A changeling's visit to Skyrim

Luna leapt from the deck of the ship, pumping her wings with Barbas tucked securely under her arm, feeling the cold air on her face as a storm brewed in the distance. She landed, and her feet sank into the murky coast. She looked around as the rest of the crew disembarked from the ship, and saw nothing but grey rock, sand, and dead trees.

“Art thou sure this is the place?” she asked Barbas.

“Sure as I am seasick.” He answered and passed her a piece of parchment with his mouth “The outpost is right over there, the map says so.”

Luna unfurled the ancient map and looked it over, when suddenly a skull and crossbones came to life from its ink and began speaking to them. “Yeesss, the treasure of the spirit’s vein rests within the stronghold." It told them, slowly fading away "But be wary, for you must retrieve it before sunset…sunset…sunset…SUNSET!”

Luna tucked it away and walked forward onto dryer land, motioning for the rest of the pirate crew to follow. She could not see the sun through the thick clouds, but she reckoned they didn’t have much time. Taking to the skies, Luna quickly spotted the old crumbling building they had all sought after; not only did it hold the treasure for the pirates with whom she traveled with, but also the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller her friends so desperately needed.

She touched down at the destroyed gates of the small fortress, shooting a magic flare into the sky to signal the pirates that she had found it.

Without another thought, she set Barbas on the ground and barged straight into the courtyard, ready for a fight. But instead she was met with a scene of carnage.

The orcs that had stolen the Horn from the merchants, prolonging her journey, lay slaughtered and strewn about the ground and battlements. Many were hung by thick iron chains, left to dangle for scavengers, or skewered on pikes and pinned to the weathered stone.

Luna held her breath and her lunch, and turned to Barbas. “Canine, aid me in searching for the horn.” She told him.

“Ey, my sense of smell is like a billion times better than yours, you have any idea what this is like for me?” he complained, but got to work combing over the bodies anyway.

Luna recognized the chieftain of the tribe displayed in the center of it all, propped up on an old well, his heart ripped out through his chest and placed in his hand.

“Well… that must have been dis-heart-ening for him.” Barbas quipped, but quickly went back to searching when Luna glared at him.

The Princess sighed and looked at the pain filled expression locked on her enemy’s face. “Kra-zog. All this trouble you caused us, all that ambition and reckless greed. The people whose lives you pillaged… only to have it all end here.” she shook her head.

It was then that she heard a ruckus, and turned to see her sea-going companions arrive through the gates.

Sercie, the captain’s first mate let out a low whistle as she surveyed the bodies littering the area. “Well Princess, I see you don’t mess around.”

“T’was not I who did this, matey. Their end was brought by another.” Luna told her.

“Whatever, let’s grab their stuff!” another of the pirates interrupted as he and the others began looting everything they could from the bodies.

Luna suddenly got an ominous feeling. Barbas made eye contact and gave a nod, letting her know he felt it too.

“Make haste with thy plundering, we mustn’t linger here.” Luna warned them.

“Why?” one of the pirates questioned as he stripped a bloody vest off one of the orcs “These louts are dead as can- hurk!“

He was cut off as a broken bone passed through his windpipe. His last sight before he drowned in his own blood was of the headless orc rising up, and a skeletal beast bursting from its flesh to charge at the Princess.

Luna blasted the skeletal monstrosity away with a yell of vengeance, sending its giblets of skin and bone everywhere.

Barely a second later an earsplitting screech came from everywhere at once came as the corpses of the orcs lurched upwards, unpinning themselves from the walls, with more of the skeletal beasts pulling themselves from the depths of the well.

The remaining pirates formed a circle and drew their cutlasses and flintlocks, the Captain took up position next to Luna.

“Ya-harr! Yarr.” He growled.

“Well lass, looks like we’re in for a fight! Hope yer prepared.” Barbas translated.

“Indeed!” Luna shouted and conjured her moonlight spear “I do hope Stross and Fenora are faring better.”

“I am not doing okay!” Stross shrieked as yet another ball of ice pummeled him in the face “The only way I’ll get out of this alive… is if I don’t get killed!”

Reaching the end of the corridor, he started frantically banging on the gate at the end as more giant snowballs pelted his back. He kicked and hit it with fire, but to no avail. He just wanted to get away from those dang soul gem powered bringers of frozen misery.

“Wait a minute… soul gems!” Stross said as a brilliant thought struck him like a giant ball of ice to the back of the head.

And then a giant ball of ice struck him in the back of the head. But he managed to shrug it off, and fired a blast of fire at each of the pillars housing a soul gem.

The resulting explosions were enough to knock the gems out of their casings, and with nothing to power the spell matrix, the barrage of coldness finally stopped, and the gate in front of him opened.

The changeling breathed a shivering sigh of relief and continued onward through the winding walls.

