”, the guard barked, at a noise level that made Talmeni wonder how the rest of the garrison could get any sleep.

“We’re here to borrow a boat”, Talmeni said, inspecting the guard closer. He looked like a high elf, from what little skin could be seen through the helmet.

“We don’t have any available, and even if we had, we would not give them to the likes of you without direct orders from Thalmor high command.” Talmeni looked sideways, where a small dock jutted out into the water, and several small boats bobbed in the waves.

“Officer material, I see”, Serana joked.

Talmeni wondered what the right approach was, but gave up. This wasn’t anyone of importance, so there was no need to be subtle. “I’ve been sent here by Ondolemar personally”, she said, putting magic behind her words, “And if you don’t give me a boat right away, you will have to answer to him for why I was delayed!”

The magic command took hold, and the soldier saluted with a downright fearful expression. He marched them off to the docks and bade them to take one of the boats, saluting even more as they untied it and picked up the oars.

“Always good to see soldiers ready to follow orders”, Serana said sarcastically, once they were out of earshot. “You’re quite good at this.”

“Good enough for this, at least”, Talmeni said, keeping an eye on the fort. Illusion commands never lasted long, and she hoped to be out of bowshot by the time he worked it out and sounded an alarm. However, she had to admit that her reading and conscious use of her ability had improved her control. Compared to the pounding headache from keeping two invisibility spells going in Bromjunaar, she had come far. The magical command had been no effort at all, and her camouflage spell she could maintain indefinitely without feeling a drain.

After a few moment of rowing, Serana asked: “Who are the Thalmor?”

“Weird Altmer”, Talmeni answered, distracted by trying to sight castle Volkihar in the mist.

“Yes, that was hard to figure out.”

“Weirder than usual. They take the whole thing about elves being descended from gods seriously, and think it gives them a right to rule the world.”

“It really is a common hobby, isn’t it?”

“I prefer reading, honestly. Or getting my teeth kicked in during a bar brawl.”

“Molag Bal wouldn’t like hearing you talk like that”, Serana said, gesturing at Talmeni’s amulet.

“That’s his problem. He doesn’t get to tell me what to do. That’s the whole point of being a ruling king, if you ask me. That you get to do what you want.”

“You make it sound easy, being your own person”, Serana sighed. She turned to look at the castle looming ahead, and her face fell.

“If it was easy, I wouldn’t have started with the skooma”, Talmeni tried to joke. The keel of the boat chrunched over gravel. Turning to see what they had hit, Talmeni went on: “But I can tell you this: Living like you’re free of strings unless you can’t gets you a lot closer than dancing to all strings, begging to be let free.”

The boat had run aground on a low gravel beach. To one side, a round stone tower lurked in the mist, while ahead, a long bridge led up to the opressive walls of the castle. They had arrived.

There was a small jetty jutting out into the sea not far from them, but Talmeni didn’t trust its rotting wood, and just pulled the boat up above the line of the surf. She considered putting the backpack back on, but decided against it. If it came to a fight, she couldn’t be hindered by its weight.

However, she pulled out to potions of blood, offering one to Serana. While Serana had fasted a lot over the last few days, with little ill effect, this was not just some hike over snow. She couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“Are you ready for this?”, Talmeni asked to make sure, “It’s been a longer hike than I thought.”

“Just pass me one of the stamina bottles”, Serana said, not taking her eyes off the brooding fortress ahead.

Chapter Text

When they set off towards the bridge, Serana quietly took Talmeni’s hand and held it tightly. Talmeni didn’t comment, not wanting to shatter this moment, just held on even as Serana squeezed more tightly from her fear.

To the left and right, gargoyle shapes stared at them out of the fog. Talmeni put a hand on her knife and watched closely, but they stayed inert as the pair walked on. There were more of them as they climbed higher, and Talmeni couldn’t help but feel paranoid for having these potential enemies behind her.

They reached the walls of the castle, where a porticullis was lowered in front of the gate. There was a tiny light glowing here, a single candle standing in a tiny alcove. Next to it, there was a man, grey-haired and with a bent back. He hobbled towards the porticullis as they approached, and coughed: “Begone! You’re not welcome here!”

“So this means nothing to you, then?”, Serana asked sarcastically, holding the clasp of her cloak forward a bit.

The old man frowned, peered at the emblem, and turned to get the candle. He inspected the Volkihar star again in its light, then looked ar Serana’s face for a moment. His expression of deep suspicion and doubt cleared up, replaced by sheer wide-eyes surprise. “Lady Serana! Impossible!”

He hobbled over to a wheel set into the wall, and with his joints creaking louder than the mechanism, raised the porticullis. Once they had stepped through, he raced to unlock the gate, then limped down the antechamber to the greater hall beyond.

Talmeni wiped her boots on the carpet laid on the stone floor and commented: “Lady Serana, hm?”

“You calling me that once was enough”, Serana said, “I’m not, you know, some kind of highborn lady sitting in her tower. Or I’ll call you Lady, too.” She gave Talmeni a playful nudge.

