The Lightning Scroll - Fan Made Novel (COMPLETE)

[Dexpa]

Blurb: Peace never seems to last long enough in the Shivering Isles. After a group of khajiit boys find their village overrun by Daedra, they attempt to make their escape but are torn apart in the chaos. Follow their adventures as they learn powerful spells, discover new friends and enemies, and search for a way to undo the scars left behind by the invasion.
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I've been working passionately on this novel project for the past few years. The lore of the Elder Scrolls universe has always fascinated me and I wanted to finally make something in contribution to the vast and beautiful world that Bethesda and Zenimax have made.

The Lightning Scroll is a fan-made novel taking place in the Elder Scrolls universe, filled with tense and emotional character interactions, immersive combat scenes, and references to several familiar characters within Elder Scrolls lore. It includes locations and events from multiple different Elder Scrolls games including Skyrim, Oblivion, and The Elder Scrolls Online.
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The Lightning Scroll
Chapter 1
Helpless

Part I: Peace

(1E 2916)

A flash of lightning shook the waters of the swamp. A piercing screech echoed against the trees, quickly silenced by a wet slash.

The three boys were out doing their usual adventuring, slaying the creatures of the swamp bordering their village. The swamp was a small part of something greater. A realm belonging to the Daedric Prince Sheogorath; The Shivering Isles.

The isles were split into three regions, the Mania region, the Dementia region, and The Fringe. Their village rested in the Mania region.

Jo’navir sheathed his sword and picked up the dead baliwog, leaving its severed head behind. “Let’s get going,” he beckoned the others.

“You took it down in one swing!” Mo’nazar admired Jo’navir’s one-handed swordsmanship. “And Dexpa, you’ve got to teach me more about sparks. Yours are on a whole other level from mine.”

“We can read up on more of the books at your house?” Dexpa suggested. “Maybe they’ll even let us in the cellar, this time? I know your parents are a little— arggg!” Dexpa suddenly yelped in pain.

“Dexpa!” Mo’nazar shouted, noticing the blood dripping down his friend’s leg.

Jo’navir rushed over to his brother immediately to look at his injury. “You’re fine,” he sighed in relief, putting a hand on Dexpa’s shoulder to comfort him. He proceeded through the swamp towards the village, hoisting the baliwog over his shoulder. “Mother and father are waiting. Come on guys.”

As they arrived, Dexpa could see Mo’nazar’s father staring out of their window, holding tight to a strange amulet around his neck, and watching as the three of them entered the village. Dexpa waved at him but received no greetings in return. He placed his hand at his side and looked away, defeated.

On the other side of the village, Dexpa and Jo’navir’s mother Ko’zura awaited their return outside of her front door.

“Welcome back, boys,” she greeted them. She noticed Dexpa’s injury right away. “Come here,” she beckoned him. She cast the spell healing hands over his leg. Her claws glowed a majestic white aura, and when it faded, his cut was gone. “Maybe you’ll learn to do this yourself one day, huh?” she joked, patting his back. “Then you won’t need me every time you get hurt.”

“Thanks mother,” Dexpa said before stepping inside his home with Jo’navir. Mo’nazar followed behind, stopping to give their mother a begging look.

“Of course, Mo’nazar. You’re always welcome in our home,” she said with a welcoming smile and a hand on his back, directing him inside. His leopard patterned fur stood up in excitement.

Za’vanir, the father of the two khajiit brothers sat in the kitchen eagerly awaiting to see what his sons were able to catch in the swamp.

Jo’navir handed the baliwog over to his younger brother to share the glory. “Show it to him,” he said.

Dexpa’s eyes beamed with excitement as he proceeded to show his catch to his father.

“That’s my boy! Look at the size of this one!” Za’vanir shouted, giving Dexpa a congratulatory pat on the back. The white fur on Dexpa’s head perked up in sync with the prideful smirk on his face.

“We’re so proud of you boys,” Ko’zura added. “Being able to hunt on your own now. Such capable warriors,” she said looking at the three of them equally.

“And you didn’t call me for help this time,” Za’vanir joked.

Dexpa looked embarrassed. He knew his father was referring to him.

“I’m just messing with you kid,” Za’vanir assured him. “But don’t be afraid to. I wouldn’t mind a little action every now and then. Your pop’s starting to get a bit rusty,” he added, tapping his steel greatsword equipped at his side.

“We can handle ourselves,” Jo’navir stated proudly. “I promised I’d protect them, just like you said to.”

Za’vanir smiled and nodded his head in understanding. “Well, I think it’s about time I cooked up this hunk of meat. I’ve got tons of orders lined up from the villagers looking for new armor and weapons, so let’s get to it.”

A polite knock came from the front door. Ko’zura answered, letting in the surprise guest.

“Boo!” shouted a young khajiit girl with leopard fur.

“Oh my!” Ko’zura yelled, playing along. She jumped back and gripped her Amulet of Mara around her neck with a sigh of relief. “Oh Ra’zita, it’s you. You scared me, little one.”

“I got you!” Ra’zita giggled. “Does this mean I’m strong enough to go hunting with the others?”

“Almost. Keep getting stronger, dear. You’ll get there one day.”

“Aww,” Ra’zita said looking bummed.

“Come on, Ra’zita,” Mo’nazar rolled his eyes. “There’s plenty of mushrooms around the village for you to gather. You’re going to be an alchemist someday, aren’t you?” He noticed some red kelp she placed on her head, almost ready to fall out.

“Yeah,” Ra’zita replied, still slightly downhearted.

Mo’nazar sympathized with his sister’s saddened face. “Okay, you can play with us next time. We’ll just stay close to the village.”

“Yay!!” she yelped.

Ko’zura adjusted the red kelp buried in the fur on Ra’zita’s head and guided her inside. “Come on, it’s almost time to eat.”

Everyone sat at the table, as Za’vanir cooked the baliwog.

“While we’re waiting, why don’t I tell you all another story?” Ko’zura suggested. “Perhaps the one about Sheogorath?”

Jo’navir rolled his eyes.

“I love that one!” Dexpa exclaimed. “Mo’nazar, listen to this,” he begged, tugging at his friend’s arm.

Jo’navir smiled at his brother’s excitement. “Why not,” he said.

Ko’zura began her story. “They call him the Mad God, and the Prince of Madness. But believe me when I say this is no ordinary prince. He is a Daedric Prince. And one who brings chaos wherever he goes.”

“To most, this chaos spells disaster, but to him, it’s entertainment. Even Daedra tremble at his presence. No Clannfear goes without shaking legs, and no Dremora dare speak against him. He is a man of great presence.”

“Some say he was cursed by the other Daedric lords and forced to rule over this plain of Oblivion as a mad man. But why? What did he do that required such an action from the other Lords? Perhaps they feared him.”

“There is much we still don’t know about this island, despite living here for as long as we have.”

“We know of the two main regions and their crazed inhabitants, and while we also know of the existence of The Fringe, what lies inside remains a mystery to us. This place is OFF LIMITS to you kids, you hear me? We do not traverse that tunnel in fear of what remains on the other side, and we do not need to know.”

“All you need to know is that Sheogorath is a man feared by all, and when in his presence, you should choose your words carefully.”


Part II: Ruins

(1E 2920)

Though nobody was aware of it, a new era was approaching. The atmosphere of the swamps began to change slowly. There were earthquakes, which became more prevalent and intense as the days went by. And the monsters of the swamp began to act more aggressively.

It was the last day of the Evening Star, and to conclude the year, the boys wanted to finally explore the ruins they’d had their eyes on for a while. It was located somewhere deep in the swamp.

Meanwhile, Ko’zura was now bed-ridden with Swamp Fever. She lay in bed with Za’vanir sitting by her side as the three boys entered the room. On the desk next to her sat some herbs.

Za’vanir explained, “Ra’zita brought those for your mother. She’s a very caring young girl.” He smiled at Ko’zura. “I’m sorry she couldn’t stick around to say hello to you boys. She left in a hurry saying something about her parents wanting to make her stronger.” His face began to look concerned. “I can never tell what those two are up to.”

Ko’zura interrupted with a sincere look, “Her parents have always been a little distant, but I’m sure they’re doing it to protect her in the future.”

“As for you boys,” she continued in a weak voice turning to Jo’navir, “I heard about your little adventure. I forbid you from exploring those ruins.”

“What!?” Jo’navir yelled. “We’ve been looking forward to this forever!”

Ko’zura continued, “No, Jo’navir. Besides, if one of you gets hurt, I won’t be able to heal you in my condition.”

“No one is going to get hurt! I promise I’ll be able to protect them, please mother!” Jo’navir begged.

“My word is final,” Ko’zura declared.

Jo’navir scowle at his mother and marched out of the room. Ko’zura sighed and began resting her eyes, while Dexpa and Mo’nazar nervously followed Jo’navir to the outside.

As they stepped out the front door, it was clear Jo’navir had made up his mind. “We’re going,” he said making his way towards the swamp.

“But she sa—” Dexpa began.

“She’s sick!” Jo’navir interrupted. “She probably doesn’t know what she’s saying Dexpa. Listen, we’ll be fine. We always have been.”

Dexpa decided to trust Jo’navir’s confidence. He nodded and looked towards Mo’nazar who gave the same gesture back, bringing the three of them to an agreement. They would proceed into the swamp.

The swamp was a foggy maze, with paths spread out in every direction, tangled with lively vines, and loaded with red kelp where the water was shallow. The water was colored a tainted green, with the occasional splotch of baliwog feces floating on its surface.

After several minutes had passed, they arrived at the ruins.

The ruins were surrounded by broken stone walls covered in moss, and a thick cloud of fog. In the middle of it all sat a large stone door hidden behind some vines which the boys promptly took care of with their claws and teeth.

“Step back,” Jo’navir commanded, as he stood in front of the door, clenching his fist. He cast the alteration spell, stone flesh on himself. His hand turned to stone, and he began to punch the door to the ruins repeatedly until it finally collapsed.

“Nice!” Dexpa yelled admiring his brother’s strength.

Inside, there were several more stone doors, but one stood out above the rest. Straight ahead, one of the doors was emitting a feint purple light shining through its cracks.

Mo’nazar cast the spell detect pulse to check for monsters nearby. “We’re alone,” he sighed.

“Really?” Dexpa questioned looking around. “You’d expect a few swamp monsters or something to be hiding in a place like this. Maybe even some undead. Why is it so quiet here?”

“I don’t know,” Mo’nazar replied. He was relieved, but the other two seemed almost annoyed with the lack of action.

Suddenly, the purple glow from the room began to flicker. They approached the door to the room and looked for an opening.

“Found something,” Dexpa claimed. He cast the mysticism spell telekinesis, lifting a key out of the cracks in the wall and into his hands. He placed it in the door’s key slot, and it began to creak open revealing the source of the glow.

It was a massive floating silver crystal being held up by a mysterious purple beam of energy. The moment the boys took a step into the room, it began to flash again. Suddenly, a creature stepped out of it, leg first. The creature’s silver body seemed to be made from the same crystal as the obelisk it came out of.

It began walking towards the boys slowly, raising a sword in the air.

“Stay back!” Jo’navir yelled, pushing the others back. He cast a fireball spell at the creature, but it blocked the attack with ease using its free hand. Unfazed, it continued to approach Jo’navir preparing to swing its sword at him. “What…” Jo’navir stood in shock. His most powerful spell was useless, and he was now wide open to its attack.

Suddenly, the hands of a black-furred khajiit appeared, pushing Jo’navir aside and blocking the swing with a shining steel greatsword.

“Za’vanir?” said Mo’nazar.

“Stand back boys, let me handle this!” Za’vanir said as his weapon clashed with the sword of the crystal knight. He quickly overwhelmed the creature, pushing it back with his greatsword and tripping it to the ground. He stepped over the creature and thrust his greatsword into its chest. Its limbs fell flat, and its entire body stopped moving.

He turned around to the boys and began to scold them. “What were you thinking!? This is exactly why your mother told you to stay in the village! If I didn’t get here when I did, you’d be in pieces on the floor!” he yelled pointing to the crystal knight lying dead behind him. He’d never yelled at them like this before. His voice sounded both furious and terrified.

“We’re capable of taking care of ourselves!” Jo’navir argued back. “You let us go out into the swamp all the time, what makes this place any different?”

“What do you think?” Za’vanir questioned back gesturing at the portal. He sighed and continued with a level head, “Look, let’s just head back to the village. We can discuss this when we get there okay?”

Dexpa and Mo’nazar felt guilty for their actions, nodding their heads in agreement with Za’vanir, while Jo’navir looked away annoyed. “Whatever,” Jo’navir said, too tired to argue with his father anymore.

Za’vanir turned around to leave, but the moment he turned his back on the obelisk, the portal began to flicker once again. Suddenly, a silver sword was plunged through his back, exiting out of his chest and spraying blood on the boys who stood on the other side of it.

Za’vanir stood there, unable to speak or move. His eyes laid wide open while blood began to escape out of his mouth, dripping onto the ground below. He fell to the floor, dislodging the silver sword from his chest along the way and flinging his own greatsword to Jo’navir’s feet. In front of the boys now stood another silver knight, identical to the last.

Dexpa and Mo’nazar were speechless and terrified, but Jo’navir glared at the creature with fury in his eyes. “Father!” he screamed. The creature continued its approach like a mindless soldier following orders.

Jo’navir threw a fireball at the creature, which was blocked just like the previous. But this time he followed it up with two quick swings of his sword. The first severing the exposed arm of the creature, and the second slicing cleanly through its neck.

Its now-separated body parts landed one after the other on the stone floor. Jo’navir dropped his sword to check in on his father, who laid next to both deceased silver knights.

He kneeled next to Za’vanir holding his head in his hands. He shook his head screaming, “Father! No, please wake up! Wake up! Stop playing around.” Tears rolled out of his eyes and onto his father’s body.

Dexpa soon joined him leaning over his father’s corpse looking for signs of a reaction, but his father’s face sat empty and expressionless. Dexpa couldn’t build the strength to say anything. The tightness of his chest was too extreme, and tears began rushing out of his eyes as well.

“No, he’s not…” Dexpa choked, unable to get another word out.

The brothers were stuck in place, focusing only on their father’s corpse. It seemed like nothing could move them. But this was not the time to mourn.


Part III: Letting Go

“We need to go! Now!” Mo’nazar screamed. “More of those things are probably about to come out. We don’t have time to just sit here!”

A violent earthquake suddenly shook the ruins, breaking several of its ancient walls apart and spawning patches of dust clouds.

After the quake silenced, the boys could hear distant screaming coming from the village, which finally snapped Jo’navir and Dexpa out of it. They wiped their tears, got up, and ran back to the entrance with Mo’nazar. However, the entrance was now caved in.

Dexpa cast sparks above the door, hoping it would blast a hole in the wall. And to his surprise, it did exactly that. The new rubble crumbled and added to the layer beneath it, allowing the boys to climb up and out of the new hole in the wall to exit the ruins.

They treaded back through the swamp until they could see the village again. But the place was now almost unrecognizable. “No, no, no,” Jo’navir mumbled beginning to panic as he observed the damage.

Another crystal obelisk sat in the center of the village with crystal knights flooding out of it. The homes of the village looked like they were struck by lightning. Several of their roofs were missing and wood scraps were scattered across the mud below.

Suddenly, a blinding white light came out of the second floor of the house where Ko’zura was resting, immediately followed by a huge explosion which shook the ground, generating ripples in the swamp water.

Mo’nazar was stunned in place, staring at the damage done to his house. Dexpa and Jo’navir on the other hand, made a dash for their home, barging inside to look for their mother. There were crystal knights dead on the floor with signs of shock magic remaining on their bodies and on the walls of the house.

The boys could hear footsteps coming from the kitchen. Jo’navir stood in front of his brother. “I’ll take care of whatever is in there. Go check if mother is upstairs,” he demanded.

Dexpa dashed up the stairs, heading straight to Ko’zura’s room where she was recovering from her sickness. The sight brought on a sudden feeling of dread. “Mother?” Dexpa whispered to himself, taking it in.

On one side of the room sat a pile of dust surrounded in holy white flames. And on the other, lay the corpse of Ko’zura, covered in fading lightning magic. Her body was almost unrecognizable. She was an ashen black silhouette of her former self. Her Amulet of Mara still rested in her hand.

Dexpa hesitantly inched closer to get a closer look. He looked in her eyes for signs of life, but there were no eyes left in her sockets. He felt his limbs shiver. He wanted to know what happened.

On the other corpse, Dexpa spotted a silver mask with a red glow, along with a golden staff in the shape of a dragon’s head. He walked over, picked them up and stared at them trying to put two-and-two together, but he was left even more confused.

The sound of footsteps began to make their way up the stairs and towards the room Dexpa was in. A silver hand creeped around the opening of the door frame, soon revealing the body of a damaged crystal knight. Dexpa stepped back, tripping over his mother’s desecrated body, falling backwards and dropping the mask and staff. The knight took its first step towards him but was instantly sent flying down the hallway with an unexpected fireball.

“Dexpa!” Jo’navir called from the hallway barging through the doorway. He paused for a second, now laying eyes upon the scene which Dexpa had already witnessed. “We were too late,” Jo’navir said running out of breath.

“Come on!” he said shaking Dexpa by the shoulders to bring him back to reality. Dexpa came to, picking up the staff and the mask once again and attaching it to his robes. “What are you doing? Let’s go!” Jo’navir said, pulling his brother away from the scene. They darted down the stairs and out the front door back into the chaos outside.

“Where’s Mo’nazar!?” Dexpa asked.

Jo’navir scouted the area, but it was tough to see past the hordes of crystal knights. “His house!” he said, running towards Mo’nazar’s house on the other side. The door was already crushed to pieces and its frame was lined with black burn marks and traces of lightning.

Jo’navir and Dexpa went inside, only to find Mo’nazar kneeling over his parents, or at least what was left of them. The mother’s body was desecrated the same way Ko’zura’s was. While the father’s laid next to her; another burnt corpse. His hand was holding onto a strange amulet with a green skull. There were more traces of sparks lining the walls, and many of the books on the bookshelves were disintegrated.

Dexpa came over to Mo’nazar placing a hand on his shoulder and kneeling next to him. “I’m sorry Mo’nazar.”

Mo’nazar said nothing back. He was too traumatized at the sight to notice his friends calling to him.

Jo’navir scouted out the rest of the house, starting with the hatch on the floor in the corner of the room. It was blasted open the same way the front door was, leaving black markings along the rim.

Curious, he jumped down the hatch to see what was inside and saw something horrid. Blood stains coated the walls and floor of the room, and in the center of it all was a summoning circle. A plethora of purple crystal gems were spread about, and there were bookshelves containing a variety of strange spellbooks. “What is this?” Jo’navir whispered to himself trying to put the pieces together.

“Jo’navir!” Dexpa anxiously called from the other room. Reacting to his brother’s shout, Jo’navir hastily climbed out of the hatch. “They’re close, I can hear them!” Dexpa continued.

They could hear footsteps coming from outside getting louder and louder. Without a second thought, Jo’navir grabbed Dexpa and ran to the door, signaling Mo’nazar to follow. “Come on!” he yelled.

As they stepped out the front door, Jo’navir and Dexpa began searching for an escape route past the horde of knights. But Jo’navir looked back into the house and saw Mo’nazar still sitting over his mother’s body.

“Mo’nazar! What are you doing!?” Jo’navir yelled at him. He came back over to Mo’nazar and tugged on his arm, desperately pleading that they leave together, but his body wouldn’t budge.

Mo’nazar stared at the lifeless parents, as if he was waiting for them to move again. His thoughts were racing, and it numbed him to his surroundings. Dexpa ran inside, trying to help him pull Mo’nazar along, but he couldn’t move him either.

“Please Mo’nazar!” Dexpa cried. “We have to get out of here now!”

Hearing footsteps now shuffling right outside the door, Jo’navir’s patience was pushed to its limit. “Damnit!!” he screamed. He clenched his claws against his own head, scratching himself in frustration. He let go of Mo’nazar and began tugging Dexpa away once again, pulling him apart from Mo’nazar.

“No, we can still save him! Let go of me!” Dexpa screamed, struggling to get out of his brother’s grip. But Jo’navir held even tighter to his brother’s arm, forcing him out the front door, barely scraping past the crystal knights. As hard as he tried to keep his composure, Jo’navir couldn’t hold back his own tears. But he had to stay strong, to protect his younger brother.

“Mo’nazar!!!” Dexpa yelled out again, desperately pulling back towards the house. But his attempts to reach out were hopeless.


Part IV: No Choice

Before he knew it, Dexpa was hundreds of feet away from the village, and all he could see looking back was a swarm of shining silver knights marching over ashes and mud.

The brothers continued as far west as they could on the Isles, giving Dexpa some time to regain his senses. They found themselves at a giant stone wall with an entrance to a long dark tunnel. It was the entrance to The Fringe.

The brothers looked at each other worried, but soon found the courage to continue forward blindly through the hallway. They grazed their hands along to wall to guide them through the dark until they finally reached the other side where a large stone plaza waited for them.

Suddenly, another earthquake shook them at their feet almost tripping them over.

“Dexpa,” Jo’navir whispered after catching himself. “Hide,” he added pointing at something wandering the plaza. It was a creature, but not one they’d ever seen before.

It was twice their height and was bleeding from several parts of its fleshy body. It had patches of ripped fur that was golden with black spots that barely hung onto its skin. It was an abomination. But to their luck, it didn’t notice the boys. It was too busy whimpering in the corner.

“It’s crying?” Dexpa noted with curiosity.

Jo’navir pulled Dexpa along leading him silently past the monster. As they passed, Dexpa could see beneath the legs of the creature that it was crying over a bundle of red kelp sitting in the corner of the plaza, trying to place it into the cracks of its skin, but failing to do so repeatedly.

Once they made it out of the plaza, they met with an open field, flourishing with beautiful fungal plant life. And beyond it, Dexpa spotted a man in the distance. “I see someone,” he said pointing towards the man. He was dressed in butler attire.

“Let’s approach with caution,” Jo’navir said eyeing the figure suspiciously.

Once they were finally close enough, Jo’navir asked the man, “Who are you?”

“Can you help us?” Dexpa added.

“Hello boys. My name is Haskill. I am the Chamerlain of the Mad God.” He looked at them with a strange stare that appeared both polite and annoyed.

“Sheogorath?” Dexpa inquired.

“That is correct,” Haskill said. “It appears you are familiar with my lord. How lucky for you,” he added sarcastically.

A flash came from beside Haskill and as it faded, another man appeared on the scene in colorful attire. He had a wicked smirk on his face. “Did someone say my name!?” the man said.

Haskill sighed, “Welcome back sir.”

“Hello Haskill! I have missed you so much,” Sheogorath said.

“It’s only been a few minutes sir. A pleasure to see you again,” he sighed again, “As always.”

“Ah lovely. And who are these two boys,” Sheogorath asked.

“We’re looking for a way off this island, please!” Dexpa begged.

“And miss out on all the fun!?” Sheogorath jested. “The Greymarch is just getting started, why not stick around?”

“The what?” Jo’navir asked.

“We’ll do anything, please just help us!” Dexpa begged again.

Jo’navir jabbed Dexpa in the side as if to say, “What are you doing!”

Sheogorath rubbed his chin deep in thought. “Well, there is something that’s been on my mind for a while. You see, I’ve been holding on to something with incredible untold power, but to use it would be a gamble.”

He pulled out a strange looking scroll and showed it to the boys. It was a large gold-plated scroll with a lightning bolt engraved on the seal in the center.

“This scroll could be your ticket off the island,” Sheogorath continued. “I still don’t understand what the lightning bolt on it means, but perhaps it has something to do with shock magic. Either way,” he looked disgusted with the scroll holding it out with only two fingers and dangling it away from his face. “I’m not opening this thing. I hear it can really mess with your senses if you know what I mean.” He winked and held the scrolls over to Dexpa.

Jo’navir looked worried as the scroll made its way towards his brother. He knew after hearing Sheogorath mention shock magic that Dexpa would be the one to try using the scroll, but it was too risky.

Dexpa reached his hand out to take the scroll, but Jo’navir stood between the two of them, pausing the exchange.

“We’ll find another way,” Jo’navir said hesitantly.

“Oh really, and what will that be?” Sheogorath questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“We’ll swim,” Jo’navir replied.

“The slaughter fish would love that,” Sheogorath added.

“Then we’ll make a boat,” Jo’navir remarked.

Sheogorath laughed at his proposition hysterically. “With what time!?” he joked, pointing towards the plaza behind them.

Out of the dark hallways came a horde of crystal knights making their way towards the boys. They swarmed around the abomination and continued their march towards the boys.

“It would appear you have none left,” Sheogorath said. His smirk transformed into a frown. “And frankly, neither do I. Make your choice now before I take it away. I’m losing my patience.”

Jo’navir started urgently looking around the island for another way out, but the younger khajiit grabbed his shoulder and looked at him with confidence. “I can do this,” Dexpa claimed.

Jo’navir hesitated for several moments before finally giving in. “Okay,” he sighed, feeling defeated. For once, as the older sibling, he felt helpless.

Dexpa reached forward once again and took the scroll out of the Mad God’s hands. He began to open it up, which suddenly made him dizzy. Soon his heart began to follow, beating twice as fast. But he continued to unravel the scroll anyways, slowly revealing its blinding light and symbols that he couldn’t make sense of. He attempted to look away from the scroll, but it felt like his eyes were now glued to it.

“What’s going on!?” Jo’navir asked Shegorath. He grabbed onto his brother and the scroll trying to separate the two of them, but they were practically stuck together. “Dexpa! Let go of the scroll!” he shouted.

The Mad God was watching intently, carefully analyzing their interaction with the scroll.

Dexpa was beginning to feel mesmerized by the scroll after embracing its power. Sparks of lightning started shooting out of his hands and into the scroll making it glow even brighter than before. And then suddenly, Dexpa was teleported away in a white flash, shortly followed by Jo’navir in another.

There was silence as Sheogorath stood with Haskill by his side observing the place where the two brothers vanished from. The brothers were gone, replaced by two towering pillars of light shooting into the sky, along with the scroll which sealed itself and fell to the floor.

“Well, that doesn’t tell me anything,” Sheogorath shrugged with a smirk. “No matter. We will find a use for this scroll someday.” He looked back towards the plaza where the crystal knights continued their approach, and his smile faded.

He handed the scroll to Haskill. “Hold onto this for me, dear friend. I believe it is my time,” Sheogorath declared, with a hint of loneliness in his voice.

Haskill gracefully accepted the scroll into his hands. “I will protect it with my life, sir. Until we meet again.”

[Dexpa]

Chapter 2
Dexpa: Madness

Part I: Unfamiliar Land

(2E 583)

For a few seconds, Dexpa’s body became numb and all he could see was pure white light. Gradually, his senses returned to him.

“What happened?” he asked himself, looking down at his claws. The staff and the mask he found remained with him, but there was no sign of the scroll or Jo’navir.

He was surrounded by grass and dirt mostly, but in the distance, he could see mountains covered in snow.

“Jo’navir!” he called. But there was no answer.

Dexpa followed a path carved in gravel that led to a large city made of stone. “Orsinium,” a sign read.

Admiring the sturdy architecture of the city, Dexpa walked around for several minutes, noticing people with smooth green skin and sharp under-biting teeth lining the city streets. There were lit braziers at every corner, and complex stone and wooden structures that he had never seen before.

It was massive compared to the village that he grew up in.

Eventually he found himself at an inn labeled “The King’s Cornerclub.” Inside, the place was filled with tough, green-skinned men and women all wearing rugged metal armor with green weapons holstered at their sides.

Dexpa was overwhelmed in this new setting, but his thoughts of finding Jo’navir kept him moving forward. He could feel the stares of the other patrons, probably judging his thin figure.

A woman sat behind the counter, eyeing Dexpa politely as he came closer. “Welcome to the King’s Cornerclub! Can I get you anything to drink? Maybe a bed to sleep in?” asked the woman.

Dexpa paused for a second thinking he just walked into someone’s house. He thought to himself, “Why is this woman being so hospitable? I’m a stranger.”

“You alright kid?” she asked, quickly realizing he looked lost. “I’m guessing you’re not from these parts. If there’s anything I can get you, just let me know. My name’s Roxanne.” She pointed to the tables around the inn, “Make yourself comfortable, there’s plenty of seats.”

“Actually, there is something,” Dexpa said, taking a seat in one of the stools at the counter. “I’m looking for my brother, but we got separated.”

“Sorry to hear about that,” Roxanne replied.

Dexap pondered for a moment on how to start looking for his brother. “Do you know any rumors about a scroll with the ability to teleport?”

Multiple chairs began to audibly move and Dexpa could feel the stares again on the back of his neck. Roxanne looked surprised but concerned for Dexpa.

“None that I’ve heard of. But are you sure you should be meddling with that kind of stuff?” she said politely.

A hand slammed on the counter, interrupting their conversation.“I might know what you’re looking for,” a man said practically breathing into Dexpa’s ear as his arm reached around his shoulder. The man and his companions all had the same green skin and underbite. Their muscles were several times larger than Dexpa’s.

Roxanne looked annoyed at the men interrupting her conversation.

“Do you know where I could find it!?” Dexpa begged. “It was gold, with a lightning bolt engraved on the seal.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” the man smirked. “We orcs know everything that goes on around here, cat. Would you like to know a little more?”

Dexpa nodded without hesitation. All he cared about was getting back to his brother.

The orc and his goons laughed at Dexpa’s desperation. “That’s what I like to hear!” the orc said. “What you’re looking for is the Maelstrom Arena. They just recently got their hands on a new scroll matching that description and they’re giving it away as a prize for conquering the arena. It’ll be a piece a cake for a mage like you I’m sure,” he mocked, flicking Dexpa’s robes.

“Leave the kid alone, would you?” Roxanne intervened. “You’re just sending him to his death. Go find someone else to toy with.”

Dexpa began to look discouraged.

The orc replied, “Ah come on cub, you’re not going to let a few Daedra scare you off, are you?”

Dexpa sensed his demeaning tone but was still considering the opportunity left before him. This was his only lead, and he didn’t have much of a choice anyways. He got up and went straight for the door.

“Wait, kid!” Roxanne called out. “What are you—”

“Look for the ruins in the northeast to find the portal!” the orc interrupted. “Have fun cat!”

