Middas, 18^th Sun’s Dawn, 4E 202 to Morndas, 23^rd Sun’s Dawn, 4E 202

After another morning of hot spa and hot breakfast, I sat next to Rigmor.

I said, “This place is noisy, but without the children running around, it’s just not the same.”

“Maybe you can rotate children through here? It could be another place for learning domestic duties and the trades.”

“Yes, perhaps my paranoia after the Morag Tong attacks got the better of me. This is a far better place for The Sentinels to relax, and there are enough Legionnaires at Dragons Keep.”

‘Wulf, I am worried. Where would you need Mara’s assistance?”

“I don’t know, and please, let’s just see what happens and not speculate.”

“Okay. Are we ready?”

“Yep, let us gather the squad.”

After gathering the same squad as yesterday, I teleported inside Castle Dour. There was not a single guard there to challenge me. Tolfdir has been busy researching wards to protect against unauthorised teleportation. They will be needed as other’s rediscover the teleport spells.

Rigmor and the others joined me then we went upstairs to the war room.

General Tullius wasn’t there, so I spoke to Legate Rikke.

“Good morning, Legate Rikke”

“Ahh, the cause of my current condition. Good morning to you, Envoy Valdr.”

“And what condition would that be?”

“I am sitting here, waiting to be told what I am to do with half a Legion now under my command. There are enough supplies loaded for an extended campaign. It must have something to do with Evermor as the only place with rumours of trouble is there. But I wait, as my troops wait, for the final orders.”

“Is General Tullius in residence?”

“Yes. Go to his private quarters. I am sure he will be keen to speak to you.”

“Blessings of The Nine on you and your troops, Legate Rikke.”

I headed upstairs to Tullius’ private quarters. A guard stuck his head through the door and told him we were waiting outside. We were immediately asked to enter.

Tullius invited me to sit and discuss Evermor.

Tullius pleaded, “Please tell me you are a bringer of good news, and I can stand down Legate Rikke.”

“I am surprised you have already taken the precaution of putting so many on standby.”

“At first, a steady stream of Orcs travelled through the passes from Evermor. Then Breton and Nord joined them in worrying numbers. I have received no reports from Commander Drugo, but I assumed things were not going well.”

“Let me brief you on the situation….”

For the next forty-five minutes, Tullius and I discussed what had occurred in Evermor.

Tullius’ demeanour became more serious as the conversation proceeded. The military genius that he is was apparent in the questions he asked.

In the end, he said, “I will have Legate Rikke and half a Legion ready to cross into Evermor. I will send orders to Commander Drugo telling him his troops will be relieved, and they are to return to Cyrodiil for rest and refitting. I will support your recommendation for the commendations, for they are well deserved.”

“The King will be removed. That is inevitable.”

“Try to bring him in for trial. That would make any martial law easier to maintain.”

“Of course, I will try. Perhaps I can volunteer to be the headsman?”

“I think Mede will want that honour.”

“Sorry I couldn’t bring better news.”

“I managed to dodge all this god stuff for my entire career, and now I am neck-deep in it!”

“It could be worse. You could be neck-deep in politics.”

We teleported to the entrance of Raven Spring then made our way to the temple.

We entered the temple and approached Reamonn.

• Wulf: Good morning, Reamonn.
• Reamonn: And a good morning to you all.
• Wulf: How goes to scrying?
• Reamonn: Successful! This search was one of the more interesting deductions in which I’ve engaged.
• Wulf: Where did it lead you?
• Reamonn: It led to a long since abandoned facility up in the mountains, unfortunately bearing the recent moniker of ‘Rejects Respite’, in light of the types of people brought there.
• Erandur: Brought there for compassionate care or more sinister purposes?
• Reamonn: I do not know. My scrying brought me to the bowels of that ruin which I never thought would be that extensive.
• Wulf: It is already marked on my map. What impression did you get of the facility?
• Reamonn: That dark sanctum is better undisturbed.
• Wulf: Just a foreboding and nothing specific?
• Reamonn: No, but should there have been?
• Wulf: Be careful around Damian. We did not want to bias your scrying by telling you who we suspect the murderer is.
• Reamonn: Prince Damian! Are you saying they have replaced Mortifayne with somebody just as evil?
• Wulf: I am sure he will appear to be the complete opposite.
• Reamonn: Perhaps you should take a staff that is rumoured to be from that facility. Let me retrieve it for you.

Some of those injured during the Daedra assault had returned to the temple for further assistance. Serana and I checked on them while awaiting Reamonn’s return.

Reamonn approached and handed me a staff. I inspected it then gave it to Serana.

• Reamonn: Arcanists figured that staff is for trapping souls, akin to most mages’ conventional method when weaving the same spell.
• Wulf: Yes, it has a Soul Trap dweomer on it but another as well. The other dweomer is Daedric in nature, but I have never been able to detect those in the past.
• Serana: I lost that ability when I became mortal. I can detect the Soul Trap, and that is all.
• Wulf: Significantly, the staff has the same symbol carved on it as was carved into the flesh.
• Serana: Your soul has been tainted. Perhaps that is why you can detect Daedra dweomer.
• Wulf: It would be good to have insight into the being that tainted it.
• Reamonn: How did that happen?
• Wulf: A Daedra rescued me from Scuttling Void and left a taint on my soul. A connection between myself and it now exists.
• Reamonn: Can such a taint be removed?
• Serana: Well, I am proof that a soul can be cleansed.
• Wulf: Does this staff have a name?
• Reamonn: The name given by the Arcanists is ‘Staff of the Farseer.’
• Wulf: Farseer is the name given to Ashlander seers, devotees of Azura. I wonder if that has any relevance.
• Reamonn: I can’t say. The name was on a scroll that arrived with the staff. I have no idea where that scroll may be or who donated the staff. It has been in the collection of the Priest Circle for centuries.
• Wulf: Serana and I had a look at the sick.
• Serana: The Blood Magic used by some of the Daedra has taken nutrients from their bodies. Simple rest and lots of vegetables will restore those nutrients.
• Reamonn: Healing potions are of no use?
• Wulf: It is like when Serana or I cast healing on a person. We can fix the injuries, but the body itself needs to replenish the blood and other fluids. Rest is required to recover strength. Leafy vegetables and sleep are the best treatments for what ails these people.
• Reamonn: We were at a loss as to the cause of their illness.
• Serana: You would not encounter Blood Magic very often.
• Reamonn: No, thank The Divines.
• Wulf: We will go and investigate Rejects Respite. Heed what I said and beware of Damian. But whatever you do, keep any suspicions you have to yourself. He is a danger to any who may thwart his ambition.
• Reamonn: And what is his ambition?
• Wulf: It is limitless. When he achieves one goal, he will move on to the next, and that process has no logical ending.
• Reamonn: Is he Sigmayne’s son?
• Wulf: He is the Daedra you saw run out of Scuttling Void in the Dwemer ruins.
• Reamonn: Oh! And you expect me to act normal around him?
• Serana: It is better to warn you so you do not accidentally cross him, don’t you think?
• Reamonn: Yes, it is.
• Wulf: Blessings of The Nine, Reamonn.

