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The black and white horse trotted up the road to Kvatch. Seryna’s blood felt cold as she approached a small camp on the path up to the town; the little camp was full of people. Each one of them was ragged and worn. Their clothes were burnt and bloodied and their faces were locked in despair. She knew that some sort of disaster had struck Kvatch. She just didn’t know what.

That question was soon answered. One incredibly panicked Altmer man came rocketing down the road. He skidded to a stop to give a warning to Seryna, “Don’t go there! Kvatch… It has been destroyed! The town is overrun with Daedra! There’s… Some sort of… Oblivion Gate! It’s an Oblivion Gate! It’s pouring Daedra out! Run for your life!”

He ran off. Seryna urged her horse forward. When she arrived at the camp, she made a rushed dismount and started running up the road to the smoking ruins of Kvatch. It was quickly getting dark. Glancing to the sky, the shock nearly knocked Seryna off of her feet.

The sky was… Changing. It was like it was on fire; every trace of blue was fading fast and being replaced by stormy reds, blacks, and yellows. Cracks of thunder roared over the hills as the wind itself –unnaturally hot and dry- began it rip over the ground. Seryna was starting to wonder what sort of hell had struck down Kvatch… And what sort of hell she was walking into. She only knew that she had to find Martin.

When she arrived at the ruined town and saw the Gate… Her blood froze. It was shaped like the Daedric letter for O. Between the stone frame burned a sheet of what looked like fire; arcs of light crossed over the stone and lashed out at the air. Scamps and other Daedra continually came out of the monstrosity.

The Captain of the Guard, Savlian Matius, spotted Seryna as she approached.

“Stay back! This is no place for civilians!”

“Do civilians typically come armed and willing to help?”

Savlian Matius was surprised, “You… Want to help?! Thank the Nine! We’ve been fending for ourselves since this began last night. We were overwhelmed… These Gates just opened and the Daedra poured out. Very few people made it out. A group are trapped in the Chapel. Some made it to the camp. Most were cut down in the streets. We need to get back in there to free the remaining people, but we can’t do that because that damn Oblivion Gate is in the way. It needs to be closed. I’m not sure how it’s done, but I know it’s possible. The enemy closed the ones they opened once they were finished. You can see the marks on the ground. Do you think you can handle that?”

“I have no idea,” Seryna snorted at the look of Savlian’s face, “Before last night, none of us had ever seen a Gate like this. You just said yourself that nobody –aside from our enemies- has any idea how to close them. I’ll go in, but whether or not I’ll be able to close it is unknown.”

“I did send some men in to see if they could find a way to close the Gate, but they haven’t come out. See if you can’t find them while you’re in there. Good luck.”

Seryna nodded. She felt her heart pounding as she ran up to the Gate. The heat became more oppressive as she approached; a deep growl came from the Gate, sending shivers down hers pine. Her lungs burned as she took a deep breath and entered the Gate.

If she thought the heat was bad outside the Gate, inside was another definition of ‘hot’ entirely. The island she stood on was surrounded by a sea of lava. Patches of scorched ground still burned and, along with them, dead bodies burned. This was a realm of fire… It was the Deadlands: the realm of Mehrunes Dagon.

She spotted one Kvatch guard fighting a few Dremora. A burst of energy shot through her and Seryna sprinted to help the man out. The Dremora fell faster than she expected under their combined assault.

“Oh, thank you, stranger! I thought I was done for. Who sent you?”

“Savlian Matius,” Seryna replied, “He’s still fighting the Daedra on the other side of the Gate.”

“He’s still alive? I thought I was the only one left fighting! What are you doing here, anyway?”

Seryna held up two fingers, “Two things… One, I was sent here to find out what happened to the soldiers sent in here earlier. Two, I’m supposed to find a way to close this Gate.”

“Well, I’m the only one left out here. They captured Menien Goneld and a few others. The rest are strewn across that bridge over there. Please find him. He’s in one of the big towers. He might be able to help you close the gate. You don’t need any help, do you?”

Seryna shook her head, “I think I can handle this on my own. You should go back to help Savlian Matius. He’s got limited men outside and the Daedra are continuing to attack.”

“If he needs help out there, then I’ll go,” the relieved looking guard ran off. He turned around near the Gate and shouted, “Good luck!”

The young Imperial grunted as she jogged forward towards the smaller tower. She had to plow through Daedra after Daedra in order to get there; exhaustion was already creeping through her bones, but she knew she had to continue in order to find Martin. This was just another adventure… Although it was unlike any she had ever been on.

Inside the smaller tower was a Dremora guarding a spiked lift. Seryna slew him before she hopped onto the lift, dodging the spikes. It was covered in blood, so the disgusted Imperial assumed the lift was used for executing prisoners. That lift carried her up to a platform. The platform wound its way up the tower. She followed it and found herself face-to-face with another Dremora; a prisoner in a cage, most likely Menien Goneld, clambered to his feet and exclaimed his hope.

“He has the key! The key to the Sigil Keep! Kill him and take it!”

The Dremora growled and flung himself at Seryna. She ducked and the Dremora reeled as he nearly went over the edge of the platform. The two twirled around the prisoner’s cage, locked in combat, until Seryna finally managed to disorient the Dremora; he stumbled and Seryna, taking advantage of his lack of a helmet, cleaved his head from his shoulders. She collapsed with the headless body of the Dremora.

“Are you wounded?” The prisoner inquired from his position in the cage. He squinted at Seryna –sprawled on the floor, her chest heaving with every pant- and frowned, “No… I don’t see anything. Listen. You’ve got to get up. You need to close the Gate. Nobody else can. Did you hear me? Nobody else can do it! Take the key from the Dremora. Go to the highest chamber of the tallest tower. A room called the Sigillum Sanguis. These Gates are held open by a single Sigil Stone. Take the stone and close the Gate!”

