Serana felt a strange pull, a resonance deep within her soul. It was a feeling of homecoming, tinged with a bittersweet melancholy as Castle Volkihar loomed before them, an imposing silhouette against the darkening sky. Black spires pierced the clouds, and gargoyles perched menacingly on the battlements, their stone faces grim and unyielding. Bone hawks circled overhead, their cries echoing across the water.
A stone bridge, lined with grotesque gargoyle statues, spanned the moat. As they crossed, Harin commented.
"We're here. What now?"
"This is it," Serana replied, his voice a low murmur. "Home sweet… castle."
Harin, gazing at the imposing structure, lets out a tease, "I knew your home is a castle, but didn't think it would be THE castle. A huge one at that. Mistveil Keep is a castle, but compared to this… Whoa."
"I didn't want you to think I was one of those… you know, the women who just sit in their castle all day? I don't know. Coming from a place like this, well… it's not really me. I hope you can believe that." Serana chuckled.
"It's impressive," Harin admitted, her voice awestruck.
"It's something all right," Serana said, a hint of wistfulness in her tone.
As they approached the imposing gates, Serana could feel the weight of centuries pressing down upon her, the events that made her both miss and hate the place. Serana turned to Harin and Ibnor.
"Hey, so… before we go in there…"
"Are you all right?" Ibnor asked, sensing a shift in Serana's demeanor.
"I think so. And thanks for asking. But after we get in there, I'm going to go my own way for a while. I think… I know your friends would probably want to kill everything in here. I'm hoping you can show some more control than that. Once we're inside, just keep quiet for a bit. Let me take the lead."
Harin raised an eyebrow.
"Fine," she said, a touch of annoyance in her voice.
"If anything happens after this, you can find us in Dawnstar. Just say it is an invitation from us, if anybody asks." Ibnor said, smiling warmly.
Serana and Harin exchanged a look. Serana nodded slowly, while Harin, despite her initial annoyance, couldn't help but smile.
When they approached the door, an older vampire, a gaunt figure with hollow eyes, was startled by Serana's sudden reappearance.
"How dare you trespass here! Wait… Serana? Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes!"
He then ran into the castle yelling, "My lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!"
"I guess I'm expected." Serana, her face impassive, simply replied.
"I can't believe it. Serana! You… you've returned." The other older vampires chimed in, his face a mask of disbelief.
They entered the castle, the air thick with the scent of dust and decay. The main hall was a colossal chamber, bustling with activity. Vampire nobles, their faces pale and gaunt, conversed in hushed tones, their eyes flickering towards Serana with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Serana, however, paid them little heed. She walked with a quiet grace towards the balcony overlooking the hall, her gaze drawn to a solitary figure standing there.
Harkon stood silhouetted against the fading light, his imposing form dominating the scene. He opened his mouth.
"My long-lost daughter returns at last. I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"
Serana's expression is a mixture of defiance and a hint of trepidation.
"After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me? Yes, I have the scroll." She replied.
"Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter. Must I really say the words aloud? Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike. Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?" Harkon gave a nonchalant reply.
Serana turned to Ibnor, a fleeting expression of amusement crossing her face. "These are my savior, the ones who freed me."
Harkon looked Ibnor over, his gaze assessing. "For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude. Tell me, what is your name?"
"Uh, my mother told me to never give my name to strangers." Harin said, earring a smirk from Ibnor at the back.
"We are, indeed. I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are," Harkon, oblivious to the reference, introduced himself
"I don't really care what you are," Harin replied.
"Perhaps you should. I count some of the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim among the members of my court" Harkon replied. "For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."
"Alright, so, what now?" Harin asked.
"You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it , and you will walk as lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again." Harkon replied.
"And if I refused your gift?" Harin asked, half curious and half rebellious.
Harkon descended the grand staircase, his movements fluid and predatory. He stopped directly in front of Harin, his eyes glowing with an unholy light.
"Then you will be prey, like all mortals. I will spare your life this once, but you will be banished from this hall. Perhaps you still need convincing? Behold the power!"
With a guttural growl that echoed through the ancient stone, Harkon underwent a terrifying transformation.
His bones shifted and cracked, elongating his form into a monstrous parody of his former self. His skin hardened into a grotesque, chitinous carapace, the color of dried blood and obsidian, etched with veins that pulsed with dark energy.
