Niyleen remembered this darkness, this abyss that was inside her. With every passing moment she expected Nega to come out and say ‘If only I was in control, I’d never lose to such a powerless thrall,’ but she never did, and eventually the emptiness of it all got to her and she lost perception of what was up, and what was down.

For a time she floated through the darkness. At first with relief. “I’ve done all I can for Nyleine…” It may not have been the ending her sister wanted, but it was the ending she deserved. Niyleen had sifted through her thoughts, knew how much her sister had been through.

 

The pain of killing their father. How torn she was for making Telind a thrall. How torn she was between killing Niyleen and gaining unlimited power and her dream of having a family. How twisted her father had made her think. How desperate she wanted to impress him. What their father did to them after he had killed them…

 

“…She’ll do fine…”
But soon Niyleen that relief vanished and she began to drown in anguish. “I was too cocky, too confident. I abandoned her, left her with a god-imbued thrall set on vengeance.” Her heart raced and she couldn’t stop herself from falling. “She needs me, I need to go back! Let me go back Nega!! Please, I need to save my sister!!!”
This wasn’t the ending Nyleine wanted, nor was it the ending that Niyleen could have had. She had Telind beat, pleading, begging. All she had to do was end him. A single stroke would have sufficed. Through the neck, and done. It would have been clean, quick, final.
But what’s done is done. Niyleen had failed, and now Telind was exacting his revenge on her little sister—her other half. “I’m such a failure, as a fighter… and a sister…” She finally stopped falling and stared up into the abyss. “How long have I been here?”
“Nonono, that’s not it,” Niyleen said as she got to her knees. “Am I really alive? Or is this abyss… am… am I in the Void?” She tried to wrap her head around it all. Last time she was here it was only for a couple of hours, but this time? Days, weeks, months? Every passing moment felt like eternity and there was no discernable way to figure out whether these feeling were real or otherwise.
“I’m actually dead,” Niyleen said trying her hardest to hold back her tears. “There’s no other way around it. Nega’s not here, I don’t feel a connection with Nyleine, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing here.” She looked around in the darkness and sighed. “Nothing… except for me…”
“You’re not dead.” The voice called out so suddenly that at first Niyleen thought I was just her imagination. But then it called out again. “You’re not dead.”

 

(Finally) She felt Nega behind her, could visualize her look of superiority, her anger, her… correctness.
‘Why wouldn’t it be? I’m the stronger one, the smarter one. The real question is, which sick and twisted Aedra or Daedra thought that a weak bitchy persona like you should be in control of this body? Clearly it wasn’t Julianos, because it just isn’t logical.’

 

Niyleen gritted her teeth. Why was she in power? If Nega was in command, Telind would have been burned to a crisp before he could land the first time he lunged at her.

 

“I am not who you think I am. Don’t doubt yourself, you are stronger than you realize.”

“Go fuck yourself Nega!”

 

“…”

 

No snappy retort? No laugh? No quip about how only someone of low intelligence would so quickly resort to profanities? (What’s your game Nega?)
“Last time I was here, we fought and you won.” Niyleen got to her feet and began to stretch. She didn’t need or want to face Nega at the moment, because she’d get her fill of that in a moment. “At that time I thought you were wrong. Even in defeat I thought, there must be a reason… a valid reason that I was free and you were caged.”

 

“What was your conclusion?”
“Like you said, I’m stronger than I realize. I might even be stronger than you. My power is limitless, but I can only access but a fraction of its potential whereas you’ve already hard capped at an immense amount.”

 

“You have room for development, and I’m in stasis? When one becomes stagnant, they die. A logical conclusion.”

 

Niyleen turned and drew her blade. “I’m sick of your shit Nega. I’ll defeat you hear and now and prove that I’m the one true—!”
The one staring back at her was… herself! It wasn’t like Nyleine where if you took away the tattoos, changed her hairstyle and some of the scars they’d be the same. She wasn’t shrouded in darkness, her hair color wasn’t inverted, and there wasn’t an immense amount of malice coming from her. This was Niyleen Flame-Child looking at Niyleen Flame-Child.

 

“W-w-who… are you?”

 

She looked at Niyleen with deep sadness on her face. “Fourth… I am the Second.”

 

“Second?”
“This… all of this, is just a game Niyleen.”

