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"I suppose there's no point in concealing the truth any longer."

Finally raising his eyes to meet my irked gaze, Erandur's expression was one of resigned guilt. "My knowledge of this temple does not come from a 'previous visit'. I was once a priest of Vaermina."

"And were you ever going to tell me this?" I asked, only slightly mollified by his admittance that he had been hiding a very important detail of his past, "Don't you think this was something I ought to have known before we ever came here?"

"Yes, you're right. I should have told you, but I didn't know what to say," he sighed, going silent for a few moments as he seemed to think about his next words. "When the orcs raided the temple, I fled. I left my brothers and sisters behind to die. I was a coward, only concerned with my own safety."

"I've spent the last few decades living in regret and seeking redemption from Mara," he continued, his tone genuinely determined, "And by Her Benevolence, I will right my wrongs."

Even though I had now established that the priest had no problems whatsoever blatantly lying to someone who had agreed to help him, he seemed genuinely remorseful about it - and granted, I could understand wanting to keep something like that to myself.

That didn't make it any easier to trust him. I wasn't sure what he considered 'righting his wrongs', and that concerned me. Did he really intend on destroying the Skull, or was he going to try and regain the Prince's favor? For the time being, however, heckling the man further over the falsehood he'd originally spun would be a waste of time, and likely completely unnecessary. "I see. All right, what kind of book are we looking for?"

Erandur seemed more than willing to change the topic of discussion, answering me quickly. "We're looking for a book of alchemical recipes called 'The Dreamstride'. The tome bears the likeness of Vaermina on the cover. It should still be here somewhere."

I nodded in response before turning my focus to the ruined bookshelves immediately surrounding us, a cursory glance informing me everything within the circle of shelves on the lowest floor were all damaged beyond usability. Deciding to leave that area and give the place a once-over to find any tomes that had not been horrendously damaged, I did a quick sweep of the lowest level, moving as swiftly as I could without causing further pain to myself. While I did not find what we were looking for, I did manage to come across one book that seemed largely undamaged by the horrible conditions around it, lying face-upwards on an uncovered iron pedestal. Curious, I picked it up and opened it. Sixteen accords of Madness: Volume Six. Huh. Haven't seen this title before. It might just be worth taking, I thought, noticing it was a good volume and, provided I survived this, it would likely be quite helpful for enduring future long, sleepless nights. I swung my knapsack onto one shoulder so that I could reach it, and quickly stuffed the book in before readjusting my pack and continuing to search, not entirely certain if what I'd done could be considered 'stealing' when its previous owners were seemingly all comatose or soon-to-be deceased.

I chanced to cast a look around the room once I reached the top of the stairs to what I considered the second floor, and, though I could just barely make it out through the concerningly thick remnants of the Miasma, I caught a glimpse of a pale blue book of considerable size located diagonally across from me. Even if it wasn't what I was looking for, it was doubtless still of some value. I picked my way back across to the center of the room, only to discover that the only way over to obtain this tome was to cross a very unstable looking stone pillar. Best not to overthink it. You haven't found the book so far, and what if this is it?

Taking a deep breath, I darted across the pillar, barely managing to bite back a shriek as I felt it shift slightly underneath my added weight. I reached the other side in a panicked state, inhaling and exhaling heavily as it registered in my mind that, hey, I didn't die! I was immediately reminded that I would have to cross back over that death trap after I had checked out this book, but decided to put that from my mind momentarily for the sake of my own sanity.

The book, upon closer inspection, was without a doubt exactly what we were looking for. Embossed front and center on the volume's worn blue-grey cover was that now all-too-familiar artistic interpretation of the form of Vaermina, appearing almost mockingly serene. Just to be sure, I flipped open the front of the book. The Dreamstride: The Mysterious Alchemists of Vaermina. I snorted in amusement at the use of 'mysterious', shaking my head slightly before closing the book and hoisting it under one arm. "Found it," I called as carried the - unfortunately quite heavy - item, gritting my teeth in determination before making an equally frenzied dash back to the relative safety of the other side. The felled pillar did not move any further, to my slight relief. And I hope to the gods I won't have to ever cross that blasted thing again.

Erandur met me at the bottom of the steps, waiting impatiently as I held out the book to him. He accepted it carefully, looking at the cover with a critical eye and leafing through the first few pages. "This is the right book, if my memory serves me well. Just let me take a look..." He trailed off, continuing to flip through the pages at a steady, careful speed.

Not wanting to pressure him, I wandered a slight ways away, taking in the ruin that was once a library and passively wondering what it must've looked like the last time the priest had been here. It's a real shame so much valuable information and rare books were likely lost, thanks to the abandonment of this place. But I can't say I would've wanted to interact with its inhabitants back in the day.For that matter, it's possible some of this lost information was for the best-

"Mara be praised!" The dunmer's exclamation of triumph came so suddenly I started, "There is a way past the barrier to the inner sanctum. It involves a recipe for a liquid known as Vaermina's Torpor."

"And how does it work, exactly?" I asked, not feeling particularly ready to celebrate just yet.