We left the temple and headed for the Soul Stone.

We used the Soul Stone to travel to The Maw.

It was not long before we encountered the first Witchmen.

An arrow to the forehead killed him.

Then a Hagraven attacked. An arrow to her forehead finished her as well.

A steep pathway led to a gate, then a bridge across a fast-flowing river.

Not far past the bridge, we saw Rejects Respite for the first time. It did not look inviting!

We made our way to the entrance.

Rigmor said, “Wulf, this place just seems wrong.”

I turned to Rigmor and replied, “It does have a sense of foreboding strong enough for Reamonn to detect with his scrying.”

“Let’s go somewhere nice after we have finished in Evermor.”

“Maybe a trip to the overlook. You can sing me another song!”

“Yeah, right, pfft!”

We entered Rejects Respite and discovered cheap wooden coffins. The type used in pauper burials.

Raised bars prevented further progress.

We climbed some stairs and found the lever to lower the bars.

I pulled the lever. We could then enter the rest of the facility.

It was apparent that Rejects Respite had been repurposed.

Unusual Skeletal Warriors enforced that idea.

The Skeletal Warriors did not collapse into a pile of bones or ash. They dissolved into ectoplasm.

As we travelled, we got the impression nobody else had travelled through the ruins in centuries.

We arrived at a door with a sign in several languages that said, ‘Mortal Ward’.

• Rigmor: So, in this part, we can expect insane people, not monsters?
• Wulf: Yeah, boring! I can’t wait to get to the Immortal Ward. Insane monsters are much more interesting.
• Serana: Go on, Rigmor, state the obvious.
• Rigmor: Wulf, you are weird!
• Wulf: Weird but loveable!
• Rigmor: Sometimes.

We had not stepped far into the Mortal Ward when a disembodied voice spoke to us.

• Spirit: You are real! I feel your warmth. Please, free us, release us from this prison.
• Wulf: Who are you, and how can we help?
• Spirit: That staff is the key. Whenever The Meat comes, use the key! The Meat won’t find another soul to consume!
• Wulf: Who or what is The Meat? Who are you?

We waited for a minute but were met with silence.

• Rigmor: I don’t think they are going to answer.
• Wulf: Well, maybe the Mortal Ward isn’t as boring as I thought it would be?
• Jordis: Wulf, you still haven’t told me what I did wrong to be picked for this squad.
• Wulf: I just thought you would enjoy the scenery.

We continued and arrived at a lecture hall. Most learning institutions have similar.

Rows of benches faced a stage upon which was a table. Upon the table was an emancipated corpse in the foetal position.

I told the others, “This is almost identical to the lecture hall at The College of Winterhold, where students attend anatomy classes. Bodies are dissected on a table similar to this.”

I examined the corpse and noticed something odd about it. All except Serana turned away as I cut it open. The insides showed no decay. The heart I saw was not that of a mortal.

I announced, “This is not a mortal but a Daedra of some sort. It shows no signs of decay.”

One exit had an unpickable lock.

As we approached another exit, the ruins shook violently as if in the epicentre of a strong earthquake.

The shaking stopped, and I turned to a frightened Rigmor.

• Rigmor: Wulf, what is happening?
• Wulf: I don’t know, but the corpse on the table has changed into the skeleton of a long-armed minion.
• Rigmor: And I suppose you are just going to wander over and have a look?  After all, it is exciting and not mind-numbingly terrifying!
• Wulf: Well, it is exciting, but I get the impression we should move on.
• Jordis: Rigmor, just then, did something fall and hit Wulf on the head?
• Wulf: Not at all, but Rigmor wants to get out of this room, and I am but her humble servant.
• Rigmor: What do you think, Jordis?
• Jordis: Wulf has done something wrong that you are yet to discover.
• Rigmor: Yes, that is what I suspect.
• Wulf: Okay then, I shall go over and inspect the minion’s skeleton.
• Rigmor: No, no need. Onward we go!

In the hallway exiting the lecture room was a table upon which was another Staff of the Farseer. I carried one, Serana the other.

The short corridor leading from the lecture room ended in an entrance to a long, narrow hall. Two strange devices could be seen at either end. A slot in the floor would allow a gate to be raised.

• Wulf: Nobody else follows me into the corridor until I reach the other side.
• Rigmor: What are those thingies on the roof.
• Wulf: I have seen similar in Dwemer ruins. They are alarms.
• Serana: Are you going to use the Whirly Wind Shout?
• Wulf: Whirlwind Sprint.
• Rigmor: I prefer Serana’s name. The Whirly Wind Shout!
• Wulf: That could get confused with Cyclone Shout.
• Rigmor: The Even More Whirly Shout.
• Jordis: Unrelenting Force could be Big Pushy!
• Rigmor: Slow Time could be Zippy!
• Erandur: I suggest you just do a Whirly Wind Shout before this conversation degenerates further.

Full-strength Whirlwind Sprint got me close to the other end of the corridor.

The ruins rocked once more as if an earthquake had struck.

Grates on both ends of the corridor shot upwards then a terrible screaming came from the alarms. The entire hall was bathed in red light.

In the narrow corridors parallel to the one I was in, emancipated, immobile figures appeared. They looked like they were cowering at their time of death.

My life force was being drained at a dramatic rate. An unprotected person would have died in seconds. As it was, I had less than thirty seconds to live even with the dweomer on my armour.

Rigmor yelled, “You are dying, Wulf. Get out of there! Please, get out!”

I armed myself with Farseer, pointed it at one of the alarms and willed it to trigger. Nothing visible emanated from the staff, but the alarm turned from bright red to blue.

I turned and did the same for the other alarm.

It, too, turned blue. The alarms ended, but I was still stuck in the corridor with raised gates at either end.

A gap in the grating enabled me to fire Farseer at a pull chain in the parallel corridor.

When I did so, the grates at both ends lowered.

The others joined me.

• Wulf: That is designed to prevent guests of Rejects Respite from leaving.
• Rigmor: What was happening to you? How did I know you were dying?
• Wulf: My lifeforce was being drained.
• Rigmor: Like that time when The Underking almost killed you?
• Wulf: Yes, but at a far faster rate than even The Underking managed.
• Erandur: That is why there was another Farseer staff!
• Wulf: Yes, the wardens or whatever they called those who looked after the incarcerated would need them to survive the corridor.
• Jordis: This place is getting more amusing as we go.
• Wulf: I know! Thrilling, isn’t it?
• Jordis: How old was Wulf when dropped on his head?
• Rigmor: I think it was a regular thing for many years.