“Not much of a threat”, Talmeni answered. She looked back, noticing that in his haste, the door guard had forgotten to lower the porticullis again, or even to close the gate.

The old man had reached the hall ahead. Talmeni couldn’t see much yet, except that the door opened onto a small balcony, overlooking a larger space, lit by torches. The old man was leaning against the railing, and wheezing as loudly as he could: “Everyone! Lady Serana has returned.”

There was a change in the noises from the room beyond, a cessation of activity, followed by a burst of murmurs. Talmeni could hear their heartbeats now, and she gripped her dagger a bit tighter. There was a large crowd beyond, almost all of them vampires.

And then they were on the balcony, and it was even worse than she had imagined. Lit by flickering torches which had to be there for the ambience more than the light, there were three long tables set for dinner, and on benches behind each sat the vampires, feasting. Blood stained silver goblets held in clawed fingers, and dripped from open wounds of thralls lying on the tables like feastday roasts.

Behind the far table set on a raised platform was a throne. Talmeni had expected Harkon Volkihar to be a man of grandeur and striking, monstrous appearance, but he was neither. A middle-aged face, decorated by a well contoured beard, and clothes not much finer than those of his courtiers, that was how Harkon Volkihar chose to look. His yellow eyes were alert but not cruel as he watched Serana and Talmeni descend the steps into the hall.

At first, Harkon’s expression was surprised, but as he stood up, it set itself into a patronising and regal smile. “Ah, my long lost daughter returns at last”, he said, his voice smooth and full of authority, “But tell me, where are my Elder Scrolls?”

Just like Serana, Harkon had the bearing fitting to his role. He was moving and talking like an ancient king, noble and gracious, who really knew best for everyone. But Talmeni couldn’t help but try and look beyond the facade. She noted the sword at his belt, and the brooch holding his cloak. It wasn’t the star or the Volkihar, but the visage of Molag Bal, rendered in silver and red.

Serana’s hand clenched around Talmeni’s, before she realized how this looked, and let go. “After all these years, that’s the first thing you ask me?”, Serana asked, sounding disappointed.

“Of course I’m delighted to see you, my daughter”, Harkon added, wearily, “Must I really say the words aloud? Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike. Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?” He switched his gaze to Talmeni, not showing any sign he noticed how Serana grimaced at these words.

Talmeni was too distracted by watching Harkon and his courtiers to notice the question. The two sitting at his sides, clearly the favored advisors, were rather interesting. They weren’t just watching Talmeni and Serana carefully, but also each other.

To fill the silence, Serana explained: “She …rescued me from imprisonment.”

“I see”, Harkon said, examining Talmeni a bit more closely. His gaze rested on her cloak pin. “The heir to Lady Thorn? A bloodline I had believed to be in the past.”

“You can call me Talmeni”, she said, while considering the implications in her head. She’d taken the brooch because it was pretty, but she had to admit, Lady Talmeni Thorn did have a nice ring to it. And who could object to a marriage between a Lady Volkihar and a Lady Thorn?

“For my daughter’s safe return, you have my gratitude”, Harkon said generously, and gestured at the tables at either side, “In return, I can only offer my hospitality. Sit and eat with us, as we discuss the glorious future awaiting the children of the night.”

“We haven’t come to eat and drink”, Talmeni answered, “And I won’t take any seat in your court.”

“Then why have you come, if not to reap the rewards of bringing my daughter home?”

Talmeni put a hand on the hilt of the sword for effect, trying to fight the thirst it made her feel. “Because Lady Serana Volkihar has come to bury the past”, she said, putting extra emphasis on the name. The whispers of the court stopped. Talmeni could feel all eyes on her, and hear the subtle loosening of weapons in their sheaths.

“Of what foolish venture is this half-breed speaking?”, Harkon asked Serana, his mask of geniality slipping. Talmeni made a note of it, that even this little comment could rile him up.

“I think you know, father”, Serana said, her voice getting firmer as she talked, “After all, is there any other venture of yours except searching for the end of the tyranny of the sun?”

Harkon recovered his composure, and theatrically sighed. “Your voice drips with the venom of your mother’s influence. How alike you’ve become.”

Serana shook her head. “This isn’t about her. I’ve seen the world, and I’ve seen what happened to the vampires who thought they could conquer it. But that doesn’t matter, because that isn’t what the prophecy is about. We’ve found out how it ends. It’s not about vampires, or conquest, it’s just petty revenge. You’ve let yourself be played like a puppet for the satisfaction of somebody you don’t even know.”

Harkon slammed his silver goblet against the table, spilling its content of blood over his hand and sleeve. He stared at it for a while, clearly wrestling down his anger. “Do not presume to tell me why I do what I do. I possess the wisdom of a dozen lifetimes, and I will make my own judgements.” His voice mellowed, and he said smoothly: “However, it pleases me that one of my blood has discovered so much about this prophecy.”

“Don’t expect us to share”, Talmeni said, because she could see the way this was going.

Harkon turned to her, and the last bits of politeness drained from his expression. He looked at her with mocking and arrogance as he said: “So you feel like you hold the fate of all vampires in your grasp. Exhilarating, isn’t it?”

