(From: Chapter Five Act Four: Approaching Shadows)

Vampire: Aaiieieee!

Torund: Holy shit. What just happened?

Taeyva: What happened is we got attacked by a vampire. In broad daylight. We need to tell the others.

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(From: Chapter Four Act Five: The Spiderling)

Castalia: I want to… to give you something.

Castalia: All lives are mine to observe. But that doesn’t mean death is beyond my grasp as well.

Castalia: A cut weave does not vanish.

Castalia: It just gives me an end to tug.

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(From: Chapter Five Act Three: Sovereignty)

Taeyva: So Isabel is Null, then. And if you want to claim her power, she needs to grant it. And Talen is your means of doing that! But…

Taeyva: You don’t have control of her, do you? Someone else does…

Castalia: No. Erinye does.

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(From: Chapter Five Act Two: Tears for Eternity)

Elizabeth: She’s still trapped in the other gem, with nowhere to go now. You stole our body and gave it to me, locking her out forever.

Argus: Elizabeth, I-

Elizabeth: No!

Erinye: That’s her name. A monster like me deserves her own.

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(From: Chapter Five Act Four: Approaching Shadows)

Ulfric: I have to ensure the safety of my city and people. We must win this. No matter the cost.

Ulfric: I will allow the automatons to fight with us.

Orthjolf: I don’t know, Prophet. It’s like they knew we were coming.

Orthjolf speaks firmly. His tone remains resolute despite the scrutiny being directed his way. Though the fragility of his confidence is exposed by his tense shoulders and frozen stare, even with his knee bracing him against the floor, he trembles.

Erinye paces before the vampires of Castle Volkihar in an ambling, rhythmic march. Her footsteps echo throughout the open chamber, drawn out in a groaning gong. Not a single eye meets hers. Like scolded children, the vampires keep their eyes diverted to the table.

Orthjolf: I swear, I sent no one out ahead of time. As soon as the sun fell, we departed. But the wolves were already alert and… hunting. They were looking for us.

Orthjolf: We never even got close… It had to have been someone else… I-

Erinye halts with a stomp. The resounding boom of her boot is accompanied by gasps and creaking seats.

Erinye: Do you think I care, Orthjolf?

Erinye pauses, not expecting an answer, but curious if the vampire is stupid enough to offer one. He does not. Erinye resumes her pace.

Erinye: Excuses are worthless. The one thing that’s clear is that you’ve failed.

Erinye: Whether by a fault of your own or not doesn’t matter.

Erinye grips her head, expelling a frustrated groan.

Erinye: This changes things. And not for the better of all of you.

She turns around, extending flared fingers towards her kneeling underling while she addresses the rest of her audience.

Erinye: Let this be a lesson to all of you! From Molag Bal, your blood was given.

Orthjolf lifts a trembling finger to his widened eyes.

Orthjolf: W-wait…

Erinye: And by him…

Erinye clutches her fingers as a bloodcurdling scream engulfs the throne room.

Orthjolf: Gaaaah! AAAAHHH!

Erinye: …it can be taken away.

A smirk crosses her lips as Erinye ogles the vampiric blood draining from Orthjolf’s eyes. An expression she quickly wipes away. Despite her efforts to suppress it, the revelry in torment is sometimes too enriching to ignore. Her scowl returns as the scream abruptly ends, followed by a soft flop.

Erinye: You.

Erinye juts her finger towards the only standing vampire in the room, an underling of Orthjolf promoted following his succession. The vampire’s eyes widen in fright as it takes a skittish step backwards.

Stalf: Y-yes?

Erinye: You’re in charge now. I no longer need the werewolves whereabouts; I just need them distracted. Keep their attention as long as your lives will allow.

She doesn’t wait for a reply. She doesn’t want one. As Erinye stomps out of the hall, she feels their terrified stares fall on her turned back.

Stalf: B-but… We’re outnumbered. We’ll surely perish…

Erinye’s eyes narrow at the attempted dispute. As her lip curls, she hisses what she knows will be the last words they hear from her.