Dexpa made his way up the snow-covered mountains, eventually arriving at an ominous stone structure with a subtle orange glow lighting up the inside. He went in, passing several cages and webs, soon discovering the source of the glow: a massive orange portal. He walked in without a second thought.

Suddenly, he found himself in a desert with what appeared to be a village just down a short road. The village was littered with sandstone huts, but one stood out above the rest.

Inside, he was faced with two humanoid Daedras, who seemed like they were waiting for his arrival. He readied himself for a fight.

“Woah, woah easy! Keep that spirit for what’s the come. I assume you’re here to try your might at the legendary Maelstrom Arena?” the Dremora asked.

“I’m looking for a scroll,” Dexpa inquired. “Do you have it?”

“I’m so glad you asked. It just so happens that we do have one!” A small portal opened next to him, revealing another Dremora holding a scroll inside of it. Dexpa inched closer until he could see the lightning bolt symbol sitting in the center, but before he could reach for it, the portal closed in his face.

Dexpa’s eyes grew wide. “Maybe that group of orcs weren’t so bad, afterall” he thought. “What do I have to do?” he asked.

“Good question!” he announced. “To start, my name is Fa-Nuit-Hen, and this is my servant, Tutor Riparius. We’ll be the announcers for this challenge.” He directed his hand towards Tutor, hinting for him to help describe the rest.

“The challenge will consist of nine different stages, each with multiple rounds, as well as their own environments and enemies. Kill everything and you win!” Tutor finished. The two Dremora were full of energy and excitement. Far from what Dexpa was feeling in this moment.

“Challenger, are you ready!?” Fa-Nuit-Hen asked.

Dexpa nodded his head and looked behind the two Dremora.

“Then let’s get it started! Challenger, enter the portal!”

Another portal appeared out of thin air behind the Dremoras.

Dexpa felt uneasy but he knew he had to do this.


Part II: The Arena

“Coldharbour?” Dexpa asked himself, taking note of his new surroundings. He recognized the place from one of his mother’s stories.

Everything was a different shade of blue. Most of the arena consisted of coldharbour rock and was encircled by a black fence. An audience of Dremora stood outside of it, including the two announcers.

In the center of the arena sat a tree layered with dead skeletons and surrounded by a suspicious liquid moat. And outside of the arena lurked a dense fog covering blue mountains and massive sharp rocks piercing into the ground far below.

Dexpa eyed the four glowing blue sigils in each corner of the arena, all floating above a small light. He made out the shapes: a chalice, an axe, a shield, and a set of wings.

“Alright, let’s see how well our new contestant does!” Fa-Nuit-Hen’s voice echoed.

“Will he succeed? Or end up like our last challenger?” Tutor added.

Two yellow portals appeared around the arena, spawning a clannfear and a Dremora mage. The clannfear rushed towards Dexpa as the mage shot a fireball his way. He reacted fast, using telekinesis to lift the clannfear in the way of the blast, turning it to ashes and then finishing off the mage with a lightning bolt spell.

“Woah,” Dexpa gasped, surprised with his new potential. Out of nowhere, he just learned a new spell. One that was much more powerful than the sparks he usually casts. What was it that fueled him to do so?

He decided from this point on that he’d focus most of his efforts on improving his shock magic.

To his own surprise, Dexpa flew through the rounds with ease, bringing him to the final enemy of stage one.

“Let’s see how the challenger does against the legendary ‘Maxus the Many’” Fa-Nuit-Hen added as the last Daedra appeared through a portal in the center of the arena. It was another Dremora mage, wielding a staff.

Dexpa began by shooting out a lightning bolt before the enemy even had a chance to react. It knocked the Daedra back with noticeable force, dealing significant damage.

Dexpa continued throwing out several lightning bolts with alternating hands, each hitting harder than the previous. It only took seconds for the barrage to put an end to the Daedra. He looked down at his claws amazed by his own power.

“What’s with me?” he pondered. It seemed like his determination to find his brother was fueling his newfound strength. Along with the fact that he no longer had someone to depend on to protect him.

“That was incredible! Maxus didn’t even have a chance to fight back. This challenger is a lot tougher than he looks! It’s time to proceed to the next stage!” Fa-Nuit-Hen announced.

An orange flash revealed a portal in front of one of the gate doors. Dexpa took a few seconds to breathe and then continued forward.

He flew through the first 8 stages at a surprising rate. He fought Dwemer automotons, trolls, frost giants, spiders, bugs, and many other creatures and Daedra alike, none of which were able to withstand his lightning bolt. It wasn’t until the ninth and final stage that Dexpa began to have trouble.

The environment was almost identical to the first stage, but this one had a moat of lava encircling the outside of the arena, closed in by the black fence around it. In the four corners of the stage, the blue sigils sat ready once again.

“This is it! The final stage. Will this rookie competitor be able to conquer the arena?!” the announcer cried. “Or will we have to clean his ashes like the rest of the competitors? Let’s find out together!”

Multiple enemies began to appear out of portals from different directions. Two Dremora archers began nocking their bows, while a Dremora knight charged at Dexpa with its weapon ready.

He released a lightning bolt, wiping out the knight, but before he could deal with the archers, a blue ghost appeared behind him, grazing past his shoulder and leaving a severe burning sensation in its wake.

“AHHHG!” Dexpa screamed in agony. He grasped his shoulder, but when he looked down, there was no sign of damage to his robes. The burning was purely internal.

Suddenly an arrow flew past his face and a second delved its way into his thigh. “ACK!” he yelped, gritting his teeth as both his arm and leg began to pulse viciously.

“Bet you didn’t see that one coming!” Fa-Nuit-Hen called out followed by a laugh.

“Will our contestant be able to keep up now!?” pondered Tutor.

Dexpa did his best to ignore the pain and took out the strange golden dragon staff he had been holding onto. He pointed it at the archers and to his surprise, the staff began to fire a wall of lightning at their feet, shredding them apart before they could draw their next arrows. “Incredible,” Dexpa whispered, admiring the power of the staff.

Knowing more enemies were on their way, he hastily turned his focus to the arrow in his leg. He grabbed it and pulled, digging its spines backwards into his flesh.

“Gaaahhh!” Dexpa yelled as he tugged with more force. His leg throbbed with more intensity. Tears ran down his face at the same speed the blood was flowing out of his leg. With one more pull, he dislodged the arrow and tossed it aside.

Suddenly another ghost collided with his back, but this one was gold, and instead of pain, Dexpa could feel a new power beginning to flow through him. His eyes widened in confusion.

But with the help of the staff and his newly refreshed energy, he was able to make it through the next few rounds. His injuries, however, kept him in check.

Near the end of one of those rounds, a few Dremora mages channeled their energy into a strange blue summoning circle in the center of the arena.

Soon after, a massive bone colossus climbed its way out of the circle, crushing the mages outside in the process.

Dexpa took a few steps back, startled. The colossus locked onto him and began its pursuit without wasting a moment.

“Uh oh! This doesn’t look too good!” Fa-Nuit-Hen yelled.

Dexpa limped in circles around the monster attempting to keep his distance, but the colossus was faster. His lightning bolts proved ineffective at stopping this seemingly immovable creature, bouncing off the hardened bone and barely chipping off anything.

Soon, the colossus closed the gap between them and swung its bulking arm at Dexpa. At this point, he knew that all he could do was brace himself for the blow.

Its arm collided with Dexpa’s already-injured shoulder, sending the khajiit flying to the opposite side of the arena.

He writhed on the floor as she squeezed his shoulder with his other hand, barely able to breathe from the severity of the pain.

As the colossus continued towards him, Dexpa gathered himself the best he could and used his one good arm to shoot lightning bolt after lightning bolt. But the blows were still too weak, and the colossus was inching closer.

Soon, Dexpa’s desperate expression transformed into a furious scowl. His spell-casting hand began to glow brighter than before as he charged his next spell. He put everything he had into it, unleashing a massive bolt from his palm that slammed into the colossus, knocking it away with so much force that you could hear its body cutting through the wind.

It soared outside of the arena and disappeared into the fog. Seconds later, a deep booming sound echoed in the distance. It was not coming back.

“What an upgrade!” shouted Fa-Nuit-Hen. “A thunderbolt spell? Where was our challenger hiding that kind of magic this whole time?”

Dexpa’s confidence was beginning to return to him, even with his injuries. He surveyed the arena and spotted the chalice sigil floating right next to him. He limped over and put his hand into the light, hoping it would do something.

As the sigil vanished, so did the hole in his thigh and the burning sensation in his shoulder.

Suddenly, a second gold phantom passed through Dexpa’s body, once again fueling him with an unknown power that felt like it was on the verge of being released.

“That was an exciting round but get ready because we’re just getting started!” shouted Fa-Nuit-Hen. “Now it’s time for the semi-final round!”

“You’re almost there, challenger! Let’s see if you can hold out to the end!” Tutor said.

Suddenly a massive titan fell out of the sky and onto the arena, landing with the impact of a meteor in the center. Its black skin was layered with orange spots as if his body was a volcano ready to erupt. Its wingspan was twice its already overwhelming height, and the five horns surrounding its head gave it an intimidating stare.

“Here it is folks, the challenger versus the mighty Ash Titan! Who will come out on top?” Fa-Nuit-Hen questioned.

The titan’s mouth began to glow a bright orange as a ball of fire grew within it. Soon it exploded, launching the fireball towards Dexpa at an insane speed.

“Woah!” Dexpa yelled, holding the staff in front of him to block the blow. The attack collided with the staff, breaking it in half and sending Dexpa flying to the edge of the arena, only inches from the lava.

“Defense won’t do you much good here!” said Tutor.

Dexpa stowed the pieces of the staff and began to cast his new thunderbolt spell at the titan’s stomach. The blast pushed the behemoth back slightly. The titan let out a frustrated roar, spewing deadly fire into the air above itself.

“One more,” Dexpa said to himself as he pointed his next thunderbolt at the skull of the titan. He launched the bolt into its open mouth and out the other side of its head.

The titan’s roar quickly silenced and its body fell lifeless to the arena floor, shaking the entire arena and almost knocking Dexpa off his feet. Dexpa let out an exhausted sigh at the sight of the dead creature, whose body began to vanish.

“Wow that was something else! But what else to expect from such a fascinating contestant!” cried out Fa-Nuit-Hen.

“It’s all come to this moment! Will he be able to survive the final round?” called out Tutor.

A pillar of yellow light made itself visible in the center of the arena.

“Presenting, the fabled Xivkyn: Voriak Solkyn!” announced Fa-Nuit-Hen.

Out of the flash came a tall Daedric mage with a skull for a face and glowing blue eyes. It looked towards Dexpa expressionless and Dexpa stared back. The final round of the survival match had begun.

However, Dexpa needed a moment to catch his breath. He spotted the shield sigil nearby and reached out to it. A visible barrier began to form around his body.

Voriak shot out multiple blue flames at Dexpa, but to his surprise the barrier began reflecting the flames right back at the Dremora.

He cast a few thunderbolts dealing some noticeable damage to the Xivkyn.

Just as the Dremora began charging up another fireball spell, the barrier around Dexpa began to fade. Dexpa failed to dodge the attack, taking the ball of flame to his stomach, almost knocking the wind out of him.

He knew at this point he needed another handicap to survive, and the wing sigil was not too far away. He could see Voriak’s staff preparing another fireball.

Dexpa made a dash for the sigil. As he ran through it, he felt a surge of energy in his legs, granting him the gift of speed.

He ran circles around Voriak, dodging the next several fireballs. However, he knew he didn’t have long to think of his next move.

Suddenly, the Dremora let out a burst of blue flames in a circle around himself tripping Dexpa to the floor. Soon after, Voriak’s staff began to glow ominously, charging his next spell.

Dexpa attempted to push himself back to his feet, but then another gold phantom appeared in the corner of his vision.

Before Voriak could release the spell from his staff, Dexpa made a dive for the ghost, letting it enter his body. Suddenly, Dexpa began to emit a blue light from around himself. His magicka felt like it was on the verge of bursting out of his body. And that’s exactly what it did.

For a second everything went silent, and then an explosion of magic quaked the arena. A burst of wind pushed the ring lava into the outer gate, melting its bars.

Dexpa opened his eyes and saw Voriak Solkyn now kneeling in place, as if completely exhausted.

“Here it is challenger! Your one chance!” Fa-Nuit-Hen shouted. “Better hurry!”

Dexpa raced over and grabbed the final sigil in the shape of an axe, fueling his being with incredible strength.

Voriak pushed himself back up to his feet, but his face was met with Dexpa’s palm. Dexpa’s whole arm lit up with intense electrical energy, pumping the energy into the palm of his hand and unleashing a vicious thunderbolt at point blank range, cremating the Dremora’s skull.

It was over.

“What an incredible display! Looks like we have our winner!” Fa-Nuit-Hen declared. “Step through the portal and claim your prize!”

Going through the portal, Dexpa found himself back where he first met the two Daedra in the sandstone hut.

“Congratulation’s challenger! You’ve given us all an enjoyable show today.” Tutor said.

Dexpa awaited his scroll, impatiently. He was exhausted, barely able to keep his balance.

Fa-Nuit-Hen continued, “I’m guessing you’re wanting your prize now? Well, here it is.” A Dremora appeared out of another portal handing the scroll over to Fa-Nuit-Hen along with some gold coins. He handed them to Dexpa and waved him off.

Dexpa gazed at the scroll with hope returning to his eyes. He held it tightly to his chest and left without another word.


Part III: A Friend

Dexpa returned to the inn, noticing the same characters from before. The group of orcs huddled around a table making a ruckus once again, while Roxanne sat behind the bar counter.

Another strange figure sat in the corner alone, dressed in robes with a leather bag and a few staves resting at his side.

Dexpa’s legs were still shaking. He barely made it to the inn without passing out. He limped his way up to the counter.

“I’ll take you up on your previous offer,” he said to Roxanne. “A room for a night please.”

“How about some food first kid,” she said. “This one’s on the house.”

Dexpa looked into her eyes like a stray dog whose life had just been saved.

She went into the kitchen and came out with a plate of meat. “Smoked bear haunch. I’m guessing you’ve probably never tried anything like this before. Go ahead, dig in.”

He scarfed down the meal within a few minutes.

“Thank you,” Dexpa said, still chewing the remainder of the food.

“No problem. I’m still charging you for that room though,” she laughed.

Dexpa managed to gather enough energy to let out a breathless chuckle, handing her some coin.

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” she said, taking him upstairs. “Well, here you are,” she said knocking on the door frame. “Now get some rest, alright?”

“Thanks again” Dexpa replied. He settled himself in his room. Falling asleep would’ve been easy tonight, but seconds after hopping into his new bed, he heard a knock at the door.

“Roxanne?” he thought to himself. He approached the door and reached for the handle but stopped himself after seeing a suspicious number of shadows on the other side.

Suddenly, the door was bashed open, knocking Dexpa back to the ground. The orc and his goons stood over him with greed in their eyes.

“What the—” Dexpa started to say, but he was silenced with a swift kick to the jaw.

“Looks like you came back after all, cat,” the orc said. “We didn’t think you’d actually make it. Now where’s the scroll?” he asked, signaling his companions to search the room.

Dexpa was dazed and his head was pulsing. He raised his hand to cast a spell, but another kick met with his gut, forcing him to curl up into a ball on the floor.

The orc kneeled to Dexpa’s level and pinched open his mouth with his filthy fingers. He pulled out a strange green potion and began to pour it down Dexpa’s throat, closing his jaw and forcing him to swallow it.

“Enjoy our little present, cub. We’ll be taking over from here,” he said as his goons grabbed the rest of Dexpa’s gear and began walking out.

Dexpa’s vision was fading. He could barely make out the blurry image of the orcs leaving the room, and a flash of blue and orange light sending them flying to the other side of the hallway. Next thing he saw was a figure in blue robes, entering his room and walking towards him. But before he could make out the stranger’s face, he lost consciousness, collapsing into a pool of his own blood.

Suddenly, Dexpa found himself in a blurred and hazy version of his old village, standing beside his brother Jo’navir. It was in Mo’nazar’s house, but it felt like a dream.

In front of them, Mo’nazar sat at a table chatting with his parents with an eager smile on his face. Dexpa could see he was happy, but he couldn’t hear their words. The room was dead silent.

Dexpa blinked and suddenly the house was now demolished and coated in sparks, as Mo’nazar laid crying over his parents’ desecrated bodies. He couldn’t feel anything except for his brother, tugging him away from his village and away from his best friend.

As he was taken away, he could see thousands of crystal knights swarming the house with swords in hand, soon followed by Mo’nazar’s agonizing screams.

His vision blackened and the world went silent again.

Mo’nazar’s trembling voice whispered something in Dexpa’s head.

“Don’t leave me.”

Dexpa’s chest ached intensely, and his heart raced until he finally jolted awake. He found himself resting in an unfamiliar bed.

He could hear normally again, though his vision was limited to a small circle in front of him.

“Oh, you’re up,” a gentle voice called out. “Let me take that mask off you.”

The man behind the voice grabbed the mask off Dexpa’s face and placed it on the bed, restoring Dexpa’s vision to normal.

Across from Dexpa’s bed sat a middle-aged Imperial man in scholarly blue robes waiting patiently for Dexpa to regain full consciousness. “I’m glad it worked,” the man said with a relieved smile. “You can rest easy my friend, you’re safe here.”

Dexpa held his head in one of his hands to quell his headache. “Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Salazar,” the man said. “I noticed you at the inn last night, and the gear you had clipped to your waist caught my eye. After finishing my drink, I was going to follow you to your room to ask for a trade, but the orcs beat me to it. Though I guess they had something else in mind for you.” He scratched his head awkwardly.

Dexpa looked down in shame and embarrassment, curling his knees into his arms and tucking his head between them.

Salazar continued, “I took care of them, but it seemed like I was too late to help you. You were already lying in your own blood with an empty vial of poison sitting right next to you. I thought you were done for, that is, until I spotted the mask they snatched from you sitting in the hallway.”

Dexpa noticed the mask, now resting next to him on the bed.

“That mask belonged to a Dragon Priest by the name of Havnoraak, a twisted mind-controlling necromancer who lived during the ancient times. He wielded a staff that could launch walls of lightning, and a mask that granted immunity to any disease or poison. Luckily, that was just what you needed!” Salazar remarked.

Remembering the blue and orange blasts that sent the orcs flying, Dexpa asked, “You’re a mage?”

Salazar replied, “Well, not quite. I’m a member of the Mage’s Guild, which is why I wear these robes. But I cannot cast spells, so I depend on the artifacts I find along my journey to protect me. I’m a collector!” he proudly stated, pointing to the corner of the room.

Dexpa followed his finger, noticing the two strange staves leaning against the wall. “So those attacks you used to stop the orcs…” Dexpa began to ask.

“Yup! That would be the handywork of my trusty artifacts!” Salazar said with a cheery smirk. “Each one belonging to a different dragon priest. I’ve dedicated my life to finding those relics, so seeing you holding both a staff AND a mask belonging to a dragon priest excited me more than you could imagine!”

“I see,” Dexpa sighed. “Where are we?”

“This is my house! Don’t worry though, we’re still in Orsinium. I doubt I could carry you any further than this anyways.” Salazar jested. “Sorry for bringing you here without your permission.”

Dexpa shook his head and stood up. “Please, don’t be. You saved my life.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Salazar. He paused awkwardly for a moment, as if wanting to approach a touchy subject. “I know this might not be a good time, but would you still be willing to do that trade I had in mind?”

Dexpa looked at his now-broken staff and his coins laying under the bed, with the scroll sitting beside them.

Salazar added, “I know nothing of your journey, but maybe I have something here that can assist you with it? I still don’t even know who you are, or what you’re looking for.”

“My name is Dexpa and I’m looking for my brother. We were separated after using this scroll that reacts to shock magic, so I used it and now I’m lost,” Dexpa said directing his hand towards the scroll on the ground.

Salazar’s jaw dropped. “You used the Elder Scroll!? How did you—what—” he couldn’t believe what he heard. “And you can still see?” he asked.

Dexpa looked at Salazar confused.

“You don’t know what an Elder Scroll is, do you, my friend?” Salazar asked with a sigh.

Dexpa shook his head, awaiting an explanation.

“I thought you were crazy for carrying that thing around but hearing that you actually used it takes that to another extreme,” Salazar declared. “No matter. I shall explain it to you. You see, the Elder Scrolls are artifacts with the ability to traverse time and space. No one knows their origins, but they are said to carry the power to see into the past and future.”

“Wait,” Dexpa interrupted. “Does that mean…”

Salazar asked, “What year are you from, Dexpa?”.

“The year 2920,” Dexpa responded.

“I see,” Salazar said rubbing his chin as if he understood everything. “That’s final year of the First Era, which means you must have been sent forward in time 583 years to arrive here in the Second Era.”

“Era!?” Dexpa exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Salazar sympathized. “If both you and your brother used this scroll, there’s no telling where or when he is. He could be here with you now, or he could be in a different era entirely. Only a moth priest would be able to help you with that.”

“What’s a moth priest?” Dexpa asked. “And where can I find one?”

“Eager to start the next step, are we?” Salazar jested. “Well unfortunately, moth priests are not very common these days. However…” he smirked at Dexpa. “I’ve heard word of some making an appearance at the White-Gold Tower in Cyrodiil. That may be a good place to start looking. But with the place now overrun by Daedra, you likely won’t find one just walking around in the open.”

“I still want to try,” Dexpa said.

Salazar’s head perked up with an idea. “Although! If you can manage to make it into the Imperial City Prison not too far from there, it’s possible there might be one locked away somewhere inside. Moth priests are loaded with rare knowledge on the Elder Scrolls. Even some Daedra understand that killing one would be a wasted opportunity.”

“Where is that?” asked Dexpa.

“It’s all the way in Cyrodiil, which is no easy walk from here. You could make it there quickly using a wayshrine, but that would require you to have visited that location once before, and by the looks of it, you don’t get around too often.”

Dexpa sighed, annoyed at his own helplessness.

“I know!” Salazar shouted. “We could go together! Unlike you, I’ve been all over Tamriel. So, if you took the wayshrine with me, it should take us both there. I wouldn’t mind helping you out in your journey if it meant getting to add your dragon priest artifacts to my collection. Besides, I’ve got knowledge on all sorts of Daedra, which is sure to prove helpful to you in your expedition. What do you say, my new friend?”

Dexpa reached down, picking up the mask and the broken pieces of the staff handing them over to Salazar. “Deal,” he said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Though I’m not sure how useful this broken staff will prove to be to you.”

“No worries my friend. I’ll find a use for it eventually,” Salazar replied placing the artifacts into his leather bag. “Let me get you something, for your kindness.” Salazar walked over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room and grabbed something out of it. “You mentioned before that you use shock magic, is that correct?”

“That’s right,” Dexpa replied.

“Perhaps this could assist you in the journey ahead,” Salazar said handing Dexpa a book titled “Lightning Rune.” “Consider it a token of our newfound friendship.” He smiled at Dexpa.

Dexpa looked back contently. It was nice to have some comfort in all the chaos.

“Oh, and take this too,” Salazar added, handing Dexpa a leather bad. “This’ll make it easier to carry all your things.”

Dexpa accepted the bag gratefully. “Ready when you are,” he said.


Part IV: The Prison

Dexpa began studying the new spellbook as Salazar led him to the shrine. He knew the knowledge would come in handy eventually.

“Here we are!” Salazar said pointing to the wayshrine. Salazar walked up the steps and placed a hand on the shrine, reaching the other back towards Dexpa. “Grab on when you’re ready,” he suggested.

Dexpa joined him up the steps and held onto his arm. The two were ported away in an instant.

Their destination was a place was littered with Daedra wandering among non-Daedric architecture that stood upon blue coldharbour rock. Those who previously used to live in the area were nowhere to be seen.

“This way,” Salazar said, sneaking past the Daedra and making his way toward a massive entrance door. “You ready?” Salazar asked.

“Ready,” said Dexpa.

As they traversed the halls of the structure, they disposed of weak Daedra along the way. There were several empty prison cells as they continued through.

“I’m sure it’s obvious by now how the ‘Imperial City Prison,’ got its name?” Salazar joked.

“Yeah, I managed to put that together,” Dexpa replied. “No prisoners so far though.”

Soon, they found themselves wandering through a sewer in ankle-deep sewage water.

“Nowhere to go but forward I guess,” Salazar added looking at the sewage in disgust. He pulled his robes up as he walked through. “Let’s hope this is the worst of it. Agh I can’t stand that smell.”

Dexpa smirked at the architect’s fear of getting dirty and followed closely behind. “You’ll get used to it. I used to tread the swamps of my hometown almost every day.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, my new friend,” Salazar started. “Where are you from? Figured since I already know the when, I may as well ask about the where. That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“The Shivering Isles,” Dexpa answered.

Salazar’s jaw dropped. “You’re from a plain of Oblivion!? And even worse, the one of the Mad God.”

Dexpa rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Oh,” Salazar was taken aback by Dexpa’s expression. “I see you must know him pretty well then? Sheogorath, I mean.”

“He’s the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.” Dexpa sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Right,” Salazar added. “I won’t pry any further.”

Suddenly, a flesh golem appeared around the corner and let out a roar that alerted a nearby horde of rats. They skittered towards Dexpa and Salazar, splashing through the water.

“Run!” Dexpa yelled, pointing Salazar to a nearby staircase leading out of the sewer. “Trust me!”

Salazar dashed up the stairs, turning to check on Dexpa, who was casting his new spell at the base of the stairs, between them and the enemies. A lightning rune began to take shape, hiding just beneath the surface of the sewage water.

Dexpa pulled Salazar away from the blast zone, as the creatures continued their chase, paying no mind to the rune.

As the first rat walked over it, it exploded, blasting deadly lightning in every direction, and electrocuting the water. Both the rats and the flesh golem were taken apart and their pieces of flesh and bone were thrown about the sewage.

“You’re quite the fast learner,” Salazar admired. “And that shock magic of your is no joke. I’m glad I let you have that spellbook.”

“It’s the only destruction magic I know,” Dexpa said scratching his head.

“Well, it’s the only one you’ll ever need I guess,” Salazar shrugged.

They continued through the prison, noticing more cells along the way. Dexpa peeked inside the bars. “Prisoners! Salazar, look!” One of the prisoners shushed Dexpa.

“Intruder!” a Dremora guard screamed from a distance.

Salazar didn’t hesitate to silence the guard. He quickly pulled out one of his staves which shot an ice spike into their chest.

Dexpa’s posture relaxed. “Is that what you used to save me at the inn?”

“Handy, isn’t it?” Salazar said with a wink. He reached for a lever which opened all the cell doors, allowing the prisoners to escape.

“Thank you!” one prisoner called out as they ran towards the entrance.

“May the gods bless you two kind souls,” another said.

The prisoners began running for the exit before Dexpa had a chance to say a word. “What? Wait!” Dexpa yelled. “Is anyone here a moth priest!?” A man ran past the two of them but slid to a stop after hearing those words.

“If we were, they’d have us locked up under better security,” he said. “If you boys are looking for a moth priest, I overheard one of the Xivkyn talking about one earlier. It’s possible they’re being kept deeper into the prison, being guarded by none other than Lord Warden himself. But good luck getting past him.” He turned and ran without another word to catch up with the others.

“What did I say?” Salazar smirked at Dexpa.

They proceeded to the end of the prison, finding themselves at a gate, which opened to an arena with a massive, winged Daedra in the center waiting patiently.

“I’m guessing that’s him?” asked Dexpa.

“Most definitely,” Salazar answered. “That’s a grievous twilight. Their horns and wings are about as intimidating as an ash titan’s. And this one is twice the normal size.”

“Greeting’s insects! Are you here to entertain me?” Lord Warden called out.

“Get ready,” Salazar gulped. They walked through the gate and prepared themselves for the worst.

A shadow orb began to form between Lord Warden’s claws, growing rapidly in size. He launched the spell between Dexpa and Salazar, forcing them to dive away from each other to dodge the explosion.

Salazar pulled out his other staff and began casting fireballs at the Warden.

Meanwhile, Dexpa began attacking with his thunderbolts, keeping the Daedra on the defensive.

“Our spells aren’t having much an effect, my friend,” Salazar noted as he continued his attacks. “Perhaps this calls for a change of strategy?”

“Enough!” Lord Warden snarled. “How about I start by taking out the weakest link?”

The Warden marched towards Salzar, quaking the arena with each step. Salazar attempted to keep him at bay with more fireballs, but each spell became weaker and weaker until finally, the staff could only produce smoke puffs.

“I’m out of juice! Back me up!” Salazar yelled, putting away his staff and exchanging it for the other. But the instant he turned his attention away, Lord Warden vanished and reappeared within arm’s reach of Salazar. He plunged a claw into Salazars stomach, sending him flying into the arena border. The fire staff shattered into sharp pieces at the location of impact.

Salazar squirmed on the ground gasping for air. The intense pain traveled from his stomach to the rest of his body. He noticed his ice staff laying close by, but his muscles refused to move and let him reach for it.

“Salazar!” Dexpa cried out.

“That’s it huh?” the Warden cackled. “Pathetic.” He prepared a new shadow spell at Salazar to finish him off. Dexpa raced towards his friend as fast as he could.

“My shadows will tear your life away!” Lord Warden shouted. He unleashed the attack, spewing a barrage of powerful shadow orbs towards the helpless squirming Salazar. Dexpa threw himself between the two of them and started launching a barrage of his own spells.

Multiple thunderbolts began shooting out of Dexpa’s hands, crashing into the oncoming shadow orbs. With each collision, an eruption of magic followed, creating visible shockwaves that spread outwards from each point of contact. The force of each impact blew high speed winds past Dexpa, violently blowing away at the white fur on his face.

Dexpa felt a surge of power flowing through his body fueled by his intense emotions, starting at his chest and flowing out of his fingertips. Eventually, the Daedra’s spell barrage weakened and slowed down, but Dexpa’s continued unwavering, blasting back the warden until he fell to his knees.

“I will not be conquered!” Lord Warden screamed in a reckless rage, attempting to push himself back to standing.

Dexpa made a dash straight for the Daedra, picking up a shard of Salazar’s broken fire staff along the way. He jumped at the massive Warden, vaulting off his knee to bring the two of them face to face and lodged the shard of the staff deep into one of his eyes.

“AAHH!” Lord Warden howled in agony as blood seeped out of his newly made eye socket.

