4E 202, College of Winterhold
Gerron Ironbreaker
The chamber pulsed with heavy, ambient magicka. Even standing at the far edge of the Hall of the Elements, Gerron could feel it, like a deep vibration beneath his skin, a faint hum in his bones.
[Eye of Magnus]
An ancient artifact with origins similar to that of the Elder Scrolls. The Eye possesses a great amount of magical power and can be manipulated with the Staff of Magnus, which once belonged to the God of Magic himself.
It was discovered by the ancient Nords when they were building the city of Saarthal. The Nords attempted to keep it buried, but the Snow Elves learned of its existence and coveted it for themselves. During the event known as the Night of Tears, the elves assaulted Saarthal to secure this powerful artifact for themselves. Ysgramor rallied together with his people to keep the elves from seizing it, and the Nords were successful in preventing the elves from obtaining the artifact. The Eye was buried deep below the earth and sealed away, now deactivated.
The Eye was said to have crashed into earth like a meteor eons before the Fourth Era. The magic within the Eye suffused with the land itself, empowering all life that shared its continent. Any and all who eat or drink from the land, would gain power beyond mortalkind.'
He skimmed through the rest, brow furrowing deeper with every line until he focused on the words, now deactivated.
'So that was it…' He mused. 'The reason why the power of men had waned.'
A long time ago, prior to the fourth Era, the tales of Ysgramor and his Five Hundred Companions, of Olaf One-Eye binding Numinex, of Shalidor's labyrinthine magic, of Tiber Septim bending nations through Thu'um and will alone.
Men once had strength to rival the gods. But now? They struggled merely to survive their shadow.
While there was no shortage of skilled and powerful warriors in the current generation, they truly paled in comparison to the previous ones.
It reminded him of what Serana and Paarthurnax had mentioned back when he first visited High Hrothgar, how the strength of men had waned, but it served both as a curse and a blessing.
The weaker the soul of the mortal, the slower Alduin recovers. With the eye's dormancy, the magic was kept away,
Behind him, Serana's voice broke through the low hum. "What in Oblivion is that thing?"
She stood there wide eyed. Even Karliah, who had remained largely expressionless the entire journey, showed open surprise.
"The Eye of Magnus," Gerron said softly. "An artifact of the gods."
His system continued to trace its readings. The power radiating from the eye was beyond comprehension. With its continent-wide range, the Eye of Magnus was probably the most powerful artifact he had seen, barring the Auriel's Bow, perhaps.
The only thing Gerron wondered now was its strange connection to the Staff of Magnus.
"Judging from your expression, I assume you know what this is?" Savos' words cut through his train of thought. Everyone turned to look at Gerron.
"It's bad news," Gerron replied flatly. "This thing holds enough power to shatter all of Tamriel. Fortunately…" He glanced back toward the orb. "It's… sleeping."
The words had a chill appear on everyone's back.
"Sleeping? What do you mean? " Mirabelle questioned.
Gerron walked closer, studying the runes and glyphs around the rotating Eye. "I'm not sure. From what I can tell, this thing had been lying dormant beneath Saarthal for centuries. The magic within it had to have been expunged in some way."
Gerron paused then, a grim look on his face. "What do you think, Savos? Any major cataclysmic event happened somewhere in the last century?"
Savos' eyes widened in horror, immediately catching the point. "The Great Collapse…"
"A series of storms that swallowed half of the city of Winterhold and washed it away into the Sea of Ghosts…" Serana shook her head. "If that was the result of this Eye merely striking out its dormant magical power, what could some do if they managed to control it?"
"How would they even do that?" Karliah questioned. "Who other than the gods could control something as large as this?"
"With the staff, most likely" Gerron mused. "Everything I've seen so far says that the Staff of Magnus is connected with this thing. "
Savos' eyes flickered with alarm. "Truly?"
Gerron raised an eyebrow. "You know something?"
The Archmage pursed his lips, the firelight from the sconces painting his face in amber lines. "The Staff of Magnus was last known to be in the possession of Morokei, one of the Dragon Priests."
"Another Dragon Priest…" Serana's lips curved into a humorless smile. "They sure have a hand in plenty of Skyrim's history, don't they?"
"It makes sense." Karliah crossed her arms. "The Dragon Priests were practically the leaders of the Old Generation of Nords. They were the ones considered to be the most powerful, worthy to be risen as servants of the Dragons."
Mirabelle stepped closer, frowning. "If that's true, and this Eye is linked to the Staff... we can't risk disturbing it further. Its energy levels alone—"
"Are unlike anything we've ever seen," Tolfdir interjected. "Even in a place like the College, the magicka it saturates is no joke."
"Then it stays here," Gerron said decisively. "For now. The College's wards will keep it contained. If Alduin, Harkon, or the Thalmor discover this, every one of them will descend upon Winterhold like vultures."
Faralda let out a slow breath. "So we're keeping the most dangerous artifact in the world in our school. Lovely."
"At least it's safer here than anywhere else," Mirabelle countered.
"Then perhaps, the wisest thing to do now is to investigate this Morokei?" Karliah crossed her arms.
"My wards that are imprisoning him still hold, though I do not know how long that would be." Savos Aren stated, his expression darkening. "With Alduin recovering, he would doubtlessly try to gather his forces once more. If he frees Morokei, the consequences will be disastrous."
"Then we protect the prison," Gerron said. "Where is it?"
"In the ruins of what used to be the great city, Labyrinthian."
"Which should be right in the borders of Whiterun and Hjaalmarch, correct?" Gerron's question was answered by Savos' nod. "I can send word to General Tullius and Jarl Balgruuf to send some men down that way. Hopefully they can set up some defenses by the time we arrive."
