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4E 201, College of Winterhold
Gerron Ironbreaker
Gerron's room had upgraded ever since his elevation to Master Enchanter. He now lived in the Hall of Countenance with the other Professors, located in one of the towers of the College.
He had done his best to decorate it, shelves filled with rare soul gems and aged tomes, and a broad enchanter's table cluttered with scrolls and components. A faint blue and white ambient light pulsed from the magelight sconces spread evenly throughout the room.
"Fancy." Kiera said amusedly.
"I tried my best." Gerron replied with a coy smile.
Serana leaned against a shelf, her arms crossed, a rare softness touching her normally guarded features. Gerron, seated on a low stool beside the firepit, watched them both and let the warmth of familiarity wash over him.
It had been too long.
Kiera began to recount her journey. Her voice was steady, a certain confidence that wasn't there half a year ago. It seems she had finally settled onto the weight that was thrust on her shoulders.
She spoke of Vermithor, the bronze-scaled dragon who had chosen her. She told of the moment she soared above Skyrim for the first time, of Paarthurnax and the truths he revealed atop the Throat of the World, of the Kruziik and the Greybeards.
She spoke of her fight against Hevnoraak in Valthume, and Alduin who drew strength from slaughter like a sustenance. Slowly but surely regaining his strength the more chaos reigns in the world.
"The attacks on Rorikstead, Whiterun, and Windhelm." Kiera said quietly. "All of them were plots to enact massacres in a short amount of time. Every soul claimed would bring him closer to his true strength."
She described Dragonrend and the Elder Scroll that contained the memory of time itself. How it could be learned by reading the scroll upon the rift where Alduin was thrown forward all those years ago.
Gerron listened intently, nodding. When she paused for breath, he spoke.
"We're already working on the Elder Scroll side," Gerron said. "We've found the Moth Priest who's agreed to read it. All Dexion needs is time to prepare himself. We're also in talks to hold a truce."
Kiera raised an eyebrow. "A truce?"
"With Ulfric Stormcloak," Gerron explained. "We met with him in Windhelm. The idea is to gather the Jarls and generals and hold a peace council at High Hrothgar. Even the Greybeards are involved."
"That's good. I'll send a courier up to Arngeir to tell him the news. I'm sure he won't mind hosting." Kiera smiled. "Speaking of which, here you go."
She threw a pair of bulging pouches towards Gerron, who retrieved them with a smile.
"Unmelting Snow," Gerron said, opening one of the pouches and inspecting the silvery powder. "Exactly what I need."
"I made something for you, too," he added. With a wave of his hand, a few items shimmered into view on the table: a round ebony shield with a soul gem pulsing at its center, and two leather-bound tomes with the Alteration symbol etched at the front.
Kiera's eyes lit up as she picked up the tomes. "Alteration spells? What do you mean you 'made' these?"
Serana chuckled. "Believe it or not, Gerron here is quite talented at creating new spells. He's already given me a few ideas as well. Exploding Familiars, Flash Freeze, and Mass Confusion. All three Expert level spells for the Conjuration, Destruction, and Illusion schools respectively." She gave Gerron an amused coy look. "One day, I'm going to figure out how you're doing all this."
Gerron just gave them a smirk before gesturing to the tomes. "Crush and Accelerate," He explained. "Crush is an advanced form of Telekinesis. You focus on a target and, if you channel enough magicka, can physically crush anyone or anything you're focusing on. Great for breaking bones or armor. Accelerate is more subtle. It increases your movement speed through continuous channeling. I figured it might help you out."
Kiera's eyes widened. "That's incredible."
"The shield is another thing. Try using it." Gerron said as Kiera went ahead and wielded it. "Activate the soul gem."
Kiera did so as a shimmer spread from its center, forming a translucent barrier like polished glass. Gerron nodded.
"I call it the Spell Shield. It acts like a Restoration ward, but it also reflects incoming spells." He explained, "I managed to study something called Shalidor's Mirror while I was here, which was a spell created by the Archmagus a long time ago. Replicated the effect and made it more practical." He then tapped the dragonbone shield on his back. "I have one of my own."
"You spoil me, you know that right?" Kiera grinned.
