Sevetia couldn’t help but continue to gloat as Lucari lay next to her unconscious and Carciel was too weak to fight anymore. “Hahahaha! No one… can stop… me… I’m… the strongest… the best…”

(So that’s a Daedric Lord’s champion…) She looked over to her fallen comrade. (Lucari… what in the world did you do?)

 

“Hahahahaha! Not even Teresa… can hold—”

“‘Not even I can,’ what?” Sevetia and Carciel looked towards the voice and saw Teresa appear from a cloud of darkness just as she had disappeared.

 

“Nothing… Teresa…” Suddenly all the gusto that was oozing from Sevetia disappeared and she was back to her completely stoic ways from before.

 

“As I thought.”

Teresa raised her eyebrows. “I must say,” she said somewhat impressed. “You did a fine job of things. Of course, I could have done it myself if my ankle weren’t injured. Faster. But a good job nonetheless.”

 

(She’s lying. Her ankle is completely healed up! This isn’t going to be good…)

“Aww… does the little Breton think this is unfair,” Teresa mocked. “Because it is! We are the night, and you DARE to challenge US? In OUR element? Stupid mortals and their unlimited supply of hope and false courage.”

 

“Tsk.” Carciel swallowed her pride and said nothing. Teresa was right. She had challenged the two of them—two of Molag Bal’s strongest minions—to a fight in the dead of night and rightly lost. (Who did I think I was? Niyleen? Eolri?)

“But again Sevetia, nice work,” Teresa said. “Especially with that one.” She glared at Lucari, eyes full of rage. “Oh what to do with the Defiler?”

 

(LUCARI!!)

“I should sever your head for refusing my Lord’s gift. But no… that’d be too easy…” Teresa said as she stepped toward Lucari. “So what then? Torture? Too long, and I’d work up an appetite…”

“STAY AWAY FROM LUCARI!!!”

 

Teresa froze for a moment then laughed. “Pathetic mortal, still trying to defy me. Or would you rather take her place?”

 

“Please,” Carciel said with substantially less force than before. “She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t know what she did, but—”

Teresa angrily snatched Lucari up by the hair and positioned herself behind the young archer. “Doesn’t deserve this? DOESN’T DESERVE THIS!? You know nothing!” Teresa spat. Her rage was about to boil over and Carciel knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. “She defiled my Lord’s place of worship, denied him when he was about to bless her with power beyond what she could conceive, and then didn’t heed the His warnings. Thrice she has spat in my Lord’s face! Thrice she has sullied his name! No more!”

“If this meat sack doesn’t want to receive a gift voluntarily… Then she can be like the rest of Skyrim and receive another by force!”

“TERESA STOP! STOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!”

But it was too late. Teresa had bit down on Niyleen and began sucking swallow after swallow of the young Nord’s blood until finally she tossed her aside like yesterday’s trash.

 

“Eek!” Lucari yelped as she hit the ground hard.

 

(S-shit… ShitshitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT!!!) Carciel had never felt so powerless. Even taking a beating from Sevetia again would have been preferable to being forced to watch her friend be victimized like… like this. (How can I face Niyleen? I’ve got to do something! Can I cure it? Will she forgive me? ShitshitSHIT!)

“I must say,” Teresa began as she wiped her mouth of Lucari’s blood. “Her blood… tasted like absolute horseshit. Ahahahahahaa!”

“You bitch…” Carciel said, never taking her eyes off of Lucari. “I’ll kill you… I’ll turn you into dust, raise you back, and kill you again and again and again…”

“Isn’t that adorable,” Teresa said. She walked toward Carciel and drew her Dark Sabre. “It seems like someone is stuck in a fantasy land. Don’t worry though,” she said as stood over the Breton. “I’ll wake you from that dream real soon…”

“GYAAAA!!!” Sevetia suddenly screeched as she was hit by a mass of energy that sent her flying.

The sudden screams of her ally shattered Teresa’s concentration dispersing her weapon, and caused her and Carciel to turn their heads in her direction. “Who under the night sky do you think you are to interfere with the Lord of Domination’s work? And how on Nirn did you have such a silent duel with Sevetia, my Lord’s Champion!?”