"I will accompany you." Savos said. "I've fought with Morokei before. If confrontation is inevitable, I can be of help."
"Then we'll need to move soon."
Mirabelle gave a brisk nod. "Faralda, Tolfdir, and I will maintain the wards here to keep the Eye in check. If anything changes, we'll alert you immediately."
Gerron and Savos both nodded. With three master wizards in the College, it should be more than secure.
"We should get Kiera on this as well." Serana said, a hand on her hip. "If Alduin really is getting his forces together, then he'll probably send a couple of dragons that way."
"She's still with the Vigilants, last I heard," Gerron said. "In the Pale, near Dawnstar. That puts her closer to Labyrinthian than any of us."
"I'll send word," Serana said, already reaching into her satchel for parchment. Not long later, a spectral bat carrying the message flew out of the window of the Hall of Elements.
…
4E 202, Mythic Dawn Headquarters
Aranea Ienith
Darkness.
It had become her oldest companion. It pressed against her skin and ears like a second body, the only sound the slow rhythm of her breathing and the occasional drip of water from the cracked stone above.
The chill was constant. The smell of damp moss and rusted iron hung heavy in the air. For months, she had sat in this pit beneath Nirn, a place where light dared not enter.
But Aranea Ienith was not broken.
She had been the Voice of Azura, her chosen priestess, her vessel. Mortals could shatter her bones, but they could not touch her faith. Not while her Lady's presence still stirred behind her eyes.
For she remembered the promise her Lady had told her.
"You will endure," Azura had told her before the cultists dragged her into this cage. "When the world is on the cusp of twilight, your chains will fall."
And so she waited.
The only way she marked time was through the scraping sound of a meal bowl being shoved beneath the door. Lately, even that sound had grown rare. The whispers outside her cell had turned sharp, agitated. Something had rattled the Mythic Dawn.
Mankar and Calixto had not visited her even once ever since she shared the prophecy. They were content in letting her rot here, but what they did not know was that she was not alone. For Lady Azura had been with her the entire time.
The hinges of her cell shrieked suddenly. The sudden piercing light split the darkness, making her squint
Calixto stormed in, fury carved across his pale face, his crimson robe dragging over the damp floor. Behind him came Mankar Camoran, the False Prophet.
"You!" Calixto snarled, the veins at his temple pulsing. "What is the meaning of this?"
Aranea tilted her head, her voice calm and cool "The meaning of what?"
"The Black Dragon," Calixto spat. "You said that his voice would drown them! You said his fire would cleanse Tamriel! But he was beaten back! Your prophecy failed!"
Aranea blinked slowly. "Has it?"
Mankar's voice cut through, "Peace, Calixto. The threads of fate are seldom as direct as you wish them to be. Alduin's defeat was not his end. The wheel still turns."
Aranea's lips curved faintly. "A wise observation. Perhaps Dagon's chosen should learn patience from his mentor."
Calixto's eyes flared. "Quiet!"
His hand lashed out, a vicious backhand that cracked against her cheek. The force sent her sprawling onto the cold stone. Blood welled at the corner of her mouth, bright against her dark skin.
She rose slowly, unbowed, a thin trail of red dripping from her lip. Her eyes burned with quiet defiance. "Hurt me all you want, Champion of Dagon," she said softly. "I've already told you all you wished to hear."
A pulse of warmth stirred within her chest, one she was intimately familiar with.
'Not everything, dear.'
Her breath hitched.
'My lady?'
'An incident shall come soon, my chosen. One that shall shake all of Nirn forever. Open yourself, and let me speak.'
Aranea closed her eyes. 'As you wish, my lady.'
The torches flickered.
Her body went still, then straightened unnaturally, her spine like a drawn bowstring. When her eyes opened again, they glowed with the silver-red light of dawn and dusk. Her voice, when she spoke, was layered, her own and another's, beautiful and terrible.
"Hear me, children of the New Dawn.
A Gathering of Champions shall rise in the ruins of the Old Magic.
Labyrinthian shall be their stage, where Divines, Princes, and Dragons cast their lots.
Blood will anoint the stones, and death shall drink deep.
Yet from ruin shall ascend the victors, reborn in power, their souls tempered in the crucible of fate."
For a second, there was silence.
And then, Mankar Camoran's calm cracked for the briefest moment, his pupils shrunk, his breath hitched. Calixto however, was already smiling, wide and hungry.
"Finally! This is where it all starts!" His voice was reverent. "Labyrinthian, the perfect stage for me to kill the Dragonborn and the Dragonslayer!"
Mankar folded his hands behind his back, his voice measured. "Be cautious, Calixto. If Azura speaks truth, then others will answer the same call. Isran and the Dawnguard will move, and the servants of other Princes as well. It will not be a single battle, it will be a convergence."
"Ha!" Calixto barked a laugh, stepping closer to Aranea, whose glow had begun to fade as Azura's presence receded. "Let them come! I'll spill the blood of gods and mortals alike."
He paused, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Speaking of gods… you're a champion yourself, aren't you, priestess?"
Aranea lifted her head, silent, blood drying on her cheek.
Calixto's grin widened. "What do you say? Care to take a little trip?"
…
AN: I've had these plans for quite a while, something the fandom of Skyrim had speculated for a while.
The Eye of Magnus is an artifact of magnanimous power. Being sealed for so long, the energy it contained had to fluctuate at some point.
The Great Collapse had long been a mystery in Skyrim. I hope this sequence of events was satisfactory.
Anyways, we finally meet back with Calixto and the Mythic Dawn. The last time they showed up was at Chapter 49, roughly 25 chapters ago.
Anyways, with this chapter, the next bulk of the story should be obvious. A convergence of champions shall come, all in the ancient city of Labyrinthian.
More chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 82 should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Cheers guys and see you next time!