“There is still time to turn back, we need not go any further Ingrid Stormborn.”  Revered Mother Senna, now the Markarth temple’s senior priestess, though you would not know by her seeming youthful features, stopped and turned to their newest charge, an initiate going through a very unusual ritual.

Ingrid looked back briefly, at the pinpricks of light in the distant city of Markarth, the inhabitants settling down for the evening after the day’s trade and work.

She turned back to the Revered Mother, looking at her pale blonde hair and beautiful features for someone of her age.

“No. I know what this means, what sacrifices I’ll have to make...I’m ready.”

Senna gave a warm smile and turned back to the dirt path that lead through the narrow corridor through the mountain.

She spoke as they continued.

“Once we emerge on the other side of the mountain, we will enter a small clearing that leads to….a very old shrine to our goddess. One that we know very little of.”

She paused before continuing, biting her bottom lip gently.

“Dibella, like most of the divines, has her own past, things that her followers today are no longer aware of. This shrine, and the few artifacts that were found with it, seemed to belong to a more ‘primal’ sisterhood of the very early Merethic era, a time where written records were few and far between.”

They came to the opening at the other end of the mountain. Climbing up a bit further as she continued.

“The shrines few written carvings describe a ritual where the sisters would tattoo special sigils upon the bodies of chosen members, sigils that, when blessed by the goddess and ‘charged’ with intimate contact, would grant the bearers divinely gifted strength, agility and Magicka prowess, among other boons, to protect and aid them in battle.”

The three arrived at the clearing. In the center was a stone altar with a crudely carved statue of Dibella.

Or at least it seemed to be.

Unlike the familiar statues of the goddess throughout Tamriel, the usual depiction of a beautiful woman holding up a rose, this one appeared to be two of them together, backs turned. One a lighter shade of stone to the other.

To the right of the stone altar was a more modern table with a locked chest and a few manuscripts rolled up, Mother Senna headed over to it and pulled out a silver key, fastened to her Dibellan necklace and tucked between her breasts.

Ingrid watched as she unlocked it and arranged the contents upon the table. Sister Jolene headed to another container at the side of the altar and pulled out some armor pieces, gently arranging them on the stone table in front of the statue. She also pulled Ingrid's father’s greatsword from her carry sack, gifted to her when she turned her nineteenth. It now had the goddesses symbols carved into its blade.

She placed it alongside the armor pieces.

The Revered Mother placed the rest of the chest’s contents along with the pieces and turned to Ingrid, a warm smile upon her face.

“When you are ready, undress completely, and let us begin.”

Sister Jolene had been keeping an eye on the Gilded Circle for a few months now.

Formed in the aftermath of the Dragonborn’s slaying of Lord Harkon, the leader of the Volkihar vampires. As the bloodline retreated their influence back to their main castle in northwest Skyrim. Other vampire bloodlines and daedric cults rose to fill the power void they left behind, and with the seeming destruction of the Vigilants of Stendar and the continuing turmoil from both the civil war and Ulfric Stormcloaks assassination. Skyrim was now ripe pickings for the various servants of the Daedric Lords.

Two of these cults have merged together, forming the Gilded Circle.

An ‘organization’ of Lahmian vampires, depraved succubi that feast on both blood and spiritual energies released during sex and stimulation, and a band of ‘Hedonites’, Males whom the Daedric Lord Sanguine has ‘gifted’ with enhanced sexual appetites that can be tapped and used to fuel magical abilities instead of traditional Magicka pools.

Unfortunately, it also makes them sensory and sexual addicts, and since they cannot provide their own ‘release’, they have to rely on women to ‘empty’ the Daedric Lords excess influence into.

Basically these men are mediums for Sanguine to experience mortal pleasures, and the women they find are rarely willing participants.

Her investigation of the cult’s activities had led her to Ingrid’s village, and she had arrived when their raid was still taking place, she observed them killing most, but they had also subdued and abducted several women, including Ingrid's Twin sister, Freywin, teleporting them to another location.

...and of course, she witnessed Ingrid and her sister’s connection to Dibella, the latter who was now in the clutches of the circle.

It was clear that the attack on the hamlet was not random pickings, the Lahmian succubi had no doubt sensed the twin’s power and connection as well, they had been the main targets, the other women were mere ‘bonuses’.

...and now they had one of them.

