Adella Caelius loosed a bolt of lightning upon the already squealing bandit. His face was red with pain and the skin was dry. The massive, round eyes looked up at her with a slight shine as his face became more and more disfigured. They begged for mercy. He was already in a kneeling position, hands clasped together and trembling uncontrollably.
Adella found herself cackling wickedly as she unleashed a stream of stormy power on her foe. The howls reached her and a horrible grin crept up her left cheek. As the bandit screamed, she thought to herself, So this is the meaning of power... unlimited power...
The echoes of Adella's maniacal laughter spread far and wide over the rolling plains of Skyrim as she tortured the once overconfident bandit.
She awoke from her twisted sleep. She found that droplets of sweat had formed on her brow and rolled down her face like rain. That horrible dream. She didn't want to remember it, yet it was stuck with her. It drifted behind her like an outcast wisp of cloud and left nightmarish visions in its wake.
Adella shook her head free of the screaming and pain, and left the inn. It was day seven of her time in Dragon's Bridge, and it seemed to be going rather well. The two she was sent to bring together seemed quite content. Last night was their first night sleeping in the same house, and Adella was happy with herself.
Such came the time that she had to leave the settlement, and before she did so, she would check on the couple to see how they were doing. She skipped down the rocky path to their lodgings and playfully knocked on the door. A subtle moss crept up the wooden beams, giving the entire house a sort of green tint. A little bit of colour went a long way.
A small time passed, and she knocked again. The possibility that they would be still asleep reached her, but she didn't want to leave without wishing her new friends farewell. A few more minutes flew by, and this time, her knock became more serious. Still, no answer.
Adella couldn't take it any longer. She pushed the door open and was greeted by the sight of two pale corpses, holding each other in a loving embrace. Red dots in their necks were clearly visible on their white skin. Adella gasped at the horror. When would it end? First the dream and now this. She swooned into a dark corner as she processed what she had just experienced.
Her head felt light and her heart was beating faster than usual. She was breathing heavily and felt like screaming. So that's what she did. She screamed as loud as she would allow herself and didn't go unnoticed. Adella waited a few seconds, squealing her lungs out, before the guards broke through the door, swords drawn and ready to strike. They were like dogs, poised and waiting to attack at the behest of their master.
Their gaze turned to Adella, who sat in the corner screaming, arms around legs. One of them tried their best to shout over her. “What happened?” He exclaimed before finally noticing the bodies on the bed. The next sound to leave his mouth was a rather clueless “Oh...”
In the passing hours, they managed to examine the bodies, establish a scene of crime, and discern the only possible cause of death. It was rather obvious to them that there was a vampire attack. They were becoming more and more frequent as the days went on. Some whispered rumours of them being organised this time around. That there was a higher power directing these assaults. It was, of course, a possibility, but most dismissed them as mere superstitions, and that vampires are, and always will be feral creatures of the night.
Adella was ordered to return home as the investigation continued, and she had no qualms with this. As soon as the command was given, she rocketed out of the area and was on her way to Solitude to get the carriage back to Riften. She arrived as the sun had begun its inexorable drop. The light was retreating beyond the walls as it withdrew from Skyrim for yet another night.
Much to her dismay, the carriage was off somewhere else, probably transporting another passenger. She threw a tantrum and cursed herself for not coming sooner. But the time for moping was not now. She needed a place to stay and her best option was in Solitude.
Adella pushed open the iron gates and a blood-curdling screech spread in all directions as it dragged along the ground. She winced at the sound and stopped for a moment, before continuing. When it was fully open, she drifted under the arch, head sagged and not paying any attention. A man clad in iron armour took notice of her, but did nothing. He simply left Solitude through the already opened gate.
The doors to the Winking Skeever were thrown open and Adella walked in as casually as she could. She sat at the bar and face-planted. Her exhaustion was apparent to the barkeeper and the patrons around her. Her head lifted slightly as she shuffled through her pockets. She raised a corn purse in front of him and dropped it on the bench. A shadow of a sentence escaped her. In the loudest voice that she could afford herself at that moment, which wasn't very loud, she questioned. “Are there any rooms left?”
The barkeeper nodded and gestured to the nearby hallway. Adella rose from her seat and stepped towards it. Her back was bent over and her footsteps heavy. The door to her room was flung open, and she threw herself on the bed.
It was kept in pristine condition, with shelve and cupboards neatly arranged around her. Some were tucked away in corners and others stood dead-centre in front of the wall, just begging for attention. But she didn't take any notice of this. She just went to sleep.