Talmeni gave him a shrug, not only because she didn’t really think of it like that, but also because she knew it would rile up Harkon.

And he didn’t disappoint. His eyes blazing with hatred, he sneered: “It will not last long. I have ways of making you talk.”

“That’s your gift to her for resuing me then?”, Serana asked sarcastically, and unsubtly go her hands ready to cast, “I won’t accept that.”

Harkon focused on her again, and his face barely softened as he looked her up and down. He put one hand on the hilt of his sword, and said: “You disappoint me, Serana. You’ve taken everything I provided for you and thrown it all away for this…half-breed vampire.” The sword had been a mistake, Talmeni thought. He did his best to act like a father, but as his patience slipped away, he revealed how he really saw Serana.

“Provided for me? Are you insane? You’ve destroyed our family. You’re threatening my love. All over some prophecy that you refuse to understand. No more. I thought I could offer you mercy, but I’m done with you. You will not touch her.”

Harkon laughed as he saw the magic appear in her hands. “You challenge me in my own court?” He waved a hand, and his courtiers rose, weapons ready.

Talmeni had been waiting for it. “Sit down!”, she bellowed, putting the full might of her magic behind her words, “This is a matter of ruling kings. None of you have the black hands to be worthy.”

Hands let go of weapons, and bottoms sat back down on the benches, against the volition of their owners. They stared, first in anger, then awe, when they realized that they couldn’t fight against Talmeni’s will.

“An impressive display”, Harkon said with a chuckle, “But you will not find me so easily swayed.”

“I have ways”, Talmeni answered, twirling her knife. She hadn’t even bothered to try and include Harkon in the spell, since she could see that he wouldn’t fall for the same words.

“Still, I will be courteous to you and my treacherous daughter”, he said, as suddenly an aura of red lines surrounded him. As he spoke, the shape inside grew and changed form. “I will face you with my full power, and in all formality.”

The magic around him disappeared, and in place of the kingly man, there now was a beast, with grey skin, a bat-like face, and two wings on his back. His shape as a Vampire Lord, Talmeni realized, as Harkon rose up from his position behind the table, floating up into the air. “We shall battle in the chapel of Molag Bal, as befits ruling kings. And he who leaves shall be the ruler of the Volkihar.”

He hovered backwards over the railing of a gallery above his throne, without taking his eyes off Talmeni. Serana pulled at her arm, gesturing to a staircase at the side of the great hall.

Harkon floated parallel to them in the gallery, his arms raised and ready to hurl magic. Talmeni tightened the grip on her knife, expecting an attack at any second. “Is he serious?”, she whispered, not sure what to make of this suddenly formality.

“Yes”, Serana said, in worried tones. They had reached the mezannine floor of the gallery, and Harkon was floating ahead, up a wide staircase into another room. Serana shivered. “I hate this place.”

Talmeni could see why as they entered. It was the chapel, with an altar to Molag Bal at the far end. Even without knowing this was the room where Serana had been forced to offer herself to the lord of domination, it was a deliberately unpleasant and oppressive room. It had the arches of a crypt, and piles of bones around the pillars. From an upper gallery, gargoyle statues were leering down, and as they went up the last step, the door slammed shut behind them.

“I am a merciful man”, Harkon said, hovering next to the altar. “I will give you one last chance to thrown down your arms and surrender the secrets of the prophecy to me. There will not be a second.”

Serana shook her head, summoning her magic. Talmeni pulled out her knife, and said: “The drum breaks and you find it to be a nest of hornets. It’s too late for mercy.”

“Then let’s end this!”, Harkon bellowed, sending out a wave of magic. Talmeni dived sideways as it approached, seeing Serana fire a bolt of her own.

But it didn’t hit. Harkon held up a hand, stopping the spell mid-air. “Using my own magic against me?”, he asked in a mocking voice, before sending the spell back with a gesture. Serana jumped sideways behind a pillar as the magic splattered against the flagstone.

It was an inauspicious start, Talmeni thought. Serana already looked rattled, while Harkon was clearly still playing. And she was stuck on the ground, where she couldn’t reach the floating Harkon to try some knife-work.

But to her surprise, Serana didn’t stay behind that pillar. Instead, she jumped out, both hands glowing with magic, and loosened a barrage of spells so dense it looked like a flock of blood-coloured birds taking flight. Harkon’s sneer disappeared, as he tried to contain the magic and failed, flying around the room to find cover himself.

As he ducked in the narrow space under the galleries, Talmeni saw her chance. She sprinted over, swung around a column, knife ready, and plunged it at his face. But Harkon saw her, and where just a second ago had been his solid body, there suddenly was only mist. Her knife passed through without pausing, and she fell to the ground, unable to keep her balance in the sudden turn of events.

The mist reformed some distance away, and Talmeni had to admit that Harkon had every right to look triumphant. Not only because he’d escaped so easily, but also because she’d been so stupid as to attack with her knife.