As he rubbed his arms to try and warm himself, Stross found himself faced with yet another challenge in the next open room; a gate was locked, with a piece of lead in the shape of a heart acting as the lock. Above it was the inscription, [If your heart is not made of gold, then make it so. There is no reason you can't.].

Stross thought on it for a while. “Heart of gold… what does that mean? I’m sure it has something to do with this metal heart, but… what exactly?”

As he was thinking on it, a wall slid open behind him. Stross whipped around with a fireball ready, expecting a trap of some kind, but to his surprise J’zargo sat there, propped against the wall of the maze near a small empty alcove.

“J’zargo!” Stross called and rushed over to his side “J’zargo, you okay?”

Thought there seemed to be nothing wrong with him, and he was steadily breathing, J’zargo didn’t respond. So naturally, Stross tried channeling some healing magic his way in an attempt to wake him up.

Then he resorted to vigorous shaking. And when that failed, he turned to slapping.

The changeling grunted in frustration, “Why won’t you wake up!?” It was then that he noticed the lingering magic on the khajiit’s body, illusion magic like his disguises, but much more powerful.

He got an idea, and placed his palm on J’zargo’s forehead “Hang in there buddy, I’m going to try something.” Stross closed his eyes and concentrated on the magic surrounding his fellow mage. Dispelling it would be like stripping away his own illusions and mind influence; maybe a little tougher, but it would be simple… right?

The second he tried, the world went black and he fell to the floor, not feeling his head hit the stone.

Stross’s eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he noticed was the heat. The second thing he noticed was the sand in his eyes. And the third thing he noti-

“AH MY EYES! There’s sand in my eyes! It hurts so bad! Make it stop!”

Uh… yes, as I was saying. The third thing Stross noticed were the tall buildings of white stone towering over his head, nearly blocking out the clear blue sky and the blazing sun overhead. Bringing his gaze slowly downwards, he saw the scenery slowly transition to a busy market full of khajiit merchants, each peddling their wares.

“Where am I?” Stross asked to no one in particular as he walked by a few of the stalls, the setups reminding him of Ri’saad and his caravan. “Hey!” he waved to a nearby vendor “Can you tell me where this is?”

The merchant didn’t answer him, or even take notice of his presence, opting to continue staring forward into space. But before he could be confused or offended, something else drew Stross’s attention.

“Look friends! J’zargo has finally done it!” came a small excited voice from an alleyway.

Stross peeked around the corner and found a group of five young khajiit in ragged clothes, all gathered around a sixth. They seemed disinterested, giving their attention to the small boy and his pile of stones only out of boredom.

“J’zargo has finally done it. Just watch!” he said and held his hands out over the ring of rocks.

A burst of sparks flew out of his fingertips, but nothing changed with the rocks. Some of the others yawned, and one scoffed at the failed attempt.

“Give it up runt. You’ve never cast a spell right.” the oldest one sneered.

“B-but… J’zargo did it right just this morning, honest. Just look!” J’zargo pulled a piece of gold out of his pocket; no larger than a pebble, yet it drew the eyes of all the others.

“Give it here!” the oldest immediately ordered, advancing on J’zargo with his hand outstretched.

J’zargo happily handed it over, his face lighting up when he saw the others smile.

“Come on guys, now we can buy some food!” the eldest held the gold rock up high, and the others cheered.

The world rippled around that moment as it stood there frozen in time, fading away into another.

…

This time Stross found himself in a barren building. It was dark and cool, the smell of dusty fabric permeated the air. Three of the boys from before sat on the floor with their arms crossed, scowling.

Then the door was kicked open, its wooden frame creaking from the force. In stepped the other two young khajiit, holding a bag between them with something squirming within.

They dumped the bag on the floor between them all and emptied it out. J’zargo spilled out, bound and gagged with a gash on his forehead.

The oldest boy stepped forward and kicked him in the stomach. “Five months.” He growled “Five months we had to rot in that cell because you gave us a painted rock. What do you have to say for yourself, you curse?!”

“M’m fhawwy!” J’zargo tried to scream an apology around the sock in his mouth.

“What’s that? You’re sorry? Well you should have thought of that before you got. Us. Jailed!” the eldest punctuated his words with more kicks. “We’re lucky they didn’t gut us! You think you’re a mage? You think you’ll ever be a great wizard?” he sneered “Magic your way out of this. Mess him up boys.”

The other four khajiit got up and cracked their knuckles.

“NO! Get away from him!” Stross yelled and tried to step between them like a shield. But the boys passed right through him like ghosts and began whaling on their helpless former friend.

“Stop it! He doesn’t deserve this!” Stross yelled and threw himself over J’zargo’s body as he grunted and screamed muffled cries for mercy.

The onslaught went right through him as the world rippled again.