As the Imperial lifted her head to gaze at the desperate prisoner, she felt strength returning to her limbs. It flowed in her blood and returned warmth to her –for in the heat of the Deadlands, she had lost her hope- and gave her the will to fight. She nodded once to the prisoner and pulled herself to her feet. In seconds, she located the Sigil Keep key and took off. Her destination? The tallest of the spiked towers.

When she entered it, Seryna found that there was more Daedra here than in any of the other towers. The lower floor alone was crowded. This was madness. It was madness that she had no choice but to take part in. She wouldn’t survive if she charged right into the group, though; instead, she would have to use stealth. A few shots of her silver bow in the right places could break up the group.

In quick succession, Seryna fired several arrows into the mass of Daedra. Multiple Dremora fell, forming holes in their ranks. Seryna took the chance and charged, blade drawn, into the remaining Daedra. She fought with all her renewed strength and the Daedra eventually fell; that left the Imperial girl free to look for a door higher into the tower.

Each level was filled with Daedra. Not as much as the first, perhaps, but it was still a challenge to fight through them. Even Seryna’s restored strength was failing as she approached the Sigillum Sanguis. The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that this was the end… That she could soon close the gate and break the siege of Kvatch.

The pillar of fire that rose through the entire tower burst out of the floor in the Sigillum Sanguis. It continued to climb until it reached the bottom of the sigil stone; the round object whirled in the flame that wreathed it, producing a low hum that was audible even on the lower level.

“An enemy is near! She will try to take the stone. Kill her!”

Seryna jerked her head upwards to witness one Dremora glaring down at her. He hefted his warhammer before charging down the talon-like stairs. Four other Dremora –including two mages and their summons- followed him. Rather unintentionally, Seryna let out a yell and sprinted towards the Dremora. She slipped under the warhammer of the lead Dremora and managed to slaughter both mages; they fell to the ground, one missing her head and the other with a hole through his chest. The two remaining Dremora growled and met Seryna’s blade in combat.

There was a great deal of cursing as the three exchanged blows. Seryna shrieked as the second Dremora’s blade connected with her left shoulder; it broke some of the rings in her chainmail, but did not do much beyond that… Aside from the bruise. In retaliation, she lopped off his arm. The blade-wielding Dremora roared as she finished him off. That left only the Dremora with the warhammer.

He was furious. Then again, Dremora always seemed angry to Seryna; she hadn’t seen one that wasn’t at least a little annoyed. But this one… He was swinging his warhammer left and right. The swings were slow. She took her chance and struck. The last Dremora in the tower toppled over, a gaping hole directly between his eyes.

The Imperial could not help but chuckle as she realized she was victorious. She stepped over the corpses of the Dremora and ascended the remainder of the steps to the upper level of the Sigillum Sanguis. Seryna paused as she stood in front of the sigil stone. Its hum sounded more ominous than before and the stone as still surrounded by fire. How exactly was she supposed to grab it without getting burned?

She lifted her hands to the round stone –if it really was a stone; it looked more like a glass ball to her- and felt the increased heat… And the vibration of the stone itself. Her fingers grasped at the smooth surface and pulled it out of the pillar of flame. With its anchor gone, the flame burst out of the top of the tower. The realm itself began to shake as the chains holding the upper platform in place began to shatter one by one. Seryna fell to her knees as the realm dissolved around her.

In seconds, she was back in Tamriel, kneeling between the stone columns of the ruined Gate. A cheer erupted from the last of the Kvatch guard.

“The Gate’s closed! She did it!”

Seryna stood and stashed the sigil stone in her pack. She approached Savlian Matius who, admittedly, looked rather shocked. He ran forward to meet her.

“You did it! You look terrible, but you did it! You’d best take a few minutes to rest. As soon as you’re able, we need to clear the rest of the Daedra out from between the Chapel and the gate so we can rescue the last of the survivors.”

“Is there a man named Martin in the Chapel by any chance?” Seryna asked. Savlian Matius furrowed his brow.

“Yes, actually. He’s a good man. Priest of Akatosh. He led a group of survivors to the Chapel during the attack. They’re still in there, along with a few guards. Were you looking for him?”

“Yes, but…” Seryna sighed, “I shouldn’t say why. Besides, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Hm. All right, then. Just tell me when you’re ready and we’ll get this over with. I have a feeling we won’t be able to do this without you.”

The Imperial shuffled where she stood, “I’m ready now. Believe me when I say my strength will not come back from resting for a few minutes. It’ll take weeks for me to be back to my old self. Frankly, I don’t think there will be time for much rest in the coming weeks. This is just the beginning… Of an invasion.”

“An invasion?” Despite what he had witnessed, Savlian Matius was incredulous, “How can you possibly know that?”

“It’s… Just a feeling. A damn strong one at that. I’ll wager Gates just like this are opening across Tamriel as we speak. Kvatch was only the beginning.”

“I… I don’t even want to consider the implications of that. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll call the rest of my little troop. It’s time we break the siege of Kvatch.”

Savlian Matius signalled for his soldiers to come forward. They ran past the blockades and arranged themselves in front of him.

“Now that the Gate is closed, we can finally enter Kvatch. It is our duty to free the remaining survivors and to ensure the liberation of Kvatch. Are you all with me? Are you all ready? Let’s go!”