Cobwebs suggested nobody else had used the corridor for some considerable time.

I pointed to a pile of red dirt and exclaimed, “Look, the first signs of Scuttling Void and another type of weird Skeletal Warrior that drips blood! Fascinating, absolutely fascinating!”

I walked up to the Skeletal Warrior and asked, “Do you have a name? How about Drippy? Do you like that name?”

The Skeletal Warrior swung a bloody arm at me in response. I cut it down.

Then I remarked, “That was very rude, Drippy. Very rude indeed!”

More signs of Scuttling Void were seen as we travelled.

We came to a room with yet another barred door blocking access.

Next to the door was a Dwemer cabinet, the lock of which took some effort to pick. Inside was a pull chain that lowered the barred door.

There were several things of interest in the room, including a large axe on a pivot.

• Wulf: If something pokes its head through the grating, it will get a splitting headache.
• Rigmor: I think your brain was sucked out, not your lifeforce.
• Serana: Come on, Rigmor, that was quite funny for a change!

Dwemer equipment sat above an alchemy table.

• Rigmor: What does that Dwemer machine do?
• Wulf: It removes dangerous fumes.
• Rigmor: Then we will need one in every privy you use.
• Wulf: And of course, Miss Countess leaves the privy smelling like roses.
• Jordis: Nothing compares to the latrines of an army camp.
• Serana: The undercroft of Castle Volkihar had the worst stench ever in the history of Nirn!

A skeleton sat in a chair with a hand covering its face.

• Erandur: Even the dead are embarrassed at the quality of discussion it has heard so far.
• Wulf: Well, if it has a bone to pick, it should say so.
• Erandur: Wulf, if we begged for mercy, would you stop with the puns?
• Rigmor: What is with the red glow?
• Wulf: Let me have a closer look.

A key was inserted into one of the vertebrae. When I removed the key, the skeleton’s head fell off. The soil of Scuttling Void suddenly covered the floors and walls.

The barred door slammed shut and a barrier protected it.

Blood poured from the ceiling.

We would soon be swimming in blood.

• Wulf: Oops!
• Serana: Oh, how quaint. A former Daughter of Coldharbour drowns in blood. Molag Bal would be highly amused.
• Wulf: You know the dweomer on our armour won’t allow that.
• Rigmor: You almost drowned in Scuttling Void.
• Wulf: That was an illusion.
• Jordis: Just another interesting interlude?
• Wulf: Precisely!

When the blood rose above our heads, Rigmor fixed me with one of her stares as if it was my fault the trap was triggered.

I looked up, and there was a tangle of Scuttling Void roots. All I had to do was wriggle between the gaps as the blood lifted me higher.

I did that and eventually saw a heart with roots leading to it.

I climbed onto the rocks next to the heart and aimed Farseer at it.

When I willed Farseer to trigger, nothing visible happened to the heart, but the blood started to drain rapidly.

I jumped down.

I cheerily announced, “Well, we can’t go any further this way. Let’s head back to the lecture hall!”

The blank stares I received were not indicators of shared enthusiasm.

We returned to the lecture hall without incident but stopped dead in our tracks upon entry. The corpse on the table had changed once more. It was now in a subservient kneeling position with head bowed.

I approached it to have a closer look.

The room was suddenly enveloped in a red glow, and a one way portal to Scuttling Void opened.

A pair of long-armed minions leapt from the portal and attacked. The Sentinels cut them down.

A red barrier circled a huddled figure in front of the portal.

Within ten seconds of eliminating two minions, another pair would leap from the portal.

When the portal appeared, so did two loops of thick roots.

I conducted experiments while the others took care of the minions.

If I used cast fire on the roots, they would spring back into place very quickly.

Lightening was the solution!

I quickly zapped both roots, which made the shield around the prone body dissipate.

I hit the prone body with Lightning, and it fell forward. The portal closed.

Rigmor asked sarcastically, “Still having fun, Sir Weirdo?”

I answered with genuine enthusiasm, “It is far more interesting than cutting down bandits and Draugr and the like! We don’t know what to expect next!”

The key that caused us to swim in blood opened the barred door.

Three red spirits, two wearing execution hoods, were waiting for us. The disembodied voice we heard earlier belonged to the only unhooded spirit.

I asked, “Were you patients in this institution?”

“Yes. We’ve not much time left here, the final destination calls. You have freed us from the cage of hate. The Meat recedes, and the promise of a good sleep returns.”

“We are pleased to have ended your torment.”

“An opening has formed from your actions, large enough for us to escape. Yet we must thank our saviours, and so we stay a moment longer.”

“We need to access the lower levels of this place.”

“The path has been cleared, yet that path becomes ever steeper. It is a decent you may not climb. Do you wish to continue?”

“What dangers do we face?”

“The Meat only sleeps. It has not died. We will depart before its waking, and you should do the same. Let no other enter these halls.”

“What do we do if The Meat awakens?”

“Keep your determination. Do not let the terror stall your feet. Goodbye. Thank you all.”

The spirits faded.

I turned to my friends.

• Wulf: Well, I’ll admit it. I have no idea what is going on!
• Rigmor: And here we are, hoping you would tell us.
• Wulf: It’s still fun though, am I right or what?
• Serana: I am positive there is some deep symbolism hidden somewhere in the chaos.
• Jordis: I prefer bad guys I can understand and stab.
• Rigmor: Same here, Jordis.
• Wulf: It seems that we cannot return the same way once we head down.
• Rigmor: If you dare suggest we don’t have to accompany you, I will bite!
• Serana: We can always teleport if we find ourselves trapped.
• Wulf: Okay, let’s see what fun awaits!
• Jordis: Oh…goody!

We headed through a door and downwards.

We ended up travelling parts of a long-abandoned mine.

Rich deposits of Quicksilver suggest something severe must have occurred for the abandonment of such wealth.

The mine came to an apparent end. However, the large slab of rock was surrounded by three filled Black Soul Gems.

I pointed Farseer at the middle of the slab and triggered it.

The slab slowly faded to reveal a door.

We entered into a short tunnel that opened into a room containing a familiar symbol.

I walked up to the symbol and grumbled, “Wulf, you are a fucking idiot!”

Rigmor replied, “At last, he understands the truth! But seriously, my beloved, why do you think you are an idiot?”

“It wasn’t the Witchmen where I first saw this symbol. I saw it in Grey Belmor. It was above the doorway to the room that contained the beating heart. The heart I had to destroy to stop the first long-armed minion we encountered.”

“But you must have seen similar in Apocrypha?”

“Yes, on a book and pedestal when solving a puzzle. The symbols must be very similar for me to make a mistake.”

“Well, there is no harm done apart from the dent to your ego.”

“Rigmor, it is another dent to my confidence. I must believe I am right and not start questioning myself. I won’t be able to function if I do.”