…

A sort of hospital surrounded them now. White cloth hung from the ceilings like walls between the simple beds, and at the one nearest where Stross stood was J’zargo, a small khajiit covered from head to toe in bloody bandages. His breathing was erratic and jumpy, but he was alive and conscious.

“St-Stross?” he gasped out, gaining the changeling’s attention.

“J’zargo, you can see me?” Stross knelt down next to the bedside.

J’zargo sighed. “Yes, but I wish you could not see me. Not like this; so weak, helpless, powerless and small.” He said, looking himself over in disgust.

“What happened? Who were those guys beating you up?” Stross asked as sympathetically as he could.

J’zargo paused for a moment, but finally answered. “They were the closest thing I had to a family in Elsweyr. They were like brothers, as mean as they were. They let J’zargo live with them in their abandoned store, and they shared their food and clothes. J’zargo only wanted to repay them for their kindness, so much that he lied to them.

“It was that day when they beat J’zargo and left him to die that J’zargo decided that he would never be picked on again. That he would learn magic and become a great mage. He would declare it to all the world! He would never be weaker than anyone ever again.”

Stross sat there in silence, wishing there was something he could say to make it all better.

“I envy you Stross.” J’zargo spoke up again “J’zargo sees and hears of your power and skill, and J’zargo wishes he could be just like you. Your will to push forward and fight against the impossible astounds J’zargo, fighting dragons and monsters… how do you do it?”

“I’m not as great as you think.” Stross told him “Everything you’ve seen me do was done on borrowed power. I was expending my life force casting those spells; saving Fen from death, killing that ancient draugr…”

“Is that the secret to becoming a great mage; doing whatever it takes to gain power, even sacrificing your own life?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Stross yelled.

“Then what?”

"They say friends make you more powerful, but for me it's literal. Their life force give me strength." Stross brought his eyes to the floor. “I did everything it did because I felt like there was no other way to protect them. I hate to admit it, but I get reckless and stupid when people I care about are in danger. But I mean... wouldn’t you do anything to protect the people you love?”

“J’zargo… I, have never allowed myself to care for another since that day. I do not wish to be hurt like that ever again.” J’zargo told him.

Stross put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a smile. “Hey, I know what it feels like. Believe me I do. But you can’t shut yourself away and deny everyone before they even get a chance. I tried that once, I nearly starved to death.”

J’zargo gave him an odd look, but Stross continued.

“What I’m saying is, there will always be those who will hurt you, but they shouldn’t deter you from letting others into your life. Having someone to live for, friends who will stand by your side… becoming great on your own feels good, like you’ve accomplished something. But rising to greatness with your best friends by your side? That’s one of the best feelings in the world.”

J’zargo sniffed a bit and wiped the tears out of the eye not covered in bandages. “But J’zargo does not have friends like you speak of.”

“The buck are you talking about? Of course you do! They’re trapped in this maze, and they need our help. They need your help.” Stross stood up and offered J’zargo a hand “So are you ready to go?”

J’zargo looked at Stross’s hand and cautiously placed his own small paw in it.

Stross pulled him up, the world fizzling and dispelling around them as the memory illusion was broken.

“Yes. J’zargo is ready to save his friends.”

The two of them walked over to the door with the lead heart. J’zargo read the inscription and confidently placed his hands on the latch. Sparks flew out of his hands, reaching a blinding intensity. When he removed his hands the heart was now solid gold, and the door slid open.

J’zargo turned to Stross and smiled. “Lead the way, friend. J'zargo has a good feeling about this.” he said before suddenly vanishing into a bright blue flash of light.

"J-J'zargo?" Stross stuttered, looking around for where he could have possibly gone.

He was left without any kind of an answer.

"You've got to be... Kitten me."

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Stross found himself on a misty trail, dirt and weeds populating most of the ground. He looked around only to find more thick fog covering the land.

After J’zargo had vanished, Stross had rushed ahead through the maze, hoping to find him again somewhere else, but instead he found Onmund lying face down on the floor ahead, his bag of minor alchemy reagents had spilled out in front of him. Further investigation revealed that he was under the same kind of sleep spell, and so Stross braced himself to awaken another friend. Now he was here.

“Hello!?” he called, hoping someone would hear.

To his relief, the fog began to part behind him, allowing him to see the cozy cabin house sitting behind it. It was a bit larger than what you’d expect from a building in the middle of the hills, but far from being a mansion or estate. It was made of wood and stone with a thatched roof, giving it the same homey feel the houses of most ponies would.

Stross walked past the small gardens up front, and up the steps that creaked under the weight of his feet. He knocked on the door, but there was no response.

Frowning, he knocked again, harder this time. There was still no answer.

Stross’s curiosity got the better of him and he decided to take a closer look inside, and he slowly crept over to a nearby window.