"Within these pages, it is documented that the Torpor was utilized to grant an ability the priests of Vaermina called "The "Dreamstride"; which allows them to use dreams to travel distances in the real world," Erandur answered simply, seeming strangely nonchalant despite making the suggestion that dreams and realities could be so closely meshed together - a concept that horrified me.

"Dreams? How is that even possible?"

"It certainly sounds far-fetched, but I assure you, this is not some untried potion. In order to create it, it requires rather volatile alchemical ingredients and the blessings of a Divine, which are then distilled down into an ingestible liquid. Sadly, I have yet to see it function in person." He frowned thoughtfully.

A terrible thought struck me at his tone. I stumbled over my words, "Just a moment, do you mean to suggest that you've never... That I'll be the one who...?"

"As a sworn priest of Mara, the elixir won't work for me. The Torpor will only work for Priests of Vaermina, or the unaffiliated."

"Oh." I replied dumbly, wanting nothing more than to turn tail and run now that it appeared I was nothing more than an expendable test subject of sorts to my recently-gained companion. "But considering the whole nightmare situation - attempting to navigate dreams sounds incredibly dangerous. If you've never seen it in action, how can I be sure I'll survive this?"  

"I will not lie to you, there is some risk involved." I had to stop myself from letting out a humorless laugh at his lead-in, as I currently felt so burned out and done with civilities it was difficult to keep up a half-respectful facade.

"The last time the Torpor was imbibed could have been decades ago," Erandur admitted, "But I swear upon Lady Mara that I will do everything within my power to prevent any harm from befalling you."  

Though I was still slightly irked at him for his earlier lies, he seemed sincere in his assurance that he had not brought me along to simply be a meatshield. After all, when he had been lying I had picked up on it relatively quickly. But, then again, how could I be sure I could trust him, especially with my life? And, for that matter, I knew almost nothing about this 'Dreamstride'.

"Before I agree to this - what exactly are the risks of drinking this concoction, and how does it work?" I asked, "Surely there's some mention of it in there."

"According to what I know of it, and what is stated within these pages, you'll be viewing the dreams - or even memory - of another through your own eyes and with your own body during the Dreamstride. Those around you will perceive you as the initial dreamer, and you will find the words you utter may not be your own.  

"As for the risks..." The priest's expression darkened as he paused to look intently at the tome. "In certain dreams recorded here, those who utilize the Dreamstride have been exposed to life-threatening scenarios such as illnesses, violence and even death. In most cases, they simply fade back to our world without harm, but in some instances, the individual never reappeared and was assumed to have expired or they reappeared deceased."

"It appears that death is a very rare occurrence, however. If you are willing to take this chance, there is little chance it will result in any harm to you. And I assure you, if I sense that anything traumatic is going to befall you, I will do whatever I can to prevent such a thing."

His reassurances, though kind, meant little in the face of potentially being killed by this process. However, I doubted Vaermina would let me die. Not yet, anyway. After I openly spurned her, however, that might change. No, what I was more concerned about was waking up in Markarth, or anywhere within Reachmen territory. I considered it to be a very viable possibility, and one that would most certainly end with my death, or worse than it. I suppressed a disgusted shiver as I remembered my incredibly vivid nightmare on High Hrothgar.

But despite these risks, I really didn't see any other way around drinking the Torpor. I wanted to prove that I was not a willing pawn, whether to her or myself I wasn't fully sure, considering how easily I had been manipulated to come to Dawnstar in the first place. I can't possibly still be under her influence now, am I? I wondered, the thought settling heavily in my stomach as it dawned on me. No, no no! I'm not here to serve her! If I'll stop myself by any means necessary if I have to. She'll never use me like that again.

My brows furrowed in steely determination as I replied at last, "Fine, let's do this. Where can we find this potion?"

"The laboratory adjoins the library. I'm hoping we'll find a sample of the Torpor left undamaged. It's just this way," Erandur answered, already moving as he spoke.