Massive, leathery wings, like those of a monstrous bat, unfurled from his back, casting a chilling shadow that plunged the hall into a near-palpable darkness. His face elongated into a bestial snout, fanged and cruel, and his eyes, now burning orbs of crimson fire, fixed on Harin with predatory intensity.
Jagged spikes erupted from his shoulders and back, and his hands transformed into razor-sharp claws, capable of rending flesh and stone alike. A swirling aura of dark magic crackled around him, the air thick with the stench of decay and ancient power. The very stones beneath his feet seemed to tremble, as if recoiling from his unholy presence.
"This is the power that I offer! Now, make your choice!" Harkon boomed, his voice distorted and monstrous.
Harin, though visibly shaken, stood her ground. "Impressive light show," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "But I've seen scarier." She glanced at Serana and Ibnor, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Besides, I'm not really into joining any clubs that require me to drink blood and turn into a giant bat."
"So be it." Harkon, his monstrous form still radiating dark power, raised a clawed hand, preparing to unleash a torrent of banishing magic. He snarled, "Then you shall leave this place, mortal, and never return!"
But as the words formed in his mind, and the arcane energy began to coalesce, a sudden, chilling sensation washed over him. It wasn't pain, but a deep, primal fear, a warning that something incredibly dangerous was nearby. He faltered, the spell dissipating, his eyes darting around the hall, searching for the source of the threat.
His gaze settled on Ibnor. The man stood calmly, his expression serene, almost… amused. Harkon couldn't pinpoint what it was, but the feeling of dread emanated from him like a palpable aura. He had faced down armies, battled ancient dragons, and commanded legions of undead, yet this simple man, with his warm smile, made his blood run cold. Ibnor, noticing Harkon's bewildered stare, gave him a gentle, almost apologetic smile.
"It seems we've overstayed our welcome, Harin," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Perhaps it's time we took our leave."
Harin, still bristling from the confrontation, nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'm getting tired of the bat-themed decor."
Ibnor turned to Harkon, his smile never wavering. "Lord Harkon," he said, his voice polite, "are we excused?"
Harkon, still reeling from the strange sensation, hesitated. He couldn't explain the feeling, but he knew instinctively that he shouldn't provoke this man. He was a predator, used to sensing weakness, but here, he felt a power that was both immense and utterly alien.
"Yes," he finally managed, his voice strained. "You may leave."
He watched as Ibnor and Harin turned and walked towards the grand entrance. His gaze remained fixed on Ibnor, trying to decipher the enigma he presented. As they reached the doors, Ibnor paused, turning back to Harkon.
"It was… enlightening," Ibnor said, his smile widening slightly. "We'll be sure to remember your… hospitality."
Then, they were gone, the heavy doors closing behind them with a resounding thud. Harkon remained standing on the staircase, his monstrous form slowly receding, his mind filled with a strange mixture of confusion and unease. He had felt the presence of a predator, he knew that much, but it was a predator unlike any he had ever encountered. It was like staring into the abyss, and the abyss was smiling back.
The other vampires in the hall, sensing their lord's discomfort, remained silent, their eyes averted. They had witnessed Harkon's transformation, his display of power, and then his sudden, inexplicable retreat. They knew better than to question their lord, but the air was thick with unspoken questions.
Harkon, his mind still racing, turned to his court. "Find out everything you can about that man," he commanded, his voice low and menacing. "Every detail, no matter how insignificant. I want to know who he is, where he came from, and what he wants."
He knew, deep down, that he had just encountered something far more dangerous than he had anticipated. Something that could potentially threaten his very existence.
The heavy gates of Castle Volkihar slammed shut behind them, the echoing thud a stark punctuation to their unsettling departure. Harin, still feeling the residual tension of the confrontation, turned to Ibnor.
"Alright, so, what now? Back to Dawnstar?"
Ibnor nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yes, but with a detour. There's someone I know, a remarkable individual, who might be of great assistance to us… and to Dawnstar."
"Oh yeah? Who?" Harin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"She's… a tinkerer," Ibnor said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A master of dwarven technologies, among other things. If we can convince her to join us in Dawnstar, her expertise would be invaluable. Imagine what she could do with the resources we have there."
"Dwarven tech? Seriously?" Harin asked, a flicker of interest in her eyes. "You mean like, automatons and stuff?"