With that, the last ragged defenders of Kvatch –including Seryna- charged into the town. They were met by another wave of Daedra; not as many as there were inside the Gate, but still plenty for only a small section of the ruined town. Five Dremora, four Clannfear, and at least eight Scamps. The lesser Daedra fell soon enough, but the Dremora managed to kill one of the guards before they joined the rest of their kind in death. Savlian Matius rallied the remaining guards and entered the Chapel.

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One of the last priests in the chapel turned to look at the door as it opened. He was a middle-aged man –though he looked rather young for his years- with messy brown hair and clear blue eyes. Those blue eyes switched from guard to guard until they came upon the one that seemed out of place.

She was a young Imperial with keen green eyes, rust colored hair, and an abundance of freckles. Her gaunt face was burnt and flushed, drenched in sweat. She was panting and trembling; the tremors forced her to sit down on a piece of rubble. To make things worse, her chainmail armor was damaged. The Daedra had apparently taken advantage of that… Martin, the man the Imperial was seeking, couldn’t help but notice the bleeding gashes on her arms and torso.

There was something about her… And odd feeling that he couldn’t quite understand; for some reason, she seemed important. Like she was the key for a locked door. A locked door to what?

One of the two guards that had spent the night in the Chapel with the survivors, Tierra, was ordered to escort the survivors to the camp. Martin cast one final glance back at the green eyed Imperial before he left the Chapel and the ruins of Kvatch. She was taking the time to heal herself.

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Seryna felt eyes on her. She glanced at the last refugees and saw one man –dressed as a priest of Akatosh- staring at her. He must be Martin. From the look on his face, he was concerned; after taking a look at herself, Seryna could understand why. She cast several restoration spells on herself and the wounds sealed. The Imperial girl stood again to speak with Savlian Matius.

“Did you see that man staring at me? Was he Martin?”

“Yes. I saw him staring at you. As I said, he’s a priest of Akatosh. Before the attack, he used to give advice to those who needed it and heal the ill or wounded. He’s probably the best healer we have –most likely trained by the Mages Guild- so he must have thought you required care,” he snorted and shook his head, “I’m not going to lie. You looked rough. I honestly thought you were going to faint. You still don’t look that great. You almost look like a ghost. How are you feeling, anyway? We still need to get to the castle.”

“I thought I was going to faint, too. That’s why I sat down. Honestly… I’m exhausted. Dead tired. There’s not a single part of me that doesn’t ache. My limbs lack the strength they once had because I was starved in prison. I know what we have to do, though, and there is no time for being tired, sore, or weak. We have a city to take back.”

Savlian Matius was surprised again, “You were in prison? What for?”

“Long story short: I was framed for theft. The guards who responded to the claim didn’t bother to investigate and tossed me into the prisons in the Imperial City. I was… Released… Only yesterday. Under… Unique circumstances,” Seryna stammered. She wasn’t eager to discuss what had happened. The Imperial feared that, if she mentioned what she knew to the wrong person, it would make her a target for the Daedra. If she wasn’t one already.

“Now that’s just lazy law enforcement. I’ve heard rumors of corrupt guards in the Imperial City, so being tossed in prison without any investigation doesn’t seem surprising. Even with your current disadvantage, you have done much for us. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it. Until you came along, I thought we were doomed. Now I’d say we have a chance. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Seryna let out a dry chuckle, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“That settles it, then,” Savlian Matius turned to the others, “Are the rest of you ready?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Let’s go, then! We need to take the castle back and find the Count!”

Together, Seryna and the men burst out of the other Chapel door and back into the Daedra-riddled city. Atronachs were patrolling the streets and Dremora stood in every corner. They spotted the soldiers of Kvatch within seconds. One of the Dremora let out a yell to alert the others.

“The mortals are fighting back! Finish them!”

The Daedra in that section of Kvatch converged upon the remaining guards. They let out a cry as the two forces –the Daedra outnumbering the men and women of Tamriel- merged into one mass of blood and rage. A scream broke across the rubble of Kvatch as one of the soldiers was gutted. He collapsed onto the ground, his face frozen in an expression of horror at the last thing he saw in life… His own innards.

Seryna spun around, her blade raking through the air with the momentum of her arm; it connected with the throat of one unlucky Dremora. The spray of blood, like water cascading from a waterfall, coated Seryna, drenching a good portion of her right side. I was quickly dried by the ambient heat of a Flame Atronach. The Atronach was slain by Savlian Matius.

After what felt like ages, the last of the Daedra in that section were killed. Savlian Matius brushed the sweat from his eyes and called to the others, “Come on! To the castle!”

In order to get to the castle, they had to fight through another wave of Daedra. Amongst the devastation, the statue in front of the castle still stood; it was odd seeing the statue still standing when nearly every other structure in the city was nothing but smoldering –some still burning freely- rubble. Seryna heard Savlian Matius curse.

“Damn! They shut the gate!” He turned to Seryna, “I need you to go back to the Chapel and find Berich Inian. He’s got the key to the guard house and knows how to get there. Go! We-“

An arrow whizzed past them and embedded itself in the chest of their Bosmer archer. She gaped at the barbed arrow stuck in her heart for a moment before keeling over.

“Archers! Get back! Get out of range!”

The group sprinted backwards, stopping only once they were out of range and hidden behind a wall of rubble. Seryna split away from them and ran back to the Chapel. Once inside, she located Berich Inian and informed him of Savlian’s orders.

“They’ve closed the gate? I do still have the guard house key. Fortunately, there’s a way to get to the guard house. The Chapel Undercroft has a door leading out to Kvatch. The other routes are blocked by rubble, but, as far as I know, this one is still open. It’s probably infested with Daedra, though. Just like everywhere else here. I’ll take you to the guard house, but… If I don’t make it, take the key and leave my body wherever it falls.”