Flickering light from the fireplace and candles inside illuminated the scene before him. Inside the house were six people; an elderly woman sat in her rocking chair beside the fireplace, while four children, each no older than eight gathered in a circle, coloring on scraps of paper and humming to themselves. In the light shining through the door leading to the kitchen, Stross could see a younger woman chopping vegetables into a large metal pot.

“This seems peaceful, but what does this have to do with Onmund?” Stross wondered, and was about to move on.

But before he could, there was a muffled shout and a sound of a great many things falling. Suddenly a trapdoor burst open, and a large muscular nord man stomped up the stairs, a scowl on his beard-covered face and a thick tome clenched in his hand.

“Da! Da wait- don’t!” Onmund yelled after him as he scrambled up the stairs.

His father paid no heed, walking past the children and their drawings, and moving the old woman aside to throw the book straight into the fireplace.

“NO!” Onmund dove forward and pulled the book out of the flames as they roared to life around the pages. He started frantically brushing away the fire and patting out the embers with his bare hands, even as they burned.

His father stomped over and forcefully pulled him away from the burning book. “Enough son!” he yelled. “What have I told you about practicing that filthy magic in this house!?”

“What’s going on?” the woman from the kitchen came to see what had caused the commotion.

“Dear, get mum and the children. Take them to the other room while I deal with this.” Onmund’s father ordered.

His mother simply nodded and gathered his four younger siblings along with his grandmother, and quietly moved off to another room, shutting the door behind them.

“Da, I was just reading it this time!” Onmund told him “What’s wrong with just reading?”

“’Just reading’ my big toe!” his father shouted “I saw you drawing those circles out of bone dust! Chanting those incantations! Those words are the work of daedra, from the plane of Oblivion! Do you want to bring those monsters into our home? To have them drag your family to burn? Would you have your own brothers and sisters butchered by that magic of yours!?”

The man took a moment to calm himself and catch his breath. “Why couldn’t ya just learn to be a proper nord like the rest of th’ family? Yer grandad was a honored soldier, and his father was a famous folk hero! I would have been an adventurer… but then I-“

“Took an arrow in the knee?” Onmund cut him off.

His father looked him in the eye and slapped him. “I gave it up to raise a family. And for the last time, I won’t have any son of mine practice that infernal craft under my roof!”

“Fine then!” Onmund snapped and scooped up the smoldering remains of his book. “Then I’ll go to Skyrim! To the College of Winterhold! I don’t need you to hold me back, or tell me how to live my life!” he yelled and stomped out the door.

“Then go! But we won’t be here when you come crawling back.” His father told Onmund as he walked down the pavement, slamming the door behind him to further his point.

Onmund didn’t look back, and the house became dark and cold before the fog swallowed it up completely, leaving Stross just sitting there on the ground.

“Onmund!” the changeling called out, and chased after his friend “Onmund wait!”

Onmund turned his head, briefly showing the tears running down his face, but he quickly wiped them away when he saw who was following him. “Stross? How are you here?”

“It’s a memory Onmund; the maze has you under some sort of mind-searching coma.” Stross explained.

“Oh… I thought maybe… maybe I’d been given a chance to do things over. Fat lot of good it would have done anyway; it happened the exact same way.” Onmund said sadly.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Stross asked as they kept walking down the endless path.

“What’s to tell?" Onmund paused for a moment and sighed.

"I’ve always loved magic." he started "Ever since I was a child it was amazing to me. But my father always hated it, all because of an insane necromancer that almost sacrificed him for gods know what; that’s what got him to quit adventuring. Needless to say, we came to blows quite often over the subject.

“Gran was old and tired of it, she gave up trying to intervene. And mum… she was always so passive, hated fighting; she’d always take my sister and little brothers away to hide whenever the shouting started. And they... I don’t think they knew what was going on; too young to understand. But they were scared whenever my father and I started arguing, and that was enough.

“All in all, leaving home was probably for the best thing I ever decided to do for myself. I shouldn’t have been so cut up about it… but…”

“You wish you could have left on better terms?” Stross asked tentatively.

Omund nodded. “It was the last time I spoke to any of them. They never sent any letters, never replied to mine… I’m… I’m scared that they’re really not there anymore, like they might have fallen off the face of the earth the second I left.”

Onmund pulled out a large brass locket and clicked it open. Inside were two drawings, meticulously drawn by hand it seemed; one shown his parents smiling with their arms around each other, the other depicted him kneeling next to his little siblings. “I bet they don’t even remember me. Think I’m better off forgotten.”

Stross put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure they miss you, you’re their son, and their brother.”

“I want to be a mage.” Onmund told him “It’s so fascinating and incredible! Learning magic is everything I’ve ever dreamt it would be. I just wish I didn’t have to choose between doing what I love, and being loved by my family.”

“You don’t have to.” came a strong voice from his right.

