The entrance to the Ayleid ruin loomed before us, half overgrown with vines, glowing faintly with the eerie shimmer of those crystals. Somewhere inside, our target was hiding….
I gave Snuffles a brief scratch behind the ear and a soft pat on his flank. He huffed softly, more alert now than ever, his broad head shifting as he sniffed the wind curling out from the darkness ahead. His claws pressed into the mossy ground as he crept beside me, silent despite his size. Arindor moved ahead, his steps light, just like someone who'd snuck into too many places they weren't supposed to be.
"Let me lead," he whispered, not looking back. "There are bound to be traps."
I didn't argue. This was his world. Mine was rougher, louder, more like kicking doors in and tearing heads off. But I was adaptable.
We slipped into the ruin. Inside, the ceiling had long since collapsed in places, leaving beams of moonlight slashing through the gloom. Dust floated in the air.
It didn't take long for the traps to begin.
"Stop," Arindor whispered sharply, holding out a hand. I froze mid-step, and Snuffles crouched low beside me, ears perked forward. Arindor crouched down and traced his fingers along a worn tile. "Pressure plate. Triggers a burst of fire, likely. Old but still functional."
He pulled a slim metal rod from within his sleeve and slid it gently under the edge of the stone tile. With a practiced flick, he jammed something beneath it and nodded.
I followed his lead, placing my boots on the faded mosaic pattern beyond. Snuffles padded after me, avoiding the tile.
We moved slowly, deeper into the ruin. As we passed beneath an arch inscribed with runes, Arindor halted again.
"Rune trap," he murmured. "Can't disarm it, avoid triggering the glyph."
He gestured to the floor, and I saw it, etched faintly into the stone, glowing a faint sickly blue. Whatever spell it was holding, I didn't want to find out. We skirted it, sticking to the far side of the wall where no sigils had been etched.
The deeper we went, the weirder the air became. It wasn't just the musty scent of stone and mildew anymore, something else clung to the air like ink mixed with rot. My warg growled low in his throat, hackles raised. I placed a hand on his side, calming him, and looked to Arindor.
He didn't speak right away. Then he whispered, "Daedra. I can feel it. The scent of Apocrypha... Hermaeus Mora's realm. Something's crossed over here."
My brow furrowed. "You can smell that?"
He nodded, serious. "Once you've dealt with his kind, you never forget it. They stink of ink, secrets, and wet parchment… like a library soaked in rot." Charming. We crept forward, ears straining for any sound. And then we saw them.
A faint flicker in the corridor ahead, and then a figure came into view. It hovered, no legs, just a mass of robes that twisted unnaturally in the air, as if underwater. Its head… if it had one… was a tangle of glowing eyes and writhing black tendrils.
"What the hell is that?" I whispered, instinctively pressing closer to the wall.
Arindor answered quietly. "A Seeker, a servant of Hermaeus Mora. They collect knowledge for him. Dangerous, especially if they catch you. And they can teleport. Best not to engage if we can help it."
I gave him a side glance. "But if we have to?"
"Destroy the eyes. They're not invulnerable, just unnerving."
No argument there.
We waited, as the Seeker drifted past. It didn't seem to notice us, one hand on Snuffles' head. His lips peeled back in a silent snarl, but he held still. Good boy.
When the corridor cleared, we moved again, even slower now. The ruin opened into a larger chamber ahead, the faint glow of magical light pouring out from it.
Arindor crouched beside the wall, signaling for silence. I knelt beside him, peering around the edge.
Inside, a small group of Seekers hovered in loose formation, circling a central figure, hooded, cloaked in deep blue and black. I couldn't see his face, but I recognized the faint shimmer of enchanted runes woven into his robes.
He stood at the edge of a summoning circle, etched into the floor with fresh blood and ink. Tendrils of green light danced across the pattern, pulsing like a heartbeat. An open tome floated nearby, pages fluttering on their own, whispering secrets to the air.
Arindor's jaw tightened as he leaned in. "He's making a pact. Trying to gain favor with Mora. Research he stole, he's using it to bargain for something worse." He was drawing his arrow. And I sent my baby back to my mind realm. didn't want to lose him too.