Seryna nodded, “Understood.”

Both Imperials turned when the Chapel door –the one leading to the Kvatch gate- opened. A small patrol of Legion soldiers entered.

“We saw the smoke from the Gold Road,” the lead man said, glancing around the ruined Chapel, “Is there anything we could do to help?”

“Yes. Follow us!” Seryna cried. Berich Inian was nodding.

“We’ll be right behind you!”

The group of five rushed down the steps and into the Chapel undercroft. They had expected the streets to be crowded with Daedra, but… Not the Chapel undercroft. The survivors had no idea how close to doom they had come. It caught the five warriors by surprise. One of the Imperial soldiers fell before they got out; the group of five became a group of four.

They continued outside. Almost immediately, another Dremora summoned others to meet the party of four. Each of them stood back to back as they were surrounded by Dremora and various lesser Daedra.

“This is going well,” Seryna hissed. Berich Inian let out a single brief grunt.

“Foolish mortals. You cannot hope to defeat us with such a small number. We will crush you.”

“Want to bet?” Seryna growled, lifting her blade and pointing it at the Dremora that had spoken, “I cleared an entire Gate of your kin on my own. A force not much larger than this has cleared most of your kind from the city. We will crush you.”

The Dremora let out a single bark of laughter. His blade met Seryna’s and the four soldiers broke into combat. The battle continued throughout the rest of the city; in the end, Berich Inian and one more Legion soldier were slain. Seryna had to take the key from Berich’s pocket and continue with only one other man. He looked nervous. Seryna was nervous… The Daedra had realized what was going on and they were becoming more dangerous. They just needed to reach the castle.

It seemed odd that, as they moved through the guard house, there was no Daedra around them. Aside from the heat and fire, things were quiet. It made Seryna even more anxious. Fortunately, there was no ambush. She made it to the gate lever and gave it a yank.

“The gate’s open! Let’s go!”

Savlian Matius and his last few guards charged the castle. As they passed by, Seryna and the Legion soldier joined them. She lifted her eyes to the castle ramparts to look for the archers, she didn’t see them, but it was beginning to rain. The storm was limiting visibility. At least it was washing some of the dirt from her body.

The sound of battle brought her back to her senses. Savlian Matius leaped backwards to avoid the swipe of a Daedroth’s claws while one of the other guards –the man Seryna sent out of the Oblivion Gate- impaled the beast on his blade. A Xivilai brought his warhammer down on the Imperial Legion soldier; he collapsed in a crumpled heap, his cuirass completely crushed inwards.

Seryna stood directly in front of the Xivilai. His white eyes glared down at her as he lifted his warhammer for another strike. As the warhammer few through the air, Seryna ducked to the side; the warhammer hit the ground beside Seryna, shattering into two pieces. Using the momentum of her dodge, Seryna launched herself into the air. She landed on the Xivilai and stabbed him four times in the chest. The tall Daedra dropped down.

The castle courtyard was stained with blood –from both mortals and Daedra- when the fighting finally stopped. There were only three defenders left: Savlian Matius, Seryna, and the man that came from the Oblivion Gate… Whatever his name was. Seryna hadn’t asked.

“Damn…” Savlian Matius grumbled. He shook his head at the corpses of their comrades, “I sincerely hope that there aren’t as many Daedra in the castle. Otherwise I fear we won’t make it.”

Seryna squinted at him. The look of fear on his face matched what she felt, “What’s the plan, then?”

“Depending on the number of Daedra, I think we should split up once we get inside. Our priority is to find the Count. If he’s dead, bring his signet ring. I’ll search the left side of the hall. You,” Savlian pointed to the man that came from Oblivion, “Will search the right side. And you, Seryna, will go forward. The Count’s quarters are on that side of the hall. He’s most likely to be there. We need to be careful… Good luck. Meet back in the center of the hall when you’ve searched your section.”

The last three defenders of Kvatch entered the castle. They were met by multiple Flame Atronachs. Once the Atronachs were defeated, the three split up and went to search their separate areas. Seryna sprinted up the stairs and past the burning throne. She entered the living quarters, alight with flame, and spotted Flame Atronachs guarding every door; Seryna slew every one of them until she finally came upon the Count’s personal quarters.

He was dead. The man’s face was frozen in a scream of terror and he lay in a pool of his own blood. His clothes were burnt from the nearby flame, but the ring was still fine. Seryna took the ring from his stiff finger and made her way back to the meeting place.

“We didn’t find anything on our sides aside from collapsed halls and more Flame Atronachs. Did you find him?”

Seryna held up the ring, “He didn’t make it. I don’t know what the Daedra did to him, but… He was lying in a pool of his own blood with a scream etched permanently on his face. He’s been dead for a long while.”

“Ah. Damn. Well… This is it, then. The last of the Daedra are gone. Once all the fires are out, Kvatch can be rebuilt,” Savlian Matius sighed, “I’m done fighting. I think I’m going to put my life towards rebuilding here. Here…” The man paused. He pulled off his Kvatch cuirass –exposing his sweat stained shirt- and handed it to Seryna, “You should have this. You’ve done so much to help us. Thank you.”

Seryna bobbed her head once, “No problem. It was good to help out.”

Savlian Matius turned to his last man and began speaking. Seryna did not linger. She spun around to face the door and left the castle. The young Imperial –fatigued from the long battle- made her way through the ruins of Kvatch and back down to the camp.