Erinye: I assure you, vampire, perishing at the claws of those beasts is a mercy compared to my hands.

Erinye: Don’t screw this up.

Taeyva: Out with it. Both of you.

Taeyva: We’re not leaving this room until your intentions have been made clear.

Taeyva tightens her fists, embracing the fury that was spawned after Ulfric’s deciding vote. In his mind, that decision will save them, but she knows better. The dark elves before her are secretive. The truths that slip from their lips conceal the daggers aimed at the listeners backs. 

The livid aura Taeyva exuded no doubt spurred the exit of the others. Everyone departed the room soon after the vote, leaving behind Taeyva, Talen, Torund, Malkor, and Castalia.

Castalia: Taeyva… I will never ask you to forgive Malkor or even trust him. The history you two share is, well, insurmountable.

Castalia sighs, deeply.

Castalia: But can I ask you to trust me? Trust that the outcome I seek favors the both of you. Please?

She stares pleadingly into Taeyva’s suspicious glare. This is held for but a moment before Taeyva rolls her eyes away to Torund.

Taeyva: Keep an eye on him. To get his damn machines and during the battle. On even the slightest suspicion…

Taeyva: …kill him.

Torund nods, silently, as his and Malkor’s eyes meet. Castalia prevents the tense silence from growing with a loud exhale.

Castalia: I suppose that’s fair. Is this settled then?

Taeyva: No.

Taeyva’s interjection is as sharp as her cold demeanor. She tilts her head, prompting Castalia.

Taeyva: You owe Talen some answers. He deserves to know by now.

A resounding gulp escapes Talen as he takes a flustered step back.

Talen: Know what? Is it… Isabel?

Talen ogles Taeyva longingly. She briefly shakes her head and nods to Castalia. If trust is to be gained here, it’s up to her to deliver the truth. Talen takes the cue and faces her.

Talen: What do you know?

Castalia takes a deep breath. This will be delicate. Talen has always been destined to learn the truth at some point, but it’s at that point where his weave splits off into so many paths. There’s no real way of navigating to the right outcome, yet the urge of caution is unavoidable. It’s like walking a tightrope tied to only one end. No matter what happens, she’s going to fall. She just has to aim for the net.

Castalia: Talen, your wife is still within reach. But she is dead; that has not changed. She is never coming back.

Castalia pauses to gauge his reaction. Talen is silent. His stare falls as the sadness slowly drains from his eyes. She continues.

Castalia: I know you’ve heard of Null. It is a void of limitless potential. Isabel is the key to accessing that.

Talen’s fists clench as deep breaths rock his tense shoulders.

Taeyva: Talen, it’s okay. Take it slow.

To Castalia’s surprise, Taeyva’s words have an effect on him. Talen expels a heavy exhale as his body loosens up. However the ire in his expression lingers.

Talen: How do I get to her?

The direct question takes Castalia aback. She spots Taeyva staring at her with uncertainty. How much should Talen know? Everything? Castalia desperately tries to recall this point in the weave. There are so many points of conflict, so many outcomes. She never could have memorized it, but she could’ve at least made notes.

But there's no point in dwelling on that now. She'll just tell him and hope for the best.

Castalia: You have to die. It’s the only way mortals can enter Null.

Before Talen can respond, Taeyva steps in.

Taeyva: But Talen, you’d be giving yourself up. It’s not worth it. Please, don’t be rash.

The plea lands on deaf ears as Talen takes the information in. His heavy breathing gradually recedes into an accepting sigh. He looks up.

Talen: If I die, would I even be able to see her?

Castalia bites her lip. It’s a difficult question to answer. Of course he’d see her. His connection to Isabel would place him right with her, unlike the other souls who are lost deep inside. But by doing so he’d walk right into Erinye’s clutches. Should she lie? If Talen thinks he can’t see Isabel, perhaps he won’t even try. But if Talen doesn’t reach her first, who knows who will instead.

Castalia: Yes. While most souls who enter are trapped in the void, the area Isabel resides in can hold a few. But only a few. And at the moment, Erinye controls that area. Your death will only help her.

