Trendil stared at the imposing double doors of Labyrinthian with her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Looks like this adventure will be over before it even starts.”

 

“Why doesn't the door have a way to open it?” Sloan peered at the smooth metal so closely her eyes appeared to touch the surface.

 

Aithne shrugged. “I guess they want to keep people out.”

 

“Well, then how did the original owners get in?” Trendil asked at the same time Sloan raised an eyebrow at Aithne and asked, “Do you have some sort of spell to unlock doors?”

 

Aithne shrugged again. “Unlock magical doors, yes. I suppose I could use telekinesis to open a mechanical lock but I would have to know what the lock looked like on the inside.”

 

“Well, if there was a normal lock, I could pick it. But these do not seem to have one.”

 

Trendil pointed. “If those two holes are not for a key, what do we think they are?”

 

A long pause as they all studied the holes or, more accurately, divots in the metal - indentations the size of a troll’s eyeball sitting two inches apart in the otherwise sheer surface of the door. The width tickled Aithne’s mind and she frowned and reached for her pack and pulled out the horseshoe-shaped piece of metal she had taken from Chtonji.

 

The others looked at it with curious expressions and Sloan asked, “What is that?”

 

“I’m not sure. It was in the Archmage’s quarters with all his notes on the place. Maybe…”

 

She lifted it toward the door. The two knobbed ends did seem to fit the width of the holes but she couldn't see how it would connect. But when it neared the indentations, it lurched from her hand and snapped into the divots with a low metallic clang.

 

“Huh. Let’s see if it works.” Trendil grabbed the horseshoe and tugged and the scent of stale dead air washed over them as the door swung open with a low rumble. “That opened much easier than I expected. Shall we?”

 

They entered the ruin together. In some ways it resembled Saarthal – an ancient ruined interior with long-since decayed signs of a previous rich history. The resemblances stopped architecturally – whoever had made this place had had very different ideas about design and décor. Where Saarthal had been all arches and low ceilings, Labyrinthian held massive pillars and vaulted ceilings that could have held giants or even a dragon comfortably.

 

They picked their way through dust and rubble but there seemed little enough to discover.

 

Sloan broke the silence with an unexpected question. “Do you think we’re actually related?

 

Trendil seemed as off-put as Aithne felt at the question but the solider recovered quicker and answered with a shrug. “Hard to imagine not. What are the chances we’d look exactly alike yet not be related? Name some relatives.”

 

Sloan laughed. “Well, I was in the orphanage growing up so I don’t know many. I did just recently learn my mother’s name.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“M…”

 

“Hello! You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

 

Weapons and spells sprang to hands as the three turned as one toward the unexpected voice.

 

A Redguard woman in College robes perched on a broken pillar, smiling and holding up empty hands. “Peace, friends. I am not here to harm you. In sooth, I could not harm you would I desire it.”

 

Aithne frowned as she mentally flicked through the students she had met at the college. The woman did not look familiar but, of course, Aithne had not met everyone there. “Who are you?”

 

“I am Atmah Naku, a student at the College of Winterhold. Or I was.” The woman frowned. “Pray tell, what is the date?”

 

“The date?” Aithne glanced at the others.

 

“It is Morndas, the fourth day of Second Seed,” Sloan supplied.

 

“And…the year?”

 

Sloan raised an eyebrow but answered, “206.”

 

Atmah’s expression shifted to something akin to despair. “So long?” A tear formed and dribbled down her cheek. “Ah, then the future has already passed and hope has shriveled into decay.”

 

“Poetic.” Trendil tilted her head to the side, her eyes wary. “Tell us what is going on.”

 

“Of course.” Atmah took a deep breath. “Hear then, my friends, my tale. If you are wise, you will take it as a warning and depart. If you are merciful - and powerful - then perhaps you can save us from our prison.

