In that instant, the journal emitted a flash of incredibly bright purplish-white light, momentarily blinding me as a fierce wind kicked up, and I brought an arm up over my eyes protectively as I tried to figure out what on Nirn was going on. The ring, still in located securely in the lock, was glowing intensely, though it was no longer as blinding, but it was far from finished with whatever it was doing as it suddenly issued a translucent beam of the aforementioned colored light that shot towards the heavens, unwavering and awe-inspiring. I was certain that people all over Skyrim could see it, or at least the people in Whiterun or in Ivarstead would be in for an interesting evening. I glanced over at Nightbrook to try and guess his reaction, only to notice that his hood had been knocked away from his face, presumably by the gale that was still continuing to mess with my hair and tear at my robes, and I couldn't help but stare.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that he was considerably more attractive than I'd been expecting. His facial features were defined and somewhat angular, like those of a typical mer, with his defined, slightly sharp-looking jaw and high cheekbones giving him a dramatic, regal look. His skin was entirely absent of wrinkles, and was light, almost pale white -but of a healthy pallor - and had an almost golden sheen to it, clearly displaying his mixed bloodline, and my eyes immediately flickered to a rather noteworthy scar located on the left side of his face just under his lower lip, and, though it was only a few centimeters in length, it stood out quite a bit against the rest of his skin, as it had healed a bit darker than the rest. His eyes turned out to have deep reddish-brown irises and golden-yellow sclera, and they were currently filled with confusion and awe as he stared at the journal. His slightly long, pale golden mane was being ripped out of its once neat bun by the out of control gale, and tendrils of his freed hair were waving in the breeze almost as if they were sentient.

I was brought out of my stunned reverie of sorts by an obnoxiously loud yawn, one clearly feminine in tone - and it definitely was not coming from me. I whirled around, my eyes landing on a semi-transparent purplish individual currently hovering over the spot where the journal lay, stretching their arms over their head leisurely, their eyes closed as they did so. My jaw practically dropped when I realized she looked eerily similar to me, only taller and a bit older, not to mention she had a rather pronounced scar marring her face, running from the right side of her forehead, just above her eyebrow and ending slightly below the right side of her lips in a relatively thick, diagonal line. Also, despite them being the same transparent purple of the rest of the 'person', she was even wearing the same robes as I was, though they fit her considerably better than they did me - which could only mean one thing.

"Ahhhhhh...." The apparition groaned, the sound of her voice oddly loud as she opened her uncomfortably bright, glowing white eyes to half-glare at me accusingly, "Took you long enough to get around to letting me out of that thing. Gods, that has got to be the worst idea I've..."

She trailed off suddenly as her gaze moved from me to my companion, and her countenance shifted from a petulant half-frown to an enormous grin. "I don't believe it! Barannir Nightbrook, you sly fox, I should've known you'd still be around wreaking havoc across Tamriel, with your nine lives and all. And I shouldn't be too surprised you ran into my descendant, either, I suppose, but it's rather nice to see you again - though I wish it was under better circumstances."

I turned to look at Nightbrook - or Barannir, as the woman had addressed him -, and his typically cool, calm, and collected attitude was completely absent as he stared vacantly at the phantasm, completely at a loss for words. Finally, he spoke up, his voice cracking slightly with emotion as he exclaimed, "Mélisande! I... Is that really you? How is this possible?"

"Two words: soul trapping," Mélisande sighed, her expression changing rapidly from pleased to unhappy as she continued, "I really do not recommend it, though. I spent, or, well, part of me spent two-hundred years too long in that gods-forsaken realm known as the Soul Cairn, and if I ever see that place again it'll be too soon. It's so depressing, not to mention just being there makes you feel like your life essence is slowly being shredded into miniscule bits... But enough about that," Mélisande said quickly, clearly noting both my and Nightbrook's horrified expressions as she changed the subject, "My time to speak with you is unfortunately rather limited, and there are far more pressing matters to address."

"Who are you?" I blurted, unable to contain my utter bewilderment any longer. I figured that I had to be related to this... Mélisande in some way or another, but I still really didn't know who she actually was. Finding out that she and Nightbrook seemed to know each other, and on rather close terms - which only added to my perplexion.

