25th of Hearth Fire, 4E201
As soon as the Breton and the Nord had returned to the College, Nephili immediately made her way to the Arcanaeum, while Lydia fell into her bed, already asleep before feeling its embrace. Her Thane meanwhile buried herself in one book after another with an urgency that could only be described as delirious. On the occasions when masters or fellow apprentices passed by with greeting, she would respond timidly and refused to make conversation beyond a few pained excuses to be left alone. The Orc, baring witness to the days events in the library, wore his typical grimace of disinterest at the altogether common occurrence.
When Nephili did not come down to join everyone for the evening meal, Lydia brought supper to her Thane. The housecarl found her charge sleeping with her head on the table, snoring quietly with a peaceful expression. She forced herself to wake the girl, who sat up with a start and looked up at the warrior's face with what might have been a smile before disappearing into some unknown darkness. Nephili thanked the Nord for bringing her the meal and returned to her books. The housecarl nodded and left her Thane alone.
Near midnight, Nephili leaned back in her chair and finally accepted what she had agonizingly discovered over the course of the day. There was no known cure for vampirism. The literature was alarmingly sparse and only spoke of infection, horrifying encounters, chronicles of suspected vampires, and a few collected works of whispered superstitions. In the end, she was only able to understand how she had become infected and why she felt the way she had. The old tales told by the villagers had been so wrong...
There is nothing in the books. Nothing... nothing that can help me...
The urge gnawed at her mind, never leaving her side though after... after...
Her consciousness, grazing the memory and emotions of the previous night, caused her to physically recoil as she screamed into her psyche, her body doubling over in her seat in sympathy to her inner anguish.
NO! There must be a way! At least a way to mitigate the weaknesses, the urge. I REFUSE to believe that this is all their is! If there is no known cure, I'll create it! If I can't do that, then a partial cure! A way to hide it! Something! Anything!
"I heard you and that housecarl did something wonderful for the people of Solitude."
The young mage nearly jumped out of her seat. She turned to find Brelyna's inquisitive face looking down at the sitting Breton. Embarrassed by her own antics, Nephili mumbled, "Brelyna."
The Dunmer nodded and smiled. "I wish I had been here when you had left for the capital. Fighting that specter must have been so much fun!"
The Breton offered a diminishing smile.
Brelyna tried a more direct approach. "It's a bit unusual to see you in here so late. What has you so occupied?"
Nephili stared at her friends flushed face and suddenly turned away.
She looked back. "I'm sorry... my thoughts..." Long pauses dominated the Bretons speech.
Clenching her jaws with almost painful force, she pressed onward. "Hav, have you ever found yourself in the face of a horrible... situation, wondering if it could have been... different?"
"I... um... ,.. ... not sure I can say. At least, I don't think I can, not in the way you seem to be speaking. Is... there anything you want to talk about?
...
"I... on my way back here,... in Dawnstar,... I helped a Priest of Mara defeat an daedric cult deep inside an old tower."
Looking downward the Breton continued, "One among the enemy at the end... had turned out to be a vampire... ...and killed the Priest in the most gruesome, way possible."
She looked up at her friend and almost whispered, "...what do you know of vampires?"
The Dunmer gazed silently at her friend before dragging a chair over to sit down. She spoke just as softly in her reply. "I'm sorry to hear that you had such an experience."
"...In terms of vampires,... I can tell you a few things that you probably already know. There were a few stories that would drift near my families estate. Once, when I was young, I had a cousin who had died by their hands. The whole family had despaired at the loss."
Brelyna stopped to reach out and place her hands over her friends fists. "I might not know the depth of your anguish, but your story, or at least stories very much like yours are not uncommon here. Those things are monsters that see us as nothing more than prey."
Nephili nodded in timid jerks, her jaws slowly clenching tighter.
Brelyina continued, "That this vampire had gone out of its way to show you something of their nature was surely done to destroy your peace and ravage your mind before you had a chance to kill it. I may not have been there with you but at least here, in this College, you're not alone. You have friends who will gladly hear your story and show you that your experience is a shared one."
The Breton girl looked down at her friends hands holding onto to her ever tightening fists. She forced herself to relax to keep from shaking. The Dunmer, sensing perhaps that her friend was still struggling, let go. "Listen, the next time you suspect you'll encounter them, tell me... for what they did to that priest and you and my cousin and everyone else, we'll make sure they will never find peace in this world."
The girl from Cyrodiil looked up and offered up the best smile she could and mouthed thank you.