“Did you think it vital information at the time?”

“No. it was just an observation.”

“Then you did not give it as much thought as you would if it was vital. So, forget the simple mistake and concentrate on this place. It is dangerous.”

“And fun!”

The symbol was placed central to a round slab of rock which was slightly off centre from its base. Lighted candles surrounded the symbol. We have long given up trying to figure out who or what lights candles in old ruins.

• Wulf: This top slab slides to the side.
• Serana: It would weigh many tonnes.
• Jordis: There could be some counterweight mechanism that moves it.
• Serana: I think we can all agree the slab has been moved. That suggests there is a lower level that we will have to get to another way.

A skeleton lay on the slab. In amongst the bones was a key.

I could smell something, so I turned my lantern to its maximum and used night vision. With the extra light, I could see vapours from Scuttling Void.

There were four exits to the room. The one we came through.

One with raised bars.

One entrance led to some fluorescent ice.

And one that led to normal-looking corridors. We decided to go that way first. The key from the skeleton unlocked the door.

A raised bridge blocked one direction.

In the opposite direction was a small room. A pull chain in the room lowered the bridge.

We crossed the bridge and entered another small room.

The raised bars in the room with the circular slab could be seen.

A pull chain lowered them.

A familiar roar echoed, and I ran to warn Rigmor.

“Rigmor, that is the creature from Grey Belmor! When I destroyed the heart, it did not die but vanished. It will be after me!”

Jordis yelled, “What the hell is that thing?”

We rushed to see.

I looked down. The creature looked up and spotted its prey. It teleported to me!

“It can’t be defeated and will hunt me until we stop it. Those tentacles are poisonous, but the dweomer on your armours should protect you. It is much stronger than the long-armed minions. It can only teleport every thirty seconds or so. You will need to keep it busy while I figure out how to get rid of it!”

We were still not at the lowest level of the complex. I tried to go lower, but the creature kept getting in the way.

The Sentinels worked well together and kept the creature occupied as I squeezed past.

I was approaching what I was sure was the lowest level. I watched in horror as Rigmor’s block with her sword was knocked aside, and she was sent flying down a corridor.

As it closed in on the prone Rigmor, Erandur whacked the creature and got its attention.

As I reached Rigmor, she got to her feet and rejoined the fight. On the way past, she said, “If you call this fun, I will kick you in the cobblers!”

I ran down some steps and into a narrow corridor lined with heavily chained and padlocked cells. Each cell has a plaque, but I did not stop to read them.

I looked up and saw Rigmor with others trying to restrict the movement of the beast.

At the end of the corridor was a skeleton from which I retrieved yet another key.

The key opened a cabinet housing a twist and pull lever.

I operated the lever, which lowered some bars and allowed access to a small room.

The key I had would not open yet another cabinet. As I prepared to pick the lock, the creature teleported behind me.

I summoned The Sentinels, who formed a line between me and the creature. Rigmor teleported via our rings.

As they battled the creature, I concentrated on the lock. With a satisfying click, the lock unlatched. There was another twist and pull lever inside.

I operated the lever, and Rigmor yelled, “Was that wise, Dragonbum? You just opened all the cells!”

The creature ran towards the far end of the corridor, where the roof was starting to collapse. I yelled, “Do not pursue! Let me lead, for we don’t know what I have released!”

Rigmor quipped, “Something cute and cuddly. That is why our friend ran away.”

I stepped forward and looked into the first cell on my right. There was some sort of bone sculpture. I stepped into the cell to get a closer look. I sensed malice and animosity beyond anything ever experienced.

I quickly backpedalled, but it was too late. A stream of blood spewed forth from the bone sculpture.

Such was the force of the blood I was pushed backwards and out of the cell.

Then something attacked my mind, almost shattering my blocks.

The bone sculpture had followed to the entrance of the cell.

I collapsed and almost lost consciousness.

A familiar voice, the one I heard as I was dying in Scuttling Void, whispered, “Rise and forget the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark.”

Rigmor screamed, “Wulf! I lost you for a second. Wulf!”

I slowly got to my feet and faced Rigmor.

I told her, “I am perfectly okay. I am a bit dizzy after some weird Hedge-Magic tried to get through my mental barrier.”

‘You just came backwards out of this cell then fell. Then I couldn’t feel you via our rings!”

“You didn’t see all the blood?”

“Ahh, whose blood?”

“The great big torrent of blood that pushed me out of the cell.”

“Nope, no blood. There is none on you or anywhere else.”

Rigmor was correct. There was no blood as it was another illusion. My mind blocks are not enough, and I will have to find a way to protect myself from them.

I looked inside the cell. Where the bone sculpture had been was an inert teleport.

I read out loud the plaque attached to the cell.

“Subject #1: Empty Eater

Only enter if the pertinent spell had been conducted on the warden. Tether warden so that subject does not pull warden deeper.”

Rigmor laughed, then said, “The wardens must have been prettier than you. The Empty Eater didn’t drag you in but pushed you out!”

I looked in cell number two and discovered a dead Hagraven lying on the ground. It would have been in the direct line of the Empty Eater attack.

I asked, “Rigmor, did anybody attack this Hagraven?”

“None of us did. The long-armed thingy was way down the corridor when you collapsed, and that Hagraven screeched at the same time.”

The Hagraven was of the beaked type. It had been incarcerated with some of the usual paraphernalia associated with her kind.

I read aloud the plaque for cell two.

“Subject #2: Supernal Custodian

Wardens must use protective ear equipment to prevent communication with the subject. Nullifier must be used before entering to negate subject’s magic.”

I commented, “Supernal can mean one of several things. We have no reference to decide which meaning applies to this Hagraven.”

The third cell had a non-beating heart attached to vines. It was slightly different from the one I had to destroy in Grey Belmor. This one had two distinct types of vines. One type was blood red, like arteries carrying blood and the other type was sickly green mixed with rust or dried blood colour.

I read the plaque out loud.

“Subject #3: The Halved

No protective equipment is required. The subject is fragile, so refrain from harsh treatment as the body will dismember upon trauma. If arachnid subject is also in the room, exit immediately and use the alarm.”

Rigmor exclaimed, “Husk and Ambition were imprisoned here!”

“Yes, when they were a single entity. They probably relied on that inert heart for their immortality while here.”

“Namira must have helped them, it, whatever, escape. That must have thought that might happen, and that is why they were worried about arachnids. Those Crawler Daedra.”

“I am fairly sure that cell was properly locked, so Namira must have taken them to Scuttling Void without opening it.”

“I wonder why they were put here? The other things have warnings. They were harmless, and no protective gear was needed.”

“Maybe we will find out if I ever get to speak to Husk.”

Cell four had a child’s bed. On a table were different mountain flowers arranged in a row. A washbasin, chair and several high-quality paintings constituted the rest of the furnishings.