Arindor's arrow left his bow with a taut hiss and shot across the chamber. The hooded scholar barely had time to register the whistle of fletching before the arrow struck his side, shattering whatever hushed incantation he was whispering over the ritual circle. An echo of pain tore from his lips, and he staggered backward, clutching at the slim shaft protruding from his ribcage.
All around him, the conjured lights of the ritual shimmered and flared, losing focus without his steady chant. The circle's lines flickered between emerald and violet, threatening to collapse into a swirl of useless sparks. The Seekers who had been drifting around the perimeter hissed in unison, twisting in midair to face the threat.
I stood hidden behind a broken column, letting the Altmer take a point for the ambush. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him already nocking another arrow, as he aimed at a towering Seeker flitting near the far wall.
"You are not meant to be here. Your thread was cut, little Snow Elf princess. The First Era consigned you to oblivion and yet you dance among mortals still."
Hermaeus Mora. I didn't have to guess. I knew that wheezing, multi-toned whisper all too well from the game. The fact that he spoke in my mind rather than around me made my skin crawl. I forced the sensation down.
The Seekers moved in unison, drifting forward on their shapeless robes, each one brandishing wriggling tentacles that glistened with dark liquid. The nearest Seeker stretched out a gaunt, inky limb toward Arindor, who dodged backward, narrowly avoiding the slick pseudopod that aimed to snare his neck.
Tearing my gaze from him, I flicked my wrist sharply. A swirl of emerald energy formed around my hand, and with barely a word, I summoned a Forest Atronach, the very air smelled of crushed leaves and spiced earth. The Atronach materialized with a soft rumble, a bulky humanoid shape made of gnarled bark, tangled roots, and glowing green lines that pulsed like veins. Its presence instantly cloaked the immediate area in the subtle aroma of deep woods. It was really beautiful, I guessed since I was back these marks got stronger and were now affecting these summons.
The Forest Atronach bellowed in a sound like rustling branches and lumbered forth, massive fists swinging to intercept two Seekers that approached me in tandem. Their writhing arms lashed out, spattering droplets of inky fluid across the floor. The Atronach caught them both with a violent sweep, slamming them into a half-collapsed statue on the chamber's edge.
But more Seekers slithered from behind archways. Their eyes, pale and searching, zeroed in on me. The scholar's attempt to forge a pact must have drawn them like moths to a flame.
"You meddle with powers that should be left undisturbed," Hermaeus Mora's voice crooned in my skull. "Lay down your spells, child of snow, and return to the past that was meant for you. This knowledge is not yours to take."
My response was a sharp exhale and a flare of magicka. Another summoning: this time twin circles ignited in front of me, one swirling with orange embers, the other dusted with shards of ice. In a flash of light, a Flame Atronach and a Frost Atronach appeared, each tinted by the faint rosy aura of my Sanguine mark and the graceful sheen of Dibella's signature. Their forms looked oddly more… alluring. The Flame Atronach's fire danced with a hypnotic swirl of pinkish sparks, while the Frost Atronach seemed carved of glacial crystal, glinting with subtle, aesthetic elegance and looked like a milf.
"Hold them off!" I ordered. I let them surge forward, Flame hurling jets of searing fire while Frost launched spikes of sharpened ice that crashed into the swirling Seekers.
One Seeker folded its spindly arms, dissolving into a curl of black smoke. It reappeared behind the Flame Atronach in a burst of inky motes, tentacles lashing out to siphon energy from the fiery creature's core. The Flame Atronach screeched in crackling fury, flame sputtering as the Seeker's magic clawed into it. My Frost Atronach pivoted, slamming an ice-shard fist into the Seeker's side. Sticky black fluid splattered the ancient tiles, and the Seeker reeled with a high-pitched hiss, forced to relinquish its hold.
I glimpsed Arindor taking advantage of the chaos to aim a fresh arrow at the scholar, who had staggered behind a dais. A swirling protective ward glimmered there, cast by one of the Seekers—protecting him. The arrow clanged off an invisible barrier, disintegrating in midair. He swore under his breath, shifting to find another angle.