After they had buried Ingrid and Freywin’s father. Sister Jolene and the remaining twin had headed to Falkreath hold first, she informed the new Jarl's steward of the events that had unfolded there, they both then took a protected carriage to Markarth, where Jolene presented Ingrid to the Temple of Dibella.

Revered Mother Senna was now the leader of the temple after mother Hamal’s failed attempt to corrupt it into Sanguine’s service, the Sybil was still too young to enter the meditative state required to commune with the goddess.

It was then that Mother Senna had told Jolene about the primitive shrine in the mountains overlooking the city.

Sister Jolene was initially reluctant, if the shrine had dated back to the Merethic era, then it was likely that it had been built and used by the Reachmen, who worshipped both Daedric Lords as well as earlier versions of the eight divines.

After talking with Ingrid, and discussing this as a possible way to get Freywin back from the Circle, she had accepted it without hesitation, but sister Jolene still had reservations. Mother Senna herself had only recently taken up the role of leadership, and no doubt had only learned of this shrine herself from the Revered Mothers library.

The Eight divines were the ‘sanitized’ versions of the gods that Tamriel's cultures worshipped, each Divine had an entire history that very few knew about, and for a reason.

Sister Jolene looked up at the primitive carving of the goddess….or it seemed, goddesses?

What did this mean?! How much more was there to Dibella’s nature and history, things kept hidden over the ages, eventually forgotten.

She had faith in Mother Senna, she was good, noble. But also curious, when she had learned that Ingrid was one of identical twins, Jolene couldn’t help but notice the look on her face.

...and seeing this statue now, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Sister?...The pigment?”

Jolene snapped back to the present, picking up the ‘ink’ from the stone altar. She looked over to the mother, like Ingrid she had completely undressed. Her naked body was on full display, flawless, seemingly radiant, and sister Jolene felt a tingling sensation between her own legs.

Sensing the flush of emotion, Senna smiled to her, “You might want to remove your own robe sister.” the side of her lip curled up. “You won’t be needing them for the last part of the ritual.”

Jolene’s face flushed. Taking a last look at the statue, she felt a rush of arousal as she undressed, She took her place as the Revered mother began the sigil application to Ingrid’s skin.

“In the ancient times of the Merethic Era, life was more...simple, brutal.” The revered mother began to gently apply a dark, inky substance between Ingrid's breasts. Her face was close, looking straight into her eyes as she traced a strange symbol of a shield with crude bladed ‘wings’.

“The men of Tamriel had yet to develop complex record keeping and writing, at least for themselves. The first settlers from Atmora had just arrived on the northern shores, the Ayelid’s were just starting to carve out their own empire, and the dwarves and snow elves were the main powers on the continent, their own libraries ancient and kept in the hands of very few.”

Mother Senna finished the first sigil, she smiled as she began to apply a pattern around Ingrid’s nipples. She shivered, tingling.

The first sigil will grant you an Aetherial coating of magical armor, you won’t see it physically until a blade or weapon strikes it, seemingly bouncing off a ghostly silhouette. These sigils around your peaks will act as focal points. You may notice a subtle glow when in battles, these will serve the other sigils I’ll spply next.

Ingrid's nipples poked out further as the revered mothers finger gently skimmed over them. She smiled seductively as she continued her story.

“The eight divines have a long history, far more than any mortal race on Tamriel is aware of, they were known by other names, and in many other cultures still are. Kynareth was known as Kyne for example.”

She gently clutched Ingrid's shoulders, guiding her to her feet. She began to apply markings just above her crotch.

“This one is the sigil of passion. It will allow you to draw stamina and magicka from the energies that build up from sexual contact. However, it will prevent you from ever conceiving a child while it is present upon you. Your life and destiny is now tied to the goddess over mortal concerns.”

Ingrid looked back to Mother Senna, “I am aware of the sacrifices. I will storm the gates of oblivion itself to rescue Freywin if I have to! No sacrifice is too much!”

Senna smiles back, seeming saddened by the remark…”Perhaps.”

The sting of the tattoo application wore off as the Mother continued to her outer thighs, applying more patterns.

“These will allow you to run faster, you will be more agile and swift of foot, and tiredness will take much longer to set in from running.”

She continued the saga, explaining a little more after each application.

“In recent Memory, The goddess Dibella is depicted as a beautiful female holding up a rose flower, she is the patron of mortal passions and earthly desires, she protects and nurtures all things with beauty and vitality. This much is already known.”

