The house looked pretty well taken care of, for a place that had been supposedly abandoned. Fresh food was set on a table, well-kept weapons were stored along some of the walls, a cheery fire burned in the fireplace. I surreptitiously took some cheese and nibbled on it as the Vigilant stepped with excruciating care through the doorway.

 

"Well, looks like someone's been here recently," I said in an encouraging voice. For some reason, that only made him look more nervous.

 

"Don't you feel it?" His voice quavered. "This place is touched by the Daedra."

 

That particular phrasing set off a distant alarm bell in my own head. It took me a few moments to realize that it was because someone had said something similar about me, once upon a time. I heard Rayya's voice as an echo of a life long past. How long ago? Two years? Maybe? Surely not longer than that, yet it seemed like several lifetimes.

 

The Vigilant shook himself and took on a sudden businesslike air. "Well, let's see what is going on. This house was probably used by a Daedra worshiper. There will probably be a shrine of some kind. If we can find it, we'll know how to cleanse the house of its taint."

 

I kinda missed the oafish version. Ah well. "Great. Let's go."

 

We searched the three rooms upstairs - I took the opportunity to filch more food and a flask of wine - then proceeded to a cellar crammed with barrels and crates of varying kinds. A locked door stood on the far wall; the moment the Vigilant touched it, he turned white.

 

"This is no ordinary Daedra!" he cried, and rushed past me, scrambling back up the stairs. "We have to get help!"

 

And that's when all hell broke loose. A deep, malevolent laugh filled the air and everything in the house was lifted from the floor and flung about. We dodged plates and cups and tables all the way to the front door, just to find it locked.

 

"Weak," the voice said. "He is weak. You are strong. Crush him!"

 

"No!" The vigilant took out his sword and waved it at the ceiling. "Get out of my head!"

 

The voice became a whisper in my ear. "You are tired of being a victim. You have made steps to grow stronger. But you have already seen the limitations of Dibella's power. I...I shall give you true strength. The world will tremble before you. Kill him and come to me."

 

I wanted power, but this...I shrugged out of my pack and let my robe drop to my feet, then stepped out of my boots. With a couple of flicks, the Graceful Swords were in my hands. I began my retort to the voice: "Dibella's gifts may not be all powerful, but I will not..."

 

"You!" The Vigilant was staring at me with wild eyes. "You are the Daedra worshiper! You tricked me into coming in here!"

 

"No, I'm trying to help fight this voice," I said. Or tried to say. I got as far as "No, I'm..." before he attacked. I parried and shouted him back, then tried to talk to him again, but he would have none of it. After some time of this, locked in a small space with a man who had clearly gone quite mad, I had no choice but to kill him. I frowned at the body as it slumped to the ground. "Why can't you people be reasoned with?"

 

"Because he was weak. Weakness cannot be reasoned with. It can only be expunged. Come to me. Let me make you strong."

 

"Look, I don't know who you are, but..."

 

"I am Molag Bal. You will serve me; I shall make you strong."

 

"Ah. Okay, thanks for the introduction, but..."

 

"You dither. A sign of weakness. I tire of this game. Now you will come to me."

 

"No, I think I'd rather..."

 

"It amuses me that you feel you have a choice." And with that, the floor opened under my feet and I fell for an eternity.

 

A small space. Fire. Everywhere, fire. A figure on a dais, taller than the sky, blacker than the night. He came to me - or I went to him; I don't remember either of us moving - and he was naked, his penis a flaming sword longer than my body. He penetrated me with one thrust; my body exploded with pain, yet I craved more. He opened up a yearning well of insatiable desire. The universe exploded. And I was lost.

 

Don't feed the bastards - they'll just want more

 

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