She continues, though doubts her ability to sway whatever decision he is making. Indecisiveness does not define Talen; his confident approach towards his choices, no matter how foolish, is one of the many traits that makes his weave so strong.

Castalia: Ultimately, our fates will be decided in Null. I don’t know what Erinye seeks with that power, but it will not be favorable. If you must go there though, wait until after the battle.

Talen narrows his eyes at her.

Talen: Why? If there really is so much power there, why not fight there first? There’d be no need to fight in Windhelm. My wife could be freed!

A silence lulls as Talen’s outburst recedes. Castalia silently shakes her head and glances towards Taeyva.

Castalia: You’ll need Taeyva’s help. But there aren’t enough souls to unlock that power anyway. Only after Windhelm will enough have died. And Talen… to free your wife… to unlock acquire this wish…

She faces him once again.

Castalia: Isabel must die. Permanently. Along with every other soul in Null. No afterlife, no rebirth.

Castalia: No happy ending.

Elizabeth: Our time together nears its end, Isabel.

Elizabeth: I hope you don’t mind, but I just can’t risk you going anywhere.

Elizabeth cinches the rope, binding Isabel’s body to the wooden beams that now hold her aloft. She takes a step back, her smile fading. Isabel dangles before her, arms outstretched, body exposed. Yet her unwavering glare conceals any vulnerability she may feel.

Her lips curl into a scowl as a heavy guilt encompasses her. As a lost soul, trapped in an endless void, it can be easy to forget she’s supposed to be the human one. She probably shares more in common with the martyr before her than she does with Erinye. But what does that really matter? Humanity is not defined by circumstance. It is by choices. And they’ve made all the wrong ones.

Elizabeth: There’s no going back, you understand? I… I’m sorry for the fate you’ve been led to. But I’m not sorry for the actions I’ve had to take. And will take.

Elizabeth looks into Isabel’s eyes. She easily recognizes the loathing and scorn that intensifies her glare.

Isabel: That apology isn’t for me, so keep it to yourself.

Elizabeth: Fine. But I can offer some compassion.

Elizabeth steps forward and reaches towards the collar. She carefully unlatches the lock and slides it off Isabel’s neck. As she tucks it away, Elizabeth offers a hesitant smile…

Elizabeth: You deserve at least some dignity.

…that is never returned.

Davey’s heart was beating fast enough, but as the door to the side room opened, it started to hammer. Talen stomped out first. Davey didn’t even attempt a greeting, dissuaded by the stricken scowl on his face. Immediately after him, Castalia and Malkor followed. They didn’t even glace at him.

The few seconds after were short, but agonizing, as he waited for Taeyva and Torund to finally leave. He scrambled to his feet as he and Taeyva’s eyes met, his heart sinking as he notices the sorrow inside of hers.

Torund takes a moment to look at each of them before turning to leave.

Torund: I’ll leave you two alone.

Taeyva nods slowly and her voice trails off.

Taeyva: Thanks…

They wait until the doors close behind Torund. Their soft thud echoes, permeating the tension, as if reminding them to break their silence.

Davey: Hey, listen, um… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable back there. I just-

Taeyva takes an abrupt step forward.

Taeyva: No no! It’s fine. I was being silly. Um…

She bites her lip. Her shoulder’s heave with a heavy sigh as her stare falls to the floor.

Taeyva: You said the right things. I’m sorry for running.

Davey chuckles.

Davey: Don’t be. That’s just part of your charm. You can’t make it easy for me, yeah?

Taeyva concedes with a faint laugh, yet her eyes don’t show it.

Davey’s heart skips a beat as Taeyva opens her mouth to respond. He doesn’t think he can handle another rejection.

Taeyva: Just bear with me. If you can. I’m not good at this… And, well there’s obviously a lot going on…

The tension recedes. Davey embraces the alleviation that settles on him as a smile spreads.

Davey: Taeyva…

Davey: … of course, I will.

Castalia leads Malkor out of the Palace of Kings, eyeing him intently throughout the exit. Malkor’s semblance of composure fooled everyone else, but Castalia could see the unease in his eyes. He isn’t here to help. If it were up to him, he’d leave his armies to dwell beneath the earth until the battle’s conclusion. The aftermath would leave him with an easy conquest.