Senna pauses for a moment, applying two sigils at the base of Ingrid's ankles. “These will ground your powers, they are needed by the other sigils to orient to your physical body.”

The mother hesitates a little before speaking.

“But Dibella was once depicted as a pair, older shrines from the Merethic, like this one, show her fused alongside another deity. Could it have been lady Mara? They are similar….or one of the ‘others’ we won’t speak of.”

The mother gently pulls forward  her hands, applying a sigil to the base of each wrist.

“You were trained well with a bow, you hunted with your sister. This one will allow you to call forth a summoned weapon of the goddess, you will no longer need to carry a physical bow if you do not wish, and the arrows will also source from the aetherius. The second will allow you to summon a dagger, it can be used in an emergency, or when you do not have access to your sword, a knife that none can remove from you.”

Senna slowly moves to Ingrid’s back, running her hands down her body, exploring her as she continues reciting history.

“Twins are special to some divines, they hold great power. The goddess values them, especially female ones...and the dark lords Sanguine and Baal covet them as well. Your sister is in great peril, the physical abuse they have no doubt partaken are the least to be concerned with. The longer she remains in their hands, the more power they will siphon from her.”

Ingrid swallows heavily at the statement, she steels herself as the mother applies the last of the sigils below the base of her neck.

“This one is the most important, they represent the goddess and her unknown divine sister together. Your weapons or spells will be infused with the fire of their passion, and you can summon a burning light to radiate around you like you did at your village.”

Senna gently clasps Ingrid's shoulders, guiding her to the altar. On the stone table before her is the armor and her weapon. The mother picks up a primitive looking neckpiece and begins to fasten it round her neck.

Made out of crude beads and fabric braids, at its center is a strange jewel.

“Your connection to the goddess is always present, but is at its most potent when your skin is in contact with the air. Wearing as little physical garments and armor as possible allows the sigils to radiate the greatest benefit. The cloak you see on the table will allow you to cover when moving around cities and towns, to avoid attention. But in battle, unravel it and allow the sigils to take over.”

Senna picks up a goblet filled with a strange liquid, offering it  to Ingrid.

“Now, you must drink, and stand before the statue. Unlike the Sybil, most mortals cannot commune with the goddess directly, this herbal mixture will take your mind into the Aetherius, be ready!”

The first drops of rain begin to fall as Ingrid looks at the solution. The Mother takes a position next to sister Jolene, and they both bow their heads in prayer.

This was it.

Taking a deep breath, she downs the mixture in one gulp. She slowly looks up at the crude statue as a blinding light fills her vision.

It was….the most beautiful place she had even seen.

The serene meadow stretched around her in all directions. The sky was crystal blue, and in the distance she could see enormous trees that could not possibly exist in the mortal plane, all matter of warm hues and colors radiated from their leaves.

Every breath she took filled her mind with a happiness and inner closure that she had never felt in her life. She was at peace here, she was...satisfied even.

Though no voice came to Ingrid, she was suddenly aware of her presence behind her back. She slowly turned, and what presented to her nearly caused her to fall to her knees.

In the center of a radiant, multicolored light, was the Goddess Dibella.

Long hair of the purest white flowed in an ethereal wind. The goddesses skin was without a single blemish or mark, and from her elbow to her hands, vines covered with a bloom of miniature roses gently swayed back and forth.

Her eyes gazed upon Ingrid with warmth and affection, sadness and sorrowful at her recent losses, a genuine desire to soothe and nurture.

But there was...something else.

Ingrid concentrated a little harder as a serene song came from her lips. Behind her, underneath the occasional ebbs of the light she gave off, was a seeing void.

A darkness.

It was only in brief flashes. But as the goddess’s song to Ingrid built up. Other feelings came to her between each verse.

Lust, Desires unfulfilled...hunger and envy.

Lots of venomous envy.

Lurking just beneath the vast aromas of numerous flowers, rich natural spices, and wondrous tastes of exotic flavours, was a less pleasant odor.

Stale and….rotten?

Ingrid’s gaze was drawn back to Dibella's face, the goddess lifted her hand towards her, her palm opened like a giant flower...the divine being smiled and waited for consent.

Ingrid steeled herself, nodding to the divine. A gentle flow of two alternating currents flowed into her heart.