I followed, feeling worry and slowly-simmering ire gnawing away at my sanity as I wondered about what was to come.

~~~~~

"Is this the last of them?" I asked breathlessly as I jerked my sword from the now-cadaver of a purple-clad Vaerminan devotee.

"I believe so - at least, in this area," came the much less winded reply of my ally, who was already scouring the shelves of the supply room we had entered as he spoke. "I cannot guarantee we won't run into more once we get closer to the Skull."

This laboratory was just as sad and decayed as the preceding rooms - perhaps even more so, if such a thing was possible. Broken, soggy tables littered the mould-lined flagstone floor, once well-preserved jars and open bowls of various alchemical ingredients having spilled out of their canisters, many of them quite ruined by their environment, even if most hadn't probably already passed their natural expiration date. Even though I wasn't an alchemist, it still made me cringe to see so much have gone to waste, just like the many unsalvageable texts in the library. And to think, there are probably plenty more ruins in Skyrim in similar shape... Thank the gods I didn't set out with the plan to become a scholar of this province's history, or all this lost knowledge and degraded architecture would be well and truly depressing.

However, the majority of the room's shelving was still miraculously intact, and I marveled at the relatively sizable array of potions that had been prepared but unused by the cultists they were doubtless intended for. I found I could not identify most of the various mixtures stored on the walls, but a couple of what appeared to be magicka potions caught my eye. I decided to pick those up and put them with my things in hopes they'd still be usable if we ended up needing them. It was then I realized I had virtually no idea what the potion we were looking for would be stored in, and I cast a glance in Erandur's direction, wondering if he was having any luck.

"Ah, here it is!" The priest let out a well-timed exclamation as soon as I laid eyes on him, his right hand firmly gripping the neck of a quite large black-tinted glass vial. Upon seeing it, I immediately got a bad feeling about even the thought of downing its contents - the liquid was a deep green shade that reminded me of moss, and I didn't doubt it likely tasted just as foul as a mouthful of that plant. And that wasn't even mentioning the possibility that, if it didn't work as intended, it looked like something I could easily get violently ill from.

"How much of that do I need to drink?" I asked, unenthusiastic, crossing my arms as I regarded the bottle skeptically.

"Certainly not the whole thing, I'd imagine," he replied, "But at this point, we are wasting precious time. I've taken us this far, but you need to guide us the rest of the way. Drink."

With that, he offered me the vial, and I took it, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, now? Here?"

"The longer we wait, the more damage Vaermina could be doing to the poor people of Dawnstar. I understand your hesitation, but I promise you that it works," Erandur replied with vehement sincerity.

"When you put it like that, what other choice do I have?" I sighed, uncorking the vial.

Let's get this over with.

~~~~~

In the time it took me to realize that I probably should have prepared more for a process I knew absolutely nothing about, the wreckage of the laboratory melted away, replacing itself with...

Wait, why am I still in the Temple? I wondered as the stone and wire meshed walls of Nightcaller Temple locked into place around me, completely covering the hazy lavender nothingness that I'd briefly glimpsed beyond. Just a moment, this is exactly where we're trying to reach! I realized as the Skull of Corruption materialized a few yards away from me, still guarded by a seemingly impassable field of negative energy and dark magicks. However, rather than feeling elated at this, an overhanging feeling of dread had nestled into my chest, and I looked down to see that I was dressed in the robes of one of the cultists - for that matter, I wasn't even me. My hands were those of a male dunmer, and a young one at that, relatively uncalloused and decently well-manicured. What an odd thing this is... I can't say it isn't fascinating, although I wish Vaermina would get on with it.

Suddenly, noise erupted from further up the stairwell, and I cast a hasty glance upwards, not seeing anything quite yet. The orc raiders, perhaps?

"The orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren." I heard a strongly nordic accented voice announce, and turned to see a pair of Vaerminan cultists now standing across from where 'I' was, the speaker looking concerned as he addressed his fellow acolyte. He was, unsurprisingly, of Nordic descent, and his pale skin contrasted greatly with the dark brown shade of his knotted beard. Like many of the others of his order, he looked rather thin, and I assumed he might be about middle-aged from the stoop of his shoulders and his balding head.

"We must hold. We can't allow the Skull to fall into their hands," the other urged, an ugly, violent emotion crossing his face as he looked past 'me' and further up the stairwell. Brother Veren was a dunmer, with a shock of flaming ginger hair running in a strip from the center of the crown of his forehead down to the nape of his neck, clashing almost humorously with an overgrown soul patch on his chin. He seemed a bit younger and more muscular than his companion, though that was likely due to his mer blood.

"We haven't a chance! No more than a handful of us remain." The first twisted the hem of one of his sleeves nervously as a pained cry rang out above the rapidly approaching din.

Brother Veren's face darkened upon hearing this information, clearly mulling over his next words before he spoke. "Then we have no choice. The Miasma must be released." He then turned to 'me', asking sharply, "Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina, Brother Casimir?"

"I've made my peace. I'm ready," I said with Erandur's voice, and immediately knew that it was yet another lie in what was now a steadily accumulating sea he had told.

Gods... He's not just another Vaerminan cultist - he did this! He's the reason that the Skull's been able to function as it has, untouched and undisturbed! A chilling thought then struck me, If he's had no problem lying to his old allies, and then lying to me, how much of what he told me about the Torpor was true? Does he even really want to destroy the Skull?

I wouldn't have time to worry about this, however, as Veren continued with, "Then it's decided. Brother Casimir, you must activate the barrier and release the Miasma. Let nothing stop you." He turned to face the other cultist. "Brother Thorek, we must remain here to guard the Skull. With our lives, if necessary."

"Agreed. To the death," Thorek confirmed, a look of steely determination in his deep red eyes as he moved to guard the entrance.

"Then let it be done. Farewell, my brothers!" Veren cried out as 'I'- or Casimir, or Erandur, or whoever he really was - bolted up the stairs.