"And much more," Ibnor replied, his smile widening. "She has a talent for understanding and manipulating ancient mechanisms that few possess. Her skills would be a significant asset, especially with the threats we face."
Serana, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. "And where do we find this… tinkerer?"
"She prefers to keep to herself, in a secluded workshop not far from here," Ibnor said. "It's a bit of a trek, but I believe it's worth the effort. She's… unique."
"Unique how?" Harin asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Let's just say she has a… creative approach to problem-solving," Ibnor said, his tone enigmatic. "And a healthy respect for the power of ancient technology. She might just be the key we need to tip the scales in our favor. Not to mention, she's a very interesting person to talk to."
"Alright, lead the way," Harin said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "I'm always up for meeting someone who can build killer robots."
Ibnor chuckled. "They aren't killer robots, Harin. They are tools, with many purposes. And she is very particular about that."
The journey took them through the rugged terrain surrounding Mor Khazgur, a harsh but beautiful landscape of windswept hills and rocky outcrops. As they ventured a little south, into the untamed wilderness, they came across a lone figure, a Breton woman with a disheveled appearance, muttering to herself.
"What would mudcrabs want with my satchel, anyway?" she mumbled, her brow furrowed in frustration. She paced back and forth, her hands gesturing wildly as if arguing with an unseen opponent.
Harin, ever the pragmatist, approached the woman. "Excuse me," she said, "Do you need some help?"
The woman turned, her eyes wide and slightly frantic. "Oh! Well, that depends," she said, her voice laced with exasperation. "You haven't seen a sack full of dwarven gyros lying around, have you? I'd swear I left it right here. Do you think mudcrabs might've taken it? I saw one the other day... Wouldn't be surprised if it followed me here. Just look around, will you?"
Harin exchanged a glance with Ibnor. "Dwarven gyros?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. "What exactly are those?"
"They're… components," the woman replied, her tone impatient. "Intricate, precisely calibrated components. Essential for my work. And they were in a satchel, a very nice one, mind you. Now, please, if you'd be so kind, just look around. Those mudcrabs are getting bolder every day."
Ibnor, his expression thoughtful, stepped forward. "We'd be happy to help," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Tell us, what does this satchel look like?"
"It's a sturdy leather satchel, dark brown, with a silver clasp," the woman explained, her eyes darting around the area. "And it's quite heavy, those gyros are made of solid dwarven metal."
"Alright," Harin said, a hint of a grin on her face. "Mudcrab hunt it is. Let's see if we can find your… gyros."
They spread out, searching the surrounding area. The terrain was uneven, with patches of tall grass and rocky crevices, perfect hiding spots for mischievous mudcrabs. As they searched, the woman continued to mutter, her voice a constant stream of complaints and theories about the mudcrabs' motives.
"They're probably trying to build their own automatons," she grumbled. "That's it, they're jealous of my work. They want to steal my secrets!"
Ibnor chuckled softly. "She's certainly… passionate," he murmured to Harin.
"Passionate and a little crazy," Harin replied, her eyes scanning the ground. "But if she's as good with dwarven tech as you say, we might have to put up with a little eccentricity."
After a few minutes of searching, Harin spotted something glinting in the sunlight, nestled amongst some rocks. She approached cautiously, and sure enough, it was the woman's satchel. It was slightly torn, and a few of the dwarven gyros had spilled out, but otherwise, it was intact. And a very large mudcrab was trying to drag one of the gyros away.
"Found it!" Harin called out, drawing her sword, and with a swift strike, dispatched the mudcrab. "And it looks like your mudcrab theory was right."
Harin, having retrieved the satchel and dealt with the mudcrab, returned to the woman, handing her the recovered items. "Here you go," she said, "All in one piece, more or less."
The woman, her eyes lighting up, snatched the satchel and began inspecting the contents with a meticulous eye.
"Excellent, excellent! You've saved me a great deal of trouble. These gyros are irreplaceable." She looked up at Harin and Ibnor, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you. I am Sorine Jurard, by the way."
"Ibnor," Ibnor said, smiling warmly. "And this is Harin."
"Sorine Jurard?" Harin asked, a hint of recognition in her voice. "Ibnor mentioned a master tinkerer. I guess that's you."
Sorine scoffed. "Tinkerer? That's a rather… pedestrian term. I prefer artisan, or perhaps engineer. But yes, I have a certain… affinity for the intricacies of dwarven technology."