Onmund looked up to see his father walking next to him, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Your mother, your brothers, your sister and I… we’ll always love you, no matter what. Never question that.” his ‘father’ told him “I’m sorry for the things I said to you, I just didn’t want you to get hurt; you’re my son after all.” he put a hand on Onmund’s shoulder “And I’m proud of you son, no matter what you choose to do with your life.”

Onmund smiled, and gave a slight chuckle. “Thank you Stross, it means a lot to hear it. Maybe I’ll even hear my real father say those words one day. Now let’s get out of this maze and save Skyrim! That’ll sure give them something to be proud of.”

The world flickered and faded to white.

…

Onmund groaned and rubbed his head as he got unsteadily to his feet. Stross followed suit soon after.

“The gate… over there.” Stross mumbled and pointed forward towards another magically sealed gate. “Oh, and here you dropped this. Sorry for messing around with your sack.”

“Hah!” Onmund laughed as he took his bag and pulled it back on. “So what’s the deal with this door anyhow?” he asked as he tugged at the metal bars.

“It’s got something to do with that riddle above the door.” Stross pointed to the rust-covered plaque that read [If what you wish is out of reach, reach farther for it].

“What do you suppose that means?” Onmund asked as he went over the words again.

“I don’t know, but if I could reach that pull chain over there, it wouldn’t matter.” Stross pointed to a heavy leaver far down the hallway. “I can’t get to it with my telekinesis, and blasting it with fireballs doesn’t move it. Trust me, I tried… several times.”

Omnund gasped and snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! I almost forgot about this spell.”

He grabbed a tiny bottle of sand from his pocket and poured it out on the ground near his feat. Onmund then cupped both his hands around the small pile of dust and concentrated for a few seconds.

In a flash of light and smoke, a rock surrounded in lightning and wind hovered just slightly above the ground.

“Hey little guy, remember me?” Onmund cooed to the little elemental “I need you to pull that switch over there.”

The rock blinked its single glowing eyeball, and then barked like a dog. Then a long snaking arm of energy reached out of it, through the bars, down the long narrow hall, and grasped the pull chain at the far end.

Stross gave Onmund a questioning look.

“I made it as a friend when I was nine, used it to reach the cookie jar.” Onmund explained “Dad caught me with it once and thought I was in danger; he cleaved it in half. After that I had to use a stool to reach the cookies like a normal kid.”

A metallic clink sounded out and the gate was lowered into the floor as Onmund’s elemental retracted its arm.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I met J’zargo already, but as soon as we got through one of these magic riddle gates, he vanished.” Stross warned him “So try not to do the same-“

*Pop*

“… thing.” Stross finished limply as Onmund and his summon instantly disappeared. “Bob Saget!”

"Not again not again not a- Oof! Ow my head and face.” Stross came to a screeching halt as he rounded a corner only to hit a literal brick wall.

“What’s this?” he monologued as he felt around the surface of the wall blocking his path. “No riddle plaque, no hidden switches, no non-hidden switches! How am I supposed to get past this?”

He was about to turn around and go back the way he came, and hope there was another way. But a wall had apparently materialized behind him while he had his back turned, leaving him in a claustrophobically small box of stone.

“Uhh…”

*Sh-unk!* Suddenly the floor fell out from under him, leaving only a black abyss where he was standing.

And Stross gave zero fucks about it!

“It’s a good day to have wings!” Stross declared as he hovered there.

And then a part of the maze’s wall fell away, revealing a can of bug spray.

“Oh come on! That trap’s way too specif-“ and then his speech devolved into a sputtering mess of coughing and wheezing against the cloud of pesticides as he plummeted down onto the depths.

Stross’s lungs and throat continued to burn when he crash-landed onto a soggy, overgrown surface. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly because the room lacked any kind of light source, but he was glad to have something to roll around in that would negate the effects of the cloud.

After a good minute of stopping, dropping and rolling, Stross finally relaxed into the bliss of the squishy ground as the last of the burning sensation left him. He breathed a sigh of relief and sat up.

“Alright, let’s find a way out of here.” he told himself and conjured some fire for light.

He immediately wished he hadn’t.

Laying around him in the dark and the gloom were dozens upon dozens of rotting bodies. What he had assumed were sticks and twigs breaking under him were actually bones, the rocks turned out to be skulls, and the squishy moss was… squishy moss. Growing on dead people!

However, despite the terrible smell and the juices seeping into his clothes, Stross managed to keep it together and focu-

“WAAAAAAAHHHH! Oh get ‘em off, get ‘em off! Sweet Celestia it’s in my shoes! Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

Stross’s mad scramble as he kicked and stumbled through the dark found him an exit; it was little more than a drain, and barely big enough to squeeze through, but he eagerly stuffed himself inside and started crawling on his belly. (Totally as planned… totally)

…

“Ah, eh, eww… ee-he-hew no.” Stross mumbled as he crawled his way through the narrow passage “Oh it's so gross and sticky... that's what she said.”