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Martin sat one of the benches in the Kvatch camp and listened to the conversations of the refugees around him. They were discussing the closing of that Oblivion Gate – the ruins of which they had passed through on their way out of town. That wasn’t all they were chattering about, though. The survivors spoke of the strange young woman that had appeared to help them out. Who was she? Why was she there? Those questions could not be answered. They did, however, name the mystery woman the ‘Hero of Kvatch.’

As he listened to the conversations around him, Martin spotted the woman walking down the path. From her uneven stride, Martin could only assume she was tired and in pain. The others spotted her and soon had the poor woman surrounded. Martin buried his face in his palms as they started bombarding her with endless questions.

Eventually, he heard her speak. The irritation in her voice was clear, “Please! Just leave me be! Honestly… Let. Me. Go!”

She dropped to the ground and promptly rolled down the hill. The refugees of Kvatch fell silent for a mere second or two before returning to babbling in their own little groups. Martin stood from the bench he was sitting on and fetched a mug of water from the water barrel.

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Seryna sat on a boulder a short distance down the hill. After being pinned in the center of an overly curious mob, she just wanted the space to breathe; the group of Kvatch survivors had pressed against her so tightly that she felt like she was being choked. The young Imperial knew they were grateful and quite curious, but… They could have at least found a different way to act upon it!

“Excuse me,” the voice startled Seryna. She turned to look at the source. It was Martin. He was smiling gently at her –his smile was nearly identical to the one used by the Emperor- and holding a mug of water, “Sorry to surprise you. I know what you did here… You closed the Gate. You helped drive the Daedra back. I noticed in the Chapel that you looked a little…”

“Rough?” Seryna let out a single dry chuckle, “Yeah. I’ve been hearing that a lot today. You’re Martin, right?”

“Yes. I’m Brother Martin, priest of Akatosh. Here,” he gave her the water, “I brought this for you. I get the impression that there isn’t water inside one of those Oblivion Gates. When I saw you in the Chapel, you looked like you had been standing next to a volcano.”

Seryna took a gulp of water. She found herself staring forward… The heat, fire, and lava of the Deadlands still fresh in her mind. She spoke, slowly, “That’s a fairly accurate way of putting it. All the fire and lava… Sacks of flesh hanging off clawed rocks… Murderous plants… The mangled corpses of prisoners…”

“It wasn’t much different in Kvatch. Three of the smaller Gates opened, and then the Great Gate opened. Of course… We were all asleep when that happened, so we didn’t know the Gates were there. Out of the Great Gate came a monstrous siege engine. The explosions woke us up… The sounds of people screaming as their homes were destroyed right on top of them… Along with the siege engine, masses of Daedra invaded the city. You saw the remnants. They killed anybody they saw trying to flee. The ones that got out were lucky… I led those who could still walk into the Chapel. Even when the tower collapsed, we hid in there, hoping and praying to the Gods that the attack would end, but it never did. We never got any help that night. I admit I’m a little out of touch with the Gods right now… Why would they allow such a thing to happen? Have they abandoned us?”

“The Gods haven’t abandoned us… There’s a plan yet. I… Oh, this is going to be difficult. I won’t blame you if you don’t believe me. Or even if this angers you,” Seryna took a deep breath to steady herself, “I was sent here to find you. From what I can derive, the Daedra came here for you.”

Martin’s eyebrows furrowed, “For me? An entire city destroyed to get at me? What are you talking about? Why would they come here for me?”

“Because… Because you’re the Emperor’s last son.”

“What?! That’s impossible! My father was a farmer! There is no way I could be the son of the Emperor. Who are you? What do you know of his death? What’s the real reason you’re here?”

“I said you wouldn’t believe me,” Seryna let out a gusty sigh, “I was there when he died. My name is Seryna Vandori. A few weeks ago, I was framed for the theft of a noble family’s most valuable heirloom. There was bad blood between them and my own family, so I assumed that was their way of striking at my parents. I was thrown into the prisons without any sort of investigation. They kept me there for ages, barely giving me any food. I thought I was just going to waste away in there, listening to another prisoner taunting me day in and day out. Until I heard somebody coming. That was only yesterday. The Emperor himself came up to the cell I was in, surrounded by three Blades. Apparently the cell I was being kept in was actually a secret escape route. The cell wasn’t meant to hold prisoners. I was commanded to stand by the window and, as soon as the door was unlocked, the Emperor came right up to me. He took one good look at me and said I was the one from his dreams… That the ‘stars were right and this is the day.’”

She couldn’t read the expression on Martin’s face, but he stayed silent so she continued, “He essentially pardoned me right there. I followed the Emperor and his Blades –as he told me to- through the escape route and, around nearly every corner, an assassin lurked. The Blades could usually handle them, but one of them was killed. I was left behind because I was ‘just another body to protect.’ I found another route and followed them. Once I rejoined them, the Emperor admitted that he knew he was going to die and nothing his Blades did could prevent that from happening. And he did die. Right in front of me. We were eventually forced into a dead end. There the Emperor took my hand and… Gave me the Amulet of Kings. I was still holding his hand as he died. His last words resonated within me, though… He told me to ‘find him and close shut the jaws… Of Oblivion.’ I was told by the last surviving Blade to take the Amulet to Jauffre at Weynon Priory.”

“I had to tell this to Jauffre as well,” Seryna let out a brief, nervous chuckle, “He didn’t believe me, either. Saying he was shocked when I handed him the Amulet of Kings would have been an understatement. Jauffre is the one who told me about you. He said that one night, a ‘very long time ago,’ he had been called to the Emperor’s chambers. There, he saw a baby boy in a basket. Jauffre was told to find a safe place for that boy. The Emperor never explained anything, but Jauffre obeyed. He has been watching you for your entire life. If Jauffre hadn’t known where you were… Well, I wouldn’t be here.”