Dexpa cupped his hands together, mimicking Lord Warden’s technique, and began charging his final thunderbolt. He grinded his teeth together to build up more magicka, forcing it out of his body and into his hands.

Finally, Dexpa finally released the spell at the Warden. A thunderbolt several times larger than the previous ones zipped through the air and plunged itself into the Warden’s body, escaping out the other side with ease.

Suddenly, the Daedra’s body exploded from the inside, spreading his blood and guts around the battlefield. Dexpa’s robes were stained by the mess, while Salazar behind him remained untouched.

The Lord Warden was no more.

Dexpa ran to Salazar’s aid, but he wasn’t sure how to stop him from squirming. His shaking started to fade along with his strength. “Hey! Look at me. Don’t close your eyes!” Dexpa begged. He looked around the perimeter for anything that could help his new friend but found nothing of use.

He placed his hands over Salazar and began imagine a healing spell. He pictured the glowing white aura of his mother’s healing hands spell. But still, his hands produced no magic. “Why can’t I—"

“Po…” Salazar interrupted, struggling to speak. His crushed stomach wasn’t making it easy for him.

“What is it!? Tell me what to do! Please,” Dexpa’s frustration brought on tears.

“Pot...tion,” he said looking towards his bag of gear laid out on the ground next to him.

Dexpa rummaged hastily through Salazar’s bag. He found a strange red potion which he grabbed out to show Salazar. “This one?” he asked, holding it close to Salazar’s fading eyes. At this point, Salazar couldn’t even nod his head. “Come on tell me! Say something!” Dexpa continued to panic. “Screw it.” He lifted Salazar’s head and poured the strange potion into his mouth. Dexpa carefully surveyed his condition for a few seconds, waiting for some sign of improvement. “Salazar?”

Suddenly, Salazar’s eyes began to open. His shaking lessened. He smiled at Dexpa to let him know his condition was improving.

“You’re okay,” Dexpa sighed in relief. He plopped down next to Salazar and stayed by his side for a bit to allow him more time to recover.

“Thank you, my friend,” Salazar whispered, while holding a hand to his injured stomach. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

Dexpa looked away with guilt in his eyes. “You also wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place if it weren’t for me.”

“Coming here was my choice. Don’t punish yourself over it. Besides I turned out fine, see?” Salazar chuckled but flinched in pain shortly after.

Dexpa flung a rock across the ground, now deep in thought. “When you first told me about your name, I was a little thrown off.”

“And why would that be?” Salazar questioned.

“I had a friend,” Dexpa said, remembering the pain of his loss. “Though he’s gone now. But you share part of his name, so it reminded me of him.”

“What was his name?” Salazar asked curiously.

“Mo’nazar.”

“Did the scroll separate you two as well?”

Dexpa’s gloomy face turned miserable. “It wasn’t because of the scroll. It was because of me. I was too weak to save him. Too scared.”

“Listen, my friend,” Salazar started. “I can only imagine the pain of what you went through. The kind of pain that burns at one’s heart.”

Dexpa grabbed his chest tightly.

Salazar continued, “But if I’ve learned anything from my fair share of losses, it’s that if you spend too much time worrying about the past, you’ll miss out on the things you still have in the present. The things you can still protect.”

Dexpa contemplated his words for several moments, giving the two of them some time to rest up and plan their next move. “The present,” Dexpa thought to himself, remembering he still had someone he wanted to protect. “Jo’navir,” he whispered, pushing himself to standing.

“Alright,” Salazar grunted, using his ice staff to bring himself back to his feet. “Now where’s that Moth Priest?”

They proceeded through the other arena gate and up some stairs where they spotted a small cylindrical cage sitting by itself in the corner. Inside of it resided a man in robes with his legs curled up into his chest, barely fitting into the circumference of the tiny metal cell.

He heard Dexpa’s footsteps and began to speak to him without taking his head out of his knees. “I told you, I don’t know where the scroll is. And even if I did, I would rather die before telling someone like…” he interrupted himself as he raised his head out of his knees and glanced up at Dexpa standing nearest to the cage. “You,” he finished. “Who are you?”

“We’re here to break you out,” Salazar explained.

“You defeated the Warden?” the man said. “Oh finally, I’m saved.”

“You were talking about an Elder Scroll,” Dexpa noted. “You’re a moth priest, aren’t you?”

“That is correct,” he added with confidence. The moth priest appeared older than Salazar. He wore brown robes and had cuts on his face and hands. His long grey hair and beard were unkept and messy. “There’s a key on that table over there,” he said, pointing across the way. “It should open my cage.”

As Salazar retrieved the key, he noticed the sharp, bloodied metal tools surrounding it. He cringed at the sight before tossing the key over to Dexpa who caught it and placed it into the keyhole of the cage. With a “click” the door creaked open and the moth priest stepped out, immediately tumbling to the floor.

“I’m alright,” the moth priest claimed shooing away the help of Dexpa and Salazar. He stood up again, this time successfully. “Forgive me,” the moth priest said. “I haven’t eaten in days, let alone stand or walk.”

Salazar reached into his bag and pulled out a loaf of Cyrodiilic cornbread and placed it in the hands of the priest.

“Your presence is a blessing, you know that?” he said with a bow of his head. “Both of you.” He finished his meal within a few seconds and wiped his face. “Let’s get out of here before the torturer comes back.” But when he took another step, his legs gave in forcing him back to the ground.

“I’ve got ya,” Salazar said picking him off the ground and wrapping the moth priest’s arm over his own shoulder.

“So, what’s your name?” Salazar asked they continued toward the exit.

“Rokai.”

“Oh. Where are you from?” Salazar added.

“The Imperial city,” Rokai replied.

“You’re from here!?” Salazar yelled.

The moth priest sighed. “Yes, but the Soulburst kicked us all out a few years ago. The lucky ones at least.”

“So why did you come back? Or were you forced back?” Salazar pursued.

“You sure ask a lot of questions mage,” Rokai replied, clearly annoyed.

“Collector, actually,” Salazar corrected.

The moth priest rolled his eyes and answered anyways. “I’m a nomad. Though I often find myself homesick of the knowledge that remains here. I’m usually sneaking around the White-Gold Tower in search of tomes on the Elder Scrolls. But I was a fool to think I wouldn’t get caught with the amount of Daedra swarming those halls. And that’s exactly what happened, so now here I am.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t kill you,” Dexpa added.

“I suppose even some Daedra can see the use of having a moth priest,” Rokai answered. “Or keeping one as a pet. They’re not as brainless as they may seem.”

The exit was within reach now, but the path was blocked by a Xivkyn wearing bloodied robes. The Daedra was shocked at their presence. They conjured a portal and began to step through it to escape.

“That’s the torturer!” Rokai shouted. “Get him before he—” Rokai forgot about his exhaustion for a second, letting go of Salazar’s shoulder and collapsing to the floor. Blood began spilling out of some of his wounds. He was barely conscious.

“Woah!” Dexpa exclaimed. “Get up, Rokai!” He helped Salazar pick him off the ground, each throwing one arm over their shoulders.

“You couldn’t have chosen a worse time my new friend,” Salazar said.

The trio walked through the portal together, teleporting them to the other side and closing behind them.

They were now on top of a hill cliffside with a wide view of the land below. The torture ran ahead and screamed something off the cliff’s edge. “Lord Bal! It’s the Warden! He’s been—” but before he could finish, Dexpa silenced him with a thunderbolt to the head.

Dexpa took note of their new surroundings. “That wasn’t a normal portal, was it?”

“We’re in Coldharbour,” Salazar declared, admiring the blue Coldharbour rock as far as the eye could see.

Dexpa had never been here, though the environment was identical to the Maelstrom Arena. He was the first to turn his head, looking out to where the torturer was shouting, and was met with a sight he couldn’t believe. An event of great significance was unfolding before their eyes.

Out in the distance stood a massive horned figure looming over the horizon. It reached heights beyond the tallest tower they could find, practically reaching the clouds in the gloomy blue sky.

“Molag Bal!” Salazar shouted. His words echoed in Dexpa’s head.

The giant Daedra was shooting blue balls of fire at something in the distance but stopped once a tiny character appeared at his feet. He grabbed the character in his massive Daedric hands and began letting out a roar of dominance, which echoed across the land.

Lifting his other hand back, he seemed like he was about to finish the job but was interrupted by a blinding golden beam of light that pierced his chest. He let out another roar as his enormous body turned to stone and was broken into hundreds of pieces falling to the ground far below.

Dexpa couldn’t even begin to comprehend what he was witnessing. But it looked like the Daedric Lord was losing to whatever character he was in battle with. He sat there entranced by the fight.

“Dexpa!” Salazar called out, now carrying Rokai by himself. “He’s unconscious!”

“Can’t you give him a potion!?” Dexpa proposed.

“We used my last one on me,” said Salazar.

“He needs a healer then,” Dexpa said.

Salazar spotted a structure down the side of the cliff. “The Hollow City!” he shouted. “I knew I recognized this place. The guild can heal him, I’m sure of it.”

“What guild?” Dexpa asked.

“The Mage’s Guild.”

[Dexpa]

Part V: Hollow City

Dexpa was surprised to see the Hollow City in such good condition. The stories he had heard about the terrors of Coldharbour did not match the description of the city one bit.

The stone walls were not of Daedric origin, and the streets were well lit and lined with beautiful trees and flora.

“Almost there,” Salazar reassured Dexpa. “We’re in the Mage’s Guild District now.” He stopped at the base of a hill, looking up at the mansion at the top. “There it is.”

They carried Rokai up the hill and entered the guild hall. “Hey, you’re back!” a voice called to Salazar as he entered through the door. “How did it go!? Did you get anything interesting?” the voice continued.

“We can talk about that later, Glendora,” Salazar said glancing at Rokai. “We need a healer, urgently.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I didn’t notice his condition. I’ll go grab someone, right away,” she said running up a flight of stairs.

Seconds later, a nordic mage with a long golden beard and blue robes began making his way down the stairs. His glowing purple body emanated an aura of magicka.

“Please help!” Dexpa begged. “He needs a healer, fast.”

“Come with me,” the mage commanded. The sight of an injured man didn’t seem to faze him at all. He led Salazar and Dexpa to another room with a fireplace to settle themselves for the time being. Bed rolls were laid out, starting with one for Rokai which they rested his weakened body on top of.

Though still unconscious, Rokai’s face was pain-stricken.

“Is this your friend?” the man asked.

“Well, no,” Dexpa said. “We found him in the Imperial City Prison. The torturer did a number on him.”

“You lot must’ve been desperate to find yourselves in a place like that,” the man added casting a grand healing spell over Rokai where he laid. A golden glow began to encase Rokai’s body.

“It was to save him, actually,” Salazar added. “He’s a moth priest. My friend here has been looking for one to solve the mystery of his Elder Scroll.”

“Your what!?” The mage shouted turning his focus to Dexpa.

Dexpa pulled scroll out to show it to him.

“Is that really an Elder Scroll?” the mage asked, admiring its presence. “It’s not every day that you get to see one of these in person. What is your name, boy?” he asked.

“Dexpa.”

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you,” the nord bowed. “My name is Shalidor.”

“Shalidor!?” Salazar interrupted. “Like the Legendary Arch-Mage Shalidor!? Creator of Shalidor’s Maze, the ultimate proving grounds for Arch-Mages hidden deep within the Labyrinthian?” Salazar looked the mage up and down. “I thought you were dead!? I’ve read legends speaking of you during the first era.”

“You are correct to have believed so,” Shalidor answered. “I was brought back to the mortal realm only recently by another adventurer. Though unfortunately, my time here will be short lived. The body I have been gifted is slowly beginning to fade away.”

As Shalidior’s healing spell wore off, Rokai’s face began to look more relaxed, and his cuts began to close and disappear. Shalidor admired his own work with a content smile. “Ah good. He’s starting to look better already. You’ll need to give him some time to rest, though. He should be better by tomorrow.”

“That’s a relief. Thank you, Arch-Mage.” Salazar said, bowing his head.

Shalidor smiled with a nod, then turned his attention back to Dexpa. “Now if I may ask, why is it you are searching for knowledge on your Elder Scroll? You don’t intend to use it do you?”

Dexpa answered, “I already have, but the problem is—”

“You already used the scroll!?” Shalidor interrupted, almost furious with Dexpa. “And it hasn’t driven you mad? Or robbed you of your vision?”

Salazar chuckled loudly. “That was my reaction too.”

“I guess not,” Dexpa replied halfheartedly. “My brother and I used it to escape our home in the Shivering Isles, but it ended up separating us instead and bringing me here. I’m just trying to figure out how to get back to him, and so far, this scroll is my only clue. I was lucky to even find it again at all, especially so soon.”

“Hmm,” Shalidor rubbed his chin. “Do you mind if I have a look?”

“Here,” Dexpa said laying the scroll in the Arch-Mage’s hands.

Shalidor looked over the scroll analyzing every part of it. He turned it face up noticing the lightning bolt symbol sitting on the seal. “Are you a mage?” he asked Dexpa while continuing to inspect the scroll.

“Yes,” Dexpa answered. “I mostly use shock magic.”

Shalidor stared suspiciously at the scroll. “It’s possible the scroll has an attunement of sorts to shock magic, judging from the symbol on the seal. But even with that information, I still can’t figure out how you were able to nullify the negative effects of the scroll after using it.” He gave Dexpa the scrolls back. “These scrolls are not meant for mortal eyes. The fact you still have your senses means you’re either extremely lucky or incredibly special.”

“But will it help me find my brother?” Dexpa questioned.

“That part I’m not sure,” replied the Arch-Mage. “But if you’re trying to make your way back to the Shivering Isles, I believe I may be able to help.” He sighed and continued speaking, “Or at least, I may know someone who can help you. But you’re not going to like it.”

“Please! I’ll take whatever lead I can find,” Dexpa begged.

“Very well,” the Arch-Mage sighed again. “The man you’re looking for goes by the name Sheogorath.”

Dexpa was speechless and horrified at the mention.

Shalidor snorted at Dexpa’s reaction. “Judging from that look, I’m assuming you know who that is.”

“I know who he is,” Dexpa scowled. “He’s the one who gave us the scroll in the first place.”

“Then you are probably aware that he is not a man to be trusted,” Shalidor responded.

“I know,” Dexpa said, disappointed with himself. “We were trying to escape the Island. It seemed like there was no other way.”

“Dear mage, there are plenty of ways to escape an Island, and an Elder Scroll should have been at the bottom of your list. He likely did it not out of generosity, but for his own entertainment.”

“Dexpa,” Rokai said now sitting upright on his bed roll. “Don’t let one minor setback stop you from reaching your goal. You want to find your brother, right? Well, you have the Elder Scroll, you have a mage willing to send you to the man who started this whole mess, and now you have a moth priest willing to help you.”

Hope began to return to Dexpa’s eyes.

“I guess we never formally asked you if you’d be willing,” Salazar jested.

“You don’t have to,” Rokai replied. “Your story has touched my heart, young khajiit. Of course I’ll help you.”

With those words, Dexpa’s confidence was beginning to return. “Alright,” he told Shalidor. “I’ll face him again. And then I’ll demand for passage back to the Shivering Isles.”

“If that is what you wish, lightning mage,” Shalidor said with a courtly bow directed towards Dexpa. “I will see you boys in the morning and send you on your way. Be sure to get some rest. You’ll need it if you’re going to be facing the Mad God.”

Dexpa and Salazar were more exhausted than they realized, which made falling asleep a breeze. As the sun rose through the guild hall windows, the party awoke ready to face the new day.

“Are you three ready?” Shalidor asked, standing just outside of their room. They gathered their gear and readied themselves. The Arch-Mage directed his gaze towards the fireplace, and began channeling a beam of magic at it. Soon, a portal appeared, glimmering marvelously in the sunlight.

“Alright,” Shalidor said with his hands placed proudly on his hips, “walk in when you’re ready. This’ll take you to Cheesemonger’s Hollow where Sheogorath resides. The Daedra should be all cleared out by now, thanks to that adventurer I mentioned earlier who summoned me here. Thanks to them, you should have no problem reaching the Mad God now.”

“Ready, Dexpa? Rokai?” Salazar asked. They nodded their heads. Salazar stepped through, followed by Rokai not far behind.

“Wait!” Shalidor called out to Dexpa as he approached the portal. “I almost forgot; I have something to give you for your journey.”

Dexpa turned around in confusion.

“Closer, mage. There are two very powerful spells that I wish to show you. You said you’re a lightning mage, correct?” Shalidor asked.

“That is correct,” Dexpa replied.

Shalidor placed a hand on Dexpa’s forehead. He whispered a multitude of strange words that Dexpa couldn’t make out. He suddenly began to feel lightheaded, as a strange sensation worked its way throughout the rest of his body, starting from his forehead. He felt like his brain was expanding. The pressure made his skull ache, but after a few short moments, the sensation vanished.

“There you go,” Shalidor said, almost breathless as he took his hand off Dexpa’s forehead. “I shared my knowledge on a couple spells with you. I hope they can help you attain what you seek. Good luck, young one,” he said bowing his head to Dexpa with a weakened look on his face. His glowing body blinked off and on like a broken light.

“Thank you for all of your help,” Dexpa said. He turned back to the portal and stepped through.


Part VI: Mad God

“Took you long enough,” said Salazar. “What were you doing back there?”

“Accepting a parting gift,” Dexpa shrugged. “I guess he wanted to teach me a couple spells before I left.”

“Oh,” Salazar said, eyes gleaming with interest. “Well, I’m excited to see what you’ve learned.”

“Let’s hope we never need to,” said Rokai.

The group continued through Cheesemonger’s Hollow, carefully eyeing their surroundings for potential threats.

“Daedric Ruins,” Salazar noted.

“As expected,” Rokai replied. “He is a Daedric Lord after all.

“So,” Salazar began to ask Dexpa. “Have you really met with the Mad God?”

“Yes,” Dexpa replied sternly. “And it was awful. He’s twisted. Deranged. Sick…”

“Trust me my boy,” Rokai interrupted. “We all know what he’s like. His stories have spread far across the world of Tamriel.”

Salazar rolled his eyes in agreement.

“And he had this servant at his side,” Dexpa continued. “He was so strange. Always spoke in this boring, sarcastic tone. Didn’t seem fazed by anything. And he wore this ridiculous looking butler attire. It was—"

Dexpa stopped himself when he noticed a man standing right in front of him.

“Oh please, do go on,” the man replied.

Dexpa and the others jumped back in surprise. The man was standing there the whole time, silently guarding the large door behind himself. He wore the clothes of a butler with the polite posture to match. But his face eyed the group in a demeaning manner.

“Haskill?” Dexpa inquired.

“Do I know you?” Haskill replied.

“I just saw you the other day,” Dexpa said almost offended by the butler.

Haskill showed no reaction to his claim.

“You know,” Dexpa continued, “Two khajiit boys, running away from certain doom. Trying to get away from the crystal knights wreaking havoc on the Shivering Isles.”

“Hmm,” Haskill pondered. “You must mean Jyggalag’s servants. I remember now. You used the Lightning Scroll.”

“Yeah, you gave it to us so we could escape the Island,” Dexpa declared with frustration in his voice. “But you didn’t even know what it would do.”

“Yet, neither did you,” Haskill remarked. He signaled the boys towards the door behind him. “If you’re finished with your tantrum, my lord would love to see you again. He will be very interested in seeing what his experiment has accomplished.”

Dexpa scoffed at him but continued through the door anyways with his party. They now found themselves in a flowering landscape surrounded by both water and lava. Daedric corpses littered the surface.

They discovered a shrine at the end of the path with four empty pedestals and a dead clannfear laying in front of them.

“That adventurer Shalidor mentioned really tore through this place, huh?” Salazar admired.

Dexpa approached the clannfear corpse and kneeled over to inspect it. “You killed Gutsripper!” a man’s voice echoed from an unknown location. “You cheeky little monsters! I’ll have you slain for that!”

The party jumped to their feet and readied their guard. The man finally showed themselves, appearing out of thin air before them. He had grey hair and a set of wacky colored clothing.

“Just kidding!” the man yelped, laughing hysterically to himself. “Oh, I really scared you with that one, didn’t I? Don’t worry I know you didn’t kill the little guy. I saw the one who did it just the other day.”

“Sheogorath,” Dexpa grunted.

“You sound just like my butler!” Sheogorath chuckled. “How can I help you? You didn’t come here for my cheese did you!?” he said furiously.

“You mean you don’t remember me either?” Dexpa asked. “It hasn’t even been a week Dexpa added, forgetting what Salazar told him about his time skip. You gave me and my brother the Lightning Scroll to get off the Island. You told us there was no other way to get away from the crystal knights.”

Sheogorath raised his eyebrows. “My, my, what a delight! To see you again after 583 years, and you haven’t grown one bit. Although I must say, the effect of the scroll seems to have been quite…” Shegorath looked Dexpa up and down before continuing, “Anticlimactic. If you wanted to traverse to the next era, all you had to do was ask.”

Dexpa’s gave Sheogorath a furious scowl, grinding his teeth together to calm his rage.

“No matter,” the Mad God continued. “If you’re here for the Elder Scroll, I don’t have it. I sold it to some Dremora for some delicious cheese. Best purchase I’ve ever made.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” Dexpa stated, stepping closer to Sheogorath. “Where did you send my brother?”

“I didn’t send him anywhere,” he said. “It was you remember. You’re the one that had the scroll. And look where it got you!” He wheezed out another laugh. “I guess that answers my little experiment.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Dexpa reminded him.

“You think I would know?” Sheogorath responded. “Why do you think I made you use it? Letting you escape the Greymarch was kind enough of me wouldn’t you say?”

“The Greymarch?” Dexpa inquired.

“You know, the day Jyggalag comes back at the end of every era and tears the Shivering Isles to pieces, ruining my beautiful utopia of madness.”

“Well then at least take me to the Shivering Isles, and I’ll figure the rest out myself,” Dexpa demanded.

“You don’t make the demands around here, my friend. How about a little contest? Oo I know! A cheese eating contest!” He interrupted himself, “No I just ate. Maybe a fight to the death!? No that would be too easy. Hm,” Sheogorath rubbed his chin in thought.

“How about I continue your experiment for you?” Dexpa proposed. “My brother is still out there, and I intend to find out where that scroll took him. Or when.”

“That’s a great idea!” Sheogorath said, his eyes beaming with sickening curiosity. Dexpa looked relieved that he had finally won him over. “You could be my champion!” he continued.

“What?” said Dexpa. “That’s not what I—”

“Then it’s a deal!” Sheogorath cut him off mid-sentence. “You swear your undying loyalty to me as my champion and I will allow you passage back to the Shivering Isles.” He patiently awaited Dexpa’s response.

Dexpa looked to his traveling companions for advice.

“I don’t know how I feel about that offer,” Salazar said. “I can’t think of a better way, but I’m sure there is one, Dexpa. Let’s take our time with this.”

“I hate to agree with the mage...” Rokai began to say.

“Collector,” Salazar corrected.

Rokai rolled his eyes and continued, “But I do agree that you shouldn’t force yourself into servitude like that. We can find another way, together.”

“I’m done waiting,” Dexpa stated, now visibly frustrated. “Jo’navir could be out there by himself. I need to find him before something happens. He’s the only family I have left, and I was never there to protect him the same way he did me. I can’t stand waiting around anymore.”

Dexpa’s companions could see he was suffering. They didn’t want to pressure him with their own decisions. Salazar put a hand on Dexpa’s back. “Listen, my friend, whatever decision you make, just know I’ll be there to back you up.”

“What the mage said,” Rokai added. “I still owe you for freeing me from that hellish prison. I promise I’ll help you get back to your brother, however you decide to do it. As long as it doesn’t involve putting me back in that cage,” Rokai smirked.

Dexpa took several moments to think to himself. He tugged at the fur on his temples to force out a decision, eventually turning to face Sheogorath. “I agree to your terms Mad God. I will be your champion, now take me home.”

“That’s the spirit! Here’s your ticket, as promised,” Sheogorath said, casting a portal in the center of the plaza. “If you change your mind, this’ll be waiting for you on your return. No more tricks, I promise. And a Mad God keeps his promises.”


Part VII: Return to Your Roots

Dexpa recognized their new setting. “These are the ruins where it started,” Dexpa stated. “But something’s different.”

He noticed the ceiling of the ruins was now almost entirely caved in and there was more rubble laying around. “I don’t remember there being this much dust,” Dexpa noted. He tugged at one of the vines on the wall and it crackled in his grip. “Or mold.”

The obelisk that spawned the knights was no longer glowing. In fact, it was in pieces on the floor, completely inactive.

“Well, this is what happens after a place like this is left unattended for several centuries,” Rokai informed Dexpa.

They climbed over the entrance of the ruins leading into the swamp. “Only way is through,” Dexpa said, stepping into the swamp water.

Salazar looked at the swamp in disgust, lifting his robes as he stepped in after Dexpa. “So, this is how you built your tolerance. You really used to do this every day?”

“I wasn’t alone,” Dexpa said. “Jo’navir would usually lead the way. He gave me the confidence to push through.”

“Who’s that?” Rokai asked.

“My brother. The one I’m looking for,” Dexpa said. “He was kind of the leader of our group. Me and Mo’nazar would usually follow behind him. We trusted his guidance to get us home safe.”

“And Mo’nazar?” Rokai asked again.

Dexpa was silent. He couldn’t find the words to start with on such a touchy subject.

Salazar patted Dexpa’s back thoughtfully. “He was a friend,” he explained to Rokai. “And he will ALWAYS be with you,” he added, turning to Dexpa.

Rokai felt embarassed. “I’m sorry, Dexpa. I didn’t mean to—"

“Don’t worry about it,” Dexpa replied with a wave of his hand. “Look, here it is,” Dexpa added, pointing ahead. “My home.”

Most of the village was flattened, which Dexpa now expected. However, a strange new structure caught him off guard. On top of Mo’nazar’s old house now stood a massive castle carved out of stone. Multiple windows were crafted along the sides, each emitting their own hue of blue light. And at the very top was a larger window that looked as if it was broken through from the inside. The room within the window was was void of light.

“Where’s the big castle door?” Salazar jested. “You can’t have a castle of this size without a door to match it.”

At the bottom of the castle, Mo’nazar’s old front door frame still remained, revealing the inside. “Huh?” Dexpa pondered at the sight.

“What’s wrong Dexpa?” Rokai asked.

“When I left this place, the village was in ruins,” Dexpa said. He pointed towards the bottom section that looked identical to Mo’nazar’s old wooden home. “Including this house. But it’s back to what it looked like before the attack even happened. As if someone rebuilt it.” His eyes analyzed the castle carved around the home. “With some upgrades, I guess.”

Dexpa entered the house and noticed the inside looked identical in appearance as well. The hatch, however, looked newer and was sitting wide open.

The three of them scanned the room for information. There were books scattered on the floor next to a bookshelf. Dexpa noticed there was only one book remaining on the bookshelf. He read the title. “Dead Thrall.”

“Sounds like necromancy,” Salazar noted. “Fitting for a place like this, I suppose.”

“We should keep our guard up, just in case,” Rokai added.

“Let’s move forward,” Dexpa suggested, approaching the hatch and jumping in. It was his first time seeing the inside of the cellar.

There was a faded out red summoning circle painted on the floor, along splotches of blood coating the walls. Dexpa noticed another bookshelf sitting at the end of the room with a giant hole in the wall beside it. As he approached, he noticed the shelf was full of conjuration and destruction spell books. A plethora of purple crystals sat on the floor beneath it. He peered into the hole beside the shelf. “This must lead to the inside of the castle,” he said.

As they climbed inside the hole, they noticed a metal gate at the end of the tunnel. But the gate was broken through, revealing an opening in its bars large enough for them to squeeze through. “Someone’s definitely already been here,” said Dexpa.

The stone halls of the castle interior were lined with red carpets. Above them hung glowing blue lanterns that spread throughout the hallways. Every flat surface was layered with dust and dirt.

“This place reeks of death,” Salazar noted.

“Something big must’ve taken place here,” Rokai said, noticing the bones of three skeletons whose bones were spread about the hall randomly. All their skulls were crushed and one of them had a sizeable hole in their lower ribcage.

The hallway connected to a much larger room with several smithing contraptions within it. At the end of the room was a master staircase.

Dexpa stopped in his tracks when he found another skeleton lying next to the forge with a rusted greatsword at its side. The skeleton had a tail, and its head was separated from its body. The vertebrae that used to connect the two together seemed to have been cut clean through.

They continued forward, stepping around the mess and climbing the staircase to the top floor.

The door at the top of the staircase contained an engraving of the symbol of conjuration on it. It seemed to have been blasted open from the inside, barely hanging on to the what’s left of its hinges.

“A throne room?” Rokai pondered as he peeked inside over Dexpa’s shoulder.

In the middle of the room sat a stone plaza similar in appearance to the one in The Fringe, but smaller in size and surrounded by several broken stone pillars. A jumbled mess of bones in the center formed what looked like a giant skeletal monstrosity. Its head was detached from its body.

Several other bones were spread throughout the rest of the room, including one that looked like a wolf. There were also a couple of destroyed lanterns lying about. And at the end of the room, a throne chair stood tall blocking the view of the large window behind it.

“What happened here?” Rokai pondered.

“Dexpa, any ideas?” ask Salazar.

Dexpa’s mind was overwhelmed by conflicting thoughts. “What is this place. Who made it and why? Who are these people. Are they even people? Why did it have to be my village?”

“Hey,” Salazar called Dexpa with a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. “You alright, my friend?”

“Yeah,” Dexpa sighed. “I guess a lot can happen in 583 years.”

“That’s right,” Rokai agreed. “You must remember that means several generations have passed between that moment and this one now. This is no measly amount of time.”

“Alright,” Dexpa readied himself. “I think it’s time to go.”

The party made their way to the outside of the castle and awaited Dexpa’s direction.

“Where to now?” Salazar asked him.

“I don’t know,” Dexpa replied as he continued to ponder his next move.

“Well, to start,” Rokai said, “Do you remember where you used the scroll?”

Dexpa looked towards the entrance of The Fringe. “It was over there.”

“Then we should find that spot,” Rokai suggested. “There should be a time wound there. If we can reach it, there may be something you can do after all.”

They maneuvered through the long dark hallway, leading them to the large plaza in The Fringe.

“It’s not here?” Dexpa questioned, thinking out loud.

“What’s not?” Rokai asked.