Finally, he reached a grate. It was old and rusty, and with some persuasion, it easily came off. Stross then dragged himself out of the cramped tunnel and fell to the floor, and it was solid this time.

“Well… thank goodness that’s over.” He said as he shook off a bunch of debris that had clung to him, it would probably take hours to get his Nightingale outfit clean after all that. “Now, where am I?”

The trickling sound of water hitting stone echoed through the dark surroundings, and Stross nervously lit another fire in his hands, not eager to see what horrors awaited him this time.

Thankfully, there were no rotting remains this time; instead it seemed to be the entrance to some sort of catacomb. Boosting the reach of his fire’s light, Stross found a corridor leading away from the wetness.

The next hallway was also lined with braziers, a couple of them already lit, through it might have been preferable had they not been. Dozens of corpses lined the walls. However these were by no means the expertly preserved draugr that many crypts in Skyrim housed. These ones were revoltingly slimy and decayed from the moisture and lack of embalming, and they hung from the walls by rusted shackles, their bodies threatening to fall apart from being held upright.

Stross walked by them, wholeheartedly expecting them to come alive and jump out at him any second (the bodies still had clothes on after all, everyone knows that the ones with clothes are still sort of alive).

He tensed up as he passed the first row, anticipating an attack from behind that never came. About halfway through, he accidentally brushed by one of the corpse’s hands, immediately backing up and becoming stiff, as he waited for something to happen, but after a couple strenuous seconds, the hand simply fell off and did nothing.

Stross let out a sigh of relief as he passed by the final two and was able to put some distance between himself and the rotting things.

Brelyna sat on the hard stone floor, a gate securely shut in front of her, its twin similarly blocking her retreat. She had been there for almost an hour now, and it felt like far more; time always had a way of either slipping away from her or slowing to a crawl.

She had felt so proud of herself when she managed to break out of the memory trap, and she had never been so glad to get away from memories of home. But now she was here, in a stinking, corpse-filled dungeon beneath Shalidor’s maze, all because she rushed ahead without thinking.

She couldn’t stop berating herself for being so foolish, but it seemed like such a simple puzzle. Turn a crank and the door opens to the next room, then in the next room was a similar device to open the next door and so on.

Of course the mechanisms would get more complex as one progressed, Brelyna expected that. But one that needed three people to operate? There was no way. And because the doors close behind you, she was now trapped inside with no way back, all alone.

Crying was useless as no one would hear her, and a waste of liquids that she’d need to survive. But that logical reasoning wasn’t enough to stop her, it never was. Over the last few minutes of being trapped, Brelyna had managed to get a hold of herself, or maybe she’d just gotten tired of crying, and now only had to hold back an occasional hiccup or two.

Still, it didn’t help change the fact that she was going to die down here.

Her friends were probably lost in the maze like she was. And even if they weren’t they had a mission to save all of Skyrim.

No one was ever going to find her.

Not ever, ever, not even in a million years- expect someone did.

“Hello?!” a raspy voice called out through the door to her right “I’m sensing copious amounts of depression and self-loathing in here! Brelyna is that you?”

Brelyna looked up, surely it couldn’t be… “St- Stross? Stross quick, open the door!” she begged him as she ran to the gate. “There’s a switch back there!”

Stross quickly found the lever she was talking about and pulled it.

Brelyna was overjoyed to be free again, and made it the first priority to run up and giver her savior a big hug, an act he gladly returned. “Thank you Stross, thank you thank you! I’m so happy to see you; I thought I’d be trapped down here forev- uh… Why are you all sticky?”

“I was rolling in dead people sludge.” Stross told her plainly.

Brelyna let out a mortified whimper before hastily taking a respectable step backwards and brushing herself off. “Oh… well I’m still glad you showed up when you did.”

“But how did you end up here? When I found Onmund and J’zargo, they were in some kind of magic induced sleep. I had to go in their minds and pull them out of their… I guess, most painful memories.” Stross told her.

“Oh… I already did that.” Brelyna rubbed her arm. “I found myself here a little while afterwards. My own mistake.”

"Aww, and I was building up such a nice helper streak too." Stross whined as the two of them backtracked a bit. “What were they about? The dreams I mean.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Well I gave the guys a little pep talk when their memories were over, and it helped us get past these riddle doors.” Stross explained “And then they just kinda poofed out of existence. Did you see either of them lately?”

“Well no… I can’t say I have.” Brelyna told him in spite of the obvious “But if you really want to know, my dreams were just reliving my studies at home before being sent to Winterhold.”

“Sent? You mean you didn’t want to come on your own like the others.”

“No. Well- what I mean is… I’m part of a noble family in Morrowind, a branch of house Telvanni. I have a lot of expectations to live up to, being an only child. My parents always told me ever since I could walk how much it meant that I do something great with my life, and magic was an obvious choice. They had me tutored in a great many different schools of magic all my life.”