"You... you don't already know?" The spectral woman seemed rather offended, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disapproval as she proceeded with, "Your father really did turn out to be a stick in the mud, didn't he? Not teaching his children important family history. Pah! Well, I'll spare you any overly theatrical introduction - as much as it pains me to do so - and get right to business. I am Mélisande of the house of Abgrall, Arch-Mage of the Cyrodiil Mages' Guild and - well, you don't need to know the rest of that. Though it's probably worth mentioning that I'm your great grandmother - gods I feel old right now - , which is probably what you were really asking about in the first place. And I'm here because you, my dear descendant, have managed to cause quite a stir - though that isn't exactly a bad thing. It's just what might follow that I'm concerned about."

"I don't understand... Why would I have 'stirred up' anything? I've mostly kept to myself during my travels, and haven't - oh. This is about my brother, isn't it," I realized, dread settling in the pit of my gut as Mélisande gave me an affirmative nod.

"The problem is more specifically the Forsworn as a whole, but yes, Ealdwine plays a rather large role in this issue. I'm not sure if you're aware, but the 'King in Rags' is very much dead, and your brother's taken his place at the head of the Reachmen's forces."

"What?"

"Sorry to have to break it to you like this, but your sibling's more likely than not mad with power, and is completely under Daedric influence to boot. And those sorts of things tend to end rather... messily, from my experience."

"You can't be serious! This - this can't be real!" I protested, feeling as if someone had yanked the ground out from under my feet. I knew that Ealdwine had gotten involved in the rebellion, but not like that... Gods, what has he gotten himself into???

"As much as I wish I could tell you I was just messing with you, I've told you naught but the truth. And your brother's proving to be a rather... effective leader as well, seeing as he's taken Markarth, and he's clearly not going to just stop there. That's where you come in-"

"I don't think I can believe that. This is my brother we're talking about, not some crazy, bloodthirsty killer. He couldn't... He wouldn't act like that! I should know! I grew up with him! Maybe he's been lead astray a bit, but this doesn't sound like him at all."

"I understand that this is hard for you to accept, but people change, sometimes not even of their own will. But the sibling you knew is gone, Helvia. Trust me, I know on a personal level that fighting against someone you care about is difficult, but-"

"Hold a moment, Mél. How is it that you know so much about current events, more than the average living person on this continent, despite apparently being stuck in the Soul Cairn for a couple hundred years?" Nightbrook spoke up suddenly, looking justifiably suspicious all of the sudden, though I took note of the way he addressed her not only by her first name, but by a nickname as well. An uncomfortable thought struck me, Just how close were they? ...And did Nightbrook know we were related? This is just weird...

"Only a fragment of my soul was bound to this journal, Barannir. The rest of me was very much elsewhere, and, though the connection is rather faint, even now, I still know everything the rest of me does. Which is quite a lot. But my methods are my own, as you should know, and I would prefer not to waste more time trying to verify my sources of knowledge to you. I merely offer advice, and a warning, it's up to Helvia whether she takes it or not."

"...Very well," Nightbrook remarked, offering no further questions but he still looked as confused and wary as I felt.

"Now, where was I... Ah, yes, on the topic of the Forsworn and why you're in the middle of this conflict. Again, it wasn't anything you did, specifically - unless you count leaving home, though that's hardly sporting to blame a war that was bound to happen on someone wanting more from life -, but our bloodline's rather desirable in terms of magical abilities. Oh, don't give me that disbelieving look, you've never had a decent teacher, you've only learned the most embarrasingly basic of spells, and yes, the bloodline's diluted a bit, but that still doesn't change that our family does not only have aptitude towards Alteration magic, like the average Breton mage, but we also have a strong inherent ability to use destruction magic better than most. Which makes you a very desirable ally for the Forsworn forces, despite your lack of training. They got ahold of your brother as soon as he left home by sheer luck - or perhaps not luck at all, but we shall see - , and when he found out that you "left the nest" as well, so to speak, it's only natural he'd want sister dearest on his side. The holds of Skyrim wouldn't have a chance the two of you, especially with powerful Daedra turning things to your advantage. But I have a feeling you wouldn't want that, especially with all the unspeakable horrors it would cause, and perhaps worse, how much it would unbalance other provinces at the moment. The collateral damage of the Forsworn taking over Skyrim would be catastrophic-"

"You keep mentioning daedra. What do they have to do with any of this?" I interrupted, feeling like Mélisande was leaving out more than a few important details.