"You—fools," the scholar croaked, pulling the arrow from his side with a grimace. Blood ran thick between his fingers, and he glared at us. "You have no idea the power I'm about to claim! Mora's knowledge will tear open the secrets of—"
He broke off in a fit of coughing, spitting up more blood. Despite the arrow wound, he crooked his hand in a desperate gesture. The half-finished summoning circle crackled back to life, arcs of violet and green dancing across the chamber. Another Seeker emerged from a swirling pool of ink at his feet, larger and more menacing than the others. This one shimmered with authority, eyes blazing with a sickly yellow glow.
My mind reeled at the sudden spike of Daedric energy. The voice of Hermaeus Mora tore at me again: "You persist, though my designs do not concern you. Why do you cling to this existence?"
I grit my teeth. "You want him," I growled under my breath. "We want him. Let's see who claims him first."
With a swift gesture, I launched a volley of swirling frost that swept across the floor, crystallizing the stone beneath the feet of two oncoming Seekers. They flailed, pinned down by ice, as I flicked my other hand and unleashed a hot sunfire into the center of their mass. Shrieks tore through the corridor, echoing as black ichor sizzled and hissed under the combined assault.
Somewhere behind me, I could hear the Forest Atronach battling, each thud of its massive limbs shaking the ground. Vines and bark lashed out, tangling with elongated Seeker arms. The tang of earthy sap mixed with the reek of Daedric ink.
Arindor advanced on the dais, stepping carefully over smoking bits of rubble, aiming another arrow at the scholar. The barrier flickered. One more arrow might take the man out completely. But a newly arrived Seeker floated between them.
I couldn't let the scholar cast another conjuration or healing. Throwing caution to the wind, I dashed forward, ignoring the burn of my muscles. If I could slip around their flank, maybe I could disrupt the circle from the other side.
From the corner of my vision, the massive "elite" Seeker the scholar had summoned glided closer. It raised its spindly arms, chanting in a hollow voice that grated along my nerves. A conical blast of dark and green, swirling magic exploded across the chamber, smashing into the columns and scattering debris.I had to use my elderblood to escape from that attack.
I felt a sudden swirl of wind and spotted Arindor tumbling across the floor, his bow knocked from his hands by the shockwave. He skidded to a stop, groaning. The Seeker advanced.
"You can handle yourself," I snarled under my breath. I circled around the dais, forcing my focus back on the ritual circle still flickering on the ground. My real target was that circle and the scholar.
He looked up at me, the color drained from his face but eyes wild with desperation. "Stay—back," he rasped, pressing a hand over the arrow wound in his side. "I'll complete the pact! The knowledge of Apocrypha will be—mine!"
His trembling fingers traced an intricate shape in the air. Sparks of greenish-black magic formed a ghostly, half-finished sigil just above the circle. I saw the lines coiling and felt the tug of Daedric forces bending reality.
I flung a wave of frost from my left hand, aiming to disrupt his casting. Icy shards pelted him, and he yelped, stumbling sideways.
But the scholar twisted, sacrificing accuracy for speed. He thrust his hand forward, launching a sickly blast of energy that clipped my shoulder, sending arcs of pain skittering down my arm. I nearly lost my balance.
His eyes blazed with manic triumph as he turned back to the swirling sigil. Blood dripped from his mouth, but he mustered another shaky gesture. The lines flared bright, reassembling themselves. Another second, and he'd complete it.
I bit back a growl, ignoring the throbbing burn in my shoulder. If I wasted more time, we'd lose any chance at stopping him.
A fresh swirl of conjuration roared to life. This time, I conjured a second Forest Atronach. The hulking mass of bark and vines erupted from a swirl of green magic behind the scholar, letting out a booming snarl that rattled the dais. It lunged forward, thick roots tangling around the scholar's legs as he tried to twist away. He screamed, the shaky spell losing form once more in a flash of crackling sparks.
A triumphant grin tugged at my lips. For now, he was pinned.
The tall, elite Seeker advanced through the haze, forcing my Flame and Frost Atronachs back with wave after wave of dark green energy, while the Forest Atronach continued to wrestle lesser Seekers near the chamber entrance.
"So many marks on your soul… so many watchers. You are a curiosity. Let me show you—"
I clenched my jaw and forced a wave of raw fury at the voice, pushing it from my head. The scholar might slip free, or the Seekers might swarm me.
Blasts of elemental magic carving scorch marks into the centuries-old stones. Arcane energy crackled with a near-deafening hum.