“Oh. Still that must have been fun, traveling all over, meeting other young mages, making friends…”

“They weren’t those kinds of schools Stross. Schools as in restoration, conjuration, not actual… schools. I barely ever talked to anyone but my professors and tutors.” Brelyna told him sadly “You, and the others are the closest thing to actual friends I’ve ever been allowed to have.”

“Wow… I’m sorry.” Stross said not knowing how to respond to something like that. Fortunately they just reached the hall of bodies. “Oh hey, it’s these things again.”

“What’s that? Is that a plaque?’ Brelyna pointed to a metal plate hanging above the bodies.

“Huh? I must have missed that. ‘[In magic there is no good or evil, only power. Do not be afraid to use all at your disposal]’.” Stross read the plaque “I wonder what that means.”

Brelyna gasped and put her hands to her mouth. “On no.” she muttered “No no no. Oh gods please not that.”

“What? What is it?”

“It’s talking about necromancy.” Brelyna said, looking as though she felt sick.

“Ah yes,” Stross stroked his chin like a noble scholar “The dark and forbidden art of making instant minions and sex slaves. Celestia herself once sought to have such practices purged from existence, yet none could resist the allure of molesting a reanimated corpse. And so the necro-romance wars began! Celestia’s holy Templars of ethics and chastity struck down with many pamphlets and folk songs against the roleplaying death-wizards and their harems of living-impaired! All the while the moderates, who simply wanted to live in peace with their newly risen marefriends had their ideals callously shoved aside-”

“Stross? That sounds like a very interesting tale, but we really should find a way out of here.” Brelyna interrupted him.

“Aww, okay.” Stross pouted “So you know any necromancy?”

“No!” Brelyna said, perhaps a bit too quickly “Well… maybe a little.”

“Sweet! Let’s get some of these guys to help us out.” Stross poked one of the corpses.

Brelyna hesitated. “I… I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this.”

“That’s okay, just tell me how to do it.” Stross offered.

“That’s even worse! I’d be tainting you with that knowledge too.” Brelyna refused “You’re too sweet and innocent for that!”

Stross giggled and blushed.

“No. I’ll have to do this myself.” Brelyna said and walked over to the decaying bodies lining the walls “Just don’t watch okay? Turn around.”

Stross did as he was told and turn his back while the dunmer concentrated. The air started to feel thicker, heavier with magic-

“Stross I can feel you looking!”

The changeling let out a small ‘eep’ and turned his head back around.

By the time the air had settled and Stross was allowed to look, Brelyna had brought to life eight loyal servants. She returned to him looking quite repulsed, shivering and hugging herself as the corpses followed in a conga line.

…

The first two rooms were a cinch to get past, one zombie to operate each crank. In the condition they were in, Stross assumed their bodies would fall apart from the mere effort of turning the cranks, but the magic Brelyna had used to bring them to life was apparently keeping them together.

Next came a bridge over a pit of spikes, where more bodies seemed to have fallen long ago, their bones still hanging on the stone protrusions. They had to leave one of the eight behind in order to keep hold of the lever while they crossed, and it fell apart the second it was out of range of Brelyna’s animation spell.

“Farewell, Captain dislocated-wrist!” Stross saluted as he shed a single tear “Oh captain my captain.”

“Oh Stross, this is why I told you not to name them.” Brelyna gave him a consoling hug.

…

The final obstacle seemed to be an empty room with an open door on the other end, but Stross quickly found out that it was far from empty when he set but a single toe inside and a crossbow bolt nearly nailed his foot to the floor. All around the room were statues armed with crossbows, loaded to fire at any form of movement.

“Yipes. That’s a lot of pointy things.” Stross observed “Brey, this calls for some advanced minion tactics. And so I’d like to introduce to you something I call… Operation Meatshield! Standard changeling tactics for the Queen’s royal guards.”

Brelyna gave him a questioning glance and tilted her head.

“Those changelings have balls of steel.”

And so the seven zombies were lined up in a defensive phalanx around Stross and Brelyna and they prepared to walk into the line of fire.

The second they entered the room, a dozen arrows whistled through the air, followed by the sickly squelching of their impacts into rotten flesh.

Though none of the arrows even came close to hitting either of them, Stross hugged Brelyna even tighter as they kept walking forward.

Light glinted on stone as the statues reloaded their crossbows, this time with fire-tipped arrows. As more and more salvoes of arrows were fired, one of the zombies on the right took an arrow in the… leg, and collapsed.

The remaining six filed closer in order to close the gap, but it would not last. In the span of a few seconds, two more fell, and our heroes quickened their pace.

Halfway across the room, the tallest of the zombies was downed by a headshot. With their defenses falling around them, a couple arrows whizzed by, narrowly missing them.