Martin took several seconds to digest what Seryna had told him. He sat down beside Seryna with a thud, “As unlikely… No, as impossible as your story seems, I believe you. There’s just no other explanation. Even if my entire childhood was just turned upside down… I’m the Emperor’s last son… The Daedra came here for me…” He could only shake in silence. Seryna stared off into the distance, the rain –now nothing more than a light shower- running down her face as she waited for Martin to organize his thoughts.

Movement in the distance caught her attention. She squinted past the rain and spotted what looked like black stone rising from the ground. The two stone pillars joined at the top and the burst of fiery light was clearly visible. Seryna realized that it was another Oblivion Gate.

“These Oblivion Gates are opening across the land,” Seryna nudged Martin and pointed to the Gate, “Look. That one just opened a few seconds ago.”

“And what can we do to stop this?”

“We can fight, but… As the last living heir to the Septim throne, you are the key. You are the only one who can light the Dragonfires and stop this. The rest of us can only fight. But… If the Dragonfires are not lit, it is a losing battle.”

“I take it we need to get to Jauffre, then?”

“Yes…” Seryna rubbed her eyes, “I’m just so tired. Even with my horse, I’m not sure if I can make it. I was already weak from being in prison, but clearing the Daedra from Kvatch has taken the rest of my meager strength. And then some.”

“You have a horse?”

Seryna nodded once, “Yes. I left him outside of the camp. He’s a good steed.”

“If the Gates are opening across the land, then it seems as though getting to Weynon Priory is rather urgent. You aren’t the largest woman ever –thin from your unjust time in prison. I believe I can hold onto you while I guide your horse to Weynon Priory. You could rest on the way there.”

“It’ll be a miracle if we can get through camp without being swarmed,” Seryna rolled her eyes as Martin let out a quiet laugh of agreement, “I’m not meant to be famous. I felt like I was being choked with only the Kvatch mob around me,” she exhaled with a grunt, “We should get moving. I’m certain Jauffre will want to know we’re all right.”

Both Martin and Seryna stood. The Imperial girl wobbled on her feet for a split second before Martin steadied her. They climbed the hill and passed through the camp; the survivors began to approach but, fortunately, they had enough respect for Martin that they merely hung back when he shook his head. When they reached Seryna’s horse, Martin pulled himself into the saddle and helped Seryna up. The lack of strength and energy had finally overcome her. As Martin urged her horse forward, Seryna fell into darkness.

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It was somewhat of a relief to Martin as the smoldering ruins of Kvatch finally faded into the distance. The scenes of the attack, though, were still crystal clear in his mind… Along with what Seryna had told him. He simply could not believe that he was the [&@%!] son of the Emperor, but… At the same time, he knew it was true. Exactly how he knew it was true was beyond his understanding; it was the same sort of feeling he had when he first saw Seryna.

No… It wasn’t beyond his understanding. It was staring him in the face. The Dragonborn Emperors were said to possess remarkable intuition. They could even catch glimpses of the future. If that was true –which it must be considering what Seryna had told him of the Emperor’s last words- then he must share that power. Proof that he was the last heir to the throne. That was an idea that would take some getting used to. If only he had the time to come to terms with his true identity!

Martin glanced down at Seryna and realized that she was asleep. She was leaning forward over the horse’s neck, so he pulled her back. The man was weary himself, but he still had strength left. He only hoped that it would be enough to carry him through what happened next. At least he would not have to stand alone. Seryna would help him; her initial actions may have been taken because of the Emperor’s last words, but Martin was certain she would stay by his side for the duration of the Oblivion Crisis. Not as a guard or a soldier. As a friend.

Narrowing his eyes against the breeze, Martin pressed his heels into the side of Seryna’s horse to direct him into a gallop.

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Seryna was back inside the Oblivion Gate. The heat was oppressive; it crushed her, burning her skin and hair. She was surrounded by a ring of Dremora. As she reached for her blade, she realized that she was unarmed and wearing nothing more than a set of light clothes. How? She was certain she had been wearing chainmail and wielding a silver blade not long ago.

The confused and frightened Imperial tried to run, but she was caught by one of the Dremora. He laughed and lifted her into the air by her neck. She couldn’t breathe. After several seconds, he dropped her back to the ground. Another Dremora grabbed her by the leg and hauled her to one of the towers. Seryna was tossed into a cage.

A rumble echoed through the tower… It was a sound that Seryna recognized. She looked down to see the spiked lift rising towards her. When it struck, Seryna was blinded by pain.

Upon her ‘death,’ Seryna awoke with a cry. She nearly fell off her horse. Martin was fast enough to grab onto her.

“Oh! Careful. You don’t want to fall off. It’s a good thing you’re awake. We aren’t too far from Weynon Priory now,” he noticed that Seryna was trembling and breathing heavily, “Are you all right?”

“It was just a bad dream. A very bad dream.”

The unease that Seryna felt did not go away. In fact, the opposite happened; she became more anxious the closer they got to Weynon Priory. Her horse mirrored the feeling.

“Something doesn’t feel right, Martin.”

He commanded Seryna’s horse into a gallop. They arrived at Weynon Priory and dismounted. The Dunmer man that cared for the animals ran to them, crying for help.

“We’re under attack! Help us!”

A man wearing the same gear as the Emperor’s assassin sprinted after the Dunmer man. Another one was on his heels. Seryna charged the first while Martin took down the other.

“We need to find Jauffre,” Seryna hissed. She spotted the Dunmer man cowering behind the well. The Imperial pressed him for information, “Where is Jauffre?”

