"Defender. Can you hear me?"

 

A sound of movement, cloth brushing against stone, a querying noise.

 

"She is not waking up."

 

"Patience, young one. It takes time to dig one's way back from oblivion."

 

More movement, a cool palm on my forehead. The first voice again.

 

"She...she was in Oblivion?"

 

A pause.

 

"No."

 

I blinked my eyes open, then squinted at the sudden light.

 

"I was using the term metapho...never mind. She is awake."

 

Figures blocked the light, shadows with halos.

 

"Greetings, Defender." The second voice emanated from the figure on the right. "How do you feel?"

 

Feel? Hadn't really noticed until you asked, but now that you mention it, I feel like crap. Pain had apparently been lurking in the corners, waiting for me to notice it so it could pounce. Having recognized its moment, it did so with all the ferocity of a starving lioness.

 

I don't think any of that passed my lips. At best recollection, my answer sounded more like this: "Ugghmmmph." Fortunately, that was enough to convey my meaning. There was a sudden bustle of movement. A cool compress was pressed over my eyes, and a sugary draught was tipped down my throat. I coughed a little before managing to swallow. The liquid left a warm glow as it moved through my body, and soon I felt as if I was wrapped in a cocoon of warm silk. I sighed as the pain dissipated, and soon I was asleep.

 

The next time I woke, the pain had eased to a distant ache, and I felt much more coherent. One glance at my surroundings showed me a room full of ugly stone furniture, which meant there was only one place I could be.

 

Markarth. I hated that city. Still do, actually.

 

Where in Markarth, exactly, was answered soon after when a priestess of Dibella came to my bed. "Good afternoon, Defender," she said as she ran warm fingers over my body. "All of your wounds seem to be mostly healed. We weren't sure you were going to make it."

 

I licked dry lips with a parched tongue and rasped, "What happened?"

 

She sat on a stool by my head and pursed her lips for a moment. "That is an interesting question. What do you remember?"

 

Remember? My memory was like a murky pond. I cast into it but pulled up nothing but a hazy feeling of fear and despair. "Last thing I remember was...a house. Some sort of...priest, or something, wanted to investigate it. We went in. There was...something."

 

A wave of lust rolled over me, a deep longing for...something. It disappeared as quickly as it had come, but it left me breathless. "Something..."

 

The priestess frowned, apparently mistaking my reaction. "That 'something' was Molag Bal, the Daedric prince of domination and slavery. We have purged you of his presence - you no longer need fear his taint."

 

I remembered, then, the feeling of something - or someone - else invading my body, of being shut into a corner of my own mind while my body did...horrendous things. I remembered, as well, the endless well of hunger, of lust, of need that drove that someone onward. The longing rolled over me again, threatened to consume me, but whatever the priestesses had done was enough to protect me - I remained myself. But I was certain they had not truly purged me. I thought about commenting on the fact, but the priestess pressed a goblet of water to my lips, so I drank. The cool liquid washed down my throat and pooled in my empty stomach, and I forgot everything else in a sudden rush of a hunger of a more mundane type.

 

"I'm starving!"

 

The priestess laughed. "I imagine so. You have been convalescing for several days." She turned for a moment, then turned back with a bowl of some sort of stew. The smell of it made my stomach come to life and begin growling. "Eat, then rest. You must regain your strength; there is pressing business to attend to."

 

I had already gulped down half the bowl, and I didn't look up as I responded, "Don't let me keep you from your business."

 

She laughed, but she didn't sound merry. I paused and frowned at her. "What?"

 

"It is your business that needs discussed. You owe us a great favor, and we find ourselves in dire need. A curious happenstance; except there is no such thing as happenstance."

 

"I don't understand. What great favor do I owe you?"

 

She blinked. "The favor of not telling the guard that you are the one responsible for three-hundred and forty-two deaths in Markarth alone, to say nothing of the countless others killed outside these walls."

 

I found myself gaping. "What? I didn't..."

 

"Oh, but you did. Well, your body, anyway. At first we were pleased that, even though a Defender is not required to serve Dibella by offering her body to others, you had chosen to do so. And with such enthusiasm! You must have bedded a dozen people a day! It is odd, in retrospect, that no one seemed to notice that those you...entertained were not heard from again. I assume that was some trick of the mind by Malog Bal, clouding the minds of the city. It took us nearly a month to catch on, and by then you had disappeared in the night."

 

Good lord. Flashes of memory flitted through my mind, but those days were a jumble of images and sensations, mercifully tangled. The only clear thing that came from thinking about those times was another overwhelming wall of lust. I quickly changed tracks to forestall the feeling.

 

"Okay, I get it. What do you want me to do?"

 

She smiled. "Eat. Rest. Once you have regained your strength we shall tell you your task."

 

I could get nothing more from her, so I finished the stew, along with another bowl, and then settled back on the stone bed. I fell asleep to dreams filled with faceless naked people reaching for me.

 

Don't feed the bastards. They'll just want more.

 

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