 

“A game? I never asked to play a game! I never said—”

 

“You think me or the First had a say in the affairs of the Daedric Princes? Do you think we wanted this to happen? To be a part of this?”
“D-D-Daedric Princes? You’re insane! There’s no way…” Niyleen stopped. How audacious was it for her to be wrapped up in some scheme of theirs? Really, she had just been slain by one of Boethiah’s own and now she wanted to doubt her involvement? (You don’t get that luxury Niyleen. You’re in too deep.) “How… how many of them are involved?”
“If I count your encounter with Boethiah, then all but Hircine and Mephala,” the Second said grimly. “The First gave in to Mehrunes Dagon. The Dragonborn also gave in to Jyggalag. Sheogorath’s underling keeps purposely slaying hundreds before letting herself die. Molag Bal and Hermaeus Mora—”

 

“Stop, stop, stop! Hold on, okay!” Niyleen’s thoughts were spinning. (This is bigger than I thought, there’s no way I can protect Nyleine from all of this…) She laughed inwardly. Even after such a bombshell she was still concerned for her sister’s wellbeing. (I can’t believe I’ve become so attached… wait, something about her wording…)
“What do you mean ‘The First gave in to Mehrunes Dagon. The Dragonborn also gave in to Jyggalag.’ Who is the First? Why did you word it like that?”

 

“Niyleen…”

 

“Don’t patronize me! What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

 

The Second didn’t say anything for a while. “The First,” she finally said. “Was… IS Nega.”
“W-w-w-what!?! You’re telling me… I have Mehrunes Dagon’s—“

 

“Calm down, Fourth. I will tell you everything.”

 

“You better,” Niyleen said bitterly. “And I want to know everything. If you leave anything out… I’ll end you.”

“Come on… come on…” Carciel continued to cast Healing Hands alongside other spells but nothing was working. Although was steadily looking better, she was no closer to waking than she was two days ago.
“How is she?” Nyleine said. She had just finished wiping her eyes after recovering a good cry over her sister’s condition.

 

Carciel sucked her teeth. “Tsk, nothing new. She looks well, and she’s not cold any longer, but there’s no sign of waking anytime soon.”
(I don’t get it, why aren’t you waking? There’s literally nothing wrong with you anymore…) Carciel unleashed a final burst of magic onto Niyleen and when that didn’t change anything she reluctantly stopped.
“Why isn’t Niyleen waking,” Carciel said aloud, but more for herself and not to Nyleine. “I may not be a pure healer, but I’ve trained enough with both Alchemy and Restoration magic to know that nothing is ailing Flame-Child.” So why won’t she wake?
“The injury she incurred was imbued with Boethiah’s boon. Do you think that has anything—”

 

“No,” Carciel said definitively. “Even though your initial cleaning contaminated the wound, there was no lingering magic. That so called boon was probably one that made your thrall stronger and faster, but that’s about it. If it were a more magical endowment… I wouldn’t have been able to cure Niyleen as well as I have.”
“But if it’s not because of Boethiah, then what?” Carciel had run out of ideas. There were no signs of magic, poison, or disease. (Could it be old magic? Things taught in the so called lost Black Books? No… that’s Mora’s forte, this is Boethiah…) She began to wrap her head about the possible reasons again.
Carciel began freely muttering to herself. “It’s similar, but… She was trying to contain something then… Could it be… is she trying to stifle that power?” She remembered how Niyleen felt when she touched her earlier to apply some medicine to her wound. She was warm. Not warm like a fire, but warm like she may or may not have a slight fever.

 

“When I could still perceive my Big Sister’s thoughts, she seemed worried about some inner strength of hers,” Nyleine said trying to piece together Carciel’s rambling. “I think she called it Nega. Do you think that has any bearing on what’s happening now?”
“She wasn’t sweating,” Carciel said ignoring the Halfling. “Shit girl… what are you doing?”

 

“Eheheheh.”
That bit of laughter broke something in Carciel. She turned toward Nyleine and said, “How dare you laugh at a time like this? Your sister almost died! And that now we have no way of waking her, you think this is a joke? You more than me should be more concerned about your sister’s condition, and yet… and yet…”
“I can’t help it,” Nyleine admitted a bright smile still lingering on her face.

 

“You can’t… help it?” Was this person a monster? What kind of sister could say such a thing in the face of such a crisis?

 

“I can’t,” Nyleine repeated. “Before, I had always thought that my sister and I were the same. No friends, incomplete family. But even with knowing about you and Lucari from my sister’s thoughts, it’s just… I’m so happy that my sister has friends as caring as you Carciel. I am deeply in your debt.”
Nyleine bowed slightly to Carciel, and the Breton had to turn from her to hide her embarrassment. Sighing, she said, “You… you don’t have to bow for something like that. Any good friend would act the same way.” (When did I begin to see Niyleen as my friend?)

 

“The fact that you don’t understand how valuable your friendship is to Niyleen, makes it even more so. Please continue to stay by her side.”

 

Carciel blushed. “You… you don’t have to tell me that!” (I-idiot.)
“So… what do you think Healer Carciel? Is there anything we can do for her?”
Carciel looked down at Niyleen with worry. “Nothing. She… she doesn’t want to wake up so all we can do is wait.”

 

“Why wouldn’t she want to wake up,” Nyleine said.

 

(It’s not your fault.) She could hear the concern in the younger sister’s voice. “I don’t know. We just have to believe in her and wait for her to wake on her own. I’ll continue to cast my magic periodically, but it’s up to her whether or not she wants to live. All we can do is believe that she’ll choose us over death.”