He raised a hand and sent out a wave of magic far too familiar for Talmeni’s liking. With a clattering like dice, the piles of bones moved, and rose, turning into hordes of skeletons. Talmeni gave the first one a kick, and dodged under a second, trying to close the distance to Harkon again.

Except he wasn’t there any more. Serana had caught him with a spell, and he was retreating, rising into the air. With one hand, he was trying to contain the magic boiling under his skin, deforming his face, while with the other he swatted Serana’s magic aside.

Out of options, Talmeni grabbed a skull that was rolling past, and threw it at Harkon, to give him one more thing to worry about. And it worked. He took the hand off his face to snatch the skull, and the skin he had been holding exploded. As he screamed, another spell of Serana’s came through, and he was tumbling, unable to concentrate on his flying through the pain.

Talmeni tried to jump, to use the chance to get close, but bony fingers grabbed her legs and tripped her up. She barely managed to catch herself, and could feel things slipping in her mind as her head bounced from the fall.

Looking up, she saw Harkon temptingly close, bent over the altar, weak and human-sized. He looked hurt and spent, and was doing some kind of obeisance over the bowl that formed the front of the altar.

But she could also see the barrier in the air, centered on Harkon, and how Serana’s spells bounced off it harmlessly. Talmeni felt like cursing about the amount of tricks Harkon had up his sleeve, and regretted having such a big mouth that she’d ever suggested trying to kill him.

More skeletons came her way, trying to help the first in cutting her to pieces. She punched and kicked, and managed to send a few of them flying in pieces, but there were just so many. A spell of Serana’s helped out, scattering two of them, forming a gap for Talmeni to slip through.

She retreated to near the entrance, where Serana was standing, panting and also looking worried. She was unmolested by the skeletons, as a few Wrathmen surrounded her like a guard, hacking at everything that got close.

“You all right?”, Talmen asked, scuttling closer to get some reprieve from the skeletons.

“We need a plan”, Serana sighed, pulling out a potion of magicka and drinking it. Then, her eyes went towards the altar. “Watch out!”, she shouted, alarmed by whatever happened there.

Talmeni was already diving to the ground at the first syllable. Something whizzed over her head and hit the Wrathman beside her, locking its arms as if it was gripped by an invisible hand. Turning around, she saw Harkon being back again, looking unharmed and having one hand raised.

With an idle gesture, he raised the struggling Wrathman into the air, and then slammed it into another, sending both tumbling. Serana, who had been ready to send another barrage of spells at her father, had to aim lower, to keep the skeletons away that poured through the gap.

Talmeni kicked a few, but was then forced to dive out of the way again as Harkon sent lances of blood magic her way. Serana was right, they needed a plan, some way to get Harkon to lower his guard long enough for her to use Bloodthirst against him. Just the spells weren’t enough. They could wound him, but he could recover behind his shield. Sure, it was a moment of reprieve for Serana as well, but her potions were limited.

Her Chiller training managed to get through the clamour in her head. The Camonna Tong had many ways to be nasty. Make them emotional, she had been taught. Emotional people make mistakes. Fear is best, but if you can’t get that, anger works too. And nothing is better than reaching them where they think it’s safe.

Another attack of Harkon’s interrupted her train of thought. The pressure of the skeletons on Serana gave him time to counterattack, and he was indiscriminate in his targets. Talmeni jumped into cover behind a column, looking at how Serana was doing.

While she was still firing spells, it was obvious she wasn’t going to last forever. Unless Talmeni acted quickly, it was too late.

Talmeni started from her hiding space, but then hesitated. She grabbed the strap of her satchel, thinking. She could take the risk, and buy Serana some time by letting her have the potions and scrolls inside. Time to maybe come up with another solution if this one failed. Or at least time to get away.

That decided it. She took off the satchel, kicked it over to where Serana was standing, then ran up the stairs. Once in cover behind an arch up there, she shouted, as arrogantly as she could manage: “So this is all you can come up with?”

Harkon’s head whipped around, his face distorted with anger. Thank you, Talmeni thought, for being so full of yourself. It was so easy to rile up people like that.

A spell exploded where she had been hiding, but she had already leaped away, hiding behind the next column. “I’ve seen Hlaalu slaves who have ruled over more than you”, she continued, casting her camouflage spell on herself to make the aiming a bit harder.

But instead of another spell, suddenly a swarm of bats shot up over the railing, and reformed into the massive shape of the vampire lord. Talmeni had no space and no time for anything as his claws raked down, except to roll over the railing and drop to the ground.

A femur slipped under her foot, and she fell backwards, thankfully so, as Harkon vaulted after her and landed heavily where she had just been standing. Before he could turn to finish her, Serana sent a wave of spells his way, and he leaped away.

Talmeni took the moment to think. She needed to up her game, or Harkon would rip her apart. As fast as he was, as many ways as he had to get around the room, there wasn’t a place where she could be far enough away. And a memory from fighting Movarth presented just the solution.

She cast another spell, throwing her voice around the room. “Four thousand years, and what have you done? Nothing”, the insult came from the stairwell opposite.

“You’ll pay for your insolence!”, Harkon shouted, firing a massive ball of magic in that direction. Talmeni used the moment to get out from under the gallery and behind a different column.