“When me and my brother were fleeing the village, we saw a creature here that looked just like that flesh golem that you and I saw in the Imperial City Prison.” Dexpa scouted around. “I thought we’d at least find its remains here. It seemed to be guarding this spot.”

“Hmm,” Salazar hummed. “Well, there’s no use worrying about it now. We’ve got our own mission, don’t we?”

In a distance past the open fields, Dexpa could see two pillars of light extending into the sky. He rushed out to get a closer look.

“This is it!” Dexpa yelled, some excitement returning to his voice as he came upon the spot where he and Jo’navir used the scroll.

“Those are time wounds!” Rokai shouted. “This is perfect Dexpa. Do you remember where the two of you stood?”

“This one was me,” Dexpa said pointing to one spot. “And this was Jo’navir,” he added, pointing to the other.

“Very well, my boy,” Rokai said. “This is it then. Hand me the scroll when you’re ready. I believe I may know of a way to send you back to your brother.”

“Right,” Dexpa said. He took a step into the light and then hesitated. “Wait, what about the scroll?”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Salazar said. “I’ll hide it somewhere safe. How about Shalidor’s Maze?”

Dexpa nodded his head. “Perfect.”

“I will miss you, my friend,” Salazar added, patting Dexpa on the back one last time.

Dexpa smiled contently at his two companions and brought them in for an unexpected warm embrace. “Thank you both for everything.”

Dexpa entered the beam of light where his brother once stood and nodded to Rokai to show he was ready.

Rokai nodded in return and unraveled the scroll in front of Dexpa. He began reading words in a language Dexpa didn’t understand. The scroll lit up his face with a blinding light that mesmerized Rokai as he read. But that didn’t stop him.

Dexpa and Salazar stood anxiously in hope that Rokai’s method would work. Dexpa’s thoughts began to race again at the thought of failure. Then suddenly, his body began to react. His head felt dizzy, and his heart began to pulse rapidly. A feeling he remembered from the first time he read the scroll.

Soon Dexpa’s heart began racing to the point where it felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. But then, his vision went white as his body became numb, and finally, he vanished.

[Dexpa]

Chapter 3
Jo’navir: Knowledge


Part I: Chaos

(4E 201)

Jo’navir’s vision gradually returned to him through the fading white light.

He found himself in a forest with flourishing trees all around him and towering mountains in the distance. The long grass was blowing in sync with the wind and an elk could be seen prancing through it, splitting a new path in its wake.

“Dexpa!?” he called out. “He must be nearby,” he thought.

Suddenly, a massive, winged beast began to soar across the sky above head. Jo’navir quickly found some cover behind a large rock to stay out of sight. The beast let out an echoing roar that shook the bushes around him. “What is that thing?” Jo’navir whispered to himself.

After waiting for it to pass, Jo’navir finally peeked from out of the rock and noticed a trail of smoke floating above the town the creature came from. Jo’navir made a dash toward the direction of the smoke, thinking there’s a chance his brother could be there.

The village’s walls were torn to pieces and coated in flames. The dirt below was littered with corpses. Some were impaled or ripped apart, while others were burnt to a crisp.

“Dexpa!” Jo’navir shouted. He inspected every corpse he passed to make sure it wasn’t his brother.

In a courtyard, he saw a man in blue armor who lay dead with his wrists tied behind his back. His head sat several feet in front of him on the other side of a small stone block, as blood continued to leak from it onto the dirt below.

“What happened here?” Jo’navir asked aloud.

He ran inside and found a living person wearing the same blue armor. The man pulled out his sword ready to attack Jo’navir but stopped himself after looking his clothes up and down.

“Listen kid, you need to get out of h—” the man began to say, but he was interrupted by a sword slicing through one part of his neck and out the other. His body parts hit the floor with a thud, revealing his slayer, a man in brown leather armor.

Jo’navir stepped back and reached for his sword, but nothing was there to reach. “Oh no,” he mumbled to himself, remembering that he dropped his sword in the ruins when Za’vanir was slain.

The man was breathing heavily, proud of his kill. He also looked Jo’navir up and down to determine if he was a threat before sheathing his weapon. “You should listen to him. You’re not safe here kid.” He left the room, running back to the way he came.

Jo’navir glanced at the floor where the blue armored warrior now lay dead. He took up the warrior’s armor and steel sword and equipped himself with them, cutting a hole for his tail to fit through. “This should do,” he said as he shook the armor into a comfortable position on his body. As the armor shuffled around, he could hear metal clanging together in the pockets. He pulled the item out of the pockets revealing a handful of gold coins. “What are these?”

Soon, he found himself in a rocky den full of webs and eggs. He attempted to sneak past, but an egg cracked beneath his new fur boots alerting a horde of spiders that descended from the ceiling above.

Jo’navir jumped back from the terrifying sight but managed to slay a few of them before becoming quickly outnumbered. He slipped past the horde and delved further into the cave. Before he could rest, though, he discovered another unfamiliar creature, three times his size and covered in brown fur. It twitched, which made Jo’navir flinch, but he soon noticed the creature was in a deep sleep.

“Okay good,” he whispered to himself, sneaking past the monster. He arrived at a crack of light at the end of the cave. “Finally.”

He made it back into the open world. He noticed now that the trees and grass were nothing like the ones in the swamp. The scene was beautiful, but also unreal to Jo’navir. There were footsteps engraved in the dirt below him. They seemed to follow the naturally carved dirt trail heading down the mountain. He followed them.

Eventually he arrived at a village with a sign titled “Riverwood,” which had villagers wandering the streets as they would on a normal day.

“Welcome to Riverwood, kid,” a man in blacksmith attire called out to Jo’navir.

Jo’navir nodded his head in response. “Have you seen a khajiit walking through here recently? With white fur and black stripes?”

“Afraid not, boy. You should be careful out there though. We just got news of a dragon over Helgen,” he said while smacking a heated iron sword over an anvil with a hammer.

“I appreciate the warning,” Jo’navir sighed.

His stomach began to feel empty. He spotted a wooden sign hanging off the side of a building carved out to read “The Sleeping Giant Inn.”

“That sounds promising,” he said to himself.

Inside, there were several people relaxing about the tables and chairs. There was a bar counter at the end of the room and a campfire in the middle.

“If you need food or drinks, you’ve come to the right place,” a man called to Jo’navir from behind the counter. “If it’s a room you need, we’ve got that too, for a little coin of course.”

“Food sounds good,” Jo’navir decided, walking up to the counter.

“You got coin?” the man asked.

Jo’navir stared in confusion.

“Do you have any gold, cat?” he asked again.

“Oh,” Jo’navir stuttered, reaching into the pockets of his new armor. He pulled out some coins leaving them on the counter. “Food please,” Jo’navir said.

The innkeeper pointed to the meat hanging behind him. “Which’ll it be?”

Jo’navir pointed out the red-striped, rectangular slab of meat nailed against the wall. “I’ll take whatever that is.”

“Horker meat,” he replied. “Here you go, pal.” The man placed the meat on a plate and slid it over the counter, grabbing the right number of coins for the exchange, leaving the leftover.

Jo’navir pocketed the rest of his gold and started chowing down on his meal. He began asking his questions again about Dexpa in between bites.

“Have you seen a khajiit boy walk through here recently? Just a bit younger than me.”

“Sorry, I haven’t. Is he your friend?” the man replied.

“Brother,” Jo’navir shook his head.

“It’s getting late you know. The sun is going down, and I have a feeling you’re not from anywhere around here,” the inn merchant said now feeling genuine concern for Jo’navir.

“If you need a room, you just say so. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about a dragon lurking about. Plus, you’re not going to find your brother if you can’t see where you’re going.”

Jo’navir sat silently for a few seconds considering the man’s words. “You’re right,” he said hesitantly, placing the rest of his coins back on the counter.

The man grabbed the rest of the coins, leaving one for Jo’navir. “Take the room on your left. My name is Orgnar. If you need anything else, let me know.”

Jo’navir nodded his head in thanks and went into his room for the night. He managed to get a few hours of sleep, but the thought of his brother being in danger made it difficult to get any more. The only solace he had was that he didn’t find a body belonging to Dexpa amongst the chaos at Helgen. “Where do I even start looking,” he said, staring at the ceiling above his bed.

He got out of his bed and approached Orgnar at the counter. “Hope you got some good rest,” said Orgnar. “Need a drink?”

Jo’navir shook his head. “I wanted to ask something. Do you know of a strange scroll with the ability to transport living beings?”

“You mean an Elder Scroll?” Orgnar replied concerned for Jo’navir. “You must be out of your mind to be looking for one of those.”

Jo’navir’s expression remained stern. “My brother might have it. Or maybe it’ll lead me to him. I’m not sure, but it’s the only lead I have right now to finding him.”

Orgnar sighed. “If you want information on the scrolls, the only place I can think of is the Mage’s College of Winterhold.”

“Where is that?” asked Jo’navir.

“You really aren’t from around here, are you?” Orgnar said. “It’s up in the mountains far northeast of here, buried in snow. The place doesn’t have the best reputation though, so go at your own risk.”

Jo’navir felt relieved, finally having a lead to take him to Dexpa. “Thank you!” he said running out the door in a hurry.

“Just follow the river!” Orgnar called to Jo’navir as he barged out the door.


Part II: Companion

Jo’navir began his voyage northeast following the river along the trail. Eventually he reached an open field with a huge gated off city not too far from him, and a tower close by, standing alone in the plains.

Suddenly, he could hear screams coming from the tower. When he looked closer, he could see a dragon circling the tower around blasting a cone of fire to the ground below.

There were people in yellow armor fighting alongside an adventurer. With time, the adventurer was able to slay the beast before it could do any more damage.

But when the dragon collapsed, its body began to glow. Suddenly its visible energy seemed to be sucked out and transferred into the body of the adventurer.

“What is going on here?” Jo’navir asked himself. “This place is crazy. I need to go.”

He left the scene and soon found himself at what appeared to be a camp with dead animals lying about. He took a deer corpse for the road, hanging it over his shoulder and departing. But as he was leaving, the ground began to shake. Heavy footsteps approached him at a rapid speed.

As he turned around, he saw a giant humanoid creature stomping its way towards him, waving around a huge bone in one of its hands. Jo’navir panicked, slicing a leg off the deer and running with it, leaving the rest behind.

However, the giant was already too close. It swung its weapon at Jo’navir, smacking his arm and sending him flying the other direction, skidding atop the dirt and landing against a rock.

Luckily for him, the giant was satisfied. It grabbed the legless deer carcass and brought it back to its camp.

“What the heck was that thing?” Jo’navir asked, still sitting against the rock.

His limbs were scratched and bruised, his shoulders were numb, and his arm that got hit by the bone weapon was pulsing viciously. “Ahhhggg!” he screamed, as he tried to push himself up to standing. “I need to find a place to rest.”

He started heading towards the city he saw earlier, noticing the deer leg he cut off along the way. “There’s you are,” he said. But as we went to pick it up, he began to hear footsteps again.

Suddenly an injured male wolf approached Jo’navir who now held the deer leg in his hands. The wolf was hurt and alone, just like Jo’navir. It walked with a limp in its step.

“I guess that makes two of us,” Jo’navir noted the wolf’s struggle. He looked down at the deer meat in his hand and began to ponder. “Alright, fine. This is what you want right?” he said, slicing off a slab and presenting it to the wolf.

The animal inched closer, analyzing Jo’navir cautiously. Jo’navir was careful not to make any sudden movements. “Come on, I don’t bite. As long as you don’t.”

When the hungry wolf was close enough, it swiftly snatched away the slab of meat. It retreated a short distance away, keeping a watchful eye on Jo’navir as it ate. Surprisingly, when it finished, it approached Jo’navir once again. It’s body language showed signs of relaxation.

“You want seconds?” Jo’navir asked. “Fine.” He cut off another chunk of meat, handing it to the wolf. But instead of grabbing it away this time, it began to eat out of Jo’navir’s hand, careful to avoid his fingers.

“Poor thing,” Jo’navir said. “Well, do you trust me now?” He slowly reached his free hand over the wolf’s head as it ate. The creature’s ears perked up and its body froze, silencing its chewing for a moment. It eyed the hand slowly moving above it.

Jo’navir finally placed his hand on the wolf’s head as gently as he could. As he made contact, it’s ears came back down, and its entire body began to finally relax.

“See that’s not so bad, is it?” Jo’navir said, starting to lightly scratch the top of its head. The wolf lay down next to him, continuing to munch on the slab of deer meat. When it was finished eating, it reached over grabbed the rest of the deer leg in its mouth. But instead of eating it, it placed the leg in Jo’navir’s lap and nudged it towards him with its nose.

“Thanks,” Jo’navir said, surprised by the wolf’s intelligence. “You’re way different from the creatures we find in the swamps,” he added with a laugh. “They’re not as friendly as you.”

“Welp, time to get going,” Jo’navir said after finishing his half of the deer meet and pushing himself to standing. His bad arm began to throb again in sync with his heartbeat, forcing a scowl. The wolf stood up alongside him and watched patiently.

“Thanks for not eating me,” Jo’navir joked, smiling at the wolf and turning to walk away towards the city. His ears were ringing because of the hit he took from the giant. He could barely make out the sound of his own footsteps.

But as he paid closer attention, he noticed the sound of those steps didn’t match his pace. They were faster and lighter than his own.

Jo’navir turned around, finally noticing the wolf following behind him obediently. “What? Can’t you see I’m out of food?” As he took another step away, the wolf did the same. “Hmm,” Jo’navir pondered. “Alright, fine. I guess I’m not the only one who needs shelter and food, am I?”

The wolf eyed him, as if awaiting his command.

“Let’s go,” he gestured to the wolf. “Together.”

He set out for the town once again with his new companion following closely. The front gate of the city was guarded by two men in yellow armor. “Halt!” one of the guards said, stepping in Jo’navir’s direction. “City’s closed with the dragons about. Official Business only.”

“What!?” Jo’navir yelped. “Look, I’m just searching for a place to rest for the night. I’m coming from Helgen, and my friend and I aren’t in the best of shape right now.”

The guard peered at the wolf. “That thing looks wild. Why would we ever let something like that in the city walls?”

The wolf politely sat by Jo’navir’s legs. “Does that look wild to you?” he asked as he pet its head between the ears. The wolf’s tail wagged back and forth.

“That won’t work on me, cat. Find some other place to take refuge,” the guard replied sternly.

“Relax,” a manly voice called out behind Jo’navir. “He’s one of us.”

The man was equipped with steel armor and had a large greatsword sheathed on his back. He had brown hair and black circles around his eyes. He looked intimidating, contradictory to his actions towards Jo’navir.

“Farkas, welcome back. I didn’t mean to—” the guard began to say.

“It’s fine. You’re just following the Jarl’s orders. Let us in,” Farkas demanded.

“Of course,” the guard replied opening the gate for the three of them to walk through.

Jo’navir began admiring the size of the city. There were homes and shops at every corner, with people roaming the flora-lined streets.

“Welcome to Whiterun,” Farkas stated proudly. “I guess you’re not too familiar with this setting,” he added, noticing Jo’navir in awe of his surroundings. Farkas looked closer at Jo’navir and the wolf. “You look like you’re in bad shape, kid.” “What kind of mess did you get yourself into?”

“It was some massive humanoid creature with a club,” Jo’navir answered. “It bludgeoned my arm and knocked me into a rock. I guess I was asking for it though. I took some food from its camp.”

“Ah, sounds like a giant. My friends and I took care of one of those the other day over at the Pelegia Farm,” Farkas replied. “Glad to see you made it out in one piece.” Farkas examined the wolf limping behind Jo’navir. “So, what’s this little guy’s name?” he asked.

“I haven’t given him one yet,” said Jo’navir. We just met after the giant attack.”

“I guess the guard was right to be skeptical, then,” Farkas responded. “But it looks like you’ve already tamed him quite well. I knew there was something special about you when I saw that wolf at your side.”

“Thanks for helping me back there, by the way,” Jo’navir said.

“It was nothing,” Farkas replied. “You know, you would make a great Shield-Brother yourself. Taming that wolf is proof alone that you’re worthy. Why don’t you head back with me to Jorrvaskr? You could meet the other Companions. Plus, it’d be a great place for you to rest up, no charge. What do you say kid?”

“That would be great!” Jo’navir replied without hesitation. “I could really use some rest right now.” He looked down at the wolf, still limping behind him. “And I’m sure he could use it too.”

“What’s your name?” Farkas asked.

“Jo’navir.”

Farkas led him through Whiterun until they reached the entrance to Jorrvaskr. Jo’navir noticed the unique rooftop of the building, which looked like a boat that was turned upside down. “Here we are,” Farkas said opening the door for Jo’navir and the wolf to walk through.

The room was filled with tough looking warriors. Meat and drinks were spread along the elongated table in the center.

“Come with me,” Farkas continued. “I’ve got someone you’ll want to meet first.” He led Jo’navir down the stairs to meet two men in iron armor sitting and conversing at a table. “Vilkas, Kodlak,” Farkas announced. “I have a new friend here who needs a place to stay for the night. He might be interested in joining up as well. His name is Jo’navir.”

Vilkas looked like Farkas in both age and appearance. Kodlak, on the other hand, looked much older and wiser with a black marking on his right cheek.

“More new blood,” Vilkas replied suspicious of Jo’navir.

“Give the boy a chance, Vilkas,” Kodlak replied.

Farkas continued, “If you’re worried about him being worthy, just look at the wolf standing by his side. He tamed it today.”

Both Vilkas and Kodlak looked surprised.

“What loyalty,” Kodlak admired, noticing the wolf sitting patiently at Jo’navir’s side. “Have you given it a name?” Kodlak inquired.

“No, I hadn’t thought about that until now,” Jo’navir said looking down at the wolf as it stared back waiting for a command.

“Are you a Stormcloak?” Vilkas asked Jo’navir, pointing at his blue fur armor.

Jo’navir responded, “I don’t know what that is.” He looked down at his attire. “I found this armor off a body when I was in Helgen.”

“You went to Helgen!?” asked Kodlak. “What were you doing there?”

Vilkas added, “And how have you not heard of the Stormcloak rebellion?”

“I’m not from this land. I was just looking for my brother. Well, I still am. But the two of us got separated so I went to look for him there. It’s a long story,” Jo’navir said exhausted from his few words.

“Perhaps you are as worthy as Farkas says you are,” Kodlak remarked. “You are welcome to use the beds down here as you wish, khajiit.”

“You heard the man,” Farkas said with a smile. He led Jo’navir to the sleeping quarters. “Take these potions and heal up,” he added, handing Jo’navir a couple of red potions. Jo’navir used one himself and the other on the wolf. The pain in his arm began to subside and the wolf’s limp seemed to fade away as well.

“Find me in the morning,” Farkas said. “I’ll have a task for you then. But for now, get some rest.”

“Thanks again,” Jo’navir said with a nod of his head. He found an empty bed and slept for the night, with the wolf resting on the floor beside him.


Part III: Beast

Jo’navir woke up the next day feeling rested at last.

He swung his legs off the bed and found the wolf in the same spot as before, resting at his side. The wolf woke alongside Jo’navir at the vibration of his feet hitting the floor.

“Ready to get going?” Jo’navir asked, scratching the wolf’s ears. They went upstairs and found Farkas eating at the long table.

“Up already?” he said to Jo’navir.

“About that task,” Jo’navir said. “I’m still looking for my brother, and I need to go to the College of Winterhold. I was told they’d be able to help me figure out what happened to him.

“Take a seat,” Farkas requested pulling a chair out for Jo’navir to join him. “Feel free to dig in,” he added pointing to the food and drinks on the table. “It’s up for grabs.”

“Thanks,” Jo’navir replied, finding a chair next to him. The wolf sat between them, salivating at the sight of the food on the table.

“I know exactly how feel,” Farkas said. “My brother Vilkas has been with me since day one. I wouldn’t want to live without him either. There’s really no pressure to stay you know, but if you ever do need a safe space, just know you’re always welcome here.”

Jo’navir smiled contently, ripping a piece of the meat on the table in half. He started munching on one and handed to other to the wolf, who gulped it down within seconds.

Farkas continued, “You said the College of Winterhold, right? You a mage?” he asked with food in his mouth.

“I know some spells, yeah. But I’m nothing without a sword,” Jo’navir answered.

“A battlemage,” Farkas grunted. “We don’t see those too often around here.”

“Well,” Farkas sat back in his chair. “You got enough gold on you? There’s a carriage right outside town that can take you to Winterhold. It’ll cost you some coin though. The College isn’t exactly close by.”

Jo’navir shook his head. “I only have one gold piece left. I was planning to get there on foot.”

“And look where that got you?” Farkas joked. “Look, if you need gold, we can help you, but I feel we’ve given you plenty of free stuff already without asking for anything in return. Why don’t I tell you about that task, and you can choose which option sounds better to you?”

“Why not,” Jo’navir shrugged.

“Alright then,” Farkas said. “We received a bounty on a Hagraven loitering around the outskirts of Whiterun. It’s been snatching away the livestock there, starving the people of their resources. So, the farmers began hiring some of us as guards to stand watch.

“Hmph,” Farkas grunted. “I guess the actual guards of this city have had their hands full with all that dragon business as of late. But I told them we could handle it. We’d be guarding Pelegia Farm, the place where I fought that giant not too long ago.”

“That’s doesn’t sound too bad,” Jo’navir responded.

“Hagraven’s are nothing to laugh at,” Farkas frowned. “But either way, I want to make sure your sword is strong enough for the challenge. You can join me on the night shift if you’re up for it. And while we’re waiting, I know someone who could help you work on your one-handed weapon skills if you’re interested in that too.”

Jo’navir rubbed between his eyebrows as he thought on his decision. He knew waiting another night would mean Dexpa would be out there by himself doing the same. But Jo’navir needed this coin to take him to Winterhold. It didn’t seem like Dexpa was anywhere nearby anyways.

“Okay,” Jo’navir agreed. “One mission, then tomorrow, I leave for Winterhold.”

“That works for me,” Farkas added. “I’ll take you to meet Athis, our one-handed specialist. He’ll be able to teach you a lot more about it than any of us could.” Farkas showed Jo’navir and his wolf to the courtyard just outside.

Several other members of the Companions were out there, training. There were arrow targets and target dummies spread along the wall of the courtyard. “Here’s your man,” Farkas said to Jo’navir, gesturing toward a dark elf man sitting at one of the benches.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Farkas?” Athis replied.

“We have a new recruit,” Farkas said, presenting Jo’navir to Athis. “And he needs training in one-handed combat. How would you feel about showing him a thing or two?”

“I guess I wouldn’t mind showing off a little,” Athis joked. “Come on, kid” he beckoned, stepping over to the target dummies. The two of them trained together, while the wolf eyed Jo’navir from a short distance away.

Athis showed Jo’navir the most efficient ways of utilizing his sword, doing the most damage and conserving the most energy. However, Jo’navir still felt like something was missing, preventing him from making any significant improvements.

“Hmm,” Athis began to think. “Your fighting style is pretty forceful and not very controlled. Not that that’s bad or anything. It’s just a different style than what I’m used to.” His eyes looked around the courtyard, stopping on a steel axe that caught his attention. “Here,” he said handing the axe to Jo’navir. “Try this.”

“I’ve never used an axe before,” Jo’navir complained.

“There’s a first time for everything, recruit. You won’t know until you try.”

Jo’navir accepted the axe and went back to swinging at the target dummies. He was amazed with the power behind each blow. The axe was slicing through the targets with ease. “Is this sharper than my sword?” Jo’navir asked in disbelief.

“It’s heavier,” Athis shrugged.

Jo’navir laughed almost hysterically at the difference he felt with each swing. “It feels like I was meant for this!” he yelled.

“There you go,” Athis smiled proudly. “Why don’t you hold onto that axe, then. We’ve got plenty more inside just like it. May as well test it out on that mission Farkas has planned for you.”

“That would be great!” Jo’navir exclaimed. “Thank you.” He continued slashing away at the dummies until the sun went down.

When it was time, Farkas and Kodlak made an appearance in the courtyard to confront Jo’navir. “You ready kid?” Farkas asked.

“I’m ready,” Jo’navir responded with confidence.

“Good,” Farkas said. “How about we have Kodlak look after your wolf while we’re gone? Things might get messy out there.”

Jo’navir looked down at his wolf companion and patted him towards Kodlak. “Go on, boy. I’ll be back soon.” The wolf managed to understand him and joined Kodlak’s side.

“Atta boy,” Kodlak said, gently petting the wolf.

Farkas and Jo’navir exited the Whiterun gates and made their way toward Pelagia farm. There were no civilians out at this time of night, aside from the two carriage men which they passed by along the way whose carriages and horses varied in size and number.

When they reached the farm, there were two people already standing watch. “Alright,” Farkas said. “We’ll take over from here.”

“Took you long enough,” Vilkas called back.

“Who’s this?” a woman’s voice added.

“Our new recruit,” Farkas replied. “Though he won’t be staying with us for too long. But he volunteered to at least help us stand watch for the night.”

“Jo’navir,” Farkas gestured, “Meet Aela the Huntress.”

Jo’navir nodded his head in greetings. Aela was built like a warrior and had the tattoos to match. A marking in the shape of a black scratch covered the majority of her face.

“Welcome to the Companions Shield-Brother,” Aela said. Aela and Vilkas left their post and made way for the city.

“Good luck you two,” Vilkas waved.

The hours passed quickly, and there was still no sign of any creatures. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Farkas said. “How did you lose your brother exactly.”

“Our home was invaded,” Jo’navir said. “And we were trying to escape. The only out we could find was this scroll, but after using it, I ended up here by myself with my brother nowhere in sight. I honestly don’t even know if he survived. I’m just trying to find some answers.”

“A spell scroll?” Farkas inquired.

Jo’navir shrugged. “I heard someone call it an Elder Scroll.”

“How did you get your hands on an Elder Scroll?” Farkas yelped, both concerned and frustrated. “And why was your first thought to use it? Do you know what those things do to people?”

“It wasn’t our first thought!” Jo’navir shouted back, losing his composure for a second. “I wanted to find another way out, but we didn’t have the time to think of one.” Jo’navir’s frustration suddenly turned into sorrow. “I should’ve searched harder, I guess. Oh, what was I thinking? Why did I let him do it?”

Farkas laid his hand on Jo’navir’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, kid. We don’t always make the right decisions. I’m sure you did what you had to for your brother. I would’ve done the same for Vilkas.”

His words brought Jo’navir some comfort. “That’s the real reason I’m headed to the College. An inn keeper told me they might have info on the Elder Scrolls. Info that could tell me where my brother was sent.”

“That’s a good lead, then,” Farkas replied. “I understand why you were hesitant to stay here. Once this is over, you should take a well-deserved rest.”

Jo’navir nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, the bushes outside of the farm began to rustle. The silhouette of a scrawny humanoid creature jumped out of it and made a dash for the fence with the livestock.

Before Jo’navir and Farkas could react, it snatched a chicken and held it by the legs. “Hagraven!” Farkas cried, pulling out his greatsword.

Jo’navir unsheathed his axe and rushed the creature with Farkas. As they got closer, they could see the scrawny, wrinkled face of the hagraven in the dark. It noticed them charging at it and turned to run.

“Don’t let it get away!” Farkas shouted. But the hagraven was gaining distance fast.

Jo’navir cast a fireball which made direct contact with its back, forcing out a painful screech. The chicken flew out of its hands as the hagraven fell to the ground. Its screams continued as it groveled on the floor, enduring the burning pain that crawled down its back.

“We’ve got em now!” Farkas yelled as he closed the gap between himself and the creature.

The hagraven attempted to lift itself off the ground, but Farkas stomped its head back down, holding it still with his foot. He plunged his greatsword into its chest, nailing it to the dirt below. The last of its breath let out another screech, which was interrupted by the sound of gargling blood. Then finally, the creature fell silent.

“Nice shot, Jo’navir,” Farkas said. “I knew you were the right man for the job. Now let’s get thi—”

The bushes began to rustle once again, and within seconds, the two of them found themselves surrounded by a group of warriors in silver armor wielding silver swords.

“You think we wouldn’t recognize that armor you beast?” a man called out from one direction.

“We’ve got you cornered like a dog. How fitting!” another man cackled.

“Who are these people?” Jo’navir asked Farkas.

“I was hoping I’d never have to explain that to you,” Farkas responded. Jo’navir looked confused as the men began inching closer to Farkas, ignoring Jo’navir.

Farkas made the first move, swiping his sword at one of the men, grazing their chest and forcing them to step back.

The others began to charge Farkas. Jo’navir intervened, casting fireballs at the armored men, keeping them at bay.

“You’re fighting for the wrong side, cat!” another man called out, now charging at Jo’navir with a swing of his silver sword.

Jo’navir pulled out his axe and tested its might against the incoming sword. The weight of his axe launched the sword out of the man’s grasp with ease. He followed up with another swing, lodging the axe halfway into the man’s arm. He pulled his axe free and knocked the man unconscious with another fireball.

Farkas, however, found himself quickly swarmed by most of the men. “Farkas!” Jo’navir screamed, sprinting over to assist him.

“I’m sorry you have to see this, kid,” Farkas said. His voice was calm and determined.

“Get him!” another warrior called. “Before he trans…”

Suddenly, Farkas’ body began to morph shape. Fur grew outwards as if it was hiding underneath his skin the whole time. His muscles began to bulk to several times their original size. His nose turned into a snout, his ears became taller, and his teeth grew longer and sharper. He growled like a threatened animal and then let out a howl which echoed through the night sky.

The men charging at him stopped in place after noticing his completed transformation. Farkas proceeded to rip them to shreds, pulling apart their limbs with his claws and puncturing holes in them with his teeth.

The last man who remained standing made a cowardly rush for Jo’navir, pleading, “Please! Don’t let him eat me! Call him off, I’m begging you!” He threw his sword to the ground and took off his helmet. He was a nord, just like Farkas, but looked closer to Jo’navir’s age.

Before the man could reach Jo’navir, Farkas charged him down on all fours and tackled him to the floor. He then bit into the man’s skull, pulling it apart from the rest of his body and tossing it aside.

Jo’navir’s body refused to move in fear that he’d be next.

The beast stood up from the headless body, indifferent to the gore that sat underneath him. Blood leaked out of his mouth between his fangs. His eyes glowed a ferocious gold. He stood tall on his hind legs and approached Jo’navir.

Jo’navir readied his axe. “Farkas?” he asked.