 

“We were twelfth-year students of the College of Winterhold. Six mages burgeoning with power and hubris. We thought it would be fun to delve into a ruin of legend, so discover the secrets that had lain dormant for who knows how many centuries.”

 

Atmah waved a hand and six ghostly figures appeared, standing unmoving in a rough line. “Here we are on the very spot where you now stand.” She stood and moved to the figures, peering at them one after another as she talked.

 

“Here am I, the catalyst of our fates, for it was I who convinced the others to join me on this mad quest.”

 

Atmah looked at the projection of herself for a long moment then stepped to her left, to a Nord man who towered over the others, and a soft smile crossed her lips. “And here is Hafnar Ice-Fist. He was an enchanter, and also enchanting, in his own rough Nord way. Also handy with an axe.”

 

Another step and her eyes softened even more. She reached out as if to touch the Argonian but stopped before her hand reached the image. “Takes-in-Light, a restorationist. Hers was the most gentle soul you will never have the privilege to meet.”

 

Atmah paused and took a quavering breath, then shifted once more to a Bosmer with keen eyes and a habitual smirk. “Girduin Chyajmich. He was an elementalist. He was as arrogant as they come, but he always backed it up.” A pause and a frown. “Until he didn’t.”

 

 She ducked her head and stepped again, this time between a pair of Dunmer. She motioned first at the female. “Elvali Veren, a Dark Elf sorceress. I didn’t know her well. She only came along because she was talked into it by her cousin.” Here he turned to the male Dunmer.

 

The much younger but still clearly recognizable face sent a jolt down Aithne’s spine and she said the Dark Elf’s name at the same time Atmah did: “Savos Aren.”

 

Atmah glanced at Aithne with a quick of her eyebrow but her expression had turned stormy, all traces of her previous softness erased in a moment. “The same. He was a conjurer and an all-around despicable creature. He is the antagonist of this tale. And, I take it, someone you know? A pity that he lived.”

 

Aithne nodded. “He is…or was, until two days ago, the Archmage of the college.”

 

Atmah’s other eyebrow sprang up to join the first. “They made him Archmage?!” For a moment, her face was filled with the kind of expression normally reserved for moments of true fury, such as when someone steals the last sweetroll.

 

“They did. If it helps, I don’t think he did a very good job of it. Plus, he’s dead.”

 

“Good.” Atmah seemed somewhat mollified. She turned back to the still phantasmal figures. “Now that the cast has been set, let our play begin.” She waved a hand and the figures began to move.

 

Act 1 – Forbidden Entry

INT. LABYRINTHIAN ENTRY HALL

Curtains open to cast standing in the first room of Labyrinthian looking around in awe. Mage lights set harsh shadows onto ancient walls. The ground is scattered with broken stone, mystical symbols, and shards of ancient artifacts. There is a palpable air of excitement.

 

ELVALI: “I can't believe we're doing this.”

SAVOS: "Can you imagine the looks on their faces when we come back?"

HAFNAR: "You keep talking like you're sure we'll find something useful in here."

GIRDUIN: "Given the history of this place, it's more than likely there's still some amount of power here."

SAVOS: "Enchanted weapons, tomes of ancient knowledge, Shalidor's secrets themselves -- who knows what we could find!"

TAKES-IN-LIGHT: "And what if...what if there are things guarding this place?"

ATMAH: "Against six College-trained mages? I think we'll be fine."

 

The figures fade out as they turn as one toward the passage out of the room.

 

Atmah sighed and shook her head, still staring at the spot where her past self had stood. “Such hubris.”

 

“Wait.” Trendil gave Atmah a hard stare. “Just how long have you been here?”

 

“We entered this place in the Spring of the year 98, so if the date is what you say, we have been here for 108 years.”

 

“We?” Sloan looked around as if expecting more people to spring out of the walls. “The others are still here as well?”

 

Atmah gave her a small smile. “Two of us are. In a sense. You will see.” She motioned toward the passageway that led further inward. “Please, follow me.”

 

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