She threw the voice behind him, to keep him guessing. “Whent he Gray Host rose to conquer the world, where were you?”

Harkon’s defense faltered, and a spell of Serana’s hit him in the stomach. He flew up to one of the galleries, growling and focusing on containing the magic. “You dare defy your father?”, he roared, and used his other hand to cast another spell.

Talmeni cursed silently, laying herself flat against the stair she was running up, as above her came the sound of shattering stone. The two gargyoles jumped off their perch, hitting the ground hard enough to crack the flagstones. A Wrathman moved to attack, and was pounded into the ground by a massive fist.

But it was too late to change plans. And hopefully, more chaos would mean more distractions for Harkon as well. She made her voice come from under a gallery this time. “You waited for the sun to go dark, instead of conquering your fear, and starting to rule.”

Harkon waved for the gargoyles to check it out, giving Serana the opportunity to leap up the stairs and get in position to attack him again. Talmeni also ran, crossing the room, diving into the gallery near the altar end of the room. A gargoyle spotted her, and so did Harkon, but she managed to distract both with another insult sent across the room. “When Lady Thorn charted the vampires of the world, she thought you dead, that’s how little you matter.”

It was timed just right. Harkon’s head turned, snarling, his hand just not quite in position to deflect Serana’s magic bolt. She had him now. Talmeni used the last reserves of magic to make herself invisible, and dived towards the altar, crouching down in front of the basin.

From there, she couldn’t quite see how the duel was going, but Harkon’s screams of rage were giving her hope. He’d been hit twice, and from what Talmeni had seen, blood magic was slow-acting and insidious, building up unless he spent his energy to contain it. He didn’t have enough hands to do that, defend against Serana, and fight back. She just had to hope the gargoyles and skeletons weren’t enough to distract her as well.

Thankfully, just as the gargoyles loped up the stairs, Harkon gave in. Talmeni saw the cloud of bats come towards her, and reform into the shape of the man, and how the barrier went up, separating the altar from the rest of the room.

Harkon looked horrible, not just from the ravages of blood magic. His self control had fallen away, leaving him grimacing his raw emotions. He staggered over to the basin to heal himself, and Talmeni tensed, hands on the sword.

And then things went wrong. His wandering foot stubbed her by pure accident, but it was enough to discharge the magic. As he saw her, Harkon jumped back, startled but finding a second wind despite his wounds.

Talmeni scrambled to her feet, unable to think of anything except still bringing the blade home. She barely noticed how Harkon grabbed his own sword and drew it, she just sprinted and thrust.

It hit, with the nasty sound of metal piercing flesh.

But as Talmeni stood there, she felt the pain in her shoulder, and the numbness in her left hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Harkon had been successful, too, burying his blade in her shoulder.

He looked down, realizing what was happening to him as Bloodthirst drank his essence. But Talmeni barely noticed, because she too felt something sapping at her strength. It was his sword, she realized, watching the unnatural way her blood flowed along the blade.

Numbly, she saw how it didn’t stop there, but went on to Harkon’s hands. He was draining her, she managed to think sluggishly. His sword was a vampire, and she the victim. Bloodthirst could drink as much as it wanted, but Harkon wouldn’t weaken, as long as he was renewed by his own weapon.

She had failed, Talmeni thought. Her left hand was too numb to move, and if she let go of her sword, its magic would stop. Vaguely, she saw Serana hammering on the barrier, shouting something, but it was beginning to fade, like her sight, as her life slowly drained away.

Out of ideas, nearly out of her mind and at the end of her life, Talmeni did the only thing she could think of. She fought, with the last weapon she had left, just like she had fought Molag Bal. Leaning forward, she opened her mouth and bit Harkon in the neck.

With a rush so great it felt like lifting her off her feet, her senses came back. What shot into her mouth felt like pure power, a sensation so great it seemed to fill the world. She drank and swallowed, taking back what had been stolen, and defying death with the life of another.

Harkon screamed and screamed, letting go of his sword. As Talmeni loosened her teeth from his skin, he collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony as the held back blood magic all unleashed at once.

It was cruel, and swift. As he lay there, his skin dissolving, he managed to croak, one arm outstretched in a cry for help: “No…Serana…your own father…”

And then there was nothing but a bloodied skeleton, falling apart inside his clothes.

Talmeni let go of the sword, staggering backwards. Seeing the visage above the altar staring at her, she mumbled: “One soul for you, Lord Bal.”

Then, she sat down. Even with the blood she had drunk, she felt spent, drained of all energy. She closed her eyes and just breathed, noticing how her fingers were wandering around on her hip, looking for the satchel with the skooma. But it wasn’t there, she had thrown it away.

That was when she heard the sobbing. Looking up, she saw Serana, kneeling at the foot of the steps up to the altar, on her knees in front of the corpse of her father, crying into her hands.

Realizing the hopes that had collapsed for Serana, the deed she had just witnessed, and what the last words of her father had to have done to her, Talmeni forced herself to get up. Her legs were shaking, and she had to hold on to the altar to walk, but she forced herself to keep going.