• Wulf: Rigmor, can you step away for a minute.
• Rigmor: Why?
• Wulf: Please just exit the room for a few seconds.
• Rigmor: Okay.

Rigmor exited the room.

• Wulf: Erandur, how do you feel right this second?
• Erandur: Relaxed. Comforted. The unease I have felt since entering this facility is gone.
• Jordis: I feel the same.
• Serana: As I do!

Rigmor returned.

• Wulf: Rigmor, I asked you to move away so I could be sure. This room mimics our quiet.
• Rigmor: What?!
• Jordis: Both of you have tried to explain this ‘quiet’ that you share, and now I understand. What a wonderful thing it is!
• Erandur: Truly a gift from The Nine.
• Wulf: Yes, this room is not as effective, but I am pleased it gives you some insight.
• Rigmor: Why are you entering the rooms and then reading the plaque?
• Wulf: So that my observations are not biased and formed opinions are free of preconceptions.
• Rigmor: Any guesses who was in this cell?
• Wulf: Either a child or a very short adult.
• Rigmor: Idiot!
• Wulf: Let’s read the plaque!

I read the plaque out loud.

“Subject 4: Fallen

Do not stay longer than five minutes within the room. Use protective clothing before touching the subject.

WARNING: CRYING CAN RESULT IN FATALITY!”

• Wulf: A dweomer to produce calm was used to prevent Fallen from crying.
• Serana: I can guarantee nothing left this room when the doors opened. I was watching our friend run away had a good view.
• Erandur: The same here. I wonder where Fallen went?
• Wulf: It may have been collected by Namira at the same time as The Halved.
• Rigmor: In a way, I am glad the cell was empty. If the entity looked like a child, we would have had a dilemma.
• Wulf: I am quite capable of separating form from function. I might hesitate slightly but would still be capable of defending against and killing an enemy in child form.
• Rigmor: My darling Wulf, that is a load of bovine excrement.
• Wulf: Okay, you might be right. I have never been confronted with such a choice.
• Serana: It would be interesting to study how Fallen’s cry could kill.
• Jordis: It probably sounds like Inigo’s singing.
• Wulf: That is a terrifying thought!

We entered cell number five. In the middle was a well. On either side of the well were pipes that dripped blood into the well.

Mortals had been placed in what looked like ovens, and it was their blood that dripped.

Everybody but Rigmor and me stepped out of the room. Senseless terror gripped their hearts when staring at the black nothingness of the well. Our quiet provided immunity.

I stood over the well and put my hand up for silence. Scraping and, aptly, scuttling could be heard from below.

Curiosity sated, Rigmor and me joined the others.

I read the plaque out loud.

“Subject #5: ScuttleMan

Keep minimum one-yard distance from hole perimeter. Keep fed constantly.”

• Rigmor: Keep one-yard distance is the advice, but you stood directly over the hole.
• Wulf: That is why I don’t read the plaques first. You would have tried to stop me!
• Serana: The blood in those buckets and dripping down was fresh. Somebody has been feeding ScuttleMan.
• Wulf: Maybe Ambition formed a bond with it when incarcerated?
• Serana: I wonder who ScuttleMan’s dinner used to be?
• Wulf: People who won’ be missed. Maybe even Witchmen.
• Jordis: Still having fun, Wulf?
• Wulf: Indubitably!
• Erandur: What could be more fun than playing catch me if you can with an immortal Daedra?
• Wulf: Playing catch me if you can with two immortal Daedra!
• Rigmor: Sorry to spoil your fun, but you can’t enter the last cell.

Rigmor was correct. Scuttling Void roots had smashed the door off its hinges and filled the entire cell. The roots crashed through the ceiling and caused the collapse we witnessed from the other end of the passage.

I read the plaque out loud.

“Subject #6: Meat

ONLY OPEN IF SUBJECT BREACHES DOOR. IF GROWTH IS FOUND BEYOND DOOR, RESORT TO INCENDIARY PRECAUTION.”

• Wulf: Now we know who Meat is!
• Serana: Is this root one gigantic organism?
• Wulf: That seems to be the case, and I find that extremely exciting!
• Rigmor: You are excited about a big root?
• Serana: Umm, Rigmor?
• Rigmor: Oh, I forgot that root is now one of the many words colloquially used for fuck. It is hard to keep up with them all!
• Jordis: Screw, copulate, fornicate, procreate, shag, bonk, hump, boff, roger, tup etc. We were once bored in the Solitude barracks and listed over two hundred synonyms for fuck.
• Wulf: Back onto the topic of this big, long and exciting root.
• Rigmor: Now you are doing it deliberately.
• Wulf: Where is your mind wandering off to? I am talking about the big, red thing in front of you.
• Rigmor: Why use words like ‘incendiary precaution’. Why not just say, “BURN IT!”
• Wulf: The plaque was probably written by one of those pompous nobles from Bruma.
• Serana: Quickly changing the subject before violence erupts. What next?
• Wulf: I will use incendiary precautions and see where our long-armed friend has gone.

Casting Incendiary on the roots made them move out of our way.

We eventually reached a narrow tunnel leading even further down.

We exited the tunnel into a vast cavern.

• Rigmor: This is the same type of architecture we saw in Umbasir. There is a lot of Ayleid influence.
• Wulf: It is a mixture of Direnni and Ayleid.
• Serana: Yesterday, I said it reminded me of Snow Elf architecture. I suppose all three Mer races have similar aesthetic preferences.

Something caught my eye. I used zoom-vision to get a closer look.

• Wulf: Rigmor, how would you like to meet an Ayleid?
• Rigmor: A live Ayleid?
• Wulf: More of a dead, possible hostile Ayleid in spirit form.
• Rigmor: Umm…let me think…would an emphatic ‘no’ be of a shock to you?
• Serana: Sorry, Wulf, but none of us wants to meet a possibly hostile Ayleid spirit.
• Wulf: Such blatant xenophobia! He might be a charming and not hostile Ayleid spirit.
• Erandur: You can do your sheathed weapon. I mean you no harm, oh shit, they’re attacking routine. We will just stand back ready to deliver wisdom in the form of, ‘I told you so!’
• Wulf: Maybe we can bypass all this and find another way forward.
• Rigmor: Forward to where?
• Wulf: Forward to wherever we end up.
• Rigmor: Have you got us lost?
• Wulf: Not at all. If you go straight up, you will eventually reach Evermor.

We continued down the path. It soon became apparent that Witchmen populated the vicinity.

We found the Witchmen. A Hagraven cackled, “I told you the pretty ones would visit!”

I said to the group, “The hag is measuring us up for some flesh sculpting.”

Rigmor replied, “Over my dead body! Oh, that’s the point, isn’t it!”

We quickly took care of the Witchmen then had a look at their camp.

They had been dissecting an Undead Afflicted.