But his composure isn’t the only facade he’s been playing. If he’s not here to help, why is he? For her? It’s what everyone else believes, but her own belief is beginning to waver.

Malkor: What are you doing, Cass?

The irateness is evident in his tone, yet the words pass alongside a defeated sigh.

Malkor: Somehow I know this was all your doing. You’ve been after my army this whole time and I can’t figure out the real reason why.

Castalia glares at him. He is always so accusatory, as if he wants to make an enemy of everyone. Why can’t he just see the world plainly? He is deluded by teeth everyone bares at him, not realizing he growled first.

Castalia: Are you kidding? Fucking… Ugh. Come on.

She yanks him off to the side and plants her feet firmly, trapping him between her and the wall. She shakes her head, sternly, as Malkor casually leans back. His relaxed posture infuriates her.

Castalia: Of course I’m behind this. You think a vampire would ever attack in broad daylight? This isn’t some sinister plan, Malkor. Have you even considered the fact that you could actually help around here?

Malkor’s brows furrow, inquisitively.

Malkor: I thought you lost your powers?

Castalia rolls her eyes.

Castalia: You still have your falmer, don’t you? The things I’ve already done don’t just go away. It’s called planning ahead. It was never going to kill Taeyva, just push her in the right direction.

Her remark is enough to deepen Malkor’s glare, but not spur a reply. Castalia expels her ire with a sigh.

Castalia: We made a promise to give things up. I have. What’s stopping you?

Malkor opens his mouth to speak but holds back. In a rare display of weakness, he sighs and rubs his head, gazing back up at her intensely.

Malkor: I haven’t broken it. I just…

He trails off, biting his lip in frustration. There’s a brief silence before he relents with a grunt.

Malkor: Okay, fine! I’m planning ahead! But I’m not betraying you or anyone! It’s only to ensure our safety. If I lose my strength, what’s stopping everyone here from killing me? Or you?

Castalia burrows her head in her hands, shaking it lividly.

Castalia: Malkor, you… Ugh! That’s not giving anything up! There’s no loopholes to this. You can’t have both outcomes.

She releases her grip, curling her fingers with enough intensity to cause them to pop. Deep, angry breaths rock her shoulders as Castalia attempts to establish some composure.

Castalia: Malkor, you can’t have both. I’ve submitted to you all my life, but I won’t any longer. My love for you has never wavered. Prove to me that yours hasn’t either.

Malkor falls silent, but his gaze never leaves her. His mouth hangs slightly agape, as if yearning to say something. But the words don’t come. Castalia’s heart sinks as his stare then falls. She never should have clung to such a fragile hope. Yet just as despair begins to envelop her, Malkor responds.

Malkor: Cass… I do l-

Torund: Hey! You two ready to go?

The dark elves each whip around, startled, to see Torund ogling them. Mike and Dennis flank him, each leading a small force of Dawnguard and Vigilant of Stendarr.

Castalia’s brows twitch. She forces herself to swallow her mounting vexation and slowly nods.

Torund: Good. We’re getting those machines of yours.

Blackreach remains unchanged since Malkor’s departure months ago. The glowing fungi still shift and sway in the windless cavern, casting their blue and green hues into the recesses of hewn stone. Dank air settles in the illuminated darkness like a shallow pond. Moisture glistens across every surface and each step sinks slightly into the murky ground.

Malkor led the group in silence. He has nothing to say to any of them and they to him. There’s no point in attempting amends. When this over, they will simply go back to hating him. No. They never even stopped. But none of that is what dwells on his mind right now.

Cass. Why is she so loyal? No… She isn’t loyal. She doesn’t do anything I want her to. She’s… committed. It’s like she thinks I’m someone else. That boy on the beach. But he’s dead! He’s… He lives in her heart. She wants to believe he’s still in mine too. Is he? When I’m with her I can feel the sand beneath my feet, hear the tide swell against the shore. Maybe she’s right. Maybe… Maybe I can give this up.