She didn’t know what to say, if there even was anything to say, but she knew she needed to be there. If she wasn’t, if she didn’t comfort Serana in this, her darkest hour, then she didn’t deserve to say she loved her.

Talmeni stumbled down the steps, collapsed onto her knees, and managed to lift her arms enough to pull Serana into a hug. She accepted readily, clutching Talmeni with desperation as she cried and sobbed. Big, ugly tears rolled down Talmeni’s shoulder, and she could feel how Serana shook from grief and exhaustion.

Knowing nothing else, Talmeni began to sing, some old nursery song bubbling up from her memory. She couldn’t remember the voice, but once, this had been the song her mother had sung to help her cry. “An molag na angue, eoy ge metane ni…”, she sang, feeling tears welling in her own eyes.

Chapter Text

She didn’t now how long they sat there, crying. It was certainly to soon when the door opened and one of the Volkihar vampires crept in. It was a Dunmer, wearing fine clothes, but not one of the two that had been at Harkon’s table. “Lord Harkon, defeated. I never imagined I’d see the day”, he commented quietly.

“Who are you?”, Talmeni asked sharply, remaining where she was, hugging Serana.

“Garan Marethi, my lady”, he answered.

“Unless you want to be choked to death by a bottle of flin like the last Marethi who crossed my path, you leave and let us deal with things in our own time”, she hissed.

“The court—”, he began, but then caught her expression. “Yes, my lady”, he mumbled, and closed the door again.

With time, Serana’s tears dried up, and she slowly got to her feet. She still shuddered when seeing what was left of her father, but managed to keep standing. “It is over”, she mumbled, as if wanting to remind yourself.

Talmeni also got up, one joint at a time, trying to stop her head from spinning. The excitement had taken its toll, and now she could feel her mind slowly cracking, trying to forget the tension and the danger. Her hands clenched, seeking for skooma to help the process along.

“Are you all right?”, Serana asked, staring at Talmeni’s bleeding shoulder.

“Give me a bottle of skooma and it won’t matter”, Talmeni mumbled, trying to find her satchel in the mess that was the chapel now. The gargyoles had returned to their plinths, but the skeletons had just fallen apart all over the place.

She had taken two tottering steps when a voice made her stop. It was the deep, sonorous and cruel voice of Molag Bal, echoing from his altar. “You surprise me, little vampire”, he said, sounding satisfied, “Daring to stand against the tide of history itself. You might almost be worthy of my mace.”

Part of Talmeni wanted to curl up and hide, hearing this voice. Her lower body screamed with pain, remembering what had been done to her, and the sheer massiveness of the voice, the way it rung not in the ears but the entire body, made her feel small and insignificant.

But another part of her stood up and shouted. I bit him, it said. And I stood up to dragons, queens and some of the oldest vampires in Tamriel. I dared the Elder Scrolls to be wrong, and derailed a future created by the power of Auriel’s bow. I do not need to hide from a voice from an altar.

And Tamriel knew that if she had learned anything from Molag Bal, then it was what happened if you curled up. She turned around, and sighed: “So don’t want to hand it over, but you want to string me along. Well, while you can’t make up your mind, use the time to grant Serana the power of a vampire lord.”

“You think you can bargain with me?”, Molag Bal said, sounding more astounded than angry.

“Did I offer something?”, Talmeni asked, flying high above all fears. She would collapse in a moment anyway, she might as well go out having dared the impossible, “You gave this power to Harkon, who wasted it on sitting on his ass for all of history. You want dominance? Then hand it to the one who just melted his face off.”

There was no answer from the altar, but Talmeni heard Serana gasp in the same moment she felt something hit her. It was nothing physical, of even measurable, but suddenly there was knowledge in her mind, revealed as if it had always been there, of how a vampire’s shape was malleable to those of a strong enough will.

Serana patted over her body, staring at herself in shock. She looked exactly the same still, but was looking at her hands as if she had never seen them before. Then, she focused on Talmeni: “Did you really just—?”

“Told you”, Talmeni managed, as she felt that desperate last bit of energy leave her again. She wasn’t sure if Molag Bal was still paying attention, but she sure didn’t want to give him any more. She staggered off, her feet dragging between the heaps of bones.

She found her satchel, the contents spilled somewhat over the floor. A few flasks had broken, and the colours were swirling and at one point even fizzing where their contents were running together.

Her fingers closed around the skooma, but she forced them to open and take a healing potion instead. Then, with her left arm properly working again, she slowly started packing the contents again.

Serana slowly came after her, carrying Bloodthirst. “Yours, I think”, she mumbled, handing it over. Talmeni took it and gingerly sheathed it, feeling how her muscles ached from every movement.

Leaning against each other for support, they opened the door and staggered out of the chapel. Talmeni groaned, seeing Garan Marethi hovering impatiently at the foot of the stairs. Things weren’t over yet, she realized.

“My congratulations on defeating Harkon. Clearly, you are the superior vampire. You are the new Master; we bow to your power. The castle, of course, is yours. We shall follow you, and help spread your influence across Skyrim”, he said, bowing stiffly toward Serana.