"Only the best for you guys," Gerron replied with a smile.
She sat on the edge of the bed, hugging the shield for a moment, clearly touched.
"So," Gerron said, leaning back, "what's next?"
"Mount Kilkreath," Kiera replied, pulling out the glowing beacon of Meridia and earning a nod from Serana. "I planned to take Serana there on Vermithor. Unless you wanna come with."
He shook his head. "Not for this. There's still some things I need to do in the College. Someone also needs to look out for Dexion here, just in case."
Kiera nodded.
"We should warn you about something though," Serana suddenly interjected, her tone growing somber. "Isran came to the College. He told us about the reformation of the Dawnguard, and about your mother."
Kiera stiffened. "What happened?"
Serana glanced at Gerron, who nodded. Together, they explained to her everything they knew of the Mythic Dawn attack. How Carcette received a cut from the Mehrunes Razor and the wound—while currently non-lethal—is festering with something unnatural.
Kiera's hands tightened into fists. "Is there any way to cure it?"
"I've got a few ideas," Gerron said. "The White Phial, if I can fix it, might brew a healing potion strong enough. Though I can't say for certain until I see the Razor itself."
If they had the dagger with them, Gerron could use Artificer's Insight to study the Daedric Artifact from top to bottom and analyze it to determine its enchantments. Once he knew that, coming up with a cure to counter the effect would be child's play.
Kiera let out a breath. "As long as she's still alive, that's what really matters. My mother is strong and her mastery of Restoration is better than mine. She won't get killed so easily."
"We might want to bring Colette into this," Serana added. "She's one of the best healers in Skyrim."
"I'll talk to the Archmage," Gerron promised. "Might be time to pull in the College as official allies. They may claim neutrality in all conflicts but this is different. Alduin and Harkon are threats to all of Skyrim."
They all nodded in agreement.
…
4E 201, the Cistern, Ragged Flagon, Riften
Brynjolf
The Flagon was almost empty. Only the sound of distant tremors above reminded Brynjolf of the chaos happening in Riften.
Most of the guild had been evacuated through the Ratway tunnels already. Delvin, Vex, Rune, and the others had helped guide the younger cutpurses and fences out toward the escape exits beneath the Black-Briar estate and the docks, carrying with them most of the wealth that made the Thieves Guild what they were.
They'd done what they could.
He descended back into the Cistern alone, hoping to grab the last few of the guild's ledgers and valuables before the whole place was buried in rubble or overrun by the dead.
But what he found was Mercer Frey.
The Guildmaster was at his personal quarters at the back of the Cistern, frantically rifling through drawers and hidden compartments. Gold coins spilled over the floor, ignored. Loose maps and scrolls were scattered like fallen leaves. Mercer's breath came heavy and ragged.
"Where in Oblivion is it?!" he muttered.
"Mercer?" Brynjolf approached cautiously, hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "What're you doing? We need to leave the city. The dead are almost at the gates."
Mercer whirled, scowling, before relaxing slightly at the sight of Brynjolf. "It's missing."
"What's missing?"
Mercer didn't answer.
From the shadows came a calm, feminine voice.
"The key, right Mercer?"
Mercer's head snapped up in alarm.
"Karliah–!"
Two arrows flew like lightning, striking him in the chest. Mercer gasped, stumbling backward as blood soaked through his armor. He collapsed to his knees, stunned more than defeated.
Brynjolf reacted instantly, hurling a dagger toward the shadows.
A cloaked figure stepped forward, catching the blade mid-air with practiced grace. She wore sleek, dark silver armor etched with strange runes. A black sash with a silvery shimmer draped around her shoulder, and in her hand was a curved bow, string still trembling from her shot.
She flipped back her hood, revealing the Dunmer features underneath. One Brynjolf instantly recognized.
"You." Brynjolf's hand shot to his sword, a scowl on his face. Before he could pull it out of its sheath, an arrow struck the wall—thunk—just beside his head.
"Don't try it, Brynjolf." Karliah's bow was drawn, her eyes sharp and unblinking. "You always were quick with a blade. But not quicker than me."
Brynjolf stared for a beat, then slowly removed his hand from his weapon. "Alright, lass."