Ibnor stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Sorine, we've heard of your remarkable skills, your understanding of ancient mechanisms, and your mastery of the crossbow. We believe your talents would be invaluable to the people of Dawnstar."
Sorine raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "Dawnstar? What would I find in that… frozen wasteland?"
"Opportunity," Ibnor replied, his voice persuasive. "Dawnstar is a place where innovation is valued, where knowledge is shared. We are facing threats that require ingenuity and expertise. Your skills with dwarven technology, your ability to craft and enhance crossbows, would be a tremendous asset."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "Imagine the possibilities, Sorine. Access to resources, the chance to experiment, to push the boundaries of what's possible. We have a need for someone who can understand and use the ancient technologies that are being rediscovered. And we could use someone who could train our people in the arts of archery."
Sorine's eyes flickered with interest. "Ancient technologies, you say? And… resources?" She looked around at the wilderness, a hint of dissatisfaction in her expression. "This… rustic existence is becoming rather tedious. I do miss having a proper workshop."
"Dawnstar can provide that," Ibnor said, his smile widening. "A place where you can truly unleash your potential."
Sorine paused, considering his words. "And what's in it for you?" she asked, her voice sharp.
"The safety of our people," Ibnor replied, his expression sincere. "And the advancement of knowledge. We believe that your skills can help us achieve both."
Sorine considered this for a long moment. "Alright," she said finally, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You've piqued my interest. Let's see what Dawnstar has to offer."
With Sorine Jurard agreeing to join them, the journey back to Dawnstar was filled with lively conversation, mostly Sorine's enthusiastic ramblings about potential projects and the finer points of dwarven engineering. They reached the gates of Dawnstar as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the snow-covered landscape.
As they entered the town, Delphine approached them, her expression serious. "Your Majesty, Lady Harin." she said, her voice low, "We have a visitor. Someone asking for you. She is waiting in the hall."
Harin raised an eyebrow. "A visitor? Who is it?"
"We're not entirely sure," Delphine replied, her eyes flicking towards a shadowed corner of the hall. "Babette says there's something… unusual about her. It alerted Rayya and we've taken precautions."
Ibnor nodded, his expression calm. "Understood. We'll speak with her. In the meantime, Sorine, this is Delphine, the Grandmaster of the King's Blade. Delphine, this is Sorine. She is an expert of marksmanship, especially crossbow and knowledgeable in the dwarven technologies. I believe you know what to do."
"Yes, your majesty. Let us be on our way, Sorine."
"What? Are you telling me Ibnor is the King of Dawnstar?"
"Yes, and now you know, it would be more prudent to use the appropriate title when addressing them. This way, please." Delphine replied with her wooden face.
Ibnor and Harin entered the main hall, the warm glow of the hearth fire casting flickering shadows across the room. In the corner, a figure sat quietly, their face obscured by the shadows. As they approached, the figure stood, revealing herself to be Serana.
"Serana!" Harin exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and relief in her voice. "What are you doing here?"
Serana smiled faintly. "I came to see you. And Ibnor. I wanted to... thank you. And to tell you that I've decided to leave Castle Volkihar, for now."
"Leave?" Harin asked, her brow furrowed. "What happened?"
"It's… complicated," Serana said, her voice low. "My father and I don't really get along. Ugh, saying it out loud makes it sound so... common. "Little girl who doesn't get along with her father." Read that story a hundred times."
Ibnor stepped forward, his expression gentle. "You're welcome here, Serana. We're glad you came."
Serana's gaze shifted to Ibnor, a hint of gratitude in her eyes.
"Thank you. I appreciate that. I just… I don't know where else to go. And after what happened at the castle, I felt I needed to warn you. My father is very interested in you, Ibnor."
"Interested?" Ibnor asked, his voice calm.
"He's… wary," Serana replied. "He felt a power from you, something he couldn't understand. He's sending his minions to gather information. Be careful."
"Let him come. We'll be ready." Harin scoffed.
"It's not that simple," Serana said, her voice urgent. "He's powerful, and he has many allies. And he will not stop until he knows what you are. And what you can do."
"Perhaps those matters can wait until you have had a chance to rest. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. We have room to spare." Ibnor smiled at Serana.
Serana nodded, her expression grateful. "Thank you. I appreciate your hospitality."