Moonlight basked the hall lighting up places and casting shadows in others and an eerie silence fell over the hall.
A whimper and rattling of chains broke the silence, disturbing the peace. Upsetting Master...
His shrine forever bled in the center of the room. Basked in the moonlight it looked like a monster always hungry endlessly devouring.
Inspired awe it did. Master’s shine that reflected his image, his cruelty, his power.
He is domination. His name is the Corrupter, the Enslaver of Mortals, the King of Rape. He was a player, and she a piece, a card. She was the Shackled Beast; worthless on its own, but powerful when combined with others.
“Well, that’s what he told me anyway,” a woman said. A hint of irritation was mix with her sultry voice. “You are the Shackled Beast,” she said as she began her decent down the steps.
The click-clacking of her heels echoed loudly throughout the hall. “Well Shackled Beast, meet the Trustworthy Servant. But to you I am the Domineering Mistress, the Unforgiving Maker. To you, sweet beast, I am God!”
She walked closer to the chained woman and when she flinched a cruel grin flashed on the woman’s face. “Oh don’t worry my Child, I would never hurt you. You are my progeny, my future, and despite my objections,” she said as she brushed the chained woman’s shoulder as she passed. “Master’s chosen you to be his weapon this go around.”
She went up to Molag Bal’s alter and sat down with an amused look on her face. “I’m not entertained girl. Maybe your screams will do. How about another hundred lashes? Your skin healed up after the round.”
“No,” Teresa laughed. “Well, maybe you’d like to have another round with my new Second-in-Command, and kinsman Tysnhor Weird-Hung. I was surprised when he talked about how tight you were afterwards. Like you had your first fuck and then decided to go celibate. But that wasn’t it was it. Was it daddy? Was it your precious brother? Or a first love? Ha! I could see you deflowering yourself, you useless clumsy wench.”
“Speak,” Teresa said. “I command you to speak! Do you want another round with Weird-Hung?”

 

“N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n…” The woman tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

 

A cruel smirk appeared on Teresa’s lips. “I said speak!”

 

At first the woman began convulsing, something about the command was being wholly rejected by something within her. However, eventually as if compelled to do so, she let out in a low and guttural voice a resounding, “NO!”
Teresa smiled and quickly knelt next to her progeny. Her smile brightened when the woman began to shake uncontrollably and cough up blood. When she finished, Teresa wiped the girl’s mouth and said, “So that’s what conflicting orders do. I tell you not to let out a peep, and then I force you to answer. Is it fair? No my Child, but nothing is.” She gathered energy in both of her hands and molded the magic in her right hand into the shape of a blade. “I relieve you of my first command. Now answer me Child, do you wish to die?”

 

“N…no.”

 

The look on her progeny’s face was priceless. “That’s right, you don’t remember that I crushed your windpipe and made you not be able to heal it all the way. Your voice used to be sweet, friendly, light and bubbly. Now? It’s rough, gritty, raspy, nothing at all like it once did. Isn’t that right…”
“…Lucari?”

 

“Lu..ca..ri?”

 

(Damn it all to Oblivion. She must barely still be feral…) “Tsk, this isn’t going to be fun at all… Hmm, maybe these names will elicit a response, Niyleen? Carciel?” She saw Lucari wince, and then frown up at their names. “So they cause you pain? Heheheh…”
“That’s because Niyleen and Carciel are evil.” Teresa couldn’t help but enjoy this. If Lucari already reacted negatively to their names, there wasn’t much more that she had to do. “They threaten me, you, and our Master. Niyleen and Carciel want to hurt you, much more than I ever will and their cruelty won’t have a meaning unlike mine.”
“Anyway beast, when I next return, you will have regained your senses. Master needs you to be coherent, because as of now, you are completely worthless to both of us. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“…”

 

“Answer me!”

 

“Y-yes.”

 

“Yes what?”

 

“Y-yes M-M-Mist-t-tresssss.”

 

Teresa laughed. (The Defiler so completely under my thumb… this is a million times better than having Sevetia eliminate her. But this… this husk won’t do.)
Teresa walked away and muttered angrily to herself. (Why her! Master, why do you do this? I fail you ONCE and you never trust me again? Why!? WHY!?! I’ve served you loyally through these cycles and you keep putting these useless miscreants before me… WHY!!)
Teresa sighed. “All is by your will Master.” She stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot. Until we meet again, I command you to hear the words ‘Niyleen and Carciel’ over and over in your. These words will cause you ten—no thirty—times the amount of pain that they already do. But it won’t begin until you hear me shut the door so relax. You’re going to need your strength. Ahahahahaahahaaha!” Teresa then continued to walk away.
“Car…ci…el…..Niy…le—“

 

SLAM!

 

And then, the world went black for Lucari.