"Oh, that. I was kind of hoping you wouldn't ask. Names have power, and all that. But it'd make far less sense to not tell you what you're up against and then expect you to deal with it. It seems you and your sibling have caught the eye of the Prince of Nightmares, and, to a very small degree - thankfuflly - , the Prince of Change - though the Prince of Nightmares seems most specifically interested in you. I believe there was another party involved in sparking their interest; however, who they are is a mystery to me. Which is somewhat unsettling, but hey, I'm not omniscient - but it'd be really convenient if I was. Back on topic, though, I have a feeling you're not too keen on becoming one of their pawns. Neither would I, in your place. Oh, come on, you're giving me that disbelieving stare again. Did you really think the Forsworn would get past their pathetic rebellion in Markarth without some kind of divine intervention? And it certainly makes sense for Dagon to be getting interested in them - he lives for this kind of stuff, though I have no idea what Vaermina's going to gain from this."

"You seem to know these Princes awfully well. And I'm not sure what to make of that..." I remarked warily. Though Mélisande seemed like she was doing her best to help, there was just something off-putting about speaking with a purplish-colored wraith who seemed to know an unnerving amount about my current situation. I might be a bit on the naïve side, but I'm far from stupid, and blindly listening to something a ghost is telling you without questioning their bold claims would be sheer stupidity.

"Of course I do!" Mélisande snorted derisively, "Oh wait, I didn't mention I was the Hero of Kvatch to you earlier either, did I? I suppose I was in a bit of a rush. But yes, I did get to know some gods quite well. Oh gods, not in that way, though. Never in that way. That's disgusting. Though I will say that the form Sanguine's taking in this particular era is more than somewhat attractive-"

I saw Nightbrook cringe slightly at this out of the corner of my eye, and my suspicions that something had gone on between the two grew even more. Which made all of this even more awkward.

"But anyways. Can I please get on with this? As you can clearly see, I'm starting to fade a bit, and thanks to all these unnecessary questions that have taken me quite off-track we've wasted a good deal of time. No objections?" She paused, staring both me and Nightbrook down before taking a deep breath, replying, "Thank you. Now, I happen to know that one good thing that came from part of my soul being bound to that journal was, to a degree, I've been able to keep the Prince of Nightmares from influencing your thoughts and dreams - don't ask me how, I don't have enough time to explain the specifics of it. But from now on, that's something I can't do, for obvious reasons. And I can promise you that, with me gone, they'll more likely than not double their efforts to get their hold on you. Now, I'm not saying that you should deprive yourself of sleep entirely, but I think it would be wise for you to avoid sleeping for particularly long amounts of time, if you can. I'd also recommend you avoid Dawnstar entirely, as their influence is particularly strong there as well, but. If you're not the type to run away from power-hungry, manipulative daedra - which would be both a brave and slightly mad thing to do, which I would entirely approve of  -, then I'd say go with a friend and try to take her down a notch there, and show her you have no interest in being her pawn. Or you could just go directly to Winterhold from here, which I'd recommend if you don't particularly feel like pissing off the Prince of Nightmares with almost no training or control over your abilities. I have a feeling you won't have too difficult of a time getting in, given that you read over some of the things I've got written in this journal - yes, it actually serves a purpose other than an anchor for me to speak with you at the present while still mostly in my right mind. But if I were you, I'd suggest getting a move on as quickly as possible. The longer you wait, the more likely it is you might lose yourself to a "third party" influence."

"Shouldn't I be doing something about the Forsworn? I thought that's what this was all about to begin with. Stopping them, or something."

"I wouldn't advise that - not now, at least. You're nowhere near prepared enough for that sort of thing now. Your biggest concern at the moment is staying as far out of their way as you possibly can, and working on becoming stronger, if you wish to stand a chance against them. Making powerful allies would be another productive way to use your time as well, and I see that you've got some rather formidable friends on your side at the moment, with the Dragonborn and all, and I have to say Barannir's quite a good person to have on your side himself. Ah, I quite miss the days back when we were in Cyrodiil, before that horrid mess of the Oblivion Crisis ensued. That was a good time. Have to wonder how things would've gone had none of that happened. Oh! Damn it, I'm getting distracted again."