She had expected pain, or some other discomfort, a test of resilience that often came with such gifts, but all she felt was a gentle building up of some force within her, balancing itself to her body and mind, as well as the sigils she now had upon her.

Her own spiritual energies melded with whatever the Goddess was giving her, the current slowly faded as the process completed, with no sharpness or sudden end.

Ingrid felt stronger, she seemed to have more vitality within every breath she took, and she suspected more would manifest with time.

The whole exchange happened without a word being spoken, there really wasn’t any need, as the vision faded Dibella seemed to move further away.

But Ingrid could not help but notice, for a brief second, that a dark silhouette of a face seemed to be looking over the divines shoulder, glaring menacingly at her, hate and jealousy in its black eyes.

Mother Senna and Jolene were looking down at her as she came back from her vision. Their warm smiles of a more mortal, but no less welcoming kind.

“We saw the sigils on your skin start to glow, and that song!” Sister Jolene's face was filled with joy.

“I’ve never heard anything like it! It filled my mind. It seemed like it came from everywhere at once!”

The mother gently moved a strand of red hair from Ingrid’s face as she spoke.

“The goddesses influence is indeed an experience of its own. It is one that both of you will never forget.”

The rain was getting heavier, the Three of them were still naked, together upon a crude hide bedding they had arranged upon the ground.

“There is one last part of the ritual we need to perform now.” Senna’s hand moved down to Ingrid’s breast, gently squeezing, she felt a tingle and shivered in pleasure as she stared into the Revered Mothers eyes.

“The sigils need to be ‘charged up’, so to speak, on a regular basis. From time to time, you must find someone who is willing to ‘help’ you in this regard. Her smile gave off a slight hint of mischief at the statement.

As sister Jolene gently ran her hands up Ingrid’s thighs. Revered Mother Senna lent down and began a long kiss.

The wolf hurled itself forward through the bushes it had stalked its quarry into when it had suddenly froze. The rain was now pelting down upon the ground in sheets, and claps of thunder could be heard in the distance.

But that was not what had distracted the creature from its small prey’s scent.

Stalking slowly through the thick undergrowth, it gently moved forward to the glowing light that shone through the branches and leaves in front of it.

It pushed its nose through first, sniffing the air, the aroma of sweat and arousal hit its nostrils as its ears picked up the sounds of moans and wet flesh slapping together.

As the wolf looked into the clearing, it felt nothing as to what it was seeing itself, it turned its head to the side as it tried to make sense of what was in front of it.

Lying in the clearing were the naked bodies of three women. The rain soaked their skin and ran down them in tiny rivers as two of them were upon the third figure lying down, wearing a strange necklace.

The wolf could not make out any details, as the bright glowing light from the stone statue behind them obscured the three in shadow.

The prone figure roared out as the blond haired one was leaning over one of her breasts, the other had her head between her wide open legs, her hands gripping each side of her hips, fingers pushing into flesh.

As a lightning flash struck in the distance the blond one ran her tongue up the other, skimming over the neckpiece, she pushed it down into her mouth. Their lips locked together.

The muffled groans and gasps started to build in intensity. In the distance there was a crack as two dragons in flight engaged in an aerial battle of wills, the elevation of the clearing allowing full view across western Skyrim.

The two women that were working upon the third became more forceful as the moans from the one with the strange neckpiece grew louder. Behind them the statues glow burst into a blinding light that filled the grove.

The wolf backed away as it felt a presence in the building winds around it, a colossal entity's attention now focused upon the enthralled figures at the altar.

As the three women all roared out in climax, the wolf growled and snapped at its sides. In the bushes, strange slugs and spiders began to slither out of the shadows, from under rocks and dead leaves.

It whined in fear, bowing its head before turning and running from the scene.

The force now looked at the three beautiful women now embracing one another, lying in the rain together.

Their beauty….it filled the watcher with rage, a venomous spite and envy on a level that only a god like being could feel.

It despised all things beautiful, all things that others desired and wanted. The vibrancy of youth, the sound of uplifting music, and the passion of lovers embraced.

It was once beautiful herself, like her sister, but unlike her, it denied the self sacrifice to make Mundus. Not wanting to give up herself for a plane it would never be able to experience directly afterwards.

She looked on the now three sisters, one of which was a twin who had undertaken the old rites, from the time before she had lost her own divine beauty. She stared upon them.

‘One day...whores of my beloved….one day!’