"If you still want to talk, I'll be in my sleeping quarters. Please, don't anguish alone, alright?"
The Breton nodded, her eyes staring past her friends face. She watched the wall as the Dunmer got up and left, and waited until the footsteps could no longer be heard. When she thought herself safe, she grabbed her legs and let waves of tears and silent anguish drown her thoughts.
There's no one. Not for this... not for this...
She wiped her cheeks repeatedly, her eyes made raw by her tears and her tunic.
Swallowing hard, she looked over her table and began setting aside several tomes, anything related to powerful items, legends, alchemical treatises. She spied a book on the history of notable Illusionists. It had included a chronicle of a Third Era vampire who had lived as the Count of Skingrad. Finishing the tale earlier had made her feel repugnant for wanting to utilize the Illusion school in much the same way. She got up to grab a tome that Master Drevis had recommended only a week before. Her pride would mean nothing if she were to be ferreted out and severed from the world she knew. She had found friends, colleagues, even people who admired her for what she had accomplished. People that showed deep affection for her, people that might grow to love her for who she wanted to be, for who she was proving to be.
There was simply no way that the farmgirl from Cyrodill would ever let that go, not now, not ever. The young mage began pouring over her books once more.
* * * *
27th of Hearth Fire, 4E201
The visit from the College had been unpleasant but revealing. Estiredain was able to surmise that the masters had finally rallied around the Arch-mage, and had accepted that they were being attacked. Further, the mages were probably even aware that the attacks might be coming from within their ranks. The last part was in fact true, at least, mostly true given that she was once counted as a member. As for being 'attacked', that was certainly a logical reaction, but also an entirely self centered one. The fact was, the Altmer Restorationist had absolutely no interest in threatening the College. After all, bringing their wrath onto her operation would only spell disaster.
No, the problem stemmed from the simple fact that the College often had what she absolutely needed. In the beginning, her research used bandits and other unsavory travelers, but she eventually realized that this had its limits. As such, she made the unfortunate but necessary decision to find test subjects from within the bowels of the College itself. It not only provided her with an amazingly diverse group of races, but their skill level and exact whereabouts were also easily determined, making the acquisition process nearly effortless. Even now, with the relative freedom that came with her separation, the College was still a resource that could be relied upon from time to time. If nothing else, it had also been a fountain of eager and naive students. The others here for example, were once members of the College just as she had been. Some among them could even be counted to make the ultimate sacrifice just like that Dunmer and that Redguard...
Julianos be damned! What a waste of valuable material that was!
True volunteers were like wisp wrappings. If she had known what would happen, she would never have released those two into the wild, even if all of Skyrim was threatened by that whore of a lich. The worst of it was that their deaths had apparently come at the hands of a College apprentice who had gone on to successfully destroy the Wolf Queen menace. It made the request by her benefactor to send them entirely absurd.
Incensed wasn't even the word to describe how she had felt when her patron dismissively told her of the loss. The news meant that her only remaining Redguard had died and, this had happened just over a month after the near debacle with Yisra. That too had turned out to be a mistake. Estiredain rolled her eyes in disgust. Despite suitable precautions, it was only too natural that someone of her caliber would escape. The Altmer could only stand in awe at her benefactors convenient memory lapse as to who had suggested that she be captured in the first place! Ingratiating herself to that person was becoming rather annoying.
The Restorationist looked again at the letter just arrived with yet another request. This time it was to investigate a certain Breton mage who was likely to pass through Morthal at some point. Her benefactor wanted to determine if this apprentice had become a vampire and needed the services of Alva to do so.
The Altmer reached for a parchment and began writing a message to her wayward student, glad to find a use for that maudlin wench. As was only inevitable, the assignment to investigate the rumored vampire activity had gotten the better of her. In confirming their presence, they were either going to kill her or adopt her. As it so happened, they had adopted her. Frankly, the price for allowing the birth of one more of those damnable creatures in exchange for proof of a covens existence was all in all, a good trade. It promised an easy opportunity to gain research subjects which no one in Morthal or the College would find objectionable. Not, that such things mattered. Still, it meant at least some of her acquisitions could be had a little more openly.
As the ink dried, she quickly re-read the coded instructions.
Keep a look out for a Breton mage
& Nord associate passing through
town & determine her true nature.
The Caller
Satisfied, she sealed the letter and handed it to one of the apprentices to take to the nearest courier outpost. Eventually, once her research was completed, she would kill them all. They all deserved nothing less.
* * * *
"All men's misfortunes spring from their hatred of being alone."
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