“In the chapel! He was praying when the attack began!”

“Come on!” Seryna shot towards the door to the chapel. Inside, Jauffre was surrounded by three of the assassins. They were caught off guard when Martin and Seryna closed off their only avenue of escape. The three assassins were slaughtered quickly.

“Oh, thank the Nine you’re all right!” Jauffre wiped blood from one of the deeper wrinkles on his face, “I fear they came for the Amulet of Kings. I need to check!”

The three of them ran to the other building. Jauffre immediately went to the secret room –now open- to look for the Amulet. The moment his face went white, Seryna knew the Amulet had been taken.

“It’s gone, isn’t it? The Amulet is gone.”

Jauffre, looking rather crestfallen, nodded, “It is. I don’t know how they found out about it, but the Amulet is gone. There is no way to stop this Oblivion Crisis now.”

“We still have hope, Jauffre,” Seryna ran her hand through her hair and rubbed her neck, “I found Martin.”

“After being at Kvatch and witnessing the horrors first hand, I will do whatever I can to end this. Don’t give up hope just because we don’t have the Amulet,” Martin added.

“But we need to get the Amulet back. Our enemy seems to know our every move, though. We need a safe place to use as a base.”

Jauffre was nodding, “Yes. Of course I shouldn’t have given in to despair so easily. I know just the place… Cloud Ruler Temple. It’s in the hills above Bruma. We’ll all be safe there. There are horses in the stables here that no longer have masters. We should take them. It’ll be faster than walking.”

“We should get moving. I really don’t want to linger here after that attack.”

“Definitely not,” Jauffre agreed. Martin nodded and moved towards the door.

The three allies exited the damaged building and mounted their horses –Martin and Jauffre both taking horses from the Priory stables. Together, they rode off to Cloud Ruler Temple. They didn’t speak much; each person was lost in their own thoughts… Lost in their worries for the future. Or, in the case of Martin, still trying to come to terms with what he had been told.

As they approached Cloud Ruler Temple, the Blades on the walls called for the gates to open. The three riders dismounted their horses and strode through the gate. Jauffre was greeted by a man named Cyrus.

“Grandmaster Jauffre! We got your message,” Cyrus looked at Martin, “Is he really…?”

“Yes, Cyrus. He is Martin Septim. There is still hope yet.”

There was a brief flurry of conversation between Blades as Jauffre, Seryna, and Martin made their way to the top of the steps. Martin stood in the center with Jauffre and Seryna on either side.

“My friends, this is entirely new to me… I only just learned who I am. The idea of being Emperor will take some getting used to, so please bear with me. I promise I will do everything in my power to help put a stop to this Oblivion Crisis. All I ask is for your aid and your friendship. Only together will we be able to put a stop to this. We must unite against our enemy or else we shall surely fall. I… That’s all.”

The Blades let out a cheer. Martin blushed as they began to hail him.

“Hail Martin Septim! Hail Dragonborn! Hail!”

“Well… Uh… Thank you.”

“All right, Blades,” Jauffre spoke, gesturing to the men and women gathered below them, “You are dismissed. Go back to your duties.”

Martin was scratching his chin as he shifted position to face Seryna, “I have never had to give a speech like that before. Especially not to a fort full of Blades.”

“You didn’t do too badly. I reckon you’ll get more practice in the coming days. Or however long this takes. There certainly won’t be a shortage of speeches to give when you’re crowned Emperor, though.”

“Speaking of that… Everybody suddenly expects me to know what to do. They expect me to be an Emperor and I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not going to lie. I’m afraid.”

The self-doubt was clear in his eyes. Seryna couldn’t help but pity him, “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Martin. But… At this point, I would suggest we concentrate upon getting the Amulet of Kings back. You can’t be Emperor without it. The Amulet is instrumental to our success.”

“Of course. I just wish we knew who we were up against.”

“Mehrunes Dagon. The Prince of Destruction. We know he is behind this, but… I don’t know who his mortal pawns are. I don’t know much about Daedric cults.”

“Actually,” Jauffre stepped in, “We’ve just received word from Baurus. He believes he has found information on the cult that is responsible. His message was coded and short, but he requests assistance in the Imperial City as soon as possible. He may be in danger.”

“I can go,” Seryna said. Baurus had been the man that sent her to Jauffre. He had put his trust in her and Seryna was more than willing to help.

Jauffre seemed pleased, “I was hoping you’d say that. Baurus is waiting in Luther Broad’s Boarding House. Before you go, though, there is one question that I would like to ask. You have done much so far. I would like to offer you a position in the Blades. What do you say?”

“I accept.”

“Good. We’ll get you a traditional Akaviri blade when you return. In the meantime, I suggest you head off to the Imperial City. We need to know what Baurus has discovered.”

“I’ll leave… As soon as I’ve had something to eat!”

“Where do you eat here, anyway?” Martin asked, “Seryna isn’t the only one who’s hungry.”

Jauffre tilted his head in the direction of the main door, “Right through there. I’ll have the kitchen bring something out for both of you.”

Later, after Seryna demolished four plates of food and a great deal of drink –to the dismay of the Blades on cooking duty- she gave her farewells to Martin and Jauffre and left for the Imperial City. It was time to make their first move against the enemy.

Also, thank you, and I enjoyed your story. The bluntness of Aloyse’s self-description (“evil, daedra-worshipping death-knight who practiced necromancy”) did perfectly at cementing the character in my mind, and I liked his comments – they were funny, especially in regards to Frost’s papers. Few grammar or spelling errors, but you also had several good descriptions, and some nice examples of alliteration (“dark shapes in dark night”). Lastly, I liked the ending. It rang out as poignant. (Mauin pretty much covered my thoughts on whether to go vampire or not, so I won’t repeat them.)