Suddenly, Mélisande's almost obnoxiously chipper and slightly childish demeanor changed entirely, and her expression grew serious as she continued bluntly, "I'm going to try to summarize the point of my all-over-the-place advice I've been trying to get across to you, Helvia, so listen well if you weren't doing so before: There are those in this world who would like nothing more to use you to their benefit and take advantage of your nature to look for the best in others. You should be on your guard, and, most importantly, you need to start doing things for yourself, and lead, rather than merely following others. There is so much you are capable of accomplishing, and if you put your mind to something, and put your heart and soul into accomplishing it, you have all the means you need to succeed in your venture. You seem to want to become a skilled, powerful mage, so prove that you're competent! Study hard and well, and stop being a simple follower of those more powerful than you; become someone others will follow! I've written down several of my own techniques for utilizing destruction magic in my personal journal as well, so that should give you something to flaunt to gain access to the College of Winterhold, provided that you learn how to use them before you seek entry. Once you've made a name and a reputation for yourself, it's far easier and much more sensible to face your enemies. I speak from experience there; I, once, was merely the daughter of a 'nameless' but well-off Breton captain working for the East Empire Trading Company, but through hard work, among other things, I gained the position of Arch-Mage, and through that title and my actions, also gained the respect and fear of many. Be forewarned: the path to greatness is not without its sacrifices and losses, and you'll need to be prepared for that. No hero's life is an easy one; no champion gains their title without shedding blood. And, on a more personal note, be careful not to let power get to your head. Madness seems to run in the family."

"It seems my time interacting with you is nearly at its end. Barannir, old friend, I am sorry that I could not catch up with you, but it was nice to see you again. I don't mean to come off as harsh when I say this, but I hope this is the last time that we interact, as I am not the same as I was back during the Third Era, and you will likely not recognize me in my present form, anyway."

Nightbrook was silent in response, an oddly cold, emotionless look set on his face that seemed rather out of place for him. It then hit me that, despite the steely appearance of the rest of his countenance, there was a smidgen of hurt and confusion discernible in his eyes.

"And, as for you, Helvia, I am sorry I cannot do more than to offer you guidance at this time, and for how long it took me to compose myself - aspects of my other self are difficult for me to fend off - even now, I feel the call to return and be assimilated into what I am now. Though... there is something I can do, if you'd permit me. I can share my own insight with you, though the means to do so are somewhat inconvenient. But it might help you pick up on your aptitude for magic much quicker than you might otherwise, among other things."

Without any further comments from her, what was left of Mélisande's shade dissipated into a light, barely discernible yet still purplish haze, and floated directly towards me. Once it had reached its destination, it expanded, almost glittering as it surrounded me and touched my skin, the mist feeling cool and almost pleasant against it.

However, that pleasant feeling dissipated along with the mist. Suddenly, I felt as if I'd been simultaneously set on fire and punched in the ribs, and I doubled over, dropping to one knee as the world spun around me, out of focus and distorted. Everything was burning, and a sound of pure, animalistic agony escaped my lips, the sound so harsh it didn't even sound like my own voice, drowning out the noise of concern I heard coming from someone else, their voice unrecognizable as well, and shortly after that everything went dead silent, leaving me with nothing but a high-pitched, unbearable ringing in my ears. Then my body began to shake of its own accord, and I found myself losing my balance entirely, though everything faded into nothingness before I could hit the ground.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Well, that was a fun way to end the chapter, wasn't it?

I'm curious to hear what you think of Mélisande. Also, I don't know if you may or may not have picked up on her capricious, frequently changing attitude, completely white eyes, borderline omniscience, and her tendency to get off-topic, but I'm going with the common theory that the Champion of Cyrodiil/Hero of Kvatch becomes someone else, courtesy of the Shivering Isles DLC. So now you know, if you didn't pick up on that before.

Also, you now get a lovely glimpse of MORE antagonists in the Mage storyline! As if Helvia didn't have enough to deal with. Ah well, I'm sure she'll manage. Or die trying.

Well, onto the questions!

~~~~~

QUESTIONS: 

Question: (From Korra12 for Nightbrook) Please let Nightbrook know I have the skeleton key ;)

Answer: (By Nightbrook) *dramatic Fenris voice* I am yours.

Question: (From Korra 12 for Helgir) What are your honest opinions on Nightbrook and Helvia at the moment?

Answer: (By Helgír) My opinions on Nightbrook haven't changed; quite frankly I wish I'd never crossed paths with him. As for Helvia... I acted too harshly towards her. My actions were rash and foolish. I just hope I have a chance to apologize for her, but when have things ever worked out that smoothly?

Question: (From -Thunderheart- for Nightbrook) will you ever take off your hood..? (Lol)

Answer: (By Nightbrook) *starts* By Auri-El, it's been down this whole time! ... This is... fine. I'm just going to, you know, *disappears*

~~~~~

If anyone has any more questions for anyone in Mage, feel free to ask them! If they've appeared in Mage at all, regardless of how long they were a part of the story, they're open to ask questions! ^^

Well, as always, please do leave a vote and/or comment if you enjoyed the chapter, and see you next time! Good adventuring, dear readers!

-AA