“My Lord, if it isn’t one thing after another…” Teresa sighed. “First the Markarth blunder, then the mess with these mortals, now some random decides to enter the fray clearly unaware of what’s at stake… The sun cometh too slow on this day…”

“First off,” the newcomer said haughtily. “I didn’t know that knocking someone out with a single blow constituted a duel.”

 

“You jest, Nord!!”

 

“Do I really look like I am?”

 

“You must be! For such an action could only be done by—!!!”

“Ah, I see that you’ve noticed my weapon as well, Undead,” said the Nord. “Calm youself, you sure are a flaky vamp aren’t you. It isn’t the Dawnbreaker that would smite you down with a mere touch… but for something of a replica, it definitely gets the job done.”

 

Carciel’s jaw hit the floor at the Nord’s sudden appearance, actions and audacity. (Who… who is she? An Aedra?) No mere Nord had the raw power to simply take Sevetia out with a single strike. Nothing else made sense, and also… there was indeed something otherworldly about her as if she were… blessed…

“Haaaa... You tried to give me a scare there mortal, but do you really think you can handle a being like me?”

 

The Nord placed her weapon over her shoulder. “Sure. Why not,” she said frankly. “If giant flying lizards aren't too much of a problem, what’s a tiny little vamp like you going to do to me? Sting me?”

“S-sting!?” That rattled Teresa visibly and the Nord wasn’t done yet.

 

“Naw more like pinch. No! A tickle. That’s what you’ll do,” she said. “And when I get a good laugh from you, I’ll send you to the Void. A one-way ride, no stops, top speed.”

 

Then the impossible seemed to happen. Carciel saw a vampire get red in the face and Teresa completely lose her cool. “This… this… this BITCH!!!”

“But if that sounds appeasing to you, come at me vamper. I’ll put you out of your misery.”

 

“Hahaha, y-you’re insane,” Teresa said trying regain her composure. “I don’t care what kind of foul magic your weapon wields, there’s no way—”

“Magic? It’s all skill,” the Nord taunted. “Hello Undead? This is Death, and it’s time I gave you your true one.”

 

(She’s… amazing…)

“Come at me Night-Eyes,” the Nord continued to taunt.

 

However, something seemed different about Teresa now. “I see… I get it now. Thank you my Lord.”

 

“Hey! Who’re you talking to?”

“We’ve played with you mortals enough for tonight,” Teresa said as she began to be enveloped by a cloud of darkness.

 

“What’s this, your big bad secret attack?”

 

“It’s your salvation,” Teresa said stone-faced. “Embrace it by the next time we meet, or you’re the ones that will meet their end.”

“Consider yourself lucky Nord. If it weren’t for my—”

 

“Waitwaitwait a second!?! You’re trying to escape!? Not on my watch!”

The Nord swung her blade downward and a wave of energy shot forward from it faster than a bolt.

 

“Tootles,” Teresa said while blowing kiss just as the wave was about to hit her, but then hit air instead.

Instantly the Nord looked behind her, but Sevetia was gone as well. Angrily the Nord sheathed her weapon and began to mumble under her breath.

Carciel sighed in relief. (Thankfully that’s over. But Lucari—)

 

“What the shit!? Punk ass dead bitch acting like she can hang one-on-one with me,” the Nord suddenly raged. “Is she out of her mind?” She gave the space that Teresa previously occupied the finger and continued, “Fuck her, her minion, and that piece of trash ‘Lord of Domination.’ If any of you scrubs want a piece me, I’ll be here Night AND Day.” She spat. “No good piece of shit… I could have killed another elf rather than dealing with your coward ass…”

“Umm,” Carciel said kind of meekly compared to the Nord’s aggressiveness.

 

“What the shit do you… oh!” The Nord seemed to finally notice Carciel’s presence and cooled off. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. How can I help you Breton?”

 

“T-thanks for the save but, who… what are you?”

“Oh! Aha, I’m so bad mannered. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sorerica the Slayer, of Riverwood,” she said proudly. “But umm… as for the ‘what am I part…’”

 

“Nononono! I didn’t mean to be rude,” Carciel quickly tried to clear up. “I-I just didn’t think that a normal Nord could—”

“You’re right,” Sorerica admitted. “No normal Nord COULD beat that Champion in one hit.”

 

“Then how did you do it? Did you have some trick? Some special move?”

 

Sorerica pondered a good while before she finally spoke. “Well… I guess… it’s because I’m Dragonborn.”