Thoroughly enjoyed your story. It was chilling (the poor, stupid, pathetic bandit ), and your beginnings are always, to me, very striking. Great details – a few brushstrokes to paint the scene, inner monologue to give me an understanding of the character.

The Black Horse Courier
Champion of Cyrodiil Missing! By Varona Decimus

Nobody saw it coming. Months after the dramatic end of the Oblivion Crisis, the fresh young Champion of Cyrodiil has gone missing. Close friends have not seen her in several weeks. No letters or other sign of her continued existence have been received. The Arena remains empty. There is simply no sign of her. What, then, happened to the Champion of Cyrodiil?

There is some speculation amongst the general population that the Champion of Cyrodiil, Seryna Vandori, a girl of only twenty years, may have committed suicide. The rumor is that the death of her friend Martin –the last Septim and the man that sacrificed himself to save us, don’t forget!- and the deaths of her only family –her parents- had such an impact on her that she simply could not continue living. Is there any truth to the rumor? I interviewed a close family friend, who shall remain anonymous, to find out.

When asked about the possibility of Seryna committing suicide, the friend scoffed, “Nah. That ain’t like her at all. See, Seryna’s a strong woman. She wouldn’t have let circumstances like that stop her. Poor girl grieved for a while, but who wouldn’t? She snapped right back. I spoke to her after she won a battle in the Arena and she was the same girl I remember.”

If it wasn’t suicide, then what was it? Some believe it was murder. Others think it was a kidnapping. Another group believes she simply grew tired of her fame and ran off seeking peace. The family friend was presented with these possibilities. It took several moments for the person to respond.

“I suppose it could have been murder, but it would have had to be done while she was asleep. Even then Seryna was quite the light sleeper; the slightest of noises would have waked her right up! If someone had tried to kidnap her, she would have fought back with all her strength. Kidnapping her just wouldn’t be possible without the use of a poison or something to either weaken her or knock her out. The most likely of those scenarios is that Seryna rand off on her own. Seryna has done that before, but she usually kept in touch with family and friends. This silence is very odd for her… There is another possibility, but… I wouldn’t wish that fate upon my worst enemies.”

The family friend refused to comment on what that last possibility might be.

With the reason for her disappearance unknown, we can only hope that the guards can uncover something. At this very moment, guards from every city are searching the homes owned by the Champion of Cyrodiil for any signs of distress, foul play, or any other clue to her disappearance. The only clue the guards have at the moment is her last sighting. The last time anybody saw her, the Champion of Cyrodiil was placing flowers at the feet of the statue of the Avatar of Akatosh. Was this a final farewell to Martin Septim? Whatever her intentions were, it seems as though her disappearance was planned… Or was it?

Whatever the reason for her disappearance, please keep her in your prayers. Pray that she be kept safe. If you know anything, do not hesitate to inform the guards. It could mean the difference between life and death for the Champion of Cyrodiil.

Felina had been dead for thirty-six days.

Thirty-six days since Onmund had last heard her snoring next to him, kissed the back of her earlobe, or given her a hard time over bathing Meeko for the second time in a week. He didn't smell her burning venison in the mornings or hear her laughter downstairs with the children. She didn't sit across the table from him and playfully kick his foot. He no longer sniffed the leathery smell in her dark hair, or brushed against her cheek.

Her absence left an emptiness inside of him. A painful throbbing one that deepened with each day that passed.

Onmund's world had changed--a widower with two children under the age of six, struggling to pull himself out of bed from the depression. He missed her. He hated her. He resented her stupidity. But in those volatile moments when his life seemed hopeless, a pair of innocent blue eyes resembling hers would stare back at him from the doorway.

If he were a single man with no family to care for, he could get away with not wanting to live. But the children needed him, and he couldn't fail them the way she had.

Alone in bed, he didn't know what time it was. Honeyside rested except for the occasional creak on the floorboards. Sometimes he imagined Felina walking around in the kitchen. But those thoughts made his sadder.

He sat up in the dark. Iona's bed made his muscles ache, but he preferred that to sleeping in the bed he used to share with Felina. Too much pain.

The urge to cry rose up in him, but he choked it back. No use in crying over someone that didn't value him. He had tried to offer her help so many times but she stupidly did not take it. She chose skooma over their family, and for that he couldn't forgive her.

"Pa?"

Sofie stood at the doorway in her tattered nightgown. The candlelight from the hallway cracked in from behind her. She rubbed her eyes and whimpered.

"Can't sleep." She said.

Onmund held himself back from going to her. In the partial shadows across her face, he saw Felina. And he cried.

"Pa? Sorry?"

"No, girl. Its all right. Come here."

He lifted her up on to the bed, and brushed her hair to the side. Since he had told the children their mother wouldn't be coming back, that the Gods had taken her, neither of them had since spoken her name. It worried him when he looked at them that they would grow up messed up somehow.

"You've done nothing wrong." He said. "Pa is just sad."

Sofie stared back at him, too young to understand the magnitude of the situation. But she curled up against his arm, and kissed it. The sweet girl. Felina had been too hard on her. At least now, the kind of person she had been wouldn't rub off on the kids. That momentarily soothed him.

He stroked the top of her head. "Come, child. I'll take you back to your bed."

She jumped in his lap. "Candles?"

"Oh, did they burn out? Were you scared of the dark, Sofie?"

She nodded.

"Its all right. Pa will light them back up for you. No nightmares will upset my little girl."