Farkas’ muscles and fur began to retract into his body, until he began to look like himself again. “Yes, it’s still me. Don’t worry,” Farkas said reassuringly. “I’ve had this curse long enough to know how to control it.”

“Okay,” Jo’navir sighed in relief. His racing heartbeat finally started to slow down.

“We should get back now,” Farkas said. “Our job is done here.”

[Dexpa]

Part IV: New Trust

On their walk back to Jorrvaskr, Jo’navir was trying to find the courage to ask about everything he just witnessed.

“Jo’navir,” Farkas interrupted his thoughts. “Be honest. What is it you’re feeling right now?”

“I don’t know,” Jo’navir said fidgeting with his claws. He was too nervous to make eye contact with Farkas. “Can the others, well, you know?”

“Only those in The Circle,” Farkas answered.

“Who were those guys that were after you?” Jo’navir questioned.

“Bad people who don’t like werewolves,” Farkas stated. “The Silver Hand. An organization that cares about only one thing. Killing people like me.”

“I was scared,” Jo’navir finally answered. “But still, I want to trust you.”

“Then the feeling is mutual,” Farkas responded. “Come on, let’s hurry up and report back to Jorrvaskr.”

After they arrived, they found Kodlak down the stairs at the table where Jo’navir first met him. The wolf who sat at his side perked its head up at Jo’navir’s approach.

“For a newly tamed wolf, he sure is calm,” Kodlak greeted them, scratching the fur on the wolf’s back. “I assume your early return means good news?”

“Sort of,” Farkas replied. “It was a Silver Hand trap. But the two of us take care of them, and the hagraven too.”

“This unnecessary violence…” Kodlak mumbled to himself. He looked uneasy but gathered himself quickly. “Well, you did what you had to. Here’s your reward.” Kodlak handed Jo’navir a sack of gold coins.

“He also knows about the curse,” Farkas nervously added.

Kodlak’s eyes widened at the mention. “That’s two strangers in one week, Farkas.”

“But even after what he saw, he still fought on my side,” Farkas continued.

“A true Shield-Brother, I suppose,” Kodlak added. “Well boy, what do you think of us now?”

“I guess as long as it can be controlled, I have no problem with it,” Jo’navir replied. “Farkas used it as a means of self-defense. I can’t say I’d want to become one myself anytime soon, but I don’t really mind it. Especially if someone like that is on my side,” he joked.

Kodlak chuckled. “I’m relieved to hear it. You’ve proven yourself loyal, Jo’navir. And your wolf too, so well behaved. Have you given any more thought on a name for him?”

“I have, actually,” said Jo’navir.

“Well?” Farkas chimed in. “Any examples?”

“What about Vaskr?” Jo’navir responded.

Farkas grunted. “Like Jorrvaskr. I like it.”

Jo’navir scratched between Vaskr’s ears causing his tail to wag uncontrollably. He missed his master.

“Well,” Kodlak announced, “I think it’s about time we all get some shut eye.”

Jo’navir nodded his head in agreement. “Come on, Vaskr,” he waved. Vaskr returned to his side without hesitation and followed him to the living quarters.

Jo’navir got his well-deserved sleep and woke with Vaskr against the side of his bed. “Ready, boy?” he said.

They went upstairs and found Athis and Aela chatting at the main table. “Is it time, kid?” asked Jo’navir.

“Looks like it,” Jo’navir replied. “I’ll be taking the carriage to Winterhold.”

“Take care of that axe, alright?” Athis added.

Jo’navir nodded. “I will.”

“Jo’navir,” Farkas called from behind. “Before you go, come see me at the Sky Forge. It’s out in the courtyard past the target dummies.”

Jo’navir conversed a bit with his fellow Shield-Brothers, soon joining Farkas at the forge with Vaskr by his side. The forge contained a furnace, filled with hot orange metal surrounded by a ring of stone. A towering bird statue loomed over it with giant wings providing shade.

Vilkas, Kodlak, and Farkas were standing in wait for Jo’navir’s arrival, while another man sat at the forge finishing up some work.

“This is Eorlund Grey-Mane,” Farkas introduced the man. Eorlund seemed slightly older than Kodlak, but he looked like he could still take care of himself in a fight. He wore hide armor and had white hair that complimented his wrinkles.

“It’s an honor to meet you, wolf tamer,” Eorlund said to Jo’navir. “By request, I’ve crafted a parting gift for you that I think you’ll like.” He grabbed some pieces of gear sitting next to the forge and handed them to Jo’navir.

“Seeing you in Stormcloak gear was a fine sight,” Eorlund added, “but I think this’ll suit you even better. It’s wolf armor. To show you’ll always be one of us.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jo’navir said with a bow of his head. He traded his current armor in for the new set and equipped the pieces right away. Every piece shared the same theme, grey metal over black fur.

“How’s it fit?” asked Kodlak.

“It’s perfect,” Jo’navir said smiling like a child with a new toy.

“Well, looks like this is it,” Farkas said. “Best of luck on your journey, my friend.” He reached his hand out to Jo’navir, who shook it and nodded in thanks.

“I hope you can find your brother,” Vilkas added.

“And don’t be afraid to pay us a visit if you ever find time,” Kodlak said. “Don’t forget, you’re a Shield-Brother now.”

“I promise I won’t let your kindness go to waste,” Jo’navir remarked. “Thank you again. All of you.”

Jo’navir made his exit, continuing out the Whiterun gates and approaching the carriages.

One of the carriages was led by a simple nord man leading a single brown horse.

The other, however, caught Jo’navir’s attention. It was led by a muscular nord man in iron armor. His carriage was pulled by two horses, one brown and one black.

“Hey there!” the man called to Jo’navir. “If you’re looking for a ride, I’m your man. It doesn’t get faster or cheaper than this. There’s no carriage that can outpace mine.”

“Can you take me to Winterhold?” asked Jo’navir.

“Easy. Just show me the coin and hop on in,” the man replied pointing his thumb to the back of the carriage.

“Alright,” Jo’navir shrugged. He gave the carriage driver some gold coins and jumped in the back with Vaskr hopping in right after him. They shared their space with a saddle, which Jo’navir decided to use as a footrest.

Without another word, they were off to Winterhold.

The trip was surprisingly meditative for Jo’navir, as if he was sightseeing. Skyrim’s weather fascinated him. He could stare at the distance for hours and not get bored, admiring the mountains and forests filled with flora in every color. Soon, however, the only color he could see was white. The temperature dropped and small flakes of snow began to fall from the sky, melting into the wood of the carriage.

Suddenly, a man with scales and green skin appeared in the middle of the road, blocking the path of the horses. “Hey, you! Get out of the road!” the carriage man called out to the pedestrian.

“How about you get out of the cart?” the stranger proposed, unsheathing a steel sword and pointing it at the carriage.

“An argonian thief?” the nord questioned the man. “Get out of here before you get yourself hurt.” He shook the ropes attached to the horses signaling them to move forward again.

The argonian grabbed his sword with two hands and swung it for the brown horse’s leg, cutting into it deeply. The horse fell into the snow, allowing the argonian to step over it and plunge his sword into its ribcage, killing it.

The black horse began to panic at the sight, tugging at the rope that tied it to the carriage.

“Damn lizard!” yelled the nord, pulling out a dagger and confronting the thief. “You don’t know who you’re messing with? That horse is going to cost you more than your life.”

The argonian dislodged his sword from the horse and swiped it beside himself to fling the blood off it. He came charging at the nord with full intent to kill.

“Wait!” Jo’navir yelled out to the nord in worry. He hopped out of the carriage to join the fight, but the argonian was too quick. With one swing, they knocked the nord’s dagger at out their hand, and with another, decapitated him. The nord’s head fell and buried itself into the snow.

The argonian turned his attention to Jo’navir who was already casting a fireball in his direction. The thief barely managed to sidestep it, tripping over in the process. The fireball disintegrated into the snow behind him, leaving a rising trail of steam at the spot of impact.

The argonian attempted to regain his balance, but Vaskr leaped in and bit a chunk out of his leg, keeping him grounded.

“Damn Dog!” yelled the argonian, holding his sword above head, ready to swing down at the wolf.

“Vaskr!” Jo’navir screamed, throwing his axe forward as hard as he could. The blade of his axe landed perfectly between the eyes of the argonian, burying itself deep in his skull. He died instantly, falling sideways into the snow.

Jo’navir grabbed the hilt of his axe and pushed off the thief’s corpse with his feet, pulling it free. His heart was pulsing rapidly but slowed down once Vaskr returned to his side safely. The wolf pressed against his leg to calm him down.

“Good job, boy,” Jo’navir congratulated him with a pat on the head. He looked at the nord’s dead body and sighed in disappointment, taking back the gold pieces he gave to him. “I’m sorry. I was helpless to save you.” Jo’navir felt useless.

Suddenly, the image of Dexpa flashed in his head. This wasn’t the first time he felt this way. “I need to focus,” he grunted at himself. “I need to find him.”

The sound of a struggling horse grabbed his attention. The black carriage horse remained untouched and was jumping around the snow recklessly, tangling itself in the rope from the carriage.

“Easy, hey!” Jo’navir called as he crept closer. A few kicks barely scraped past his body, but he was able to grab hold of the rope attached to the horse and tug at it to keep the horse steady. Eventually it calmed down, allowing Jo’navir to finally step in and gently caress the side of its head. “There you go. You’re fine, see?” said Jo’navir.

He unraveled the rope around the horse’s body and freed it from the carriage. To his relief, it didn’t run away. “Perfect,” Jo’navir said to himself. He reached into the carriage and pulled out the saddle. The horse gladly accepted the new accessory.

In the distance, Jo’navir could see a massive structure sitting on top of a mountain cliffside. A bridge connected the structure to a small town below.

“That’s got to be it,” Jo’navir gasped. He hopped on the horse gesturing Vaskr to follow behind and began the final stretch of his journey to the city of Winterhold.


Part V: The College

The city of Winterhold was in terrible shape. Most of the shops and homes were now rubble and the population of its villagers was scarce.

Jo’navir tied the horse to a pole next to an inn. “Don’t go freezing to death on me while I’m gone,” Jo’navir said patting the horse on the side. He walked to the bridge entrance at the end of the city’s main street, but a high elf woman was blocking the way.

“State your business, khajiit,” she said.

“I’m looking for information on an Elder Scroll. It’ll help me find my brother,” Jo’navir responded.

“That sounds dangerous,” she said, tilting her head. “Are you a mage?”

“I am,” declared Jo’navir.

“Then prove to me that you can control that magic. What type of spells do you use?”

“Fire and alteration magic,” Jo’navir replied. “Though I guess I’ve sort of drifted away from the field of alteration.”

“Alright, how about you show me the fire destruction spell incinerate?” she challenged him. “If you can impress me, then you will be granted passage to the college. And If you don’t know the spell, then I can share the respective spellbook with you for a small price.”

“Isn’t there another way in?” Jo’navir asked. “I just need to ask someone about the Elder Scrolls, that’s all.”

“I can tell you ahead of time that we do in fact have someone who can help you,” she replied. “But before I let you see them, you must be tested.”

Jo’navir sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Fine. I’ll buy the book.” He handed her some gold coins.

“Thank you,” she bowed. “Please stay here while I fetch the spell book.” She took a short trip to the college and back, now holding a book in her hands. “You’ll want to study this,” she recommended. “Take whatever time you need.” She handed over the book titled “Destruction: Incinerate.”

As Jo’navir studied the book, he soon began to conjure up a more focused, hotter version of his usual fireball spell. He focused the flame into the palm of his hand and held it, allowing it to grow further.

“Once you’re ready, shoot it at this rune,” the high elf woman added, stepping away to reveal a circular stone rune engraved into the bridge floor.

Jo’navir pointed his hand at the rune and unleashed the incinerate spell. It exploded from his palms and crashed into the rune carving, leaving a burn mark at the spot of impact and melting the snow around it.

“That didn’t take long,” the woman said, clearly impressed. “I never introduced myself. My name is Faralda. If you ever need knowledge on destruction magic, I’m the one you should find.” She turned around signaling Jo’navir to follow. “Come with me, I’ll get you through the gates.”

Faralda walked with Jo’navir and Vaskr across the bridge. As they traversed further, Jo’navir noticed how unstable it was. The railings were short and there were several cracks in the floor. One misstep and Jo’navir would be falling hundreds of feet to the ice below.

They proceeded through a grand metal gate at the entrance to the college ground’s courtyard area. In the center of the courtyard was a fountain with a blue pillar of light shooting out of it into the sky above.

Feralda eventually led him inside and into a circular room loaded with bookshelves. “Our librarian is the one who will have information on the scrolls,” she said pointing to an orc man sitting behind a counter. “His name is Urag Gro-Shub; a grumpy old orc whose face is always buried in a new book. Feel free to give him your greetings, but don’t waste him time.”

“Thank you Faralda,” Jo’navir said, approaching the orc on the other side of the counter. “Are you Urag Gro-Shub?” Jo’navir asked out of courtesy.

“Who’s asking?” the orc replied with a grunt.

“My name is Jo’navir. I’m looking for my brother and a certain Elder Scroll is my only lead to finding him. Do you have any information that might help me? Maybe on the whereabouts of the scroll, or what happens when people use them.”

The orc glanced at Vaskr who sat patiently next to his master. “You’re not the first person to ask me about the Elder Scrolls,” Urag replied. “If you want information, how about a tip. Stay away from those things. They’re dangerous.”

“I need to know!” Jo’navir demanded. “My brother and I used one, but we got separated in the process. I just want to know what happened to him and how I can find him.”

“You used one!?” Urag laughed mockingly. “You’re crazy, cat.” His laughter quickly faded. “Listen, if you want more info, how about you ask someone as crazy as you are. There’s a man named Septimus Signus north of here hiding away in a cave. Maybe he’ll have the information you’re looking for.”

“So, you don’t have any info on them?” Jo’navir asked again.

“I gave you your info, now get out of here,” the orc replied sternly. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Jo’navir let out an audible sigh. “Thank you for the lead, at least.”

He made his way out of Winterhold and ventured north on his horse with Vaskr following behind. Soon, Jo’navir spotted a wooden board carved into a glacier, like a secret hideout. “This must be the entrance,” Jo’navir said to himself gesturing for the horse to stay and Vaskr to follow.

The inside was slightly warmer. Its size made it look more like an ice room than an ice cave. Every inch of the ceiling was covered in sharp stalactites. There were signs of life, such as a bookshelf with books in it and a table with potions on it.

At the end of the cave rested a huge golden cube, half-buried in the ice wall. It was open at its center, revealing a short tunnel into a small room with an empty pedestal in the middle. Jo’navir inched closer to the pedestal, cautiously stepping into a pile of ashes at the base of it. “What is all this?” Jo’navir pondered aloud, inspecting the bottom of his feet.

Suddenly, Vaskr began barking at something. His distressed sounds made Jo’navir uneasy. As he turned around to see what Vaskr was barking at, he noticed the tunnel exit was now blocked by a strange creature. Its shape was hard to make out, clearly not humanoid. More like a cloud with multiple green eyes and black tentacles shrouded in a black fog.

“Pitiful mortal,” the creature mocked. “There is nothing left here for you. You seek the scholar, and yet all you find are his ashes.”

Jo’navir glanced back down at the ashes, now disturbed by thoughts of death.

“His time had come,” the creature explained. “This is merely the fate of one who has lost their use.”

“Who are you?” Jo’navir questioned.

“I am Hermaeus Mora,” the creature said. “The Daedric Prince of knowledge and memory.”

“You killed him?” Jo’navir questioned looking at the ashes on the floor.

“I merely spared him from his sad and lonely life. He had nothing left to give, so I disposed of him accordingly,” replied Hermaeus Mora.

Jo’navir tried to ignore the threat before him so he could focus on the more important matter. “Do you have knowledge on the Elder Scrolls?”

“I may or may not,” the Daedric Prince replied jokingly. “I know what it is you seek, mortal. But if you want that information, you’re going to have to give me something in return.”

“Tell me,” Jo’navir demanded.

“I sense a great strength within you, and a desire for knowledge. One like you should be working towards a cause of greater importance,” Hermaeus Mora said. “Swear your allegiance to me as my champion and I will tell you the whereabouts of the Lightning Scroll.”

“How did you know—” Jo’navir interrupted himself. “Why would I ever do something like that?”

“Because you’re out of options,” Hermaeus answered. “Again.”

Jo’navir thought it over for several moments. Every lead he’s gotten so far has brought him to a dead end. Even if he kept searching, the fear of Dexpa being in danger somewhere frightened him. He needed to find his brother, no matter the cost.

“Fine, I will be your champion,” Jo’navir declared with confidence. “Now tell me where to find the scroll.”

“Good,” Hermaeus laughed, his maniacal voice echoing through the cave. “The scroll you seek is hidden within Shalidor’s Maze. Come closer and I will gift you with the knowledge to find the Labyrinthian where the maze awaits you.”

Jo’navir stepped closer to the Daedric Prince. A tentacle slithered towards his skull, piercing through it and causing Jo’navir’s head to pulse violently. “AHH!” Jo’navir screamed in pain. The pulsing continued for several seconds as the knowledge crept its way into his mind.

Vaskr began to bark again, as if to scream “Put him down!”

Eventually Jo’navir was released from Hermaeus Mora’s grasp and fell to his hands and knees. The pain he felt was now gone in an instant. Vaskr ran over and nudged himself under Jo’navir’s chest, helping him back to his feet.

“Thanks boy,” said Jo’navir as he laid a hand on the wolf’s back. Suddenly, he could feel his knowledge on the location of the Labyrinthian now implanted into his mind. “I can see it!” Jo’navir yelped, turning his attention back to the tentacle creature before him. “Thank you, Hermaeus Mora. I won’t let this knowledge go to waste.”

“I know you won’t,” the Daedric Prince said. “Now go. Fulfil your destiny.”

Jo’navir and Vaskr left the cave. He mounted his horse and began his venture to the Labyrinthian. “Finally,” he whispered to himself.


Part VI: The Labyrinthian

The walls of the Labyrinthian towered above Jo’navir. He left the horse at the entrance where the walls were separated and ventured inside with Vaskr.

But before he could take two steps, a frost troll jumped out from behind the wall and lunged at them. Vaskr and Jo’navir both panicked, leaping to the side. The frost troll dashed between them and swiped its claws at the horse, helplessly tied down.

It continued thrashing at the horse’s vitals recklessly, carving deep gashes into several parts of its flesh. The horse collapsed into the snow, shivering in agony.

“No!” Jo’navir yelled, jumping into the action. He cast his new incinerate spell, burning a chunk out of the frost troll’s back.

Vaskr lunged at the troll and bit into its arm. The troll tried to shake him off, but Vaskr held tight.

Jo’navir pulled out his axe and swung it into the waist of the troll, slicing halfway through and stopping at its spine. It died within seconds and collapsed to the floor alongside the horse.

Jo’navir noticed the horse was still alive, but suffering. He began pacing back and forth. “What do I do!?” he yelled at himself. The horses body continued to convulse. “Gahhh!” He stood over the horse with his axe raised above his head, staring at it with tears rolling out of his eyes. “Forgive me for this.” Finally, he launched his axe into the horse, silencing its screams along with its suffering.

He refused to look away, standing above the horse and breathing heavily. He pulled his axe free and wiped it into the snow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

After gathering his senses again, he reminded himself to stay focused on his main goal. “Dexpa,” he said, turning to the entrance of the Labyrinthian.

The inside of the Labyrinthian was widespread with a combination of varying stone structures sticking out of the snow. The entire area was encircled within a wall, giving it the appearance of a city.

As he explored more of the inside, the location engraved in his mind led him to an open door. “This is it, I can feel it,” he said aloud. “Shalidor’s Maze.”

The door led him to a courtyard with trees and flowers planted in an artificial manner. The floor and walls were coated in vines and a stone archway at the end revealed the entrance to the maze.

In front of the entrance, however, lay a burnt corpse with a purple gem in its hand. And in front of it were four empty platforms carved into the ground, each with a hole in their center. The starting place of the maze was lit with two torches on each side of the walls.

“Here we go,” Jo’navir said to Vaskr. Suddenly, Jo’navir heard a warping sound a short distance behind himself. When he turned, he was faced with a black-robed Dremora with red face paint stepping out of a portal. It had wicked horns growing out of its skull and a golden circlet resting on its head.

“Another challenger!?” the Dremora yelled. “You will perish!” It summoned a frost and flame atronach at each of its sides.

Jo’navir readied his axe in one hand and cast incinerate with the other. The spell launched towards the flame atronach, but it disintegrated into the flaming aura surrounding the creature.

The atronach launched a fireball back at Jo’navir while the frost atronach and the Dremora began to charge at him.

Vaskr took on the frost atronach, biting into its leg and slowing it down. But the atronach swiftly kicked him away, slamming him into the wall.

Jo’navir was too occupied to react to his wolf’s injuries. He avoided the oncoming fire spells while casting another incinerate spell at the frost atronach. It penetrated its stomach, creating a hole that showed all the way through to the other side, but it wasn’t enough to kill it.

Suddenly, the Dremora mage began shooting a stream of flames at Jo’navir, forcing him to sidestep. But the frost atronach was now too close to him. It slammed a fist to the ground creating a shockwave that blew Jo’navir away.

As a last defense, Jo’navir cast the stone flesh spell, hardening his body and allowing him to barely endure the attacks of all three enemies hitting him at once.

Vaskr returned to the fight, biting into the waist of the Dremora mage. “Filthy creature!” the Dremora cried out. It blasted Vaskr with a deadly fireball, slamming him once again into the wall of the courtyard.

The Dremora approached the wolf ready to finish him off with another spell. Meanwhile Jo’navir could feel his stone flesh shattering with each strike of the atronachs. Soon it faded completely, and his iron wolf armor was forced to take the remaining blows.

Jo’navir attempted to block the blunt attacks of the atronach with his gauntlets, but he knew he and his armor wouldn’t last much longer. He looked over to the Dremora mage whose hand began to prepare a flame spell inches away from Vaskr’s body.

“I can’t do anything,” Jo’navir thought to himself, beginning to lose hope. “I can’t—"

Suddenly, another portal appeared revealing the silhouette of a humanoid figure hidden within a gleaming barrier of electricity. A powerful beam of lightning launched itself from their location and forced its way into the body of the Dremora. It shocked their organs from the inside and then instantly transferred itself to the flame atronach and then the frost atronach. The three of them were torn apart from the inside, leaving nothing but ashes in their place. A few remaining sparks trickled upon the ashes until they finally faded away completely.

The figure drew closer to Jo’navir, inspecting him cautiously. Soon the lightning barrier around them began to diminish, revealing their face.

“Dexpa?” Jo’navir questioned.

“Jo’navir!” Dexpa yelled. He lifted his older brother off the ground, patting the dust off his shoulders and looking into the eyes to make sure he was really there. His eyes began to water, and he pulled Jo’navir in for a warm embrace.

Jo’navir looked over Dexpa’s shoulder in disbelief. “I was on the verge of accepting your death,” Jo’navir said, pulling away with a smile. He tried to stay strong and hold back his tears, but he couldn’t. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“It felt like forever,” Dexpa replied. “I’ve been through a lot.”

“Clearly,” Jon’avir joked. “We both have.”

“Oh!” Dexpa remembered. “And look what I got.” He pulled out the Lightning Scroll and showed it off to Jo’navir. “I snatched it from them,” Dexpa added gesturing his head toward the pile of ashes where the Dremora once stood. “As you can probably guess, he was not happy.”

Jo’navir chuckled for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere. “Vaskr!” he yelped. He ran over to attend to his wolf’s injuries. Vaskr attempted to lift himself off the ground, but every time he did, his legs would wobble and force him back down.

“Don’t worry,” Dexpa said, stepping in and reaching into his leather bag. He pulled out a potion and poured it into Vaskr’s mouth. “I see you made a new friend,” he said.

The wolf finally gathered the strength to push himself back to his feet. He licked Dexpa’s face in thanks. Dexpa chuckled. “Okay, okay. That was my last one. I’m glad it worked.”

“His name is Vaskr,” Jo’navir responded. “I found him in the wild a few days ago and since then, he hasn’t really left my side.”

“I’m glad you had someone to accompany you on your journey.” Dexpa said, smiling contently. But his smile faded quickly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“About what?” Jo’navir asked?

“About the Elder Scrolls. About time and everything that’s happened, or going to happen. There’s a lot. I’ll explain along the way,” Dexpa said.

“Okay?” Jo’navir replied, still confused. “Where are we going?”

“As much as I’d love to stay here,” Dexpa continued, “there’s somewhere we need to go. I saw something the other day that I still can’t completely explain.”

“Like?” Jo’navir replied impatiently.

“it’s about the invasion of our village,” Dexpa said. “I think Mo’nazar survived.”

[Dexpa]

Chapter 4
Mo’nazar: Domination


Part I: Wake Up

(1E 2920)

“Mo’nazar!” The word echoed in his head. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. He began to hallucinate, while his eyes remained glued to the corpses of his parents below him.

“Let go…” the voice echoed again. “Mo’nazar!”

Mo’nazar gasped awake, finally snapping out of his trance. “Dexpa?” he pondered. “What happened?” He noticed a strange green amulet resting in his father’s hand. He picked it up and analyzed it, front and back. He got up and dashed out the front door to survey the area. The once small hoard of silver knights was now an army that covered every corner of the village.

Off in the distance, beyond the knights, Mo’nazar could make out two familiar figures making their way towards The Fringe. It was Dexpa and Jo’navir. His throat was too tight to speak, and his attempts at screaming became a hoarse whisper. “Don’t leave me.” But they were too far to hear him now.

He took a step in their direction, but a crystal knight blocked his path. It swung its sword his way, forcing him to fall backwards into the house. The green amulet fell out of his hand and tumbled to the ground alongside him.

The silver knight’s sword lodged itself into the door frame. It made many failed attempts to pull it free. Mo’nazar took this chance to escape, grabbing the amulet and making a dash for the first place he could think of to hide.

“The hatch,” he thought to himself. The hatch was open with its doors laying in pieces on the floor of the house as if they were blasted away from something inside.

The knight finally dislodged its sword and continued towards Mo’nazar once again. Mo’nazar’s heart skipped a beat, as a drop of sweat slid down his forehead. He jumped down the hatch in a hurry.

“What is this?” he said to himself as he scanned the room. There were bloodstains on the ground in the shape of a summoning circle, and several strange spell books and purple crystal gems scattered about. The room, however, was a dead end.

He gazed back at the hatch entrance and could hear the knight’s steps getting closer by the second. “Oh no,” Mo’nazar said. He ran to the other side of the room and began desperately banging his fists against the walls. “Come on!” He stopped banging on the wall as soon as he noticed his own blood beginning to smear across it.

Mo’nazar glanced around every corner of the room in search of another way out. He smacked his palms against the sides of his head in an attempt to spawn an idea. “Think, think!!!” he shouted with urgency in his voice.

He spotted a bookshelf near the entrance of the hatch. It was the same width as the hole he jumped through and it matched the height of the ceiling in the room.

“Arggg!” he groaned as he attempted to push the shelf with his shoulder. He leaned all his weight into it, but it wouldn’t budge. He began tossing books out of it as fast as he could until it was finally light enough to slide over.

As he did so, the knight appeared above and began slashing at Mo’nazar’s fingers as he slid it into place. The sword struck the top of the shelf, barely missing Mo’nazar.

Finally, the entrance was blocked, but its slashes continued to slam against the top of the bookshelf.

Mo’nazar stepped back, watching to make sure it would hold. Suddenly, a slash cut a hole through the top just big enough to peep through. Mo’nazar’s limbs began to shake as his breathing hastened. “I’m going to die,” he thought to himself. “Jo’navir…Dexpa,” he whimpered.

He leaned his back to the wall and began to sob. His tears ran out of his eyes and onto a book that sat at his feet. The book caught his eye. It had a symbol engraved on the cover that Mo’nazar had never seen before. “Conjuration: Bone Colossus,” it read.

Mo’nazar glanced back and forth between the book and the summoning circle on the ground, carved in blood. The purple crystals were spread suspiciously even around its perimeter.

He slammed the book and opened it on the floor next to the circle and began flipping through the pages. Every time he heard the knight’s sword hit the bookshelf, he would flinch and lose his focus for a moment.

Finally, he placed his hand over the circle and began to cast the spell. “Please,” he begged. To his surprise, a portal opened over the circle and a huge bone colossus began to climb out of it. Its body was humanoid but consisted of a jumbled mess of bones that gave it a muscular looking build. It stood up with its back to Mo’nazar.

Suddenly, the silver knight’s sword cut all the way through the bookshelf, and it jumped inside, continuing its pursuit towards Mo’nazar.

“Kill it!” Mo’nazar commanded, wondering if his words would reach the strange new abomination.

The bone colossus launched its fist into the knight cracking its chest like glass. It continued pummeling the creature into the floor with its fists until it ceased all movement.

Suddenly, two more knights appeared and jumped into the cellar together, focusing their attention on the bone colossus. The colossus smashed one of them against the wall, but the other sliced its arm off with a sword.

“No!” Mo’nazar yelped, as his summoned creature began to fall apart. He rummaged through the spell books spread about the floor. “Portals, portals, portals,” he repeated to himself, searching for a book that could help him escape instead of fight.

A huge thud interrupted Mo’nazar’s search. He looked up and saw the bone colossus now lying on the ground. The crystal knights stepped over the body, now slowly making their way towards Mo’nazar.

“No no no,” he cried as he continued to skim through the other book titles. “Soul Trap?” He opened the book and saw pictures of purple crystals labeled “black soul gem.” They looked just like the ones spread about the room. He grabbed one of the crystals and held it in his hand, backing into the corner.

The crystal knight was now within arm’s reach, preparing to swing its sword for Mo’nazar’s neck. Mo’nazar cast the new spell, holding tightly to the gem in his hand which now began to glow.

He watched as the sword approached his neck, and then suddenly, his vision went black. He could hear his own thoughts. “Did it work? Where am I?” A sense of defeat washed over him. “I was too late, wasn’t I?”

Mo’nazar’s vision returned, and he found himself now standing in a world he’d never seen before.

Storm clouds covered the purple skies above, striking lightning to the wasteland below every few seconds. The whole area was covered in a thick layer of fog, with the occasional structure poking out of it. A few towers stood far above everything else, reaching into the clouds and shooting massive beams of purple energy beyond them.