“That isn’t what I…It had to be done. I’m not happy about this. He... he was still my father”, Serana mumbled, holding on to Talmeni.

“Of course, my dear. All will be well now”, Garan said carefully, then cleared his throat, “The court awaits your command.”

Serana seemed at a loss of words, which Talmeni could understand. She’d come here not to usurp a throne, merely to sever a thread of her past that she couldn’t be free of.

But Talmeni remembered the faces in the court, the emotions she had felt when touching their minds to overrule their will. They were a horde of nix-hounds, having smelled blood. Some could be tamed, some would be wild, and all of them would bite. It was not something that could wait.

“You go watch from the balcony”, Talmeni said, “I’ll deal with this.”

Serana nodded gratefully, feeling her way along the railing until she was above the throne. Talmeni meanwhile tottered down the steps, trying not to fall down onto Garan who was marching ahead. She grabbed the hilt of her sword, the feeling of its hunger being preferable to the emptiness inside her.

The court got up in surprise when seeing Serana above. Garan waved at the two men at the head table, who were very reluctant to get up and join the rest of the crowd gathering in the middle of the hall. But when they saw Talmeni, who felt ready to stab both of them with the sword and was too tired to keep that emotion off her face, they did finally hurry up.

“On your knees”, Talmeni said, forcing herself to stand up straight and speak loudly. “All of you. Swear your loyalty to Lady Volkihar.”

The lower ranked courtiers did so immediately. Garan as well, graciously lowering himself. But the rest hesitated, most in an awkward half-crouch. Talmeni stepped forward, drawing her sword, choosing the Altmer first from the two advisors.

“You want to keep your station?”, she asked him, “Then earn it.”

Turning to the other advisor, a Nord, who seemed amused to see his rival squirm, she made the threat explicit. “Want to try yourself against the blade that killed Harkon?”

Both men hesitated for a second, but then fell to their knees. Seeing them cowed, the rest followed suit. Garan Marethi, seeing the way the wind was blowing, announced: “All hail Lady Volkihar”

The chant was taken up somewhat reluctantly and raggedly, but Talmeni decided it was good enough for tonight. Tomorrow, they could try sorting out this mess more permanently.

“There will be no speeches tonight”´, she announced, stepping back, “Go to your rooms, and go to sleep. Lady Volkihar will call for you when she needs you.”

With many backwards glances and muttering among themselves, the vampires filed out of the hall.

Talmeni grabbed Garan before he could move off and said: “You look like the organizer around here.”

“I am the steward, you could say, yes.”

“Then get me a coffin.”

Garan nodded. “Certainly. We have some rooms to spare.”

He led her upstairs, where Serana also came over, squeezing Talmeni’s hand. “We’ve done it”, she said, smiling through her tear-streaked face.

“For tonight, yeah”, Talmeni said. Then, she collapsed against the railing, letting sleep take her.

When she woke up, it was to Serana smiling down at her, a smile tinged with worry. “This seems familiar”, Talmeni muttered, unfolding her arms.

“Can’t stay awake after killing a vampire, can you?”, Serana joked, leaning a bit closer. She rested her arms on the sides of the coffin. It was a much more comfortable one than the wooden boxes of Movarth’s lair. It was of rare wood, and the interior was upholstered, inviting Talmeni to keep lying here a while longer.

“No, I meant you looking at me like that”, Talmeni said, “You did that in Solitude, too. After Potema.”

“Except you didn’t wander around aimlessly this time, you just overslept.” Talmeni noticed the new ring on Serana’s finger, featuring the Volkihar emblem. She had also swapped the brooch on her cloak, for the Molag Bal one that Harkon had been wearing. Or more likely, had been made to swap by the courtiers as symbols of her new lordship.

“How long?”, Talmeni wondered, probing her memory. There was a vague image of having come into this room and falling into the coffin, but she didn’t quite feel as confident to say she hadn’t lost anything as Serana made it sound.

“Just a few hours. It’s not yet midnight.” Serana peered at Tameni and added: “And you can keep sleeping, if you need to. You do still look a bit, well, distant.”

“Just thinking”, Talmeni said.

“What about?”

“About how it’s easier to kiss the lover than to become one”, she quoted.

Serana looked in the distance for a second, playing with her hair. “That’s more straightforward than your usual sayings”, she commented, “And I think I get it. Especially given all the things you have done for me.” She looked at Talmeni and grinned. “Although, there’s one problem?”

“Hmm?”, Talmeni just said, not quite paying attention.

“You haven’t kissed a lover for comparison.” And then there were Serana’s lips on hers, kissing them, long and lovingly. Talmeni couldn’t believe it, thought she was still dreaming, but if so, didn’t want to wake up.

She stretched out her arms, pulling Serana into a hug, returning the kiss with the same intensity. Serana let herself be pulled, also having forgotten the coffin edge between them, and rolling awkwardly over it.