We descended into the facility ever further.

We came to a flat cavern with a relatively low ceiling.

Parts of the ancient ruins had been built over. An Ayleid Well was one example.

We entered a small cavern alight with the red glow of Scuttling Void.

An inert portal was situated between two shallow pools of blood.

A short set of stairs led further down.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, a metal wall behind us and a stone wall in front of us lowered.

I looked left, then right.

Then I looked behind and knew precisely where we were.

• Wulf: Mortifayne’s keep has a well with a portal. This shrine is where it leads.
• Rigmor: But when you visited, there was a grate blocking where we are standing.
• Wulf: Yes, there was. In one direction, you have two Shrines of Namira, back-to-back. I assume the door at the very back leads to that large cavern with the spirit Ayleid.
• Rigmor: The door that gave me a headache for three hours.
• Serana: The one you viewed through Wulf’s eyes?
• Rigmor: Yep, that one.
• Wulf: In the other direction is The Void.
• Erandur: How do you know that?
• Wulf: I spent three days teetering on its edge with Azura using all her power on Nirn to stop me from entering it.
• Serana: Why have an entry into The Void?
• Wulf: I suppose it is one way to connect Mundus with Oblivion for entities that can survive the passage.
• Rigmor: Wulf, tell me you are not contemplating going down that passage!
• Wulf: We shall have a look at the cavern. If I don’t see anything of use there, then yes, I shall step into The Void.
• Serana: You would die within seconds!
• Wulf: Remember, Special Child, I will help whenever I can, but my light is weak. However, even the faintest flame can act as a beacon against the background of a deep night. That flame will appear to you in a maze of darkness when you need it most.
• Erandur: This is what Lady Mara was preparing you for!
• Wulf: Intuition, logic and most importantly, faith tells me that is so.
• Rigmor: Once again, you will walk into what can kill you without a second thought!
• Wulf: Not long ago, you promised not to give me cause to second guess myself or try to stop me from doing what I have to do. I hate that it makes you fret and worry, but this is why The Divines placed me on Nirn. I believe for the good of others that I must walk into The Void.
• Rigmor: I try! I did not flinch yesterday when you walked into Apocrypha. There is nothing you can do to protect yourself against The Void! Even I know that without being a mage, scientist, scholar, or another form of smartarse! In places like Apocrypha, you have skills to aid your survival.
• Wulf: I have faith. As I said before, The Void is another way of travelling to Oblivion. All gods can traverse The Void, and I think Lady Mara has a way of guiding and protecting me as I do the same.
• Serana: It is easy to lose the way in The Void. Even regular users of it would construct pathways to their regular destinations.
• Rigmor: At least you are not leaping right in. Let us go and see where the Ayleid doorway leads.

I led the group through the chamber. I let them stare at and study the same macabre contents that I had when I first visited.

The two portals were active, and I still had no desire to see where they went.

We exited the door into the large cavern.

I approached the spirit Ayleid with weapons sheathed.

I cheerfully said, “Hello!”

The Ayleid spirit not so cheerfully attacked with Destruction spells.

I turned it into ectoplasm. My smartarse companions said in unison, “We told you so!”

A constant and pitiful crying echoed around the cavern. Its source was the building we had just exited.

It took a single arrow for me to dispose of a long-armed minion.

We waded through the shallow water.

I soon stopped.

• Wulf: Continue in this direction, and upwards, you will come out near The Maw Soul Stone.
• Rigmor: How do you know that?
• Wulf: The Witchmen we killed had to enter from somewhere. They didn’t come through Rejects Respite. Nor did they casually meander through Raven Spring and Mortifayne’s keep then jump down the well.
• Rigmor: And the religious centre of The Witchmen in Evermor is near The Maw.
• Wulf: See, logic sometimes works!
• Serana: Our teleport spells will work from here. We could always exit that way.
• Wulf: I looked at this cavern as I said I would. Perhaps you might find something on the way out, but I want to follow the trail of the Daedra that ran when I opened the cells. We have gained no insight into Ambition or gained evidence of his involvement in the murders.
• Erandur: Are you positive we did not lose that trail?
• Wulf: I am not one hundred per cent sure of anything. I will, as usual, let my intuition lead the way.
• Rigmor: You will be right about this, Wulf. Don’t let me seed doubt.

We headed back to Namira’s shrine and the weeping woman.

We climbed a different set of stairs than we had descended. The long-armed Daedra had been this way as dead Witchmen left a clear trail of evidence.

We entered Namira’s shrine and approached the entrance to The Void.

The Sentinels allows Rigmor and me some space.

Rigmor asked, “How long will you be gone?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know if time travels at the same rate in The Void. I don’t know if I am entering Oblivion at the end and, if so, what part. All I know is a deep conviction that I must do this.”

“Do you remember the day that Miraak’s goons attacked Riften’s Temple of Mara?”

“How could I forget? I get angry just thinking about it!”

“You rushed me off to High Hrothgar. There you sang some songs to me.”

“And I was trying to convince you I was not a good choice as a partner.”

“I said I was willing to be a soldier’s wife. I argued that you fight for love and family, so how could I deny you those very things.”

“I was fooling myself. I could never let you go, but I still feel selfish.”

“Go and do what you need to do. I will be waiting.”

“Get out of this place quickly and back to Silverpeak Lodge. Promise me that!”

“Okay, and I will know the second you are back on Nirn. So don’t yap to other people first!”

“Agreed.”

I gave Rigmor a quick kiss as if I was off on an errand, not walking into the unknown.

I hesitated just before the boundary to The Void.

I touched the ring gifted by Lady Mara and said, “I love you, my dear, sweet, Rigmor Ragnarsdottir.”

“And I love you, my Guardian, Dragonborn and my favourite weirdo.”

I stepped forward. Everything ceased to exist! No light, warmth or sense of time assailed my senses. My lifeforce was draining quickly.

Lady Mara’s avatar appeared. I could see I was on planking similar to that laid down in many mines.

The Divine spoke, “Under my wing, Special Child. You have entered the darkest durance at the end of the world and is the dominion of tragedy. Do not leave my light, or the black will swallow you.”

I approached Mara, and my lifeforce was renewed.

I drew my sword and destroyed a barrier across the boardwalk.

Mara continued to move and talk.

“The history of hate in Evermor traces its roots here. The seeds of mistruth about a heroic king were planted and have grown. The branches are tearing through the earth and perverting all life above.”

Even in The Void, the devotees of Namira left their arranged corpses. For what purpose my logical brain cannot determine.

“Witchmen, those misguided souls were stolen from my grace, then moulded in the shape of the foul and false King’s form. I did not reach them in time, and in turn, another Mother took my place.”

I yearned to comfort Lady Mara, but, alas, I could not speak to her even in my mind. But I could cry, and I wept at the dismay the Goddess of Love and Compassion expressed.