Mo’nazar gazed down at his hands and saw a transparent blue silhouette of himself. “I guess I didn’t make it after all…What didn’t I make?” he asked himself now feeling lost. He looked ahead and began journeying forwards with no destination in mind. “What am I doing here?” he pondered again. His head felt empty, and he could feel his sense of self vanishing with every second.

Eventually, he reached a tower with skeletons and blue phantoms just like himself wandering about.

“Hey!” Mo’nazar called out to one of the phantoms, waving his hand back and forth.

“Hello,” an older woman replied. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m…” Mo’nazar paused and felt his throat clench and mind scramble. He couldn’t find the word he was looking for. It was right there, but he just couldn’t pick it out. He eventually gave up on his answer. “Wait, who are you?” he asked back, suspiciously.

“I don’t know,” she replied. Her gaze turned away from Mo’nazar and she continued to wander the structure aimlessly.The short conversation left Mo’nazar feeling hazy. Nevertheless, he continued onwards with no goal or location in mind.

As time in this new world seemed to push on, Mo’nazar’s grip on reality released more and more. His sense of self began to disappear as he wandered from one building to the next.

Sometimes he would laugh to himself, but not understand why. Or trip and fall, but appear seemingly unfazed, both physically and mentally. The experience was pain-free, but only because he had forgotten what it felt like to hurt. But there was one thing he did understand. He was trapped.


Part II: Alone

(2E 5)

Mo’nazar wandered the land for five excruciatingly long years. His will was gone and his ability to speak went with it. But his legs continued their march.

Soon, he found himself in front of one of the towers with a staircase leading inside. He walked up the stairs and discovered a strange metal gate, open and awaiting his entrance. His body moved on its own, stepping inside the bars.

A black platform laid before him, sitting in front of a pedestal with a head engraved into the top of it. The horns curling around the head’s jaw indicated something Daedric about it.

Mo’nazar stepped on the platform to get a closer look at the pedestal behind it. Suddenly, several large spikes launched upwards out of the rim of the pedestal, and closed above Mo’nazar’s head, trapping him inside like a caged animal.

“You approach me, yet your intentions are unclear,” a man’s voice called out from the shrine.

Mo’nazar stood silently. He showed no reaction to the voice or his entrapment.

“Pitiful being. Stuck in a realm of nothingness and trapped by the Ideal Masters,” it added.

Mo’nazar’s eyes met with the head on the pedestal.

“Yes, I know what you want. You may not know it yourself, but I can see past your hopeless eyes,” the voice claimed. “You want your freedom.”

Mo’nazar’s eyes twitched. He looked down at his phantasmal body trying to remember something about himself. He returned his gaze back to the Daedric head. “Who?” he asked the head.

“You speak to Molag Bal, the Daedric Prince of Domination,” the voice replied. “All you must do is pledge your soul to me. Swear to serve as my champion until death, and I will grant you the freedom that you desire.”

Mo’nazar’s consciousness was slowly forcing its way back to reality. “I wa…I want.” His memories continued to resurface, gradually. He could feel his desires returning with them.

“Say it,” Molag Bal demanded. His deep voice boomed against the walls of the enclosed room.

Finally, something deep within Mo’nazar woke up. “I want to leave this place,” he mumbled. His emotionless face quickly transformed into a determined scowl. “Until the day that I die, I pledge my soul to you as your champion, Molag Bal.”

Mo’nazar let out a breathless gasp, astonished and relieved by the return of his voice.

Molag Bal roared with laughter. “Perfect! Now listen carefully.” A portal opened next to Mo’nazar. “You will obey me from now on. Upon your return, I will grant you a gift. Use this gift to slay mortals and send their souls to my realm. If you dare disobey, I will not hesitate to bring you back to this place. Do not disappoint me.”

Suddenly, Mo’nazar was pulled into the portal and sent away. His vision went black once again.

As the darkness subsided, Mo’nazar found himself sitting inside the hatch, in the same spot he had vanished from. His hand loosened and dropped a glowing purple gem on the floor, which rapidly dimmed.

The hatch appeared unchanged, aside from a few stray cobwebs, and the blood on the walls that was now dried. He reached into his pockets and pulled out the strange green-skulled amulet. As he looked it over, he noticed his body was finally opaque again. “I’m alive,” he whispered with a smirk. “Thank you, Molag Bal.”

Suddenly, a portal appeared in front of him dropping a spiked mace with streaks of green on its exterior to the ground. Mo’nazar crawled over and took it into his hands, but the moment he contacted it, a surge of power forced itself into his body. “A gift,” he reminded himself.

The spell books on the floor caught his eye. It reminded him of the bone colossus he summoned, which gave him a feeling of safety and security during desperate times. He skimmed through the titles of each book looking for a particular type of magic. “Conjuration,” he repeated to himself as he searched.

He picked up a spell book, which read “Destruction: Sparks.” He became frustrated as the book reminded him of his old friends.

“You left me,” he murmured. “Why.” He began to picture Dexpa and Jo’navir running towards The Fringe, abandoning him. His frustration soon turned to rage, and he threw the book into the wall with great force. “You left me to die!” he screamed.

His head was spinning, and his feelings were at odds with each other. In one moment he would be mourning the loss of his friends, and in the next he would be spitting at their names and ripping at the fur on his scalp.

Eventually, he became too exhausted to scream. He decided to start reading through the books once again.

“Ice Spike,” one of the books read. As he flipped through its pages, he attempted to cast it. To his amazement, it worked. Out of his palm shot a sharp chunk of ice that crashed into the stone walls of the hatch. It broke into shards of ice and melted on the floor below.

He looked at his claws with awe. He felt at home with this type of magic, and best of all, it didn’t remind him of Dexpa or Jo’navir.

He spent the rest of the night skimming through the books on the ground, focusing only on ones that had to do with either frost magic or conjuration. He soon overwhelmed his mind with all this new knowledge and passed out on the ground.

His rumbling stomach woke him up the next day. He could see sunlight shining through his house outside of the entrance of the hatch. It was time to go hunting.

He went adventuring through the swamp, bringing on more bad memories, but he endured them as he focused more on feeding his stomach. As he explored, a patch of red kelp surrounding the swamp began to shake. Suddenly, a baliwog leaped out and began to charge Mo’nazar.

Mo’nazar reacted swiftly, shooting his newly learned ice spike spell, piercing the creature through its stomach and forcing it to collapse dead into the swamp water.

“I did it,” Mo’nazar said with an overconfident smirk on his face. He lugged the baliwog back to his house and cooked it up to eat. “Time to get back to work,” Mo’nazar said to himself, wiping the food scraps off the sides of his lips.

He entered the hatch and tried his hand at the conjuration spell books lying around. Within a short amount of time, he was able to conjure up a frost atronach and a frozen colossus. Their massive bodies barely fit inside of the cellar.

He marveled at his work for a moment before finally giving his orders. “Start digging,” he said, pointing at one of the walls. “I want this to be the entrance.”

The golems slammed their fists against the wall until a small hole began to form. Eventually, that hole became a tunnel. While they continued their work, Mo’nazar continued studying the other spell books.

After a while of digging an upwards tunnel, the golems finally punched through to the other side, letting in the Sun’s orange glow.

“Done already?” Mo’nazar questioned, noticing the light in the corner of his eye. He set aside the book he was looking through and stepped to the outside with his two summons.

“We build here,” Mo’nazar declared, pointing towards the back of his old home. “Find the strongest materials you can find in the area and bring them here.” The ice giants listened to his command and went in separate directions, disappearing into the brush of the swamp.

“I guess this is more than a two-man job,” said Mo’nazar, analyzing the amount of land he had to work with. “Very well.” He conjured several more ice colossi and frost atronachs, sending them out in various directions of the swamps. Eventually he began to lose count of them.

After several days, the castle was nearly complete. But with each of those days, Mo’nazar would feel more and more alone. He would often catch his thoughts drifting towards his joyous memories of the past with Dexpa and Jo’navir. “Agghhh shut up!” he screamed at himself. “They betrayed me.”

His limbs shivered and his head began to ache. He placed his head into his hands until the ache calmed down. Soon, he lifted his head out of his hands with a realization. “I’ll find someone better. Better than them. Someone who wouldn’t leave me to die.”

He spent the next several days searching for signs of other people around the Mania Region. So far, it seemed futile. His speechless summons only made his loneliness worse. He talked to them, but it wasn’t the same as having a conversation with another person.

“Another day, huh?” Mo’nazar said to one of his golems, while standing out the door frame of his old house. “I’ll find someone today, I swear. Not like yesterday. Or the day before that, or before that, or before that,” he began to chuckle uncomfortably to himself. “But where to search today?”

The image of Dexpa and Jo’navir escaping towards The Fringe forced itself into Mo’nazar’s mind. He twitched at the thought but quickly gained hold of himself. “The Fringe.”

Mo’nazar made his way through the hallway towards The Fringe, ending up on the other side with the plaza. He glanced at a messy pile of flesh in the corner of the plaza. Whatever creature it used to be, it’s body was in several unrecognizable pieces now.

“What is that?” Mo’nazar pondered. He noticed the scraps of a plant resting next to it, along with several patches of fur that appeared to have been ripped off its body. He did his best to ignore it and continue his search deeper into The Fringe.

Eventually, he came upon some ruins without a ceiling. He scouted it out but still found nothing. But then, he heard the crunching of a leaf coming from the outer perimeter of the ruins. He peeked outside to get a good look, but was disappointed to find it was just a grummite stomping around the muddy waters.

It detected Mo’nazar’s gaze and made a dash for the other direction, fleeing for its life. But as it ran, a cloud of frost followed in its wake, freezing the water beneath it and holding the creature in place. A group of people nearby made a sudden appearance and followed the creature closely. One of them walked atop the frozen water towards the creature, and cut it in half with an iron greataxe.

“People!” Mo’nazar thought to himself. “Finally,” he said aloud. He jumped out from his corner and approached the group with a wave. “Hey!”

“Stop!” a man from the group called as they spotted Mo’nazar.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m so glad to see you!” Mo’nazar cried. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen another—”

“Stand back!” a younger dark elf girl demanded. “Who are you? A bandit?”

“What? No! I’m just a mage, I promise,” Mo’nazar stuttered, holding his hands up to show he was harmless. “I live here. Back there,” he added, pointing towards the tunnel in the plaza.

Two others stood next to the girl. An orc warrior with an iron greataxe, and an elf woman. Their posture relaxed once they looked Mo’nazar up and down. He showed no intention of fighting.

“We’re not here to fight you,” the orc declared. “We got into some trouble with the Mad God and we ended up getting sent here. We’re just trying to survive.” He casually picked up a chunk of half-frozen grummite meat.

“Oh,” Mo’nazar sighed. “I know how you feel.”

“My name is Durgog,” said the orc man. “And this is my wife Evandril.” The elf woman waved politely.

“My name is Eries,” the girl said with the confidence of a warrior. “And these are my parents.”

Mo’nazar nodded his head in respect. He tried his best to hide his excitement. “My name is Mo’nazar. If you’d like, my home is nearly finished being built. Perhaps we could eat together?” he added looking at another chunk of the frozen grummite.

The father and mother looked to each other for approval. “Why not,” the orc shrugged. “It’d be nice to eat indoors today.”

“That’s great!” Mo’nazar yelled, almost letting his excitement overcome him. “Come with me.” Mo’nazar picked up the other chunk of the grummite and led them towards his new home.

“Father, what is that thing?” Eries asked, pointing at the flesh abomination in the plaza.

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come back. If that thing came alive, it’d crush us into the dirt.”

“Don’t say things like that!” Evandril yelled smacking him in the arm.

“Ow!” Durgog yelped. “What? It was a joke.”

Evandril rolled her eyes as Eries laughed at her father.

“By the way,” Durgog continued, patting Eries on the back. “You did amazing back there, kid. That grummite was frozen solid. You’ve been making my job too easy.”

“I guess your father’s right about one thing,” Evandril smirked at Durgog. “You’ve grown so strong now.”

Eries smirked with pride.


Part III: Company

“A castle?” said Eries, staring in awe.

The father and mother looked more shocked than amazed at the ominous appearance of the stone castle.

“Before you panic, my golems are friendly, I promise,” Mo’nazar declared. Just as he was saying it, a frozen colossus came around the corner holding a large chunk of stone in its hand.

“Wow,” Evandril gasped in disbelief.

“Impressive,” Durgog added.

“These things are huuuge!” Eries yelled, running over to get a closer look. She followed the golem closely as it continued its march, admiring each step that shook the ground at her feet.

Mo’nazar was relieved that she wasn’t afraid of his summons. They followed the golem into the hatch and through the new hole inside.

Evandril and Durgog looked at each other nervously.

“I’m sorry this entrance isn’t very convenient,” Mo’nazar apologized. “This cellar holds a unique place in my heart, so I wanted it to act as the doorway to my home.”

“Oh,” Durgog replied. “That’s pretty touching.”

They crawled out the other side, taking them into the hallway of the castle.

“These ceilings are so high,” Evandril admired. “And look at these windows, and the red carpet. You’re really putting those things to work.”

“These blue lanterns make everything feel so mysterious,” said Durgog as he gazed toward the ceiling. “I like it.”

Mo’nazar beamed with pride. “This is the kitchen,” Mo’nazar continued, waving the others into the room. Inside, there were tools for cooking, a table for eating, and everything else you would need to call a room a kitchen.

“This place is beautiful, Mo’nazar,” said Evandril.

“Yeah, it’s very well put together,” Durgog added.

“Thank you!” Mo’nazar responded. “My summons have been working very hard to make this place look nice.” He prepped the fire and placed the meat over it. “I’ll get it ready. Please, sit wherever.”

The four of them ate together at the table. It reminded Mo’nazar of his past, eating together with Dexpa and Jo’navir’s family. But somehow this time, he felt no pain when thinking about it.

“Hey, Mo’nazar,” the mage girl began to ask. “Could we live here?”

“Eries,” her mother chimed in. “That’s a rude thing to ask so soon after meeting someone. This is his home, not ours.”

“It’s alright,” Mo’nazar waved. “Honestly, it gets pretty lonely living in such a large place by myself.” He looked out into the hallway as a frost atronach walked past, focused on its work. “And these guys aren’t exactly the most talkative.”

Durgog began to sympathize with Mo’nazar’s downcast expression. “Well, I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time here, I suppose. You’d be doing us a favor anyways.”

Evandril seemed slightly defeated, but in the end, she felt the same way. “Alright then. If it’s okay with you Mo’nazar, may we stay?”

“Of course!” Mo’nazar shouted. “I have a bedroom upstairs that would work perfectly. I was actually hoping to get visitors one day.”

Mo’nazar stood up from his chair. “How about I show you to your room?” He guided them through the hall and into the smithy with the grand staircase at the back of it.

“Is this your forge?” Durgog wondered.

“Yup!” Mo’nazar replied. “Though I haven’t really gotten around to using it myself.”

“Mind if I have a hand at it sometime?” said Durgog. “I’m a pretty experienced blacksmith.”

“Use it whenever you need,” Mo’nazar replied. He continued the tour up the grand staircase, stopping on the second floor. “You’ll be right in here,” said Mo’nazar, pointing to a blue door. “I hope you like it.”

The room contained more than enough beds for the three of them, each with their own wooden dresser and desk. It was lit with blue lanterns identical to those found in the hallways.

“This is impressive, cat!” Durgog smirked.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Evandril added, bowing her head and guiding her daughter to do the same.

“Yeah, thank you,” Eries bowed.

“You’re welcome,” Mo’nazar said bowing his head in return. “Make yourselves comfortable. Just consider this your home for now. Feel free to walk around and use whatever you’d like, even the books you may find lying around.” He smiled contently and pulled their door to close it. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Mo’nazar continued up the rest of the stairs, taking him to his room. His door was decorated with a carving of the symbol for conjuration magic. He entered and closed the door behind himself, leaning his back against it and staring into his room.

It was easily the largest room in the castle. It had a plaza in the center that looked identical to the one in The Fringe. It was encircled by several sturdy stone pillars. Multiple bone piles were spread throughout the room creating an aesthetic that pleased Mo’nazar.

At the end of the plaza was a throne chair made of stone. Two purple lanterns hung on each side of it, shining their light on both the throne and large window behind it, which peered down at the ruined village below.

“Home,” Mo’nazar whispered to himself. He sat in the throne chair and rested his eyes with the thought of his new allies comforting him. For the first time in several years, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

The next day, Mo’nazar found the family sitting at the dinner table with another chunk of the grummite meat prepared in front of them.

“We made you some food,” Eries said. “We wanted to surprise you. I hope you like it.”

“Wow,” said Mo’nazar in shock. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Mo’nazar was beginning to remember what it felt like to have a family. The twitches were gone, and his uncertainties were finally going away.

“How about we go hunting today?” Durgog asked Mo’nazar. “Unless you’ve got a hidden stock somewhere that I don’t know about,” he jested.

Mo’nazar laughed. “No, unfortunately I don’t. I’ll take you up on that offer. Do you want to go now? I could show you around the swamps while we’re at it.”

“Sure!” Drugog replied. “Don’t destroy the castle while we’re gone you two,” he said pointing at his wife and child.

“Relax,” Eries said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll be fine.”

“Happy hunting,” Evandril waved.

Mo’nazar led him to one of his most promising hunting spots in the swamp. “I usually find a baliwog here every time I come to explore. We used to…” he paused for a moment. “I used to come here all the time. This spot never disappoints.”

“Maybe this is their mating grounds?” Durgog wondered.

“Don’t put that image in my head,” Mo’nazar laughed.

Soon, the sound of splashing water alerted them of a creature’s presence. Mo’nazar signaled Durgog to follow his lead and stay low. They creeped over to inspect the noise and to no surprise, they saw a baliwog bathing in the swamp.

“How about I freeze it in and place, and you follow through?” Mo’nazar proposed. “Kind of like you and your daughter did yesterday.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Durgog responded. “You ready?”

Mo’nazar charged the baliwog and cast the frostbite spell at the creature. A wall of frost swiftly approached the baliwog, freezing it in place and hardening the water around its feet.

“Now I got you!” Durgog yelled, closing the gap on the creature and slicing it in half. Its blood tainted his battleaxe and spread about the ice below.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” said Mo’nazar.

“Nothing feels better than swinging this axe,” Durgog said placing his greataxe proudly over his shoulder.

They each picked up half of the baliwog and turned to head home. But as Mo’nazar turned, his eye accidentally met with the ruins in the distance where everything went wrong five years ago. Suddenly, he couldn’t move, and his eyes were glued to the vine-covered walls of the ruins. The image of Za’vanir appeared in his head. The sight of him being stabbed through the chest, a silver sword coming out the other side. The feeling of the ruins crumbling around him, and the mysterious obelisk with a blinding light that numbed his senses.

“Hey, you alright?” Durgog asked, bringing Mo’nazar back to reality. “Aren’t you supposed to be leading this expedition?” he joked.

“Yeah,” Mo’nazar responded, concealing his traumatizing thoughts. “It’s this way.” The two of them went back to the castle, finding their way into the kitchen only to find no one inside.

“They’re probably in their room,” said Durgog. “I’ll store the meat; you go check on them. My daughter said she wanted to talk about magic with you. This may be a good opportunity for you two to bond.”

“Oh, is that so? Alright, I’ll go find them,” Mo’nazar replied.

He found their bedroom door and began opening it slowly. They were sharing the covers of a bed and reading a book together titled, “Icy Spear.”

“I almost forgot we had another ice mage in this house,” Mo’nazar interrupted them with a smile. “How are you two holding up?”

“Great!” Eries called back. “Actually, Mo’nazar, I wanted to ask you something. Do you want to practice this spell with me? I’ve been meaning to get some target practice in.”

“Yeah, that’d be fun!” Mo’nazar replied.

“How did the hunting go?” Evandril inquired.

“We caught a baliwog,” Mo’nazar answered. “They’re everywhere in these swamps, so you might want to get used to their taste.”

“Well, something is better than nothing,” said Evandril. She closed the book and reached her arm around her daughter. “Alright, I’ll let you two get started now. Isn’t it nice having someone you can finally train with?” she asked Eries.

“It is!” Eries replied, taking the book and walking over to Mo’nazar. “I’m ready whenever.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Mo’nazir responded. “To the swamps.”



Part IV: Don’t Forget

They delved into the swamps and got straight to work. “So, what’s this new spell book you were reading?” Mo’nazar asked.

“It’s called icy spear,” she replied. “It’s a step up from another spell called ice spike.”

“Sounds pretty powerful,” Mo’nazar noted. “Let’s give it a shot.”

After studying the book together, they stood side by side with their hands pointing at the trees of the swamp. Eries was first to succeed, shooting a large icy spear into a tree trunk, poking out the other side.

“I got it!” she yelped, jumping up and down in the mud.

“Wow, you’re a natural!” Mo’nazar admired. “Now it’s my turn.”

As the frost magic culminated in his hands, he struggled to release it. His mind was racing again with the thoughts of his past. His anxiety continued to build until his body jolted in one direction, accidentally triggering the release of his icy spear. It went way off in the distance beyond the trees, splashing into the swamp water.

“You did it!” she cheered.

“Yeah,” Mo’nazar mumbled. He stared down at his hands, wondering when he activated the spell.

Eries continued to recast the spell at the surrounding trees, trying to perfect her technique. During one of her casts, however, she tripped over a plant. “Woah!” she yelped as she reached to catch herself from falling. But as he moved her spell casting arm, the spell redirected itself towards Mo’nazar’s arm, grazing it and drawing blood.

“Ahh!” Mo’nazar screamed. He grabbed his arm and held it tight.

“I’m sorry!” Eries panicked. “I didn’t mean it, Mo’nazar. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Mo’nazar grunted trying to hide his pain. “Come on, let’s head back.”

He came over and offered his hand to pick her up, but his eyes were met with the plant that tripped her over, now smeared into the mud below. It was red kelp, his sister Ra’zita’s favorite.

She grabbed his arm but noticed Mo’nazar’s eyes seemed hypnotized. “Hey,” she said.

Mo’nazar snapped out of it and pulled her up to her feet. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Eries replied with suspicion in her voice. “You want to head back now?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” said Mo’nazar. He struggled to hide the uneasy feeling that overcame him.

“I think I know the way back,” she claimed. “I’ll lead the way this time.”

As Mo’nazar followed behind, he began to see the image Ra’zita in her place. His nerves became numb, and his eyes couldn’t turn away from her. He started to realize how similar they were to each other, besides the fact that Ra’zita was much younger.

Once they were back in the castle, Eries ran ahead to the bedroom where her parents were. Soon after her, Mo’nazar entered.

“You did what!?” Mo’nazar overheard Dugog shout as he walked inside. “Mo’nazar are you okay? I’m so sorry about that. How is your arm?”

Mo’nazar looked down at his arm. Blood was trickling down and dripping off the tips of his fingers onto the floor.

Evandril reached inside her desk, pulled out some ingredients, and began mixing them together. “This should help you Mo’nazar,” she said pouring the results into a bottle. “Drink this.”

“You’re an alchemist?” Mo’nazar asked in shock. He was remined of his sister once again.

“Someone’s got to take care of these two little danger-seekers,” she joked.

Suddenly, Dexpa’s mother Ko’zura was on Mo’nazar’s mind. “This woman,” he thought, taking note of Evandril’s generosity. Suddenly, a plethora of images of people from Mo’nazar’s past flashed in his hand. His mind felt scrambled.

“Is something wrong?” asked Evandril, noticing Mo’nazar’s blank expression. She held out her hand with the bottle.

“No, I’m fine,” he replied taking the bottle and downing it quickly. The wound in his arm began to close and the pain faded along with it.

“Well, alright,” Evandril responded.

“Anyways,” Durgog yawned, “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it? I think it’s time we all get some rest.”

“Good night, Mo’nazar,” said Eries. “I’m sorry again.”

“Don’t worry,” Mo’nazar said with a shake of his head. “Get some sleep.”

He shut their door and laid his head against the outside of it, trying to take in everything that had happened. Eventually, he marched up to his room and rested in his throne chair. He sat there with his fist supporting the weight of his head, until he finally dozed off.

Suddenly, everything was pitch black and Mo’nazar could hear an unsettling voice calling to him in his dreams.

“Do not forget your promise, my champion,” it demanded.

“Who are you?” Mo’nazar asked.

“You know who I am, mortal,” the voice said back.

A dim blue light appeared in the distance of the darkness. It zoomed closer until Mo’nazar could finally make out what it was. A Daedric shrine.

“Molag Bal,” said Mo’nazar. His heart sank.

“I hope you don’t plan on disobeying the Daedric Lord of Domination,” Molag Bal mocked.

“What do you want?” asked Mo’nazar.

“You thought you could make new friends,” Molag Bal mocked. “Behind my back. I see everything. Do not forget who you serve. Kill those mortals and send their souls to me.”

“But they—”

“Perhaps I need to remind you,” Molag Bal interrupted, “of the punishment for disobedience.”

Suddenly Mo’nazar appeared in the strange world he was once trapped in. Lightning struck from the blue skies to the wasteland below. Lost souls wandered aimlessly between ruined structures.

Mo’nazar looked down at his arms. His body was transparent, and he could feel his mind slipping again. “No! Don’t! I don’t want to go back, please!” Mo’nazar screamed in desperation.

In the next second, he was face to face with the shrine again.

“Claim their souls for me,” Molag Bal continued. “If you fail to do so before sundown, I won’t hesitate to send you back there, trapping you in the Soul Cairn for all eternity.” The voice vanished and Mo’nazar’s vision went black again.

He woke up in a pool of sweat dripping from his forehead to his lap. His breathing was intense and uneasy. He took a moment to gather his breath before descending to the castle floors below. A few of his golems were walking about the halls, hard at work.

“I have new orders,” Mo’nazar said with a determined, yet fearful look in his eye. “I want three cells engraved into the walls of these hallways, now.”

The frost atronachs and frozen colossi went straight to work. Some went scavenging for materials, while others began pounding away at the walls. After some decent progress, the cages began to take shape.

“What’s going on out there?” Evandril asked from their bedroom door. Her voice echoed down the stairs to where Mo’nazar was standing, watching his golems vigilantly.

“What are you building now Mo’nazar?” said Durgog as he sauntered down the stairs.

“Oh,” Mo’nazar jumped. “It’s a new addition. I thought it would look nice.” His eyes twitched slightly.

“Those look kind of like cages,” Evandril said suspiciously.

Mo’nazar did not respond. He watched impatiently at the progress being made. They were already near completion.

“They’re fast workers, aren’t they?” Mo’nazar said with his voice beginning to shake. One of his summons came over, handing him a stone key, signaling they were finished with the cells.

The family started talking amongst themselves in a whisper. “Maybe it’s for the monsters of the swamp,” Durgog said softly, trying to think of an excuse.

“There’s three of them!” Evandril responded in a quiet rage. “Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”

“Mo’nazar wouldn’t do that,” Eries stated.

“We can’t stay here anymore,” Evandril whispered to her family. “Grab your things we’re leaving.” Unfortunately, her words echoed in Mo’nazar’s direction.

Suddenly, Mo’nazar appeared next to them with an exaggerated and forced smile on his face. “Where are you going?”


Part V: Forced Hand

“We were just…” Evandril started to say. She couldn’t think of what to say next.

“We were going to explore the swamps a bit,” Durgog stated. “We should be back by sundown.”

That last word triggered something within Mo’nazar. “By then it’ll be too late,” he said muttered. “Cease them!” Mo’nazar called out to his golems, pointing at the family of three.

“No, wait!” Durgog said. “Listen Mo’nazar, you can come with us. You don’t have to do this.”

The ground began to quake as the atronachs rushed to the scene.

“Mo’nazar,” said Evandril. “Why are you doing this?”

“Please,” whined Eries. “Don’t hurt us.”

The golems grabbed them up and placed each of them inside of their own prison cell. Mo’nazar turned and left them alone for several hours to think to himself.

Eventually, he returned and leaned against the wall across from the cages. He slid his back down to the floor and buried his head in his knees. “I don’t want to go back there,” he mumbled.

“Back where, Mo’nazar?” Durgog asked. “We can help you, whatever it is.”

“No, you can’t,” Mo’nazar muttered.

Soon the sunlight shining through the windows began to subtly fade to a warm orange.

After observing the change, Mo’nazar began to hyperventilate. He hastily pushed himself up and began pacing back and forth.

“Mo’nazar, listen,” Evandril began to say.

“Silence! I can’t think!” Mo’nazar screamed holding his hands over his ears.

The light outside faded to a darker orange. Mo’nazar, in a trembling fit went upstairs and came back with the glowing green mace in his hand.

“Good,” a low voice echoed in Mo’nazar’s mind.

“What is that Mo’nazar?” Durgog asked him. “Please, we know this isn’t you. Just let us go.”

Mo’nazar stared his way saying nothing back. His claws gripped the mace tighter.

“At least let the others go. If you need to kill someone, you can take me,” Durgog begged.

Mo’nazar stepped in front of Eries’ cage and glared at her with confusion and fear in his eyes.

“Mo’nazar, please,” Eries whined.

Mo’nazar began to hallucinate as if his sister was in place of the girl again. “Ra’zita,” he whispered to himself. He grabbed the stone key and reached for her cage. “Don’t leave me too,” he added, twisting the key in the slot and slowly pulling open her cage door.

The parents stood speechless with their faces pressed against the bars of their prisons, trying to keep an eye on Eries. Eries eyed Mo’nazar as he opened the cage door all the way. She exited cautiously and walked over to her father’s cell. The two of them whispered something to each other and Mo’nazar came closer to listen. But when he approached, their conversation ceased abruptly.

Mo’nazar stared with wide eyes at Durgog, who forced a smile back, while keeping an eye on his daughter standing beside Mo’nazar.

Mo’nazar reached for the cell door with the stone key, placing it inside the key slot. “Now! Run Eries!” Durgog screamed, grabbing Mo’nazar through the bars and slamming his body against them. He held him in place with a tight grip.

Eries dashed for the exit. “NO!” Mo’nazar screamed. The most he could do while trapped in Durgog’s grasp was turn his head to see her running down the hall.

Mo’nazar dug his claws into Durgog’s hands, trying to loosen his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. He began desperately biting into Durgog’s hands over and over until his hands lost all feeling and released Mo’nazar on their own will.

Mo’nazar sprinted towards Eries who was nearing the exit. The voice began to ring in his head ahead. “Kill her! This is your last chance!”