In the morning, Adella found herself torturing the patrons of the Winking Skeever with lightning. She was cackling, much like one would expect a witch, or a hagraven to. Her robe was torn and her hair messy. She felt like a maniac. A murderous maniac. But she had no qualms. This was the way she was, she told herself. This was the path set out for her. A path of darkness and unlimited power. Where she was the ruler. And when she was done in Solitude, Skyrim came next. Followed by Tamriel...
The area struck by lightning were marked with a black spot. Anyone could mistake it for fire. But there was something about these spots. Something... “swift”, for lack of a better word. Adella adored these. They were a symbol of the void she would bring to Nirn. A wicked laugh fell upon Solitude like a blanket, and then the world around her dissipated.
Adella woke up panting from exhaustion. Not physical tiredness, but something different. She shook this off, though. She needed to get back to Riften. Not to inform Maramal of the horrifying events of the past days, but to get a new task. She wanted to forget. Forget about the death and the dreaming. The torment.
She lifted herself up off the bed in an ungraceful manner, not fitting of her usual silent cheer. Slowly, she traced around her room, checking for any signs of lightning or impact, or any blood. Anything that suggested that she was up last night killing people. When she was satisfied that it was but a dream, she simply gathered what little she had brought with her and exited.
The dining area was already receiving its first patrons. Adella stumbled towards the bar and asked for some food that was filling enough for a long journey back to Riften. The barkeeper gave her some bread, a bit of venison and a cup of water, then held out his hand, silently demanding his payment. Adella shuffled through her pockets and dropped a few coins on his hand.
By the time Adella had eaten through half her bread, she was already full. In an attempt to not make a fool of herself, she wrapped up what remained in a small cloth for later on. The morning breeze was cold as it brushed her face with a gentle stroke.
The carriage was in her sights, and she felt like jumping for joy. She would have, had there not been anybody else around at the time...
~**********~
The flesh tore away from Harkon's pale form as the Last Dragonborn gazed. Arising from the pile of discarded skin, a disfigured, corpse-like beast that emanated a horrible aura. Its eyes were so deep that they may as well have been their own portals to Oblivion, and the teeth were like jagged knives. Toned arms rose as they gathered bloody power to them.
The young Dragonborn was in doubt for a split second, before he remembered Serana was by his side. She was launching ice and lightning in a terrible frenzy, seemingly desperate to bring down her deranged father. The sounds of steel rending flesh bounced off the stone walls. Harkon's claws extended as he slashed downwards at the Dragonborn. He stepped back, before being struck by an orb of red magic. He felt the life being sucked from his as a stream of what appeared to be blood mist exited his body.
But he did not falter. Instead, he rose, and Serana, inspired by her companion's will to fight on, redoubled her attack. The Dragonborn struck at Harkon, and his sword was repelled by his sheer strength. With greater effort, he attacked once more, only to be denied again. A stream of red erupted from the Dragonborn's chest and into Harkon's bony hand.
He fell onto one knee as the life escaped him. The Vampire Lord laughed as he gazed upon his now defenceless foe. “Now...” he chuckled. “Give me the Bow. And I shall make your end quick, traitor.”
At that moment, pale-lit eyes of an orange hue looked up at him. “Very well.... my Lord.” The Dragonborn pulled Auriel's Bow off his back. Harkon raised an arm for a final strike as the bow was drawn back, a radiant arrow nestled in it. A blinding flash ensued, and Harkon was gripping a fatal wound.
“Serana... how could you? Your own father...” For a moment, he seemed enraged, but that all went away when Harkon turned a blood red, and fell away like a fragile stone in a stormy gale. All that was left of him was a pile of dust, some armour and a sword. A skinny figure entered the Cathedral and stroked the Dragonborn's chin. Her voice was cold as she spoke. “Well done, my new master. Harkon was truly unworthy of the mantle that has passed to you...”
The Dragonborn stood silent for a moment, his horrible eyes fixed on the double-door, before speaking. “That is true, Sybil...”
The vampire reached down into her boot and plucked from it, a small knife. “Such a shame...” she said, “... that your victory will be so short-lived!” The knife slashed across the Dragonborn's neck, drawing a crimson line. A red waterfall poured from the cut, and he crumpled to the ground. Sybil then turned her glare to Serana, and gout of flames poured from her hand, engulfing the Dragonborn's companion. A blood curdling scream rang out, followed by a dark cackle...