My - his heart pounded painfully in his - our? - chest as we ran up the steps, just in time to see the invading orsimer locked in combat with a few of the remaining cultists, having finally pushed their way into the hallway immediately adjacent to the room containing the Skull. Bile rose in our throat as we darted past them, barely daring to breathe as we wove through rooms I'd never been through before with ease, passing tangles of invaders doing battle with the temple's 'rightful' inhabitants and dodging any stray blows that came too close for comfort. We dashed through what I thought were kitchens, sleeping quarters, and some sort of study area before reaching an area I recognized - the hallway that had been blocked off to us previously by the soul gem powered ward. I noted that while the silver grating that had held it was there, the gem itself hadn't been put in place.

We made a beeline for the silver chain - the one I'd seen on the other side of the Miasma, and we pulled with all of our might - and suddenly, the haze dissipated, the horrid, rank musk of the ruined temple assailing my senses as I swayed, disoriented and fearful, still clutching the rusted, dull links of the chain tightly in one hand and the Torpor in the other. Was that... was that really it? I wondered, relief mixing in with my unease and threatening to make me burst into unstable, mirthless laughter, This was far easier than it should've been. That can only mean that whatever is to come next will be all the more taxing. Unless. Unless I'm doing exactly what she wants and I'm doing it because it's what she wants and I'm only fooling myself if I think I can beat her-

A breathless Erandur entered into my field of vision, nearly stumbling over the hem of his own robes as he caught sight of me, his features lighting up elatedly. "It...it worked! Mara be praised!" He exclaimed, a genuine smile on his face as he approached me, his posture less tense and anxious than before. "You vanished after drinking the Torpor, and it seems you materialized on the other side of the barrier. I've never seen anything quite like it," he explained, a hint of awe in his tone as he glanced at the bottle still clenched in my hand.

I sighed, grimacing tiredly in response. "It served a purpose, I suppose." Seeing how excited he was about the results of what I had been lead to believe might be a fatal experience for me rubbed me the wrong way, and considering my history with Vaermina, I wasn't going to pretend I'd enjoyed a second of it for his sake. At the moment, I was beyond caring about pleasantries, especially where someone whose motives I couldn't be sure of was concerned.

The former cultist's brow furrowed, seeming taken aback by my underwhelmed answer. "After what you just experienced, are you not amazed? I am at a loss for words."

I merely shrugged, saying, "It's hardly an appropriate time for us to be sitting around and discussing what I did or didn't experience. We need to keep moving."

"My apologies. There will be plenty of time for us to speak on the matter once the Skull has been destroyed. I'll follow your lead," he replied, his energy seeming to have increased twofold as his eagerness to reach the Skull became even more evident. 

It was then I realized that the ward was still up and between us, and, relinquishing my hold on the chain, I plucked the soul gem out of its holster and tucked it into my satchel, hoping there was still some charge in it. I was no enchanter, but it still might have its uses - and I sure as all Oblivion wasn't going to go and fill any up myself. Something about the idea of soul-trapping any being capable of thought and feeling didn't sit well with me.   

The priest nodded his thanks to me as he stepped into the hallway, and I paused for a moment, the open flask of what remained of the Torpor still in my hands, its stopper firmly held between two of my knuckles. I wiped off the bottle's mouth with a sleeve and corked it, pausing as I mulled over the benefits of asking my companion if he wanted it, instead. I didn't doubt he would take it, but whether or not I trusted him enough to not use it to backstab me was another thing entirely. I was beginning to really wonder about his motives, but it was hardly as if asking him to come clean would accomplish anything. I'd already done it once before, and now, the only thing I didn't know was his intent, which, even if I accused him of being there to take the Skull for his own, or being a pawn in Vaermina's game to take me as yet another mortal plaything of hers, I was sure he would deny it vehemently. Letting out a deep but inaudible sigh, I stuffed the vial into my near to bursting satchel, really beginning to feel the weight of all the things I'd picked up. I really need to sell some of this stuff, as soon as I get an opportunity where I won't be ripped off, a voice in the back of my head commented, and I could have laughed at what an inconvenient and irrelevant thought that was, considering what I was soon to be up against.  

We continued down the adjacent meandering corridor that led back into a much smaller passageway, one I navigated with relative ease, having been there just a few minutes prior. This emerged into a large and relatively empty room, its only furnishings being another frieze of Vaermina and an enchanting table on the other side of the room. More likely than not, its previous furnishings had all been destroyed and had rotted into nothingness. Either that, or the cultists had picked somewhere to live that was far too large for their purposes. As I passed by the frieze, a prone cultist laid out by it began to come to, but I acted before they could fully awaken, drawing my sword and driving it into their unprotected chest. I winced at the horrible squelch that met my ears in response, pulling my sword back out with some difficulty before cleaning it off with their robes. I pretended not to see the brief flicker of grief that flitted across the priest of Mara's face as I did so, and straightened promptly, taking the lead once more with my weapon still drawn.  

The room led into yet another wide hallway, leading me to wonder if this structure could be better categorized as a maze than a temple, as well as how on earth the invaders had gotten so close to the Skull to begin with. Thanks to the weight of my belongings and my own fatigue, even moving at a brisk walk was beginning to prove to be too much for me, but I resolved not to show any signs of exhaustion. I didn't want to exhibit any weakness in front of an individual I feared might turn on me if he thought he'd have the upper hand in a fight.