“Run. Run!” Stross yelled and the two took off as the corpses shambled to keep up.

For a few seconds the dead drew fire from the statues, but all too soon the last one fell and the statues were free to focus solely on Brelyna and Stross.

Arrows pelted the ground where the two stood only a moment before. Finally, one found purchase in Brelyna’s thigh. The dunmer let out a cry of pain as she fell to the ground and more arrows clinked into the stone around her.

“Brey, get up!” Stross shouted as he ran to her.

As he was helping her up, an arrow struck him in the shoulder, and another in the small of his back.

“Gah! Okay I got this, I got this…” Stross panted and cast Oakflesh on himself. It helped a little, in at least the arrows only embedded their tips instead of going straight through him.

He pulled Brelyna to her feet and the two started to limp towards the exit as the statues reloaded.

“Stross watch ou-!“

Stross quickly shoved Brelyna back to the floor and dove over her like a shield as several more arrows pelted him in the back.

“St-Stross… You’re-“

“It’s okay… I’m cool.” He managed to say, though the whimper in his voice told her otherwise.

Brelyna grabbed hold of his arms, and used her good leg to drag them both the last few feet out the door to safety. The door slammed shut behind them as soon as they were through, and the unmistakable sound of arrows thock-ing into wood rang out several more times.

“Stross are you okay?” Brelyna asked as she laid him gently on the floor and looked over the several arrows lodged in the bleeding holes in his back.

“I will be.” The changeling gasped “I just need to… heal my-… heal… Oh here I go again.”

“Stross!” Brelyna screamed as Stross’s head flopped face first onto the floor.

“Mmr hr ferf a nerr, berrf?” Stross asked.

“What?” Brealyna leaned closer and lifted Stross’s head up.

“Can I feed on you, please?” he repeated. “I just need enough to heal us both and then I- nmph.“

Asking was all he had to do, as the dunmer girl suddenly pulled him up and pressed her mouth against his. For the first few seconds Stross wanted to tell her she didn’t have to kiss him to feed him, but finally gave in to the tidal wave of love flooding over him, savoring every last drop of her soul being poured in.

Stross blinked after a few seconds had passed and tried to pull away. But Brelyna wouldn’t have it and continued to suck at his lips, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, and he rolled his eyes while he waited for her to stop.

Eventually she had to come up for air, and they broke contact.

“I… I-I’m sorry.” Brelyna said between gasps “I… sh-shouldn’t have-“

“It’s okay, I feel great now!” Stross told her and began awkwardly trying to pull the arrows out of his back before his shell healed around the shafts.

“H-here, let me help you.” Brelyna said and took over for him, being as careful as she could to not do any more damage. “I’m still sorry for latching onto you like that, it was wrong. Please don’t tell Fenora, she’d be furious with me.”

“Oh come on- Ow! I’m sure she’d under- Owch! understand.” Stross told her.

Brelyna paused for a moment before resuming her work. “She told me. After we escaped Sarthaal and the two of you were leaving Winterhold, she said she didn’t want to share you with anyone.”

“Ohmygosh, women are being possessive over me. I feel so giddy just thinking about it!” Stross said, barely able to contain himself. After all those years of having to fight to keep significant others, it was finally his turn to be the desired one!

“Stross…” Brelyna sighed “This is serious, I’m already in hot water with her as it is. I already… told her I love you.”

“Come on Brey, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Stross told her “Fen’s just really attached to me, and I don’t know what I’d do without her either. But I still love you too.”

“R-really?”

“Of course. You’re like the sister I never had.” Stross told her with a smile before a realization donned on him. “Oh Celestia I just made out with my sister. I’m like Luke-warm Skywater in Star- YEOWCH! Gently, please.”

“I’m sorry, but your sister still has an arrow in her leg.” Brelyna said in a sudden spiteful tone.

“Oh, here I’ll get it.” Stross switched places with her and started slowly working the arrow out. It was embedded pretty deep, and the lip-biting grimace Brelyna gave every time he pulled it out a bit more made it as painful for him as it was for her. “Alright, it’s out.” Stross said finally, discarding the projectile and placing a healing palm over the wound.

“Thank you Stross.” Brelyna said and got to her feet, only to feel woozy and almost fall over again if Stross hadn’t been there to catch her.

“Easy. Lean on me.” Stross told her, draping her arm over his shoulder so they could start walking. “I must have taken more out of you than I thought. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s alright Stross. And… thank you. For giving me my first kiss.”

“That was your first time!?” Stross exclaimed in shock “Brey, some lucky guy is gonna take you around the freaking world one day, I guarantee it.”

“Why would I want to travel the world?” Brelyna asked, confused by the idea.

Stross chuckled and let out a sigh. “Yep, round the world twice.”

*Pop!*

"Brelyna?" Stross looked around to find nothing at all. "Why does this keep happening?!"