“Where I had hoped to impart a will to live in them, that Dark Mother had brought an antithesis. Preying on their fears and animosity and exaggerating these insecurities to heights unforeseen.”

Lady Mara eloquently described a favourite recruiting method of Daedric Princes. Greed and the promise of power are also common incentives.

“And so, the same tragedy that played the Witchmen finds itself repeating with those behind their walls. A schism forms between those found wanting and those who are rich. Material beauty and status become tenets to the divide.”

Even though Lady Mara was telling me what I already knew, her motherly tone compelled me to listen to each idea as if a revelation.

“Extremes are tempting in dire times when the status quo had proven to have failed. However, it is often with these extremes that irrevocable damage occurs.”

We halted at an entrance to Scuttling Void.

“Pull the disenfranchised out of the muddy waters, mediate and save whatever you can. I am weak, Special Child, but you are strong. You have one thing that I lack.”

I found I could talk now that we had stopped moving.

I said, “Mediation has proved futile so far. What could I possibly possess than my gods do not?”

“True empathy! Gods lacking the same fragility of mortals cannot grasp it.”

Long-lived Mer are often accused of a lack of empathy. I was surprised to hear a Divine express the same generalisation about herself.

“Those on the mortal plane who are swallowed by obsession, trauma or rage will find themselves a world which mimics that terrible, bloodied land you traversed and are soon to again.”

I stifled the curiosity that urged me to ask how Mara knows what Scuttling Void looks like.

“To have hope dim and hate simmer in these times is understandable, expected. So is pessimism when you look at history as a series of tragedies. However, you run the risk of looking through that wretched lens of despair until your passing.

Every moment of good is then ignored. Every small triumph and miracle is trivialised against some other atrocity. You avoid every opportunity, trepid to every chance, fearful of the risks. Subsequently, you stay clinging to what you know.

This does not apply to you, Special Child. As you still march on with a yearning to halt a disaster, rather than letting rampage runs its course, as the cynic inside us would do without hesitation.

I am burdened with the curse of prescience, the prescience of tragedy, and I weep.”

“Lady Mara, surely your prescience is more akin to foresight? If the tragedy you weep over was unavoidable, then my actions are of no consequence, and free will cannot exist.”

“That is true, and your parents have taught you well.”

“Perhaps one day I will remember the teaching and not just the knowledge imparted.”

“The Nine hope that is the case.”

“Please forgive my self-pity and continue, Lady Mara.”

“You will talk with a soul who was beholden to ultimate misfortune, and I was too late to help him.”

I replied, “My fate is amongst the wretched, as this vessel keeps me shackled to destiny. My face, ugly and untrustworthy, destroys my ambitions and hopes. No solace here. Mother, hear me.”

“Special Child, where did you find his plea?”

“In the Dark Mother’s realm. It was written in Ayleidoon, and Silah translated it for me.”

“He names himself Wayward Husk. Feel sympathy for him, but don’t let his spoiled tongue coerce you into committing evil.”

“Lady Mara, I ask with concern, have I ever committed evil or been tempted to do so?”

“No, it was unneeded advice. I just wish I could have saved him. If only I were stronger! Tell him I am sorry. Though I’m afraid, any apologies are too late.”

“Mortals cannot rely on Divine Intervention. We were given free will and the choice to help ourselves and ask other mortals for help. The so-called Priest Circle did not teach the people of Evermor that!”

“You are as outspoken as your parents. Keep the faith, Special Child, and become that indomitable effigy of hope that we, The Nine, know you are.”

Lady Mara’s avatar faded, and I was alone once more. I walked through a short, narrow tunnel and then into Scuttling Void.

I was in a pocket plane of Scuttling Void created by Husk. Much art was spread throughout, and I was determined to study and try and comprehend much of it.

I did not expect a blue, sunny sky. Perhaps Husk was trying to make me more comfortable?

The long-armed Daedra that fled Rejects Respite was bowing in subservience. I assumed his head was pointed towards Husk.

I walked a bit further then turned to view the tunnel from which I exited. Dragon bones had been placed to make the cave represent the birth canal.

Buildings with the green pod-like plants growing out of them were reminiscent of Raven Spring during the Daedra invasion.

When in Grey Belmor, we encountered a mortal who had been experimented upon. It looked like somebody had been altering its body through surgery. A larger version of such a mortal was lying prone, and when I approached, Meat, as I now call the vines, wrapped around the legs and torso.

Some of the art was purely abstract.

Once piece represented the impossible task of escaping affairs of the heart.

Why did Husk balance huge boulders precariously atop mountains? Because he could!

I assumed Husk awaited me inside a large green head. It was vaguely Orsimer in shape with wagon wheels, perhaps to represent Aurbis, acting as eyes. In front was one of the more infamous Ayleid devices called Wailing Wheels, which were used for what they termed ‘Art Torture’. Gut Gardens and other ‘artforms’ of the Ayleid used deceased slaves. Art Torture used live slaves. Sometimes arenas would be full of Ayleid enjoying such torture for their entertainment. Wealthy Ayleid would invite guests to private viewings. The Thalmor invited Baa’Ren-Dar to view the whipping of Rigmor. The ‘Wailing Wheel’ was known throughout Tamriel and became symbolic of the savagery of that once majestic race.

I looked back at the display Husk had arranged. Like the ‘artwork’ that I saw on the way to the tower and the Sigil Stone, only a fraction of mortal experience was represented. Where are the children laughing, the lovers embracing, the joys of friendship and family?

I could see no cable or other devices attached to a prison cage. I entered it anyway, and as expected, it lifted me up and towards the green head, rotating as it went.

The cage turned one hundred and eighty degrees as it climbed. When it stopped, a bridge, perhaps representing a tongue, rolled out. Husk stood and waited for me within the mouth of his creation.

I approached halfway and stopped. My hands I kept well away from weapons. Even in Oblivion, it is polite to be invited into another’s home.

The familiar voice of my rescuer said, “Hither the maw of my goliath. After so many years, a soul has navigated the black web to find us.”

“Greetings, Husk.”

“At last, an audience. Intrepid is your spirit. No harm will befall you here. Invulnerable is the flesh where I so will. Now approach.”

I moved closer but remained out of weapon range. I was well aware of Husk’s power within his pocket plane and did not want conflict born of misunderstanding.

I explained, “I was seeking evidence of Ambition’s involvement in a murder. Instead, I find myself addressing you.”

“You have found your quarry’s past, absconded with another form in the present. The Ego willed itself from vestiges of identity, leaving its legacy. Leaving me.”

“It calls itself Ambition, but Ego is an apt description. I understand why Ego discarded you. You are emotions and memories that would hinder its plans. Your essence threatens the very reason it willed itself into existence.”