The surprised complaints of Serana about the sudden fall were muffled by Talmeni’s bosom, and it took a breath moment of giggling and flailing until they had managed to sort out their limbs. “Seems you were right”, Serana said, now holding herself up by her arms inside the coffin above Talmeni. She leaned down to plant a kiss on Talmeni’s nose.

“What about?”, Talmeni said, her mind so filled with pink clouds she couldn’t think of anything except kissing Serana again.

“We will need a bigger coffin made if we want to sleep together”, Serana answered. After a moment, she looked away, then grinned: “And no, I’m not correcting myself on that one.”

Talmeni could feel the heat of her blush as she realized the immensity of that comment. “What about not falling for the first woman you see?”, she wondered.

Serana laid down on Talmeni’s stomach, and stroked her face with one hand. “It probably is stupid, but, well, maybe it just lasts a while. We are vampires, a while could still be a century.”

Talmeni wrapped her hands around Serana’s hips. “I like that thinking.”

They exchanged a few more kisses, then Serana asked: “Do you want to be the first to say it?”

“Say what?”

“You know what I mean.”

Talmeni had to grimace, feeling stupid. Yes, she knew what it was time to say, and it was so good to finally say it out loud to her directly: “I love you.”

“I knew that”, Serana said dismissively, then giggled. “But now I get to say I love you, too.” And she proved it with another kiss, long and loving, that felt like it was melting Talmeni to her core. It also made her feel like she could lay off the skooma forever, because Serana’s love was making her more happy than the little flasks ever could. And best of all, she would remember. The feeling of Serana’s soft lips, her body against hers, their loud heartbeats from the excitement and anxiety about finally acknowledging what they had felt for so long.

When the coffin got too uncomfortable, they decided to stop for now, and get started on the day. Serana helped Talmeni out of the coffin and onto her feet.

Not letting go of Serana’s hands, Talmeni had a look around. While the coffin looked clean, the rest of the room was ruined, covered thickly in dust and spider-webs. “Garan put you up in my old room”, Serana explained, “Harkon kept it, but I guess dusting is not something he thinks about.”

“Where did you sleep?” Talmeni thought it was a pretty nice room, under the dust. It certainly had a lot of space for decorations, or, given Serana’s inclinations, an alchemical laboratory.

“He put me in my father’s rooms”, Serana said, walking towards the door, “It was…hard, you know. To fall asleep, surrounded by his memories. If I’m going to stay here, I’ll have to redecorate.”

They reached the balcony overlooking the great hall, and leaned on the railing. For a while, they just watched the room below. The courtiers were up as well, walking around on their business. Sometimes, a few would stop, exchange a few quiet words, or glance up at the balcony.

“Watch out for that Altmer”, Talmeni said quietly when she saw a familiar face walk past.

“Vingalmo? I know”, Serana sighed, “Him and Orthjolf will be a problem. They would have tried to kill my father, if they’d had a chance. The rest of the court is, well, friendly, but they certainly got a lot of ideas about what they want me to do.”

“You told them to go walk in lava?” Talmeni watched the Nord, this Orthjolf, also come by, and exchange some nasty words with Vingalmo.

“Yes, with those exact words”, Serana said sarcastically.

“Looks like you’ll make a good Lady Volkihar, then.” Talmeni played with the strap of her satchel.

Serana looked at her with a grin. “Sounds like you don’t approve.”

“Why would I do that?”, Talmeni said, playing innocent. “Why would I think you would be bad at being your father’s daughter?”

“Yes, I can see you have no complaints at all”, Serana joked. “Out with it.”

Talmeni sighed. “What you do is up to you. But I’ll have to leave here, sooner or later, and find some place where somebody sells skooma. That’s all.”

“Like that house in Makarth you said you had?”, Serana remembered.

“It’s big enough for two. And an alchemy shop.”

Serana chuckled, and smiled. “Yes, that would be nice, eventually.”

“Eventually?”

Serana gestured vaguely. “I’ve been thinking. How ridiculous it is that I never saw Solitude in all the centuries of living a boat ride away. And of all those places and people I’ve only read about.”

Talmeni understood. “You could start in Morrowind”, she suggested, “It’s a nice place in spring.”

“You’d show me around, would you?”

“If I remember where things are, sure.”

“Sounds lovely.”

They both were silent for a moment, considering that future. Talmeni had never thought about it before, but she had the money to travel now, and with Serana’s blood potions, could do so without any real risk. And Serana was right, there was a whole continent out there, and she had seen so little of it.

There was a crash of stone behind them, startling Talmeni out of her daydreaming. Serana also looked round, and then said slowly and hesitantly. “Also, I…asked Garan to have the corridor to the courtyard cleared.”

“You want to rescue your mother”, Talmeni realized.

“She deserves better than to be trapped there. I don’t think I can go back to being her daughter, but I think I can, you know, forgive her.” After a moment, she added: “You don’t have to come.”

“Yes I do”, Talmeni said, “Just …no more dragons after this, okay?”

Serana giggled. “As if you could be happy with that.”

“I can stop whenever I like”, Talmeni joked, and leaned in to give Serana a kiss. “Unlike this”, she added once they were done.