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World Eater

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Akavir, an icy beach, 4E 199

 

Ice. Ice cold clung to her breath and the shivering rocks beneath her feet burned through the flimsy leather of her shoes. Breathe. Look behind. Breathe. Look behind. The woman followed the clumsy mantra in her head as she sprinted in the open fields of rock. Behind her, heavy stomps of ice upon ice echoed and struck fear into her heart.

 

Breathe. Look behind.

 

The monsters were catching up, demons of ice and cold. She shivered, the fur that covered her body doing nothing to protect her from the snow and freezing temperatures. She didn’t know how much time had passed since she had fallen into that cave, since her entourage had disappeared from her vision and blackness took over. Corprus kept her alive, but her party didn’t have Corprus. Were they alive? Was she leaving them behind, to die?

 

Breath. Look behind.

 

The valleys were thawing, that’s what woke these… things, up. She had to move quickly, far quicker than what she could in her condition. Her bones creaked with every action, her every move seeming more akin to Bonelords than to an actual, living being. The woman’s eyes were glued to the horizon, for even the slightest sliver of hope. Nothing. Nothing but jutting rocks and pulsing sea; beating sea, endless sea.

 

Breathe. Look behind.

 

She couldn’t even see the valleys anymore. The demons, Kamal, they called themselves, were further now. A frantic smile appeared on her face and her legs seemed to move faster, more energised. She had a chance.

 

Her smile quickly disappeared as she realised where she was going; the peninsula. Oh no, there was no exit, nothing here but sea! Her ship crashed here, but she knew it was dragged away, along with her screaming, always screaming, crew members.

 

Breathe. Look behind.

 

The land seemed to drop now, as if she was going higher and higher. She swore she could see the clouds amidst the anger of rain. Would water stop them? Foolish, it was foolish to think so. The woman trekked up the peninsula, navigating the rocks and icy ground. The silence around unnerved her and for once, she wished that Azura would speak to her again.

 

Breathe. Look behind.

 

She was at the tip of the cliff and soon the Kamal she had been running from began to climb the peninsula as she did. She barely had one moment to think about her death, so took what she could.

 

She would die just as Vivec had predicted; swallowed by Nirn.

 

The winds began to whip violently around the woman, making her balance unstable. The Kamal seemed to have no problem with it, so why would she? She was going to die here anyway. Rain stirred in the heavens, thunder now clapping, a harsh encore for the life the woman gave the world. As the weather grew in size and intensity, the woman whispered a prayer to her creator, to her Mother.

 

“As the time twists through the sphere of the sun, conceiving the doing of all souls. Pray it not be Mehrunes Dagon, to reap the harvest you have sown,” the murmur was barely heard, even by her. The Kamal were appearing, honing in on their target slowly as if to savour her fear.

 

“But on the grimmest of days when all has been taken, let hope never be forsaken. Invoked through Nirn's fiery night, kneel upon the shrine of Azura and let there be a glimpse of light.[1]” The woman felt her knees shaking and her balance faltering. The Kamal were nearly upon her, only metres away. One burly demon raised a pillar of crooked ice over it’s head and with a sharp action, thrusted downwards.

 

But nothing. Nothing was there.

 

For the woman, she was high in the air, above the clouds and touching the velvet sky. Had she died? The soft, healing power that she had felt what seemed a lifetime ago proved otherwise.

 

“Hush, child,” a maternal voice spoke, gentle to her ears. Tears pricked her eyes and she began to softly sob. “It is unfortunate that Mephala sent you here, my daughter. But, it has taught you.”

 

Gentle. How gentle the light was that shone only on the woman. The clouds moved slowly but the woman knew that she was travelling, too fast for a mere mortal, if she could call herself that.

 

“You are needed again my sweet child. Show me that you have not forgotten who you are. There is much to be done,” the woman’s vision began to darken and she desperately tried to cling to consciousness, “Quiet. I will not let you fall, not yet. Nerevarine, created in my image. Daynil Ravethi, created in my image. Do not disappoint me again.”

 

With that, a cold black crept into her eyes and she slept again.