“Yes, I am what remains of a desire, a want to forget. Here we recognise the fates of those within the original drama. Love, unrequited, and the desire to be remembered. Oh, they all scream the same demand. They demand to be actualised!”

I followed Husk further into his goliath.

“To chaos, from stasis, between our story is told. The curtain unfurled, revealing the ever-still. Here is where we begin. In this perfect absence, two beings lived with no knowledge of each other. No knowledge of themselves.”

Husk proceeded to dramatise one of the more popular creation myths.

Three figures appeared from the gloom. The pure white statue represented Nir. A lighter mannequin represented Anu, and the darker mannequin represented Padomay.

“Tranquil and definite was this peace, so tempting was its silence. And so, it was befallen. The third had come.”

There are several variations on how Nir came to be. Husk preferred the theory that Nir simply appeared.

“She appeared, shattering the nothing – oh she brought vision, oh she brought sound. In a word, she brought a medium. In this sudden immediacy; Recognition and the first want.”

An explosion of red pantomimed the arrival of Nir.

Suddenly Anu and Nir were standing together. Padomay was on his knees with his head bowed.

“And so, the two inert beings from black awoke to her summoning. The original drama, the first impulse. They sought her heart.”

I followed Husk as he moved away from the first scene of his play. He spoke as we walked.

“Yet two, and only one. The dilemma! The contradiction! Child of this new conflict, firstborn: Scarcity. Twinned shortly with sister: Disparity.”

A large heart appeared, floating in the black, attached to nothing.

“Churned did this new world in the fresh tumult. Twisting was the new tension. The old stasis was dead. Gone was that peace, never to return.

For the medium made her choice of the two, and so the unloved sank into confusion: Why had I not been chosen? What was he compared to me? What am I?

Introspection. Sentient and alone. The woe of every mortal, all sourced to this bygone ancestor.

See thyself! Make clear the distinction between you and that. That which shares not your will, and you which submits to your want. Identity.”

Padomay’s actions and emotions may have been early examples, but they were not the source of such fundamentals of mortal existence. I resisted the urge to argue against Husk’s declaration and let him continue his performance uninterrupted. I hoped by doing so that I could soon continue aiding the people of Evermor. Nothing so far today, as with the entirety of yesterday, will be of much use in that endeavour.

“So rapid is this moment, so fragile were you made to feel. Wishing not to be forgotten, it must adapt.

However, the loveless is sunken in something alien. Hatred and jealousy are born here and taken in full. The loveless gives way to reprisal, for it cannot stay idle with the knowledge that others enjoy.

Enjoy what he cannot!”

Spikes pierced the heart. Husk could probably fill entire arenas with such tragic re-enactments, but I was getting bored. I knew how the story ended.

What would I do if somebody took Rigmor from me? What if she found somebody she preferred? Would I calmly and logically figure out why and accept? Would I be content to walk away knowing she would be happy and that was more important than my feelings? I like to think I could do better than Padomay.

“Ancestor, had you been humble, we would have peace.

Ancestor, had you been accepting, we would have unity.

You had but submit and waste away, content with your inferiority.

Your actions left us with the worst of delusions. Hope. Torture of ambition.”

Husk shuffled away for the next scene. I followed with growing impatience. Blaming gods for mortal imperfections is ignorant. Blaming Padomay is senseless. Calling hope a delusion is ridiculous.

“So, with your ambition, you conspired. Plotting the undoing of the newly-wed.”

Anu and Nir appeared with their child, which was creation. However, Husk deviated from common belief. He shuffled the order of events, and I care not to correct everything in this journal. Learned readers should already be familiar with this story from the books ‘The Annotated Anuad’ and ‘The Monomyth’.

I will describe the rest of the drama as enacted by Husk.

“Above him, they embraced, so small did he feel in awe of their love. Down here, there was loathing. Up with them was joy. That contrast burned deeper still.

Where there could have been content, it was replaced with murderous intent.

Its wordless ravings were silenced, aghast in its prowl. He stared upon the sacred birth, the world itself. The tyranny of their love broke him to kneel.”

Husk went into full overacting mode.

“Enough! I am! I am exist. Exist was I ever since! Exist! Exist! I am! You sought to forget I!

Suffer that of my invention! Hatred!”

Padomay now stood upon Nir.

“She could not be his, so she shall not be at all! She, the medium, is subject to his power. Dominion over all through force. Can you see it, transient? The coming of Dream!”

Anu now stood upon Nir and face to face Padomay.

“Violence unprecedented seared every shadow with red destruction. It truly begins! The mortal plight! Matter annihilating matter, entropy spiralling!”

Padomay lay defeated. Anu bent over Nir in grief.

“The loveless had reproduced, now these dichotomous gods battle – revenge in the hearts of both. The stars are gaining their flame!

Ultimately, it was not for the first pariah to win. His was a battle of spiteful suicide. The then-lover despairs, broken, and now trauma is all it is.

Holding closely, the medium cannot return. Permeance. Mortality. Death. Pleading, his focus beyond the final act of the felled pariah.

Striking the back, trust absconds. The then-lover is soon to share in death. So much has transpired, so much. Reality has overwhelmed.”  

Husk started walking toward a portal to Mundus, and I followed. I had to suppress the urge to skip and clap. This load of bollocks was ending!

“Oh, ancestors, if only you could have solved your petty dispute in peace.

Were it so easy.

So now, he dreams. Our world is inflicted with the traumas he witnessed.

Here be echoes, making sense of a nightmare.

And so concludes the play, but hold your applause, save it for what’s to come. For art cannot be appreciated without knowing intent.”

Husk stopped before the portal and waited for me to join him.

“Intent can be discovered in your world, not here. Many plays await actors and audiences alike. I won’t deprive them of you.

Lastly, take this – the choice of ideas you wish to nurture. It will soon be yours to make. Take care of it.”

Husk and Scuttling Void faded.

Nirn slowly came into focus.

Husk thought he could gift me free will! That was a gift of The Divines, not some minor Daedra. My anger quickly subsided when my beloved spoke through our rings.

“You’re back! Oh, my darling, you’re back! Where are you?”

“Not quite sure where I am. Aha…Deepcrag, which is a strange spot to be teleported to.”

“What took so long?”

“Long? It is just before 1:00 PM. I have been gone just over six hours.”

“It is the twenty-third. You have been gone for four days.”

“Oh! The time slip must have happened in The Void. I know it didn’t happen in Scuttling Void.”

Rigmor was crying. It is a very unpleasant thing to experience over our rings.

Rigmor settled then explained, “That is by far the longest break without our connection since Lady Mara gave is the rings. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat or do anything but sit and wait and worry.”

“Where are you?”

“Silverpeak Lodge.”

“I can hear Commander Drugo nearby. Let me find out what has happened while I was away. Then we can sit and talk. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I have wasted over five days with the trip to Umbasir and Rejects Respite and learned nothing of use to aid in my Divine Task.