Mercer coughed, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. "You… snake…"
"Don't waste your breath," Karliah said, venom in her voice. "Those arrows are laced with enough poison to kill a mammoth twice over. You're done."
She pulled something from her satchel—a small, worn journal—and tossed it toward Brynjolf. He caught it.
It was a simple leather-bound journal, with the symbol of a nightingale bird beneath a full moon etched at the front.
"Read it," Karliah commanded. "That's Gallus' journal that I managed to decode with the help of a friend. It took years. But the truth always comes out."
Brynjolf flipped it open, eyes narrowing as he scanned the pages. The handwriting… it was Gallus'. Every word screamed of betrayal. Of suspicion. Gallus had long feared Mercer was siphoning gold from the Guild Vault. Worse, that he sought something beyond mere coin—something tied to Lady Nocturnal and the Nightingales.
Then the final entry.
"He's invited me to Snow Veil Sanctum. I must go, though I fear this will be my last."
"I see," Brynjolf closed the journal with a sigh. "It seems we've been made fools of."
Karliah lowered her bow. Her expression softened—but only slightly.
"Th—the key…" Mercer gurgled from the ground. "H–How did you…"
"I returned it to the Ebonmere," Karliah said, voice cold as steel. "Did you really think you could steal from a Daedric Prince? You're a fool, Mercer. Nocturnal gave you a gift, one you used for selfish gain. She could easily take it away."
His eyes burned with hatred as his strength faded.
Karliah stepped closer, her voice lowering. "There's more at stake now than gold, Mercer. The world is changing. Something stirs beyond the veil. The Aedra. The Daedra. The very fabric between planes is growing thin and all of it is centered here in Skyrim."
Brynjolf swallowed.
This was much bigger than usual Guild politics. This was something deeper. Darker. Larger.
"She has chosen me as her Champion and she has grown tired of your meddling. The Divines and the Princes are making their move and Lady Nocturnal will not be silent any longer. It is time for the Nightingales to mobilize."
Karliah nocked one final arrow.
"For Gallus."
It struck true—straight into Mercer's throat. He didn't even scream. Just fell back, his eyes locked in stunned disbelief as death claimed him. With the last gurgle, Gallus' murder was finally avenged.
Silence followed.
The faint echoes of war and death from above felt a world away.
Brynjolf finally exhaled. "So what now, lass?"
Karliah turned to him. "Like I said, Lady Nocturnal needs her agents. There's work to be done in the shadows." She gestured to the body. "Mercer was Nocturnal's sword. Her deadliest warrior. I need you to be that now. The Nightingales must rise again."
Brynjolf looked around. The Cistern felt different when it was empty like this.
He turned back to Karliah. "…And what does this oath mean, exactly?"
She smiled slightly, the first crack in her armor of stoicism. "It means placing your faith in something greater than gold. A purpose like no other."
"You sound like a damn Priest of Mara." Brynjolf chuckled grimly, shaking his head. There was a long pause before he gave a half-smile. "You always did know how to twist a man's arm, Karliah."
She stepped forward, extending a gloved hand. "So… will you stand with me, Nightingale?"
Brynjolf looked down at her hand… then back toward Mercer's corpse.
He reached out and took it.
…
AN: I'm not too happy with how this chapter turned out, especially Karliah's whole speech to Mercer. I just kept deleting and rewriting it over and over again. In the end, I just stopped overthinking about it and kept whatever you see now.
Gerron crafted a whole bunch of new spells off-screen and gave it to Serana and Kiera. Coming up with the spells was pretty fun.
Anyways, another Champion has been revealed. A whole bunch of things are happening behind the scenes with the Divines and the Daedric Princes. Since they're incapable of meddling outright onto the affairs of Mundus, they're doing it the only way they know how, by choosing a mortal to represent them.
Also, the friend that helped Karliah decode Gallus' Journal is Enthir. I put a line a few chapters ago that Serana saw Enthir meeting someone a few times. That was Karliah.
The chapter's name is also the name of the mission that we met Karliah for the first time. Bit of an easter egg :)
Anyways, more chapters on my P-word and all that jazz. Chapter 52 should be available by the time this chapter is posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Cheers!