If you're so worried about him trying to kill you when your back is turned, then why did he offer to heal you earlier? A voice of reason - or at least, one disguised like it - interrupted my worried musing, only to be answered rather flimsily, It could've been a ploy to gain my trust. Possibly. And maybe he's changed his mind. Who knows?  

As these potentially irrational fears plagued my mind, we entered into the sleeping quarters. I'd remembered seeing a decent amount of cultists and orcs locked in combat with one another in this area, and, if the number of bodies I could see strewn about the stone floor, my estimation had been correct. I was on high alert at once, as any figure we passed by might still be alive.

It would turn out that the body I nearly tripped over at the entrance to the room was still alive, too, and much more quick to respond than the unfortunate individual I'd dispatched in the last room. I barely managed to dodge a sizable fireball that hurtled my way. I swung my sword blindly at them in retaliation, but only caught the side of their robes, now sufficiently winded and unsure if my legs would support me if I attempted another blow.

Luckily, at least Erandur had been prepared enough to deal with our new assailant, as he proceeded to fry the half sitting cultist in a gout of angry, red-orange flames.

"Thanks," I managed as I sheathed my sword, deciding that it'd be more practical on my part to actually put my destruction magic to good use. While I'd been attempting to conserve my energy for any truly dangerous enemies or constructs we might come across, I wasn't doing myself any favors wearing myself out physically in preparation for something that might not even happen.

"Not a problem. But stay sharp. Others will doubtless awaken as we traverse this room..." the priest started, trailing off in confusion as my expression grew horrified.

"Erandur, look out!" I cried as an orcish berserker hefted his two handed battle axe above his head, standing only feet away from the dunmeri priest.

By some small miracle, he reacted before the orc had the chance to land what would have doubtless been a killing blow, stumbling out of the way as the steel of the axe bit harmlessly into stone. Electricity crackled vivaciously in my palms as I hurled an orb of pure energy into his attacker's bare flesh, the sheer intensity of the spell causing our attacker to convulse violently and drop his weapon, reeling in rigid shock before dropping to the ground, either dead or close enough to it that he would not be bothering us again.

The priest of Mara turned to me, visibly shaken by how close he had come to death. "I believe I now owe you my gratitude," he remarked in a lame attempt at humor, and I couldn't keep a half smile from my face in return.

"Just returning the favor. Now, for the love of whatever gods care enough, let us hope we won't have any more nasty surprises like that," I let out a mirthless chuckle as I let my hands drop to my sides, observing the rest of the sleeping quarters warily.

Somehow, this room seemed slightly less wrecked than the others, with only two corners nearest us showing heavy signs of degradation. Rather crudely hewn beds had been crammed into almost every available space against the walls, some of which had now been crushed or sagged ominously under the debris of the very ramparts that were supposed to serve as protection, and quite a few chests were scattered about the room as well, one notably having been turned on its side and another half-buried under rubble. The remnants of the Miasma were much thicker beyond the barrier, too, and I grimaced as I worried about whether it would be potent enough to take me down even after being allowed to dissipate for so many years. I was tired, but I figured that was just the result of physical fatigue and lack of sleep - wasn't it?

As I descended the steps to the lower level of the room - why was almost every major section of this building halved like this, anyhow? -, neither of the prostrate forms of cultists I saw moved as much as a muscle as I walked past them, a neatly folded cloak on an abandoned wardrobe catching my eye. Really, have I really stooped so low as to have become a scavenger? I admonished myself as I walked over to take a closer look. Despite obviously having been there for as long as everything else, it didn't seem to have aged a day, as it was dyed a deep, rich hue of eggplant and shimmered lightly with some sort of enchantment. Well, it'd be a shame to leave something like this here, and, if nothing else, it could come in handy. At least, that was what I told myself as I added it to my already staggeringly heavy bags.

Though I didn't doubt the priest had seen me picking up miscellaneous items from his old home, he didn't comment - either he didn't care, or was polite enough not to call me out on it. I supposed I appreciated that, as I wasn't sure the tiny scraps of self-esteem I still clung to would take well to being confronted about my apparent hoarding problem.

With no further conversation, we moved on to the next corridor, and just barely cut through the kitchens and wine cellar, managing not to disturb a single individual within it. We're almost to the Skull. But then what? There's still that barrier around it - how do we even have a prayer of reaching it, let alone doing away with the blasted thing? If that's even what I'm actually 'doing' here, as maybe I really don't have a choice in the matter and no matter what I do it will still result in the same outcome and I never should've gone off with a complete stranger to attempt to piss off a Daedric Prince and-  

I didn't have time to finish that pathetic attempt at coherent thought as we reached a closed, warped pine door, now one of the only things that stood in our way to the Skull. I attempted to push it open, but it wouldn't budge. Fantastic, I growled inwardly, putting my shoulder against the door and giving it a violent shove. It let out a horrible groaning noise, and, to my frustrated dissatisfaction, it tore out from its hinges and buckled inwards, taking me with it. Pain ricocheted through my hip and forearm as I attempted to catch myself, biting my lip and blinking tears from my eyes as the full weight of my bags smashed into me from behind. And that's what I get for being a pack skeever, I thought bitterly as I forced myself to my feet, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I purposely avoided looking at my companion. Whatever his reaction was, I didn't particularly feel like knowing.