“Wait!” Mo’nazar called out to Eries, holding his arm out in her direction to reach for her. Suddenly, his arm glowed with an aura of frost and launched a massive icy spear at Eries, which pierced through her stomach. She collapsed to the floor.

“Eries!!!” Durgog yelled out in a steaming rage. He banged his bloodied hands against the bars repeatedly.

“No!” cried Evandril.

“You sick [&@%!]!” Durgog grunted.

Mo’nazar approached Eries’ body as the shouting and crying continued behind him. She was still alive, but she clearly didn’t have long.

“I’m sorry,” Mo’nazar whimpered.

“Do it! Before her soul escapes!” Molag Bal demanded.

Mo’nazar hesitated.

“Look at her, my champion,” Molag Bal continued. “You’d be putting her out of his misery. You’d be saving her from this suffering.”

Mo’nazar tried to shake the voice out of his mind. He held the mace above his head and closed his eyes.

“Finish her, or I’ll send you back to that wretched place. Do it now!!!” the Daedric Prince demanded one last time.

Mo’nazar gripped the mace until his hands burned. “AHHHHH!!!” he screamed. With his eyes still shut, he slammed the mace down and finished the job, putting Eries out of her misery.

“Eries!!!” Durgog and Evandril screamed in unison.

Suddenly, the mace began to absorb the life force from Eries’ body. “Well done my champion,” Molag Bal said. “Now finish the rest, you don’t have much sunlight left.”

Mo’nazar felt entirely numb, and his actions no longer felt like his own. He approached Durgog’s cage once again.

“Let me out and see what happens!” the orc threatened.

Mo’nazar, ignoring his threats, unlocked the cage anyways. Durgog slammed his shoulder against the bars, throwing them open and pushing Mo’nazar back against the wall. He began charging at Mo’nazar, ready to strangle him with his injured hands.

Mo’nazar reacted to his hostility, swinging his mace at the orc’s head and knocking the him unconscious. But his soul wasn’t being absorbed yet, and Mo’nazar knew what that meant. He continued pummeling Durgog with the mace until finally the mace began to sap his soul away.

“I’m sorry,” Mo’nazar whined again.

He proceeded to Evandril’s cage. She was silent, but he could tell she was trying to say something. Her throat was now too tight to cry or speak. He opened the cell door and gave her the same treatment as the others, striking her with the mace until it retrieved her soul.

“I’m sorry,” Mo’nazar cried. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softening into a whimper. He curled up into a ball with his back against the wall and began crying with his head between his knees.

After a while, he gained strength to lift himself off the ground again. He sauntered up to his room and sat in his throne chair. Countless contradicting thoughts raced through his head, but he ignored them all.

Mo’nazar glanced at the window behind his throne chair and noticed the sun was finally gone. He peered down at his arms, which were still opaque. He sighed with relief and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. Though the relief he felt was mixed with overwhelming guilt.

He began longing for his past, imagining his old adventures with his friends in the swamp, but his thoughts were interrupted by the voice.

“Well done, my champion,” Molag Bal stated.

Mo’nazar didn’t respond to the voice. He remained in his chair and stayed awake through the rest of the night.


Part VI: Necromancy

As the sun finally rose, Mo’nazar got out of his chair and wandered the castle. Even with the golems around every corner, he felt alone once again.

He made for the exit that would take him outside but stopped in the cellar because something caught his eye. There was a book tucked away in the corner that he’d never seen before. He picked it up and mumbled the title to himself.

“Dead Thrall.”

His curiosity overcame him, and he studied its pages in depth. “What is this?” he asked himself as he read.

But he soon came to understand the potential the spell had. “Dead?” he whispered to himself. “This is a resurrection spell. I could…” Suddenly the image of the forbidden ruins appeared in his mind along with a certain individual. “Za’vanir,” he realized.

He journeyed back to the ruins where it all began. The obelisk remained, but its glow was no more. It was inactive.

Mo’nazar peered down at Za’vanir’s corpse still laying in the same spot where he died. It was pale and rotting, but still intact. His greatsword was covered in moss and entangled in vines.

“Okay, here we go,” said Mo’nazar. He reached his hands out towards the body and tried his luck at the spell, but nothing happened. He closed his eyes and flexed his wrists, but to no avail. “Come on! Stupid spell.”

After many breathless attempts, Mo’nazar fell to his hands and knees. The green-skulled amulet fell out of his pocket, smacking into the stone floor. Its metallic clang echoed through the dungeon.

Mo’nazar gazed at the amulet, deep in thought. “What were mother and father doing?” he pondered. “And the hatch. What was the summoning circle for? And why did they hide all these conjuration spell books from me? Ra’zita. And this amulet.” He silenced his thoughts with an idea.

Mo’nazar wrapped the green-skulled amulet around his neck and tried the spell once more.

This time, the strange amulet began to glow an eerie green. Mo’nazar could feel its power surging through himself. Seconds later, magic energy shot out from his hands and seeped its way into Za’vanir’s corpse, like a centipede slivering its way into his skin. Mo’nazar stared intently, awaiting a response.

Suddenly, Za’vanir’s eyes began to open, and his limbs jolted into place. He pushed himself to standing and bowed his head towards Mo’nazar. “Master,” he said.

“Za’vanir!” Mo’nazar yelped on the verge of tears. “I can’t believe it.”

“If that is what you wish to call me, then I shall obey,” Za’vanir replied.

Mo’nazar’s heart sank. This was not Za’vanir anymore. “Oh,” he paused. “Very well. Take this,” he said, pulling Za’vanir’s greatsword apart from the vines and handing it to him. “Come with me.”

Back at the castle, Mo’nazar showed Za’vanir to the smithy. “This is where you will stay. You shall be my blacksmith.”

“Thank you, master,” Za’vanir replied. He immidietely sat down at the forge and got to work, sharpening his greatsword and carving the moss from it.

“I’ll leave you to it. You will also act as my guard. If you spot any unusual activity, you bring it to me immediately, understand?” Mo’nazar demanded.

“Of course,” said Za’vanir, bowing his head respectfully.

Mo’nazar was beginning to feel more secure, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. There was one more mystery he wanted to solve.

He journeyed into The Fringe and analyzed the fleshy remains of the abominable creature there. He finally took a closer look and noticed the patches of leopard fur blending into the bloodied flesh. A strange plant peeked out from under the creature. “Red kelp?” Mo’nazar wondered. Suddenly, everything clicked, and a chill creeped up his spine. “Ra’zita,” Mo’nazar gasped.

Kneeling over her remains, he surveyed the seams holding the chunks of flesh together, as if she was taken apart and remodeled. “Who did this?” he asked aloud. “No matter. I’ll fix you again, I swear it.”

With the help of his summons, he was able to haul the chunks of flesh back to the castle, along with the red kelp that lay with her. He searched the castle for tools and began to resew the chunks together. “Time to come back,” Mo’nazar grinned.

As he cast dead thrall, the amulet around his neck glimmered once again, giving him the fuel he needed to cast the powerful spell. Within seconds, the bloated fingers of the body began to twitch. Next, its arm began to lift off the ground completely. It pushed its hulking body up to a stand and faced Mo’nazar patiently awaiting his orders.

Mo’nazar looked up at his creation in awe. “I did it!” he cheered. The eyes matched those of his sister’s. The mouth was sewn shut, and the leopard fur was attached in a random and scattered fashion along the outer layer of skin.

“Welcome back,” Mo’nazar said, burrowing a piece of red kelp into the fur on her head. “I’ve missed you.” He wrapped his arms around the abomination and pulled the two of them together in a cold embrace. Her flesh was rotting, but surprisingly tough. Her blood stained his clothes, but he didn’t care.

Despite Mo’nazar’s expressions of joy and relief, he couldn’t shed a single tear. Deep down, his heart was full of mistrust and stuck in denial. His thoughts continued to drift towards the idea of Dexpa and Jo’navir’s betrayal. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he commanded the flesh abomination.

He went downstairs into the cellar and delivered a new order to his other summons. “Conceal the entrance. I want no more unexpected visitors.”

He handed over the dead thrall spell book to one of the frozen colossi. “Let this be a key.” He then gave his stone key linked to the prison cell bars to one of the frost atronachs. “And this as well.”

Mo’nazar secluded himself in his room with the abomination he called his sister. The rest of the day was spent standing behind his throne, staring out the window at the village.

Several of the coming days played out the same way. Most of his time was spent looking out the window. He would occasionally speak with Za’vanir or Ra’zita. And while Za’vanir’s speech and his sister’s physical existence brought him some comfort, it still wasn’t enough.

His heart felt empty. He couldn’t think of a reason to continue living the way he was.

One night, he approached the large window behind his throne and placed a gentle hand against it. He peered at the dirt and rocks three stories below him near the castle entrance. He felt mesmerized as he pondered his fate. He couldn’t move his eyes from that spot. It was begging for him to plunge down towards it. “All I have to do is break this window,” he thought to himself.

An ice spear began to form at his palm. His head was racing once again. He leaned his weight into the window and pressed the icy spear into it. He was ready.

“Mo’nazar!” a voice echoed in his head snapping him out of it. It sounded like Dexpa’s voice. Mo’nazar pushed himself away from the window and fell backwards, canceling his spell.

“Mo’nazar!” it echoed again.

“STOP IT!” Mo’nazar screamed at himself, plugging his ears with his hands. “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!!”

Suddenly, the night sky outside the window began to flicker orange and purple. He could hear his summons outside being crushed and blasted to pieces.

Za’vanir barged into the room and kneeled before the throne. “Sir, we have guests.”

Mo’nazar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Return to your station!” he yelled back. “Don’t let them past!” Za’vanir followed his orders with haste.

Mo’nazar’s hands trembled. He clenched them together in a fist and squeezed, attempting to calm the shaking. He then stood up and looked out the window again.

As soon as he laid eyes on the invaders, the shaking stopped immediately. He went through a plethora of emotions in the span of a few seconds. Relief, fear, disgust, and anticipation. He smirked.

“Welcome back.”

[Dexpa]

Chapter 5
Champion

Part I: The Shivering Isles

(4E 201)

“My Lord, grant me passage to your realm,” Dexpa mumbled with his hands together in prayer.

“What did you say?” Jo’navir asked.

“I was casting a spell,” Dexpa explained as a portal appeared in front Shalidor’s Maze. “It’ll take us to the Shivering Isles.”

Vaskr barked at the appearance of the portal.

“When did you learn that?” Jo’navir asked, impressed with his brother’s new ability.

“A lot has happened since we’ve been separated,” replied Dexpa.

After stepping through the portal, they found themselves in The Fringe, but the area seemed different. The plants were flourishing, new structures and settlements were spread about, and the atmosphere felt generally brighter.

They discovered a village and wandered inside in search of people. The town was barren aside from an inn, which was well lit from within. They entered the inn, closing the door behind themselves.

“Welcome to ‘The Wastrel’s Purse,’” an elderly wood elf woman called from behind the counter. “The only place still kicking in this little ghost town we call ‘Passwall.’ Can I get you boys a drink or a bed?” She sounded uninterested in her own words, as if she was being forced to say them.

“We’re from the Mania region of the Isles,” Dexpa said, leaning an arm on the counter. “Has anything important happened around here recently?”

“Not recently, no,” she replied. “Ever since the hero saved us from the Greymarch 200 years ago, things have really calmed down around here.”

“What’s the Greymarch?” Jo’navir asked.

“It’s the reason those knights attacked our village,” Dexpa answered. “They come at the end of every era to destroy everything on the Shivering Isles.”

“There was no hero to save us from that mess,” Jo’navir said. “How long has it been?”

“It’s possible we’re hundreds or even thousands of years in the future,” Dexpa added. “The Greymarch in our time must’ve been from several eras ago, however many years that may be.”

“I guess that would explain the landscape and the flora looking so different,” Jo’navir said looking out the window of the inn. “Hey, what is that?”

Dexpa followed Jo’navir’s eyes out the window, spotting the white beam of light shooting out of the ground and piercing into the skies above.

“That’s our time wound,” Dexpa smiled. “We need to bring the scroll there. It’s our ticket back home. To our time.”

“Then what are we doing?” said Jon’avir. “Let’s get going.”

“There’s something we should do first,” Dexpa said worriedly. “Let’s head to the Mania region. I want to know what our village looks like now.”

“Really?” Jo’navir scolded him. “What could be more important than getting home right now? To our real home.”

“Remember what I said about Mo’nazar?” Dexpa reminded him. “We need to stop by the village. It could tell us something important about him.”

“Huh,” Jo’navir pondered. “Fine, we can check it out first.”

Suddenly another dark elf woman slammed open the door, entering the room. “Hello Dredhwen!” she yelled. She was about the same age as the inn keeper.

The woman at the front desk sighed. “Hello Relmyna. Shouldn’t you be out snooping around the graves for body parts? Sick old woman.”

“Quiet, hag,” Relmyna growled. “I couldn’t help but overhear these boys are trying to get through the gates of madness.”

“The what?” Jo’navir inquired.

“If you want to get back to the Mania region, you’ll need the key,” Relmyna explained. She started to chuckle. “Which means you’re going to have to get through my beautiful child first. It’s been a while since she’s had a snack.”

Dexpa winced at the thought. Jo’navir pulled him out of the inn, signaling Vaskr to follow. “Come on. We’ve got our info.”

They made their way towards the plaza. “As I was saying,” said Dexpa. “I was here before with some new friends I made. In another time between our time and this one. But something in the village was… off.”

“How so?” Jo’navir questioned.

“The village was flattened, which I expected,” Dexpa shrugged. “But there was a huge castle looming over Mo’nazar’s house. We explored it in its entirety, but for everything we saw, I couldn’t explain any of it.”

“But why Mo’nazar’s house?” Jo’navir began to ponder.

“That’s what I mean,” Dexpa agreed. “It’s got to be connected, and I think there’s a good chance that he’s still out there. And now I want to see it all again to see how it’s changed. It could give us more answers that we n—”

“Hold up,” Jo’navir interrupted Dexpa, holding his arm in front of him. “There it is.”

The flesh abomination was standing idly in the plaza before the tunnel as if it was guarding the entrance.

“That’s a familiar sight,” Dexpa joked. “Though this one looks a bit different from the one we saw on the day of the Greymarch, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does,” Jo’navir replied. “This one looks like it knows how to fight.”

The creature’s body was a fusion of flesh and meat taken from several other corpses and put into one. Unlike other abominations, however, this one had a slim figure. It wore a metal helmet and one of its arms were replaced with a large metal mace.

Suddenly Vaskr began barking at the creature. “Vaskr,” Jo’navir called, placing an arm on the wolf’s back to calm him down. The abomination was completely unreactive to the wolf’s taunts.

“Here they are my child!” Relmyna called from behind a bush. “Come get your dinner!” The creature reacted to her voice and immediately began charging their way.

Dexpa and Jo’navir hastily readied themselves for the fight. They slowed the creature down with a thunderbolt and an incinerate. It ceased its charge and held its hands up to protect its face.

Vaskr dashed in and took a bite into the creature’s leg, ripping a chunk off and throwing it aside. The creature roared and swung its mace recklessly, barely missing Vaskr.

It began marching towards Dexpa who cast lightning cloak around himself to keep the creature at a distance. It worked as expected, allowing both Dexpa and Jo’navir to launch a barrage of thunderbolts and incinerates at the abomination’s chest cavity.

Strangely, the creature allowed the blows to land, using its hands to once again block only its head from damage.

“We’re not even phasing this thing!” Dexpa yelled.

Jo’navir stopped casting his spells and began to ponder to himself. “It’s protecting its head!” he called to Dexpa.

The abomination cowered in place for a moment. “Kill them already!” Relmyna yelled from a safe distance.

“I need you to get rid of that helmet!” Jo’navir commanded Dexpa.

“On it,” Dexpa replied, focusing his next spell at the creature’s head, waiting for it to move its hands out of the way.

“Vaskr!” Jo’navir shouted.

The wolf jumped back in and tore another chunk out of the abomination, bringing it to its hands and knees.

“I’ve got it!” said Dexpa as he shot a thunderbolt into the metal helmet. The head gear shattered, exposing its scalp.

“My turn,” Jo’navir cried out, running at the monster with his steel axe readied. He launched his weight at the creature and swung into its skull, slicing all the way down to its neck.

The creature’s body fell over, quaking the plaza floor as it made contact. Jo’navir tugged at his axe pulling away inches at a time, until finally, it dislodged itself from the flesh and bones.

“No!” screamed Relmyna. She sprinted over and leaned her body on top of the abomination, sobbing uncontrollably. “You monsters! You killed my child!”

The boys stared at the woman in disgust and then glanced at each other. Jo’navir rolled his eyes and signaled Dexpa to follow him toward the gate.

“Wait, what about the key?” Dexpa asked.

“Oh, that’s right,” Jo’navir remembered. He began scavenging through the flesh of the creature.

“Stay away!” screamed Relmyna. She grabbed Jo’navir’s arm trying to hold him still.

“Hey!” Jo’navir yelled, trying to shake her off. “Get off! You told us this was the only way past.”

As Jo’navir struggled, Dexpa reached into the abominations open skull. “Here it is,” he claimed, pulling out a metal key and walking towards the gate. “Let’s go.”

Relmyna continued to mourn her child, paying no mind to the boys as they used the metal key to proceed through the Mania door.

They traversed the tunnel to the other side and eventually found the place where their village used to be.

“Where’s the castle?” Jo’navir asked.

“I guess it wasn’t able to hold much longer,” Dexpa said looking at the spot where Mo’nazar’s old house used to be.

The village was flattened just as before, but many of the wood scraps spread about were now missing.

“Maybe the new residents scavenged the place for materials?” Dexpa suggested.

“Maybe,” Jo’navir replied.

“Wait,” Dexpa called out looking towards Mo’nazar’s flattened house, “I can still see some of the floorboards. Let’s go check it out.”

They entered Mo’nazar’s house which was now missing a roof along with most of its walls. “Looks like this place was looted,” Jo’navir noted. “There’s practically nothing left.”

“What about the hatch?” Dexpa asked. The hatch was wide open, but the inside was mostly buried beneath layers of dirt. Dexpa hopped in without a second thought and began clawing his way through the dirt.

“What are you doing?” Jo’navir questioned.

“What’s it look like?” Dexpa said back. “I’m trying to find—" Suddenly, Dexpa’s claws contacted the corner of a wooden piece of furniture. “This! Help me dig this out.”

Jo’navir lent a hand, going to work with his claws. “A spell book!” Dexpa called out, holding a book in his hand.

“Hey, I found one too!” Jo’navir added, glancing at the title of his book and reading it aloud. “Firestorm,” he read. “What’s yours say?”

“Lightning Storm.”

“These could be useful,” Jo’navir added. “But maybe we should get going now. We can study these spells on the way back. Come on.”

They stepped out of the hatch and marched back through the Gates of Madness and into The Fringe, reading through their respective spell books along the way.

“Are you getting any of this?” Jo’navir asked.

“Kind of. I’m not sure,” Dexpa replied. “I’m almost too afraid to try it out though. It sounds dangerously powerful.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jo’navir said. “Let’s just worry about it later. For now, we should stay focused on that time wound.”

Eventually they found themselves at the pillar of light, standing alone in a field of mushrooms. “Are you sure this’ll work, Dexpa?” Jo’avnir questioned.

“It should. Besides, do you know of any other ways to traverse time?” Dexpa replied with an eyebrow raised.

“No, but…” Jo’navir said looking downhearted. “What if it separates us again.”

Dexpa placed a hand on Jo’navir’s shoulder to comfort him. “It’s different this time, I can feel it. Trust me.”

Jo’navir gazed into Dexpa’s eyes to make sure he was serious, eventually giving in to his determination. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Dexpa stood underneath the light and pulled out the scroll. “Hold onto me,” he said. “And Vaskr.” Jo’navir linked arms with his brother and held Vaskr tightly against his leg.

Dexpa took a deep breath and started to unravel the scroll, revealing the blinding light he’d become so familiar with. But he felt different this time. More in control.

“Yes!” Hermaeus Mora echoed in Jo’navir’s head. “I knew this one had some connection with the scroll. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jo’navir ignored the voice to the best of his ability.

Dexpa’s lightning began to charge the scroll, forcing it to glow brighter each second. His hands vibrated with overcharged energy, but his eyes remained focused on the scroll.

Soon the scroll’s glow began to spread through their bodies like an infection, and in the next moment, they were sent away in blinding white flash.


Part II: Home at Last

(2E 5)

“Did it work?” Jo’navir asked.

The light faded and they found themselves standing in the same spot where they used the scroll.

Dexpa admired the flora and mushrooms of The Fringe, recognizing their distinct and nostalgic features. “It worked!” he shouted.

The hills and empty fields looked exactly like they did on the day of the Greymarch. The town of Passwall didn’t exist yet and the Gates of Madness doors were gone, revealing the open tunnel that leads back to the Mania region.

“And we still have the scroll,” Dexpa added, holding it firmly in his hands. “And the time wound is gone. This must be it.”

They made their way towards the tunnel, noticing the missing creature in the plaza. “The flesh abomination is gone,” Dexpa said. “The one from our time, I mean.”

Vaskr noticed the spot Dexpa was pointing out and sniffed around, curiously.

“Maybe the silver knights took care of it, leaving nothing behind?” Jo’navir shrugged.

The three of them continued through the hallway and into the village. “It’s here!” said Dexpa pointing ahead to the giant stone castle looming over the village.

“It’s huge,” Jo’navir replied in awe.

“I thought the same thing when I first saw it,” Dexpa added. “Hey Jo’navir, look! Our home.” Their house was still in one piece, though barely holding together. It looked just as it did on the day of the Greymarch.

“Maybe we should check it out first,” Jo’navir suggested. Dexpa nodded and went inside. Jo’navir and Vaskr followed closely behind.

“Look at all this dust. And these cobwebs everywhere,” Jo’navir said. “I hope we went back far enough.”

Dexpa continued forwards, marching up the stairs to Ko’zura’s bedroom. “She’s still here,” Dexpa mumbled, glancing down at his mother’s body, burned to a crisp. The holy flames on the other side of the room were gone, leaving behind charred wood which surrounded the remaining ashes of the Dragon Priest. “We can’t be too far off from our time,” Dexpa declared.

Dexpa took a closer look, noticing her Amulet of Mara still resting in her hand. He grabbed it up and placed it close to his chest. “I wish we could’ve at least said goodbye.”

“It’s my fault,” Jo’navir said with guilty eyes. “If I hadn’t brought us to those ruins, we could’ve been here to protect her.”

Dexpa shook his head. “Don’t say that. I agreed to join you. We’re in this together.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” a stern voice called from behind them. Vaskr immediately began barking at the source of the voice to scare it off.

Dexpa and Jo’navir turned around and noticed a strange blue phantom standing in the middle of the room.

“My boys,” the figure cried. “Look how you’ve grown.”

“Mother?” Dexpa questioned slowly stepping forward.

“Is it really you?” Jo’navir added. “You’re a ghost?” Jo’navir asked concerningly.

“That is correct,” Ko’zura answered. “There were a lot of things I should’ve told you about before my passing. Most importantly, the Greymarch. Your father and I didn’t think it would come so soon.”

“That’s not your fault,” Dexpa said on the verge of tears. “If we were here…”

“We could’ve protected you,” Jo’navir finished his sentence. “But instead, we went out to those stupid ruins.” Tears began to form in Jo’navir’s eyes as well. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Do not blame yourselves,” she consoled them. “We have much to discuss. It seemed like Mo’nazar was just as uninformed as you were. His parents saw the Greymarch coming before we did. That must’ve been why they took Ra’zita away in a hurry.”

“How do you know all of this?” Jo’navir said, wiping his tears away.

“A mother has her ways. You find out a lot when you’re a ghost who can freely wander the plane of mortals for five years,” she chuckled. She reached her hand out to comfort her children but fazed right through them. “And you see a lot of awful things too.”

“What do you mean?” Dexpa inquired.

“It took me a while to connect to dots,” Ko’zura continued. “I need to tell you everything, now. There’s a lot that happened that day. The ashes you see sitting across from my corpse belong to the Dragon Priest named Hevnoraak. I believe Mo’nazar’s parents summoned it to fend off against the incoming crystal knights.”

“They’re necromancers!” Jo’navir exclaimed. “The summoning sign in the hatch, the blood and the books, and the suspicious green-skulled amulet.”

“Exactly,” she smirked proudly.

“Mother,” Dexpa intervened. “Is Mo’nazar still alive?”

Her smile vanished. “Yes. That castle belongs to him and his summoned army. He’s inside their as we speak.”

“Summoned army?” Jo’navir asked.

“That is correct,” she replied. “The boy is gifted when it comes to conjuration. Straight from his parent’s blood into his. If you boys want to save Mo’nazar, your only option is to get past his guards first.”

Dexpa’s face expressed disbelief. Jo’navir lightly smacked his arm to snap him out of it. “We’re going to save him,” Jo’navir told him.

“I know you can do it. You are my sons,” Ko’zura declared. She waved them out the door. “Now go. You must free Mo’nazar.”

“We will,” Jo’navir stated. “Goodbye mother.”

Jo’navir exited the room with Vaskr. Dexpa followed behind, getting one last look at his mother’s smile. “Goodbye,” he whispered.


Part III: Castle Siege

“Mo’nazar!” Dexpa screamed towards the castle. There was no response. “Mo’nazar!!” Dexpa screamed louder.

Suddenly, the ground began to quake and a horde of frost atronachs and frozen colossi marched to the outside of the castle, each barely squeezing through the door frame of Mo’nazar’s old house.

“He’s definitely here,” Dexpa claimed.

“Let’s worry about what’s in front of us first,” Jo’navir responded.

The golems rushed towards them with fighting intent. Dexpa cast his lightning cloak to keep them at a distance from himself, and launched wave after wave of chain lightning their way, damaging and slowing them down.

As some of them fell to their knees, Jo’navir swiped their heads off with his axe. Meanwhile, Vaskr held his own, chomping off limbs of the frozen colossi and biting chunks of ice out of the frost atronachs.

Dexpa began picking off the frozen colossi with his thunderbolt, exploding them from the inside and sending their bones flying in every direction. However, the largest of them slipped through his spells and got up close. It barely flinched from Dexpa’s lightning cloak and approached him at arm’s reach. “Jo’navir!” Dexpa yelled.

“I’ve got you!” Jo’navir called back, crippling the beast with an incinerate to one of its legs. He then slid past the creature, slicing off the other leg with his axe, forcing it to his eye level. “Aarrgghh!” Jo’navir grunted, putting as much force as he could into his next swing which cut all the way through the creature’s waist, slicing it in half.

“Only a few more,” Jo’navir said, diving back into the action. Vaskr stayed close to his master, providing him support.

Dexpa was about to join in but got distracted by a figure in the corner of his vision. He gazed up at the large window sitting on the top level of the castle. Inside, he could see a silhouette of a person staring down at him. A shiver creeped up his spine as he continued to look upwards in a daze.

“Dexpa!” Jo’navir called out, bringing his brother’s focus back to the action.

“Stand back!” Dexpa yelled. His hands began to vibrate with lightning magic forming between his palms.

“Vaskr!” Jo’navir beckoned the wolf. He and Vaskr retreated, keeping a safe distance from Dexpa’s next spell.

An enormous chain lightning launched itself from Dexpa’s palms, connecting with the rest of the castle guards in front of them. It turned the frost atronachs to water vapor and the frozen colossi to bones and dust.

“You should’ve done that earlier,” Jo’navir said, admiring the sight.

“Come on, let’s keep moving,” Dexpa said. He went through the door the golems came out of.

The hatch on the inside was replaced and locked shut. “What?” Dexpa gasped. “I thought it would be open.” Dexpa walked over to the bookshelf and noticed every book still remained inside of it. He began throwing all the books on the ground until only one was left. He grabbed the final book and read its title. “Dead Thrall.” As he pulled the book further away it activated a contraption. Suddenly, a click could be heard through the walls and the new entrance to the hatch began to open, gradually revealing the inside.

Dexpa jumped into the cellar, not wasting a second. “The bookshelf has been moved too,” Dexpa noticed. “Jo’navir, help me move this.”

They slid the bookshelf off to the side, revealing the hole in the wall. Dexpa climbed through by himself.

“Slow down, Dexpa,” Jo’navir called. “Let’s move together.”

“I’m sorry,” Dexpa apologized. “Everything is so different now. Even the gate is blocked off.” He pointed at the metal gate blocking the exit of the tunnel. “That was open, when I was here last.”

“Then let’s open it ourselves,” Jo’navir suggested.

“Alright,” Dexpa said. He cast a thunderbolt into the bars of the gate, carving an opening for them to slip through.

“This place really is a castle,” Jo’navir said, taking note of the towering stone hallways, lit by strange blue lanterns, and laid with red carpet.

“What the…” Jo’navir said, pointing out the three prison cells carved into the walls of the hallway. “Are these cages?”

“Most likely,” Dexpa sighed.

All three cages contained a skeleton, each with their skulls caved in. One of them also had a large hole through their stomach region.

The ominous setting of the castle worried them. If this place really did have some connection to Mo’nazar, it wasn’t a good one.

They entered the smithy room in front of the grand staircase but were suddenly faced with a living person. A black-furred khajiit man in armor, sharpening his greatsword at a sharpening wheel. As they stepped into the room, the man got up and stood ready for battle.

“Father?” Dexpa gasped. “You’re alive!”

Za’vanir stared blankly, unfazed by the appearance of his sons.

As soon as Dexpa took a step closer to their father, Jo’navir grabbed his shoulder and held him back. “Look closer,” he said.

Vaskr growled at Za’vanir, warning him to stay back.

“That’s not our father,” Jo’navir declared.

Though they could tell it was their father’s body, Za’vanir’s face and other exposed body parts were covered in mold and scabs, and the look in his eye was empty and soulless.

“I am nobody’s father. I belong to my master and no one else,” Za’vanir replied coldly.

“You’re really not in there, are you?” Jo’navir said with a hopeless voice.

Za’vanir whipped his greatsword at his side to signal he was ready for battle. Dexpa and Jo’navir gazed at Za’vanir in disbelief.

Suddenly, a sinister laugh echoed through the halls and a familiar voice called out to them. “You really thought it was him! One step closer and it would’ve been the end of you, my old friend. A fitting end for a traitor like you.”

“Mo’nazar,” Dexpa said disheartened. “Why are you doing this? What happened to you?”