Vigilant: I do not like the look of those things.

Dawnguard: Me neither. They just sit there, whirring so loudly. I feel like they’ll wake up any second.

Torund never took his eyes off Malkor. As they navigated through the shrouded paths in Blackreach, his hand was clasped to his warhammer. Every crevice and nook was obscured in a deep shadow, hiding a falmer ready to pounce. But none never did. Even when they entered this ancient dwarven chamber, none of the machines attacked. But Torund won’t be convinced this isn’t a trap.

He takes his place outside of the upper room Malkor led them to. A hulking dwemer machine sat at the back, steam hissing from it’s metal shell. It’s appearance was intimidating for sure, but that was not what deterred him. He left Mike and Dennis to take charge, noticing Castalia secluding herself in the back corner. She doesn’t budge as he props himself beside her.

Torund: Markarth… You let me live. I don’t kill him, do I?

Torund doesn’t face her but can feel her inquisitive stare. Castalia tilts her head and ogles him for a moment before responding.

Castalia: Not if I can help it. But I let you live for other reasons too. Taeyva needs you, for instance.

Torund softly huffs, offering an assured nod. He gestures to Malkor who has begun addressing the soldiers in the room with him.

Torund: You love him too much. More than he deserves.

Torund: Do you really think you can change him?

Castalia sighs as she stares past him, emptily.

Castalia: It’s not about change. He voluntarily gave his life up. It’s something many of us aren’t lucky enough to do.

Castalia: But he did so because he was lost. I know it sounds silly, but I truly believe I’m his way back. He just needs to be reminded of that.

Her shoulders rise and fall with a despondent sigh. That belief means little if she can’t believe in herself.

Vigilant: So how does this work then? I don’t want these machines turning on us in the middle of battle!

Malkor turns away from him and places his hand against the automaton. They’ve voiced their distrust of him plenty already, no amount of explaining will fix that.

Malkor: You’ll have to trust me a little bit. This automaton will scan you, recognizing you as an ally. When you’re ready, step forward.

A moment of cautious murmuring follows as they all look to one another, hesitant to be the initial volunteer. Eventually the same vigilant steps forward.

Vigilant: Fine. I’ll do it.

Malkor: Good. Stand still.

Malkor reaches inside the automaton’s hull, activating the mechanism he had discovered years ago. Immediately, a gust of steam blasts into the air as gears begin to shift and spin. The metal plates shudder as the automaton slowly rises. The vigilant barely has time to gulp before white beams shine from its chest, encircling him.

Malkor: Relax. Don’t move.

The vigilant trembles but obeys. His nervous stare never leaves the beams as they continue to turn.

Eventually the beams flicker away, leaving the vigilant tense. He looks side to side, as if making sure everyone was still there, before scurrying off to the side to frantically inspect himself.

Dennis: Cool light show. How are we supposed to believe that did anything?

Mike: Not only that, but we can’t scan every person like this for every automaton.

Malkor suppresses a sigh. He can’t expect them to know how this works but hates having to explain it.

Malkor: You just have to be scanned once. And I’ll prove it works once everyone is done. Who is next?

One at a time, they take their place before the automaton. As the light encircles each of them, their doubts begin to recede. Malkor has not attacked, the automaton isn’t budging. It seems this may go as planned after all.

Dennis: Alright, we’ve all finished. Now prove this wasn’t for nothing.

Malkor nods.

Malkor: Follow me.

He leads them back to the entrance. A small group of dwarven spheres and ballista whir in place, awaiting commands. Malkor gestures for the group to stand behind him as he drops to one knee before a sphere in the center.

Malkor: You weren’t scanned by this one. But that doesn’t matter, it won’t attack you.

Dennis cocks his head in suspicion as he takes a tentative step forward.

Dennis: And I can trust your word?

Malkor steps back as a latch atop the sphere unfolds. A vaguely humanoid machine rises outwards. Steam blasts into the air around it before dissolving to the sides, like a curtain unveiled. It doesn’t make another move, whirring still as Malkor stands up beside it, sporting a confident grin.

