“Speak,” Niyleen said. She aimed her blade at the ‘Second’ with malice. “Like I said, any omissions and I’ll end you.”

 

The Second sighed. “I could tell you a litany of things that is wrong with that sentence, but because we are short on time I shall refrain.”

 

Niyleen scowled. “Such as?”

 

“As I said, we are short on time Fourth. Do you want me to explain or not?”

Niyleen sucked her teeth. She wanted it all, but knew that knowledge when going against the Daedra was the most important weapon she could have. “Fine. But don’t short me.”

 

The Second blinked. “Everything you believe, from your birth, your circumstances, your sister, your friends, everything is a fabrication of reality. These relationships you’ve formed, though real to you, are shells of their actual forms.” Niyleen opened her mouth to speak, but the Second continued, “Examples, right. I forgot that I was beyond that. Easiest example, Nyleine is your actual younger twin sister.”

 

“I know that,” Niyleen said angrily. “I swear if you’re jerking me around—”

 

“Nyleine and you came from the same womb, not the same soul,” the Second said undisturbed. “You doubt me? Ask her about a necklace with a pendant representing Kynareth and see how she reacts.”

 

(That makes no sense, Nyleine has no faith in the Aedra…) Faith, not belief. “Just a lie, no doubt.”

“A lie… then understand this. You were good friends with Sorerica, your best friend was a wood elf named Laeae who you know never told you her real name, one of your most trusted comrades was a high elf named Trineiya, Eolri was the one who trained you to fight not your mother, the REAL ‘Raging Inferno of the Reach’ is a Dunmer that goes by the name Ruby, Carciel does not exist, Sorene has tried to kill you multiple times but you befriended her using… questionable tactics, Lucari was a thief that stole your heart, and you… you were nothing like you are now.”

 

“Sure, like any of that could ever happen.”

 

“You ask me to tell you the truth and then you label it false. What do you want from me?”

Niyleen could see the error in her actions, but it was just too bizarre. “And what do you mean Carciel does not exist? I was with her not too long ago. I fought her, fought alongside her, I know she’s as real as me or… well at least as real as me.”

“And like I said, none of this is real. In this cycle—your reality—you lived with your parents for a time until your father killed you in one of his personal experimentations, fucked you, and then was driven away by your mother. You then stayed with your mother until you decided to venture off on your own and became a bandit. ALL LIES. The reality—the real reality of it all—is that you and your sister were raised in Markarth in Vlindrel Hall. Your mother ran a stall and was a great alchemist, and your father was an overly friendly dad that was also a great warrior. He declined to teach you both how to fight because he believed there would never be a day where you’d need it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“However, then he died. Killed in a Forsworn attack right before your very eyes. You were scared. Too scared to do anything and you watched as your sister, even greener than you, clung to your mother like she had no idea what was going on. The three of you lived, but you all were never the same. Your mother—newly widowed—stopped speaking. She tried to get on with her life, but she just couldn't. Your father was everything to her, and though she loved you two as well, your father was her childhood crush, her best friend, her first love. Meanwhile, your sister wanted strength, more strength than what a sword could ever allow. So despite you and your mother’s constant refutation, she went off and join the College of Winterhold.

 

 

 

 

“But you,” the Second looked Niyleen up and down. “You were so willed. As soon as your sister left, you said your piece to your mother and then went off with a mysterious woman who gave you the promise of strength mightier than ever before. That woman was called Ceolrianna, the White Witch, and she was your instructor-in-arms. And that all happened just a year ago.”

“But you said—” (Think Niyleen. Ceolrianna? C-eolri-anna? Eolri was a Forsworn Ravager, a mage that knew her way around a sword, but the White Witch? Only person I know that could possibly fit that title is…!!!)

 

“And there it is,” the Second said. She sounded relieved, although her stoic face didn’t betray her. “As I said, Carciel does not exist. She did not exist in any form until the third cycle. Carciel is what this cycle’s Nyleine is for you, Eolri’s shadow. And in the grand scheme of things, Carciel is a means to an end. But enough about that,” she said dismissing the idea knowing Niyleen would want more insight. “There is an issue at hand that you must be aware of, do NOT fight Molag Bal.” She looked at Niyleen sternly as she said this. “More specifically, do not fight his Champion. Every cycle there are events that must occur. Ceolrianna must die, Telind must die, Nyleine always becomes a necromancer, there must at least be one Dragonborn, Ruby will purposely get herself killed, Sorene will try to kill you, and like it or not you will have to fight Lucari. Along with those, if you fight Molag Bal and you don’t take out the other participating Daedra’s Champions, the cycle will restart.”

“C-can’t we stop it?”

 

The Second shook her head.

 

(Not good.) Everything started to mesh. Names began to match faces, events began to roll out before her, and suddenly Niyleen began to have a splitting headache.

 

“It is okay Fourth. All of us except the First went through this. Reality changing, nothing being what it seemed.”

 

“Fourth… Fourth…” Niyleen got to her feet and started to piece what the Second was not telling her together. “So this is the fourth cycle, as you would say?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“And you are… the me from the second cycle?”

 

“Yes.”

 

(And the first me made a deal with Mehrunes Dagon…) “You… how much time do we have left?”

 

“That depends.”

That irritated Niyleen. People with knowledge always seemed to have all the answers but never enough time. Eolri was the same. (And I killed her. Just as I always—) “In the other cycles, did I kill Eolri?”

 

“Not all of them. She died protecting you in the first, she was slain by Malacath’s Champion in the third, and she purposely became Jyggalag’s Champion in mine to shield me from the same fate. I would indeed end her life in return.”

(So cold… so…) Niyleen couldn’t think. Wouldn’t think. When she did it hurt her head, and just made her mad. Why her? Why these people? Why couldn’t the Daedric Princes have chosen another ragtag group of people and have them go at it? (No, don’t think like that. Then they’d be in your shoes.) Niyleen knew what she wanted to know. “Second, do you have enough time to tell me what started each cycle, and happened to me at the end of each cycle?”

 

The Second looked at Niyleen saying nothing. Was she examining her? Deciding what to hide, what to bring to light? After a while she looked away and said, “I suppose. But know this. Currently you are in a deeper sleep than when the First last contacted you thusly. I am purposely keeping you here so the First cannot interfere. However, being here is like dancing with death. If I keep you here for too long, then it is possible that you will die.”

That wasn’t good. “I see…”

 

The Second frowned. “I can discuss them both, but if I do you may become stuck here or as I said die. However, if your will is strong enough and your friend doesn’t give up on you, I’ll have more than enough time.”

 

(My friend? Doesn’t she mean my sister?) Last she knew only Nyleine would be tending to her, Lucari and Carciel may still be around Markarth, and Eolri was dead. There was no one else. No elves that she would consider friends, nothing. (Kinda depressing when I think about it.) But that mattered not. Knowledge was only going to aid her, and if she didn’t have enough she might die anyway. “Okay. I understand.” Niyleen’s voice was more resolute than she felt, but the Second didn’t need to know that.

Finally, the Second cracked a smile. “Okay then. I’ll start with what I know best, the second cycle.”