“Oh, like you care!” Mo’nazar’s voice replied in a sudden rage. “You left me to die! Do you know how many years I spent in that empty world, not knowing who I was!? You ruined everything!”

“We tried!” Jo’navir yelled back. “But you weren’t—”

“Silence!” Mo’nazar interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. Maybe killing your own father will make you understand even a fraction of what you put me through. Za’vanir, kill them!” he ordered.

Suddenly, the prison cells in the hallway opened and the three skeletons came to life, blocking off their escape. One of them wielded a greataxe, while the others appeared unarmed.

Jo’navir focused his attention on Za’vanir as Dexpa and Vaskr faced the three skeletons.

Vaskr leaped towards one of the unarmed skeletons, biting onto its wrist and pulling it off. He threw it down the hall but squealed as he was met with a boney fist to the ribcage.

The other two skeletons turned their attention towards Dexpa. The second unarmed skeleton suddenly began channeling frost magic, while the greataxe skeleton charged at him.

Dexpa used lightning cloak, which zapped the bones of the greataxe skeleton, forcing it to wait patiently at a distance. He then readied a chain lightning spell, but hesitated when he noticed Vaskr standing too close to the enemy.

Unfortunately, that moment of hesitation allowed the other skeleton to finish casting an ice storm spell at Dexpa, sending a cloud of freezing mist through his body. Icicles formed around him, numbing his senses and forcing him to his knees.

Meanwhile Jo’navir was faced with fighting his father. He shot a fireball at the ground, knocking Za’vanir off balance. He then released a steady stream of flames in his direction to keep him away.

But Za’vanir’s steel armor stood strong. He walked closer to Jo’navir, enduring the weak effect of his flames, and readied his greatsword for an attack.

Jo’navir blocked his swing with his own, clashing his steel axe into the steel greatsword. Then he threw his body weight into Za’vanir with a shoulder charge. Za’vanir collapsed to the ground like a ragdoll. He tried to push himself to back to standing, but his rotting limbs wouldn’t cooperate. “Stop!” Jo’navir cried. “Just stay down.”

“Jo’navir!” Dexpa yelled. His voice sounded desperate. “Shoot me with flames.”

“What!?” Jo’navir said. He turned around and saw his brother’s body layered with shards of ice.

“Just do it!” Dexpa shouted. “Quickly.”

“Fine,” said Jo’navir, spreading a weak line of flames across Dexpa’s frozen body. The ice around him melted rapidly, allowing him to stand again.

As Jo’navir turned back to his fight, Za’vanir was already mid-swing with his greatsword. Jo’navir jumped to the side, barely dodging the attack. He then hid behind the stations of the smithy to keep at a distance from Za’vanir, who continued to pursue him at a calm walking pace.

As Jo’navir retreated from his father’s pursuit, he had to remind himself it wasn’t his real father. But every time he would look into his eyes, he’d forget.

Vaskr tore off the limbs of the unarmed skeleton one by one, until it finally fell limp. He continued chewing at its bones to make sure it was dead for good.

As Dexpa’s numbness faded, so did his lightning cloak. The greataxe skeleton noticed this and approached Dexpa, swinging its weapon for his head. Dexpa dodged backwards and launched a thunderbolt into the skeleton’s ribcage. The spell slammed the skeleton viciously into the wall, shooting its bones in every direction.

As Jo’navir hid behind the main forge, the smoke of the forge blurred the image of Za’vanir standing at the other side. Suddenly Za’vanir grew impatient with Jo’navir’s constant retreating and leaped over the forge, swinging his greatsword at him.

Jo’navir ducked under the sword, barely escaping its cut. He placed his palm over Za’vanir’s face and pushed it into the hot coals of the forge. “Arrgghhhh!” Za’vanir screamed. The mold and scabs on his face ignited.

“I’m sorry, father!” Jo’navir screamed with him. As he held him there with his hand, he began shooting a flame spell with it, hoping to finish the job. But as Za’vanir’s screams got worse, he hesitated, pulling his hand free and letting Za’vanir return to standing.

Jo’navir analyzed his father’s new face, now melted and unrecognizable. His black fur was covered in embers and his breathing sounded more like gargling. “I have to do this,” Jo’navir declared, tightening his grip on his axe.

Dexpa and Vaskr now had the frost mage skeleton cornered and outnumbered. Vaskr dove in, but the skeleton cast the spell frost cloak, surrounding itself in a vicious icy wind barrier, which stung the wolf as he got too close.

It quickly followed up with an ice spear, forcing Dexpa to recklessly roll away, slamming himself into the wall. The spear, however, still grazed his side, drawing a small amount of blood. Dexpa shook it off the pain and aimed a massive thunderbolt at the frost mage skeleton. The spell connected, turning the skeleton’s bones into ashes.

He turned around to see how Jo’navir’s fight was going, only to see him lobbing off Za’vanir’s head with his steel axe. Their father’s desecrated body fell to the floor, just like it did on the day of the Greymarch.

The head landed shortly after, splashing blood onto Jo’navir’s wolf armor boots. Jo’navir stood over his corpse, breathing heavily. “Forgive me, father.”

Dexpa placed a hand on Jo’navir’s shoulder. “You had to. It was him or us.”

“What if he was still in there?” Jo’navir asked.

“He wasn’t,” Dexpa reminded him. Suddenly, he looked down at Za’vanir’s body recognizing his pose as he lay dead. He looked around the rest of the room at the skeletons whose bones were spread about the hallway. Everything was beginning to look just like it did on his first visit to this place way in the future. “We should stay focused,” he said, speaking both to Jo’navir and himself.

“Aww you poor thing,” Mo’nazar’s voice echoed sarcastically. “Well at least you still have your mother, right? Oh wait,” Mo’nazar cackled.

His taunts infuriated them. Dexpa lead the party up the main stairs, taking them to the top level. Dexpa recognized the conjuration symbol engraved on the door in front of them. “This is it. The throne room.”


Part IV: Too Far Gone

Dexpa blasted the door open with a thunderbolt and barged inside.

Piles of bones encircled the edges of the room. There was a stone plaza in the center, before the throne chair. It looked nearly identical to the plaza in The Fringe, but it was smaller and surrounded by stone pillars.

In the center of the plaza stood the flesh abomination. “That’s the one we saw on the day of the Greymarch,” Dexpa noted. Decaying leopard fur covered its skin. It had fleshy stubs for hands, dried blood in the cracks of its skin, and stood three times the height of the average man with bulking muscles to match.

“It took you five years to come back for me,” Mo’nazar said.

“Mo’nazar,” Dexpa gasped, noticing his old friend sitting in the throne chair, surrounded by the purple glow of the two lanterns on each side of him. The moonlight shined through the window behind him.

“Don’t give me that!” Mo’nazar shouted, clawing at the sides of his head. He gathered himself again and continued. “You know, a lot can happen to someone in five years.” Mo’nazar got out of his throne and began casting a spell.

“Mo’nazar, just listen to us,” Jo’navir started to say.

Mo’nazar continued his spell. “There’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind,” he said.

“Please, Mo’nazar,” Dexpa said taking a step closer.

“You have no idea what it was like! Being stuck in there…What I’ve been through because of you,” Mo’nazar whined. “Not like you would care, right?” He started laughing at himself. “You’d just leave the moment I became an inconvenience to you.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Dexpa yelled.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Mo’nazar screamed back. “I’m done. I’m going to make you experience all the suffering you inflicted upon me several times over.” He finally unleashed the spell. “Rise! My creations!”

Suddenly, the bones around the room began to clank together, slowly crafting themselves into a small army of bone colossi. The colossi quickly surrounded Dexpa and Jo’navir.

“Kill them!” Mo’nazar commanded. He sat back down in his throne and watched them with wide eyes.

Dexpa kept the bone colossi distracted with his chain lightning, drawing their attention to himself. Meanwhile, Vaskr and Jo’navir rushed in to fight the flesh abomination in the center.

Vaskr lodged his teeth into its leg, but the abomination shook him off with ease. It ignored the wolf and focused an attack on Jo’navir, slamming its stubby fist into the ground before him. The shockwave knocked him backwards.

“Woah,” Jo’navir gasped as he caught himself from falling over. He couldn’t believe the strength behind the flesh abominations attack. “One hit from that and it’s over,” he thought.

Dexpa switched from using chain lightning to thunderbolt, taking out several of the weakened colossi. One of them got too close and smacked Dexpa in the side with its massive bone arm. He was injured and thrown out of the plaza but managed to pick himself up and finish the colossus off with another thunderbolt.

“Argg,” Dexpa grunted, as he held his side. There was only one colossus left, but it focused its aggression on Jo’navir. “Look out!” Dexpa yelled.

Jo’navir turned his attention away from Vaskr and the flesh abomination, noticing the bone colossus now sprinting straight at him. The creature was massive, allowing Jo’navir to slide beneath its legs and cut through them with his axe along the way. The creature fell to eye level, allowing him to finally decapitate it.

Jo’navir sighed in relief and checked back in on Vaskr, but when he looked over, he saw Vaskr being held in the flesh abomination’s grip and thrown to the ground with intense speed.

“No!!” Jo’navir screamed, rushing over to help. But before he could even get a spell out, the abomination raised its heavy arms in the air and slammed them down, crushing Vaskr into the plaza floor. His blood spat in every direction and his body remained motionless.

“Vaskr!” Jo’navir yelled again. He began shooting a furious barrage of incinerates at the creature. Dexpa followed his example, adding his thunderbolts to the barrage. Their spells were effectively ripping apart its flesh.

“Ra’zita!” Mo’nazar shouted, standing up from his throne chair in shock. He cast a frost rune at their feet which glowed brighter with each second, ready to blast.

“Move!” Jo’navir cried out, pushing his brother out of the way of the frost explosion. Thanks to his brother, Dexpa was untouched by the blast, but Jo’navir’s back was now covered in a thin layer of ice.

“Jo’navir!” Dexpa cried, running to his brother’s aid.

“I’m fine,” Jo’navir said, waving Dexpa away.

Dexpa peered back at Mo’nazar now standing side by side with the flesh abomination. “You said Ra’zita?” he asked. He looked at the creature’s leopard colored hair now noticing the red kelp buried within it.

“That’s none of your concern,” Mo’nazar scowled. He tended to Ra’zita’s wounds, roughly placing the skin back into place with his hands. “All better, see?” he whispered to his sister as he held her unrecognizable face in his hands. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Mo’nazar finally joined the fight, casting an ice storm between the brothers, separating them. Dexpa cast a thunderbolt at Mo’nazar, which was met with an icy spear, creating an electric-frost explosion.

Meanwhile, Ra’zita rushed towards Jo’navir in a rage. He managed to slice an arm off with his axe but was met with a kick that grazed his shoulder and sent him flying backwards. He endured the pain and went right back in, slicing his axe across Ra’zita’s face, forcing open a hole for her mouth.

Dexpa and Mo’nazar continued to clash spells. One of Mo’nazar’s icy spears grazed the top of Dexpa’s head, drawing blood and dripping down his face. But their fight was interrupted by a deep, bellowing scream.

“RAAOOO!” Ra’zita howled from her newly carved lips.

Mo’nazar immediately turned his gaze to his sister. He witnessed Jo’navir deliver the final blow, cleaving his axe through one side of her neck and out the other. The abomination hit the floor with a booming thud.

“You [&@%!]!” Mo’nazar screamed. He shot an ice storm at Jo’navir, who was distracted with his kill. The spell encased him within a shroud of frost, freezing him in place. Mo’nazar then rushed over to his sister’s body, pushing it with his hands and trying to get it to move again. He looked into her eyes, but they showed no sign of life.

Dexpa came to Jo’navir’s aid once again, peeling away at the layer of ice with his claws. To his surprise, his method was working and Jo’navir was gaining feeling once again.

“Stand back,” Jo’navir demanded as he began casting flames from within the thin layer of ice, melting the rest of it away.

Mo’nazar noticed Jo’navir was free again and fled to his throne.

“It’s two on one now, Mo’nazar,” Jo’navir claimed.

“Please, we don’t want to hurt you. Just come home with us,” Dexpa begged.

“This IS my home,” Mo’nazar stated. He peered around each corner of the room, stopping his gaze at Vaskr. “How about I even the odds again?”

Mo’nazar cast dead thrall on the wolf’s corpse. Suddenly, Vaskr’s body began to twitch and writhe. You could hear his bones cracking themselves back into place as his body began to stand again. Mo’nazar pointed at Jo’navir. Vaskr turned to Jo’navir and growled at him, ready to attack. “Get him wolf!” he commanded.

“Vaskr, it’s me!” Jo’navir shouted. He held his axe defensively in front of him. Vaskr continued his mindless charge, biting into the hilt of the axe. Jo’navir held it tightly, pushing the wolf away from his body, without hurting him. He could feel Vaskr’s feet desperately kicking against his stomach.

Mo’nazar continued to attack Dexpa with frost magic, but Dexpa hid behind one of the pillars in the arena. He noticed Jo’navir struggling with Vaskr and shot a thunderbolt at the wolf to get him off his brother.

But Jo’navir noticed the thunderbolt aimed at Vaskr and pulled the wolf away from the attack. “I’ll handle this! Focus on your fight!”

Dexpa and Mo’nazar began clashing spells once again. But Dexpa’s spells were noticeably more powerful. Mo’nazar took a thunderbolt to the shoulder, stunning him and forcing him to change tactics.

Mo’nazar retreated behind his throne chair and began casting a multitude of frost runes all around the room.

Dexpa danced around them as best as he could, but the final icy explosion caught him, knocking him into the wall. His vision was blurry for a moment, but he could barely make out Jo’navir still fighting for his life.

Vaskr let go of Jo’navir’s axe and bit into his leg instead. “Gahhhh!” he yelped. He held his axe above his head, enduring the bite as well as he could. There was no time to think of another way. “I’m sorry, Vaskr,” he said as his eyes began to water. He swung his axe down with as much force as he could muster, plunging it deep into the wolf’s body. He could feel Vaskr’s jaws loosen from his leg, soon followed by the sound of his body hitting the floor.

He pushed himself to standing and looked around for his brother. He saw Dexpa sitting against the wall, struggling to gain a hold of his senses. Jo’navir pulled his axe free from Vaskr’s body and dashed over to help Dexpa, casting flames on his body to melt the ice around him. He pulled Dexpa up to standing. “Can you keep fighting?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dexpa replied. They noticed Mo’nazar now standing in the center of the plaza. “Mo’nazar,” Dexpa continued. “We can help you. If you’d just let us.”

“I don’t need help,” Mo’nazar replied. He reached both hands out, palms up, and began charging an immensely powerful spell. His claws were overcome with ice and fog, and the ground below him began to frost over.

Jo’navir darted for Mo’nazar, ready to slice his hands off before he could cast the spell. But it was too late.

Mo’nazar unleashed the spell, spawning a ferocious blizzard exploding outwards from his location. The pillars surrounding him were either frozen over or broken into pieces.

“Jo’navir!” Dexpa screamed, reaching for his brother. But the spell encased Jo’navir in a thick coffin of hardened ice. Then the blast of the storm tossed his frozen body away. Dexpa managed to catch him, but the force of the impact threw him against the wall.

The winds of the blizzard were relentless, keeping everything from getting closer to its center. Dexpa could barely see the silhouette of Mo’nazar through the rapid swirl of frost.

“Come on!” Dexpa cried as he tried clawing away at the ice around his brother. “Come on break. Break!!” he screamed. He continued clawing away until his hands bled, but in all his efforts, he barely even scratched the surface of the ice.

He could see his brother inside the block of ice, with his eyes closed and his hand holding onto his axe.

The storm began to suck the moisture from Dexpa’s eyes. He placed his back against the wall and covered his eyes to shield them. His limbs were numbing, starting at his fingertips.

Dexpa desperately cast thunderbolt after thunderbolt, trying to knock Mo’nazar out of the center, but the intense winds of the blizzard reduced his spells to nothing. He sat helplessly as the wind continued to press his body into the wall. He was running out of ideas.

“This looks desperate,” a voice said to Dexpa. “Need a hand?”

“Sheogorath?” Dexpa pondered.


Part V: Champion’s Gift

“Yes, hello my champion,” Sheogorath’s voice echoed in Dexpa’s head. “How are you? Oh wait! Don’t say anything, I can already tell. How about you use this.” Suddenly, a strange staff manifested in Dexpa’s hands. “The Staff of Sheogorath I call it. Beautiful name, right? Thank you. It’s still in the prototype stage, however, so who knows what’ll come out of that thing. But you look like you could use a little fun, so go crazy with it!”

Dexpa held the staff in front of himself, gripping it firmly so the storm wouldn’t blow it away. He channeled its energy and released the spell hidden within.

“Hold!” a strange voice called as the staff expelled its energy.

Suddenly, the blizzard went silent and vanished, revealing Mo’nazar now paralyzed in place.

Dexpa glanced at the staff in disbelief. “Release!” the voice called again.

Mo’nazar’s paralysis wore off making him lose his balance and fall to the floor. He leaned his back against the throne, gasping for air.

Dexpa was finally able to approach Mo’nazar. He kneeled over and met eyes with him. “You can trust me, Mo’nazar,” Dexpa said softly reaching his hand out for him to grab.

Mo’nazar looked at Dexpa with eyes that were begging to be saved, but he was suddenly overcome with a headache. His eyes began to twitch, as he pulled at the fur on his head. “No, don’t! Don’t do this,” he begged.

“Do what?” Dexpa asked? “I’m not going to do anything.”

“Remember your pledge mortal. Kill them now or be sent back to the Soul Cairn,” Molag Bal demanded of his champion.

“Don’t make me go back there, please,” Mo’nazar whimpered, squeezing his skull between his palms. His eyes began to flicker a bright blue.

“Go back where?” Dexpa questioned. “Who are you talking to?”

“This is your last chance my champion,” Molag Bal stated. “Act now, or else!”

“I don’t want to go back!!!” Mo’nazar screamed one last time. Frost magic began to form in his hands again.

“Again?” Dexpa gasped. He distanced himself from Mo’nazar and jumped behind a pillar just before another ferocious blizzard appeared in the center of the plaza. The storm blew The Staff of Sheogorath out of his hands and sent it flying to the other side of the room. Massive lumps of ice swirled around the blizzard, gradually tearing apart the pillar Dexpa hid behind.

Dexpa peeked his head out from behind the pillar and gazed into the eye of the storm. Mo’nazar’s eyes were glowing a bright blue, and his hands were now wielding a strange spiked green mace. His head grew horns that matched the color of his glowing eyes.

Dexpa recognized the shape of the horns. He could remember and hear Salazar’s words in his head calling the name, “Molag Bal!” Yet even with this knowledge, there was nothing Dexpa could do now.

“Well now,” a new voice spoke to Dexpa, coming from Jo’navir’s direction. “I can’t have you dying this early. There’s still so much to learn about you.”

Dexpa looking towards the source of the voice and saw his brother’s eyes now beginning to glow green. They shined through the block of ice around his body.

Suddenly, the ice block burst apart, sending frozen shards in every direction and freeing Jo’navir from the ice prison. His limp body began to levitate before conjuring a green barrier around himself, covered in slimy black tendrils.

“Take this gift, my champion,” Hermaeus Mora said to Jo’navir, summoning a book out of thin air and placing it in his hands. “The Oghma Infinium. There is still much to learn from that mortal and his scroll. Protect him, Jo’navir.”

Jo’navir opened the book, absorbing its knowledge. Suddenly, his hands were wrapped in red-hot flames. The flames spread further down his arms, eventually enwrapping the rest of his body.

The green barrier lowered him to the ground and the black tendrils began acting as his legs. He walked through the storm unfazed by its push.

The pillar Dexpa hid behind was quickly being carved away by the blizzard. He was nearly out of cover.

Any chunks of ice that were thrown at Jo’navir were slapped away by the tendrils around his barrier. The green barrier began to crack, but Jo’navir was ready. The Oghma Infinium vanished and the flames around his body gathered between his hands forming a volatile ball of fire.

Finally, the spell erupted from his fingertips, creating a vicious firestorm that exploded outwards from his location. The hot explosion counteracted the blizzard, turning the swirl of ice into a soothing mist.

As the mist subsided, Mo’nazar was left standing with the mace in his hand. His eyes and horns were still glowing blue.

“This body can’t handle much more,” Hermaeus Mora spoke to Dexpa, using Jo’navir’s mouth. “I have high expectations for you mortal. I look forward to seeing what you and that scroll can do.”

Dexpa stared speechlessly at Jo’navir, whose eyes finally turned back to normal.

Suddenly, a spiked green mace plunged into Jo’navir’s stomach, sending him flying into a pillar. Mo’nazar laughed, but his voice was mixed with that of Molag Bal’s. He seemed almost possessed. “That’s what happens when you stand too close!”

“Jo…” Dexpa couldn’t get the word out. He watched as his brother bled out against the pillar. His wound looked severe, but he was still conscious.

Jo’navir pressed his hand against his bleeding stomach. His wolf armor took the brunt of the blow but was cracked open. He whispered breathlessly to Dexpa. “Finish the rest.” His eyes then faded shut and his body went limp.

“One more to go,” said Mo’nazar. His limbs vibrated as if he was fighting for control over his own body.

“I’m going to bring you back,” Dexpa declared. “I don’t care what you say.” Confidence returned to his eyes.

Mo’nazar’s brow twitched. “No,” he replied. “You should’ve stayed away.” He began preparing his final spell to put an end to things. A ball of frost took form in his hands, growing rapidly with each second.

Dexpa followed his example, readying his new spell, charging the lightning between his palms. Suddenly, the scroll reacted to his power and began floating before him, unraveling itself. As Dexpa read through it, visible lightning began to escape from the scroll, flowing into the lightning forming between Dexpa’s palms. It grew exponentially and its sparks became more violent, as if trying to escape his grasp. But Dexpa’s grip was unyielding.

Simultaneously, both of their bodies began emitting a powerful wind, blowing everything away from themselves. The large window behind the throne began to wobble and the bones of the creatures went soaring into the walls. Jo’navir’s body remained against the pillar, his fur moving in sync to the fierce winds.

After giving the last of its energy to Dexpa, the scroll fell to the floor. “I won’t leave you this time,” Dexpa thought to himself.

Mo’nazar finally released his spell, shooting out a massive stream of frost littered with chunks of ice.

Dexpa unleashed his spell, launching a powerful beam of deadly lightning.

As the two spells collided, an ear-piercing soundwave shot across the room. The wobbling window began to shake violently. The lanterns around the thrown chair unlatched and crashed into the walls. And the door of the room flew open the other way, nearly sending it off its hinges.

The channel of elemental beams fought back and forth. Dexpa and Mo’nazar continued fueling their attacks with more magicka. The beams widened with each addition of energy.

Soon however, Dexpa’s lightning storm began to swallow up Mo’nazar’s spell. It inched closer to Mo’nazar gradually, until finally reaching him. His upper body was overcome with intense lightning. The energy went straight through him, shattering the window behind him and shooting out into the night sky, fading into the distance.

Dexpa was out of breath and felt completely drained. His wobbly legs gave him just enough strength to get closer to Mo’nazar. The top half of Mo’nazar’s body was charred and smoking. Blood seeped out of the cracks in his skin. The horns on his head faded and his eyes returned to normal, though they wouldn’t open.

Dexpa tumbled to his hands and knees in front of him. “Mo’nazar,” he said looking at his burnt face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I should’ve held back.”

Mo’nazar was unresponsive.

“Please, wake up! Mo’nazar!” Dexpa cried, shaking him around with his hand.

Suddenly, Mo’nazar’s eyes began to open. “I’m sorry, Dexpa.” He tried to cry, but his dried-out tear ducts wouldn’t let him.

“You’re okay,” Dexpa told him.

“It’s my fault,” Mo’nazar mumbled. “I killed them. I should’ve stopped while I was ahead.”

“Stop talking,” Dexpa suggested. “Just rest. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Everything…” Mo’nazar whispered.

“Think again mortal,” Molag Bal’s voice shouted from within Mo’nazar’s body. Dexpa could hear the voice now. “You’ve failed me, and for that, you will be punished.”

“Mo’nazar what’s happening?” asked Dexpa.

“No please!” Mo’nazar begged the voice. His body began convulsing. “Please don’t.”

“Silence!” Molag Bal’s voice replied. “This is what happens when you disobey me, mortal. I granted you my gift, and you still lost. I have no need for someone as weak as you. Enjoy the rest of your miserable life in the Soul Cairn.”

Mo’nazar’s eyes rolled back into his skull and his spirit was visibly sucked out of his body and sent away.

“Mo’nazar, wait!” Dexpa screamed. He shook him trying to bring him back again, but Mo’nazar’s soulless body wouldn’t move. It was an empty husk.


Part VI: Help

“Mo’nazar…” Dexpa whimpered. He was interrupted by his brother, who began to cough up blood. “You’re awake.” He crawled over to his brother, pressing his hand into his waist to stop the bleeding. Jo’navir was still alive and breathing, but barely.

“You can still save him, Dexpa,” Jo’navir whispered under his breath. “Hermaeus Mora…” he stopped to gasp for more air. “He says you can still find him. In the Soul Cairn.”

“What?” asked Dexpa. “What is that? What does that mean?” But Jo’navir was unable to respond.

“It means you need my help,” Sheogorath’s voice echoed in Dexpa’s head. “I’ve always wanted to take a trip to the Soul Cairn. It’s one of those places that’s fun to visit, but not to live in. You know what I mean?”

Dexpa was silent.

“Anyways,” Sheogorath continued, “I’ll help you get your friend back. Just grab onto him and I’ll send you where you need to go. The rest will be up to you.” Dexpa crawled back over Mo’nazar’s and held both of his hands in his own. He closed his eyes. “This’ll only hurt for a second. Enjoy your stay!”

Dexpa could feel his soul leaving his body. In the next second, he found himself wandering the Soul Cairn as a ghost.

The fog of the land was much denser than when Mo’nazar had first been there. Dexpa could hear lightning striking the ground from afar, but couldn’t see more than an arm’s reach ahead of himself.

He wandered blindly through the mist, unaware of the amount of time that was passing. He felt his sense of self vanishing, but his legs continued to march forward.

A humanoid silhouette appeared before him. As he came closer, it revealed the body of Mo’nazar standing around mindlessly. “You’re…” Dexpa began to say. But he couldn’t find his next words.

Mo’nazar turned to face Dexpa, wondering about the same thing. “Who is this person? I swear I know them.”

They approached each other and reached their hands out, grabbing firmly and connecting their phantasmal bodies together.

“Alright, I’m pulling you out!” Sheogorath’s voice echoed through the Soul Cairn. Dexpa’s body felt like it was being pulled away by an invisible arm. His ghostly hands brought Mo’nazar with him.

Suddenly, his vision went black. As his eyes finally opened, he found himself back in the corporeal world with Mo’nazar sitting in front of him. Their hands were still connected. Soon, Mo’nazar’s eyes began to open as well. He glanced at Dexpa who was watching him in anticipation.

“Hey,” Mo’nazar whispered wearily, beginning to smile through the charred cracks in his face.

“Mo’nazar,” Dexpa said in disbelief. He reached his arms around Mo’nazar in a gentle embrace and began to cry over his shoulder.

“Ow, come on,” Mo’nazar chuckled through the pain. He couldn’t move his arms to return Dexpa’s embrace, but he was livelier than before.

“What about Molag Bal?” Dexpa asked.

Mo’nazar’s heart sank for a second. He looked around the room and listened carefully but heard nothing. Suddenly, he was overcome with excitement. “I died!”

“Yeah, you did,” Dexpa replied concerningly.

“No, I died!” Mo’nazar yelped. “That was the deal. Serve until death.” He laughed as much as his injured lungs would let him. “I can’t hear him anymore! Or feel him!”

Hope returned to Dexpa’s eyes, but then he remembered Jo’navir, who was still laying against the pillar gasping for air. Dexpa moved back over to his brother and held his head up, trying to keep him conscious. “Hold on, Jo’navir!”

But Jo’navir’s breaths were weakening.

“Keep your eyes open!” Dexpa shouted in his face. “Look at me!”

Jo’navir’s eyes shut, and his body slumped over.

“No, no, no, no!” Dexpa panicked. He patted himself all over, desperately looking for something that could help him in this desperate moment. His hand pressed against something in his clothes. He pulled it out to see what it was.

“The Amulet of Mara,” Dexpa said aloud. He placed the necklace around his neck and pointed his hands at Jo’navir, trying to envision himself casting a spell that could heal him.

Nothing was happening. “Come on, come on!” Dexpa cried out. Suddenly, his hands became enveloped by an iridescent white aura, like that of Ko’zura’s. He began casting the healing hands spell.

Within seconds, Jo’navir’s wounds began to close, stopping the blood from escaping. His eyes opened once again and looked at Dexpa with a weak smile. “You never told me you could do that.”

Dexpa laughed as tears rolled out of his eyes.

Jo’navir peered down at Dexpa’s hands, continuing the cast the spell. “Just like mother. You did it, Dexpa.” The strength in his voice was returning. Jo’navir placed an arm on Dexpa’s hand, stopping his spell. He gestured his brother to look behind himself as if to say, “Now help him.”

“Right,” Dexpa nodded. He crawled back over to Mo’nazar and cast the spell on him right away. His charred flesh began to crumble apart, revealing a fresh layer of leopard fur beneath it. The cuts on his body began to seal. He sighed with relief as the pain vanished.

Dexpa fell back, exhausted. He glanced at both Mo’nazar and Jo’navir, admiring their healthy states. “I did it,” he whined. He began to cry again, his tears fogging his field of vision. “I did it.”

After shedding his victory tears, Dexpa felt a hand on his back. It was Jo’navir, smiling proudly at his brother. He then noticed Mo’nazar kneeling in front of him with a face that said, “Everything is going to be alright.”

“Oh, I love a happy ending,” Sheogorath said, pretending to cry along with Dexpa.

They helped Dexpa to his feet and brought him to the window to admire the view of their old village outside. They gazed at the moonlight on the horizon together.

“There’s a lot we haven’t seen out there,” said Jo’navir.

“Yeah,” Mo’nazar chuckled. “Maybe it’s finally time for us to leave the village.”

Dexpa admired the horizon with his brother and best friend standing at his side. It’s been forever since he’d been able to truly feel at ease. He almost forgot what it felt like. He smiled.

“Let’s get going then.”