As it would turn out, I wouldn't have to. When I raised my eyes from the floor, I found myself just a few yards away from a very provoked-looking Brother Veren. 

"Veren... Thorek... you're alive!" Erandur was the first to speak, his voice cracking with raw emotion as he came to stand beside me, sounding at first elated but then quickly becoming tense.

"That's no thanks to you, Casimir," Veren shot back dryly, fixing the priest with a disapproving glare.

"I no longer use that name. I'm Erandur, Priest of Mara," the dunmer asserted, crossing his arms almost for emphasis.

A loud guffaw erupted from Thorek at this, as the man had come to stand beside Veren while we'd been 'conversing', evening or possibly worsening our odds, depending on how this went over. Veren, however, seemed completely unamused by Erandur's statement, now looking disgusted with his former fellow acolyte. "And you think you can just so easily change who you were? Who you are? You're a filthy traitor, Casimir, and our lady is quite displeased with your actions. To have not only run off and ruined our chances at protecting the Skull from the raiders, but to bring someone here to help you take it from us? Pathetic."

Now it was Erandur's turn to let out a grim sound that might have been intended as a laugh. "I'm hardly here to take the Skull for myself, Veren. I admit, I was a coward, back then, but I intend to right my wrongs and destroy this object of great depravity!"

"What, do you expect us to just get out of your way because you're trying to act like some sort of authority figure, now?" Thorek chimed in, his expression a mix of loathing and amusement. "Because, if so, you're sorely mistaken."  

"I realize now it was foolish to expect you to understand," the priest answered slowly, his tone grieved though he kept his posture squared and unintimidated. "Very well. Then you leave us no other choice."*

There was no time to think much on what either party had said, as immediately after he'd finished speaking, Thorek reached for his axe and Veren cast some sort of illusory spell, after which he promptly vanished. I quickly let one of my packs slide to the floor as the others readied their spells and blades, not wanting to be burdened in a fight against the most sane opponents we'd crossed yet - especially as I didn't know how my companion was going to fare in a fight against his old friends.

Thorek went straight for the former cultist, fury in his eyes and a ward cast in his free hand as he struck out at his opponent. Erandur sidestepped his furious and out of practice onslaught easily, though he seemed hesitant to strike back, smoke curling from his clenched fists as he waited for the Nord's next move. Sensing that things weren't going to end well if I didn't act soon, I sent a bolt of lightning crashing into the cultist's exposed back. It hadn't been strong enough to immobilize him, or even to do much more than to just cause him some discomfort, but it worked exactly as I'd intended. Unbalanced and momentarily distracted, his furious gaze met mine as he sneered at my weak 'attempt' at an attack, turning his back on me once more - but not before the priest of Mara finally forced himself into action, managing to ignite Thorek's robes and possibly the man himself before putting some distance between them, careful not to get caught up in his own attack.

It seemed like things were going well enough, considering I was unsure of just how powerful these priests were, until I suddenly realized everything had begun to glimmer with a pale red tint, and I felt something seep into my skin, like mist on a cold spring morning - except much less pleasant. Oh, gods.

I'd forgotten about Brother Veren.

That was when some irresistible madness took its hold on me. I wasn't in control of myself anymore - I didn't know what was, as I took off at a run back the way I'd come, my vision blurred and unreliable. I need to get out of here. I'm gonna die here if I don't get out, I don't know where Veren is and there's no way Erandur will kill Thorek and I'm going to die-  

I was cut off mid thought as a spell soared past me, this one a sickly peridot green hue. I didn't know what it was, or what it did, but I thanked every god in an extant pantheon that it had missed me as I made a beeline for the stairs. I heard the cultist let out an irritated curse as I continued to run, and chanced a look over my shoulder, noticing that he was now visible, only to then trip over the bottom stair.

I slammed into the stone, hard, and even in my frenzied state I was growing increasingly cross with my own clumsiness. Rising to my feet, I found I was so angry that it was difficult to feel as afraid anymore - or maybe the spell was wearing off. Waves of embarrassed wrath filled me with newfound determination as I now turned to face Veren, the cultist seeming to realize he had lost his much greater advantage over me. Thoughtlessly, I called on my reserves of magicka as I prepared to smite the man into oblivion. Power surged into my fingertips, the feeling alone almost intoxicating as I grinned savagely at the dunmer.

With a flourish, I sent a dizzying amount of electricity into him, only to discover it sloughed off of him like water off a duck. What the-? I wondered, stunned by the fact it hadn't killed him instantly. It was then I caught a glimpse of an enchanted ring on his finger as he prepared to return the favor, and I snarled, drawing my sword as I realized the majority of the spells I knew would likely be harmless to him. Damn it. Of course he'd have to be wearing something like that.