Malkor: See for yourself.

Dennis gauges Malkor carefully before taking an affirmative step towards the machine. He stares directly into its carved metal face, not sure what to expect. It’s vacant, emotionless. This thing doesn’t make decisions, it’s only job is to protect and kill. Both of which, Malkor seems to have stopped it from doing successfully.

Dennis: Very well. It works.

Torund regards the scene below, undecided. He can’t bring himself to trust Malkor yet can’t ignore his demeanor. This isn’t the Malkor he knows. Malkor’s confidence hasn’t changed, but the way he exudes it is different. Torund can’t quite figure out why.

Torund: He seems assured with himself. Is this the fate you’ve been seeking, Castalia?

He doesn’t have to hear her to know the answer. Her relief is unmistakable, no matter how hidden her smile is.

Castalia: Yes.

Castalia: We’re on the right path now.

Outside the city, where the bridge meets the bronze, metal gate, Ulfric and his men gather. After the vote, Galmar was quick to voice his concerns. That dark elf, Malkor, could be deceiving them. Allowing his automatons into the city could potentially be their undoing. But it is a risk they have to take. One of many.

Galmar: Are you sure about this, Ulfric? We’d be trapping ourselves too.

Ulfric: We are already trapped, Galmar. There is no retreating from this fight. We find victory or die trying.

Galmar: If only Sovngarde still awaited us…

Galmar sighs and turns away. As he returns to issuing directions to the soldiers, he pauses. Talen trudges by them, staring intensely beyond the bridge.

Galmar: What’s he doing?

Ulfric shrugs.

Ulfric: I don’t know, but something weighs on him.

Ulfric: We all have to deal in times like these. Let him pass.

Talen hardly notices the soldiers, stepping aside just enough to let them pass. Castalia’s warning replays in his head over and over. No rebirth. No happy ending. He begins to wonder if there’s even a point in trying. Finding Isabel in Null won’t save her and doing so will only doom the souls of thousands. But they are doomed either way. An eternity in an empty afterlife is not any different than not having one at all. It’s not about the point of it all anyway. He already knows his decision, so why does making it feel so conflicting?

Of course, he knows the answer to that too. Talen can’t do this himself. The lesson has been taught to him time and time again since he set out on this journey. From Ellia to Taeyva, then the Dawnguard and Vigilant. No matter how hard he tries to achieve something himself, he collapses into the arms of his friends. And no matter how high the stakes truly are, in Talen’s mind, this is about saving his wife. And he loathes the idea of any life, other than his own, being put at risk for that.

As he approaches the portcullis, the guard standing by steps forward. Talen dismisses him with a wave of hand before he can speak.

Talen: I’m stepping out for a while, but I’ll be back. Open the gate.

The guard fumbles over a response as Talen stares into him. He quickly nods, cranking the gate open and signaling for Talen to exit.

As he strides into the open world, a sense of reprieve envelops Talen for what he hopes isn't the last time. But as soon as it arrives, it fades, drowned out by his own thoughts.

As he marches away from the city, the trials that lie ahead of him weigh on his mind. Defending the city, facing dragons and daedra, rushing to Null, facing Erinye… Can he even do it? And that’s just what he knows looms before him. He finds his hand tracing the wound in his stomach. Sheogorath is after Null, after his wife. Has Talen doomed them both for making the mistake of meeting with the daedric lord?

He sighs, taking a seat on a rock outcropping, overlooking the city. He burrows his hand into his pocket, finding the two gold rings resting inside together. He stopped wearing his after killing Isa- no, killing that woman. He only thought that was his wife. He accepted failure. Isabel was dead, by his own hands. He no longer deserved to wear it.

But if he can still reach her…

Talen sighs.

Talen: What do I do, Isabel?

Voice: You survive, hunter!

Talen nearly slips off the rock. He frantically closes his hand around the rings, whirling around at the booming voice. His eyes fall on the speaker, growing wide, before slowly rising up to follow the towering creature swaying at its side.

Hircine: I’ve come to speak with you.

To be continued…