He sent another orb of that unpleasant green magick my way as I darted towards him, unable to dodge it mid-attack. My limbs locked up all at once, but not before I managed to slice into my opponent's side, eliciting a pained gasp from the otherwise stone-faced cultist. My sword was still firmly in my grip as I careened into the ground, clattering loudly upon impact. I absently wondered how many falls a person could take before their bones shattered as I looked up dully at Veren, my muscles betraying me and leaving me little other option than to wait for death.

The Vaerminan devotee seemed to sense this, too, but seemed to take no pleasure in the idea of finishing me off, though he was by no means hesitant either. With grim determination, he drew an ornate dagger whose blade was black as pitch from the sash of his robes, only to stop abruptly. His face contorted into an agonized scowl as he staggered, and whatever hold he'd had on me previously dissipated as I rolled into a crouch, only now seeing that Veren had a steel axe lodged deeply in his back. He turned, now facing the priest of Mara who had struck a fatal blow against him with a look of immeasurable hatred burning in his eyes. "You were a traitor to the very end, Casimir..." he hissed as his knees buckled underneath him, finishing with his dying breath, "But our lady won't let our deaths be in vain, you can be sure of that."

And, with that, Veren expired with a horrible groan, leaving us likely the only two beings still alive in the temple.

I was on my feet now, sheathing my sword as I started to try and thank the priest for his timely intervention, only to stop as I saw the crushing remorse in his eyes as he stared at the body of his former ally. He looked even more exhausted and beaten-down than I felt, and as he sank to the ground slowly, covering his face with a hand, I decided it would be better to give him a moment alone. I doubted there was much I could do at the moment to make this situation any easier for him, other than allowing him some amount of privacy to grieve.

Now that I was no more than a few yards from where the Skull of Corruption was kept, I turned my attention to it, marveling at yet feeling disgusted at the fact that such a small thing had caused so much damage. Once I got a good look at its design, I felt even more repulsed, as I realized I couldn't tell whether the brutalized bones that made up its entirety had belonged to an animal, something humanoid, or possibly some depraved mix of the two. The skull itself was horned, and bound to the staff by a massive bar of steel that had been fused into its eye sockets, with a mixture of both metal spikes and jagged vertebrae flanking it on both sides underneath. The grip appeared to have been made from segments of femurs, having been fused almost seamlessly into one another, before being tipped at the end with more wicked looking spikes. As I wondered about its creation, I was beginning to grow physically ill.

I see you have reached the inner sanctum of my temple, mortal. My boon awaits.

My breath caught in my chest as the Prince's words resonated in my ears, the skin crawling as if some sort of bugs were trying to escape them. I shuddered despite myself, gritting my teeth as I intended not to react as wildly as I had earlier. This time, their words had been less authoritative. She thinks she's already won, I realized, unsure of whether that was a good thing.

A shaky sigh brought me back to the present, and I turned to see the battle-weary dunmer walking towards me slowly, sorrow weighing down his features and making him seem even older. "Thank you. I'm sorry you were around for that, but... I knew Veren and Thorek well, long ago. They were close friends of mine, back when I was a misguided youth. It appears this is the price I pay for the foolish, horrible things I've done."

"It's all right. And you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. They didn't give either of us much of a choice," I attempted to console him, "For what it's worth, I'm truly sorry that things turned out this way."

"So am I," he replied morosely, his lips thinning into a determined line. "But I cannot allow myself to tarry any longer. The Skull must be destroyed."  

He started up the steps to the platform that held the cursed artifact. I made to follow after him, but he held up a hand in warning, saying, "I don't know what to expect when I attempt to disable the barrier, so I'd recommend you keep your distance. I thank you for your help in getting us this far, but I must do this alone."  

And, with that, he turned to the Skull, raising his hands and calling out fervently, "Lady Mara, I beseech you, grant me the power to send this wicked tool of the Prince of Nightmares to Oblivion! It has preyed on the innocent citizens of Dawnstar for several weeks, and still hungers for more of their memories, only to give them horrible nightmares in return. Being as I am, I cannot do away with this foul object alone..."

His speech continued, but I found I could no longer pay attention. The priest's back was to me. He was unaware of anything I could do, completely focused on his task. My palms itched as I watched him vacantly. He's faking this for my benefit. It's all fake. He's lied to me, he's lied to his old friends, and he killed them. He's going to free the Skull and then he's going to turn against me, or he's going to use me to get in good with Vaermina again. I have to stop him.

Before I knew what I was doing, my crossbow was in my hands, and I was about to load a bolt. What in Oblivion? I cast the weapon to the ground in horror, my hands now shaking as I realized I'd been about to kill a man I was sure was innocent but was he I had no reasons to suspect him after what-

What are you doing, fool? I flinched as Vaermina's frustrated voice blocked out all other thoughts and sensations,  almost thick and furious enough to drown in, If you don't act soon, he's going to kill you! You must strike first! Quickly!

Almost instinctively, I felt the familiar buzz of storm magic gathering in my palms in response. With as much strength as I could muster, I forced it back, suddenly terrified.

"No, no, nonono stop it..." I managed quietly, as if that would have any effect on the deity currently pressuring me to commit murder.  

This is part of your destiny, you feckless coward! Kill him now! Vaermina commands you!

My entire being went frigid as I bore the Prince's rage, my skin crawling unbearably, no, almost burning from the inside as I dug my nails into my sides to try and keep myself from doing any harm. I felt as if, at any second, I would split apart and fracture as I resisted Vaermina's will.

"Come off it, already! I didn't come here to serve you, and I never will! So why don't you just take your offer back with you to whatever hole in Oblivion you crawled out of!" I yelled, my surroundings distorting and blurring as the horrendous nothing that barraged my senses continued its assault.

Just then, I heard a resounding crack, and regained enough self-possession to see that the Skull was... gone. An exultant, half-mad smile overtook my face as I saw Erandur's empty hands drop back to his sides, knowing that I'd - we'd - already won.

He turned back to face me, relief shining in his eyes even as his shoulders slumped to betray his weariness. This look did not last long, however, for his brows knotted with confusion as his gaze fell upon my discarded weapon and the now completely uncontrollable tremors that shook my form. I took a step towards him - only to have the world fall out from under me. My vision went white, blindingly so, and I heard some distant sound that might have been a cry of alarm before I knew no more.

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You can probably tell where I gave up halfway through giving detailed descriptions of Nightcaller Temple. I'd apologize, but I'm doing my best to spare you an obnoxious retelling of a quest you guys have probably already done, and it's reallllly hard to make descriptions of generic dungeon-crawling interesting, so hopefully I did you a favor there. Also I know this chapter was hella long but splitting it up would've left me working with a cliff hanger that wouldn't get anyone particularly worried, and that's the last thing an author wants. Better to end it with a bang, amirite? 

Also I hope the thing with Veren and Thorek was at least somewhat entertaining. I wanted to give them more of a 'boss battle' than they were given in the game, though I guess I ended up focusing more on Veren, oops. Trying to write illusion magic into a fight was somewhat difficult for me and I hope I did it justice. Once I'm a bit more practiced with this sort of thing, I'll probably edit Helvia's reaction a bit and may try and end up stopping her from fleeing the area with something other than just tripping her. Any suggestions or constructive criticism you folks might have on the matter would be greatly appreciated because I've got nothing.

But, oh my gosh. For those of you that have stuck around, you shall soon be rewarded! Things are about to get really interesting, and I'm practically bursting with enthusiasm and inspiration at the thought of the next chapter. Finally, I've gotten to a place that I can actually go all-out, and I hope to goodness what I've got in the works won't disappoint!

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QUESTIONS:

Question (From FanfictionsaPlenty for Helvia): Please, if ever you find Vaermina in a physical form, just punch it right in the got damn face.

Answer (By Helvia): I'm so heckin' ready. (ง •̀_•́)ง

Question (From roseshavethxrns for Helgír): What are you doing right now? Do you ever think of Helvia?

Answer (By Helgír): I have met with the so-called Blades, and they intend to have me embark on some mission to the Thalmor Embassy - though I feel this is likely so that they can be assured that we have a common enemy rather than out of any actual necessity to gain intelligence from them that is of any real value. For a force that has 'sworn' themselves to protecting the Dragonborn, they're certainly treating me like their hired blade. And I won't lie, I think of her a good deal. I miss her dearly, and hope that she got to Winterhold safely.

Question (From roseshavethxrns for Nightbrook): How does it feel to watch over all of this?

Answer (By Nightbrook): I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to answer this question straightforwardly, on penalty of obliteration. Ehm... let it suffice to say that unfortunately, I am not omnipresent and have not been given the ability to know any of what Miss Abgrall or the Dragonborn have been up against, or even if either still live. It is rather worrisome.

Question (From IMoozie for AA): How does it feel to have a story that a lot of people enjoy and wish more of? Any tips for making a good story? I may or may not be making my own...

Answer (By AA): Well, honestly, it's a feeling that's genuinely inspiring and encouraging. Despite the fact Mage has definitely not had the smoothest schedule up until recently, people have still stuck around to offer their support, and that's pretty damn amazing in my opinion. I know it might sound trite or pandering, but you've helped me more than you know by supporting this silly fanwork. I've obviously become a much better writer as time's gone on, and I've learned to have more faith in my abilities - but there's honestly nothing more motivating than knowing there are people out there who genuinely enjoy what you produce. More than anything, I want to give the people what they want, haha. 

As for tips, well. First off, I want to say that it's always great to hear that someone's interested in trying their hand at writing, especially writing for fun! But if I answer that question in detail, which I'd like to since I feel that's the only way it'll be helpful, I'll make that an extra in my Shitty Decaffeinated Ramblings book and publish that just before I put out this chapter. Sorry to not include it here, but considering the length of this chapter, I feel like it'd possibly bug out the site or something. I don't know if Wattpad has a word limit per chapter, but I would rather not find out.

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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 lemme know in the comments down below if you enjoyed the chapter, and hope to see you next time! Good adventuring, dear readers!

-AA