PROLOUGE – MISTY FALLS

Summerset Isle
Forest near Auridon
6:29 past Solstice

The candle fluttered from the slight breeze wafting in through the partially open window, from the surrounding Auridon forest. Blowing in like a gentle lovers kiss whispered over supple, wet skin.

Bürdock glanced up at this, lost in a reverie, the candle burning low, he realised he must have been at his desk for longer than he thought. The scrawling on the parchment half-finished mid-sentence and the sun having dipped below the tree lines, the candle being the only source of illumination at the moment. Bürdock realised it was hard to read and see and perhaps he had even dozed off from his writing.

Bürdock loved the writing and keeping of a journal his thoughts, feelings and experiences. He had boxes of scrollwork scattered around haphazardly in his room. A small and modest room, carved from the very trees themselves, functional and close to the royal palace, near the outskirts of Auridon.

Bürdock stretched, his arms and back clicking from the stiffness of sitting in one positon for too long. Rubbing his eyes, he refocused on what he had been writing. His reverie consisted of remember a glorious time with his childhood sweetheart, a glamourous and beautiful high elf maiden by the name of Gráceling. She had flowing auburn hair, piercing green eyes like Bürdock’s and a lithe and strong body.

It had been many years since he had seen her, his heart sometimes feeling the sting of loss, almost like a missing limb. Bürdock would look for her in a crowd, sometimes even thinking he had spotted her only to realise it wasn’t and then the sting would fester even more.

So why the reverie? Daydreaming of the time of a perfect day. Swimming and cavorting with Gráceling carefree and happy in the blue green waters of Misty falls. A secret and special secluded valley in Auridon Forest that Gráceling and he would visit often. This day he remembered fondly, though, as it was the day they shared their first kiss.

Gráceling would be forever giving and willing to spend time with Bürdock, becoming fast friends, they did everything together, the snickers and jibes they would sometimes hear about being “joined at the hip” and “inseparable” only solidified their closeness.

Gráceling would smile, a smile that lit the heavens with a holy light, warm and healing, spreading and infectious like laughter. When she smiled, showing perfect teeth, that smile, Burdock knew, was for him and him alone. It made Bürdock feel loved, protected, empowered and safe. Her eyes would glitter, mischievous and the corners wrinkling. She would laugh with her eyes, and Bürdock would join in.

The gift that Gráceling had, a pure and innocent soul, was that it made Bürdock feel as though the world dropped away and the only two elves in existence was Gráceling and him. It was a gift they grew as their friendship did, maturing over time and eventually was all consuming. Was she real? Bürdock knew that she had parents, but it was as though he had willed her into existence especially for him. A creation of beauty and grace. Grace. Her namesake, and one that would forever be remembered.

Learning as a Templar, they teach you to look deep within yourself to find the spark to fan it and cause it to erupt into the light and righteousness of Akatosh. Bürdock was able to see Gráceling in this way. She gave him the ability to imagine her smile, like the sun, and use that to have his healing energy flow forth through Bürdock as the vessel into others. Even though Gráceling had now moved on, her effect was everlasting for Bürdock will never forgot that smile. Burdock will never forget that day.

Swimming in those cool waters, letting them flow over him, he would dive down deep and emerge in a spray of water with the sun glistening through the drops and spreading a spectrum of dancing light over Gráceling naked elven body. She would fling her hair, and for Bürdock it appeared as though it were done in slow motion, the droplets flying everywhere. He moved to her, gliding through the supple and gentle water as a hot knife through cuts through butter.
Until they met, embracing and their bodies becoming as one. He lost himself in her, drowning with the air of life leaving his lungs and filling hers. He forgot where his body ended and hers began, they had ceased being individuals and become one entity.

Embraced such, they swirled as they swam under and through the water, erupting beneath the waterfall, its waters pouring over them, down them and in them. They never let go. The embrace seemed to last an eternity of bliss. Finally, slowly, inexorably, their lips met and they were engulfed.

The kiss caused Bürdock’s heart to soar like a Plains eagle, the wind in its feathers, gliding on a summer breeze. Free. The kiss continued, and they were as one. Bürdock s air filled her lungs as hers did his, they breathed for each other and could not survive without the other.

Then it was over. They parted, and Bürdock felt empty, alone and anguish of the kiss remembered flooded in to fill the void of his heart. The void that he may never experience such pure bliss ever again.

It did not ruin their day, fore nothing could, as they ate a picnic on the mist sprayed rocks, and parted as friends and would be lovers. Forever in their minds, the elves were one with nature, free like the eagle and soaring high. Free.

Bürdock started. He had fallen asleep again, the memory of the dream, hot tears had flowed down his face and he missed his Gráceling dearly.

Bürdock quickly wrote his memory and dream down, continuing his memoir. Wherever Gráceling was now, he would find her and make sure she was alright. Make sure she was happy.

Bürdock had responsibilities currently though, being an initiate in the Elven Templar order, he had constant studies and practice drills to run. They trained him extensively, in the use of the longsword and shield style of fighting, encompassing fluidity of movement, and the anticipation of an opponent’s next strike to ensure that the shield was there to block, and his sword waiting to leap forward for the kill. Burdock also delved deep into the pure fire of his soul and learnt to tap the divine sun power, spreading it’s warmth out and over, the effect of its healing properties were renowned among the Summerset Isles.

Bürdock was not a rich elf, having been born thought to a prestigious family, his father was an armourer to the Queen herself and his mother was a city planner. She used her skills to best ensure Auridon was well defended, the loyalty and devotion to the Aldmeri Dominion shown by his parent was ingrained and was essentially born into Bürdock’s blood. It came as no surprise then when he was accepted into the Templar Order. He was a front line holy defender of the Dominion, being stalwart, brave and loyal on the pain of death.

Bürdock thought to himself, maybe this was also why he needed to ensure that Gráceling was well and safe.

Thinking back on his perfect day, it was not long after that she had left the Isle and nobody would give him a straight answer as to why or to where. Other elf-maidens would come to seek Bürdock’s affections, yet he had no interest or eyes for them, usually brushing them off and possibly coming across to them as haughty or rude or at the very least, indifferent and uninterested.

Bürdock first and foremost knew his heart belonged to Gráceling. Not that he wasn’t a catch and of course would make someone a fine husband, being muscular and lean, with piercing green eyes, long brown hair that covered some of his youthful face and sporting three pony tails at the back symbolising a third year student at the Templar church, young for an elf, only 90 summers old, Bürdock had the ceremonial gold tattoos of his father’s legacy of the Dragon on his body, slightly pointy ears, less so than the rest of his kin.

Bürdock set the quill down, his tired eyes and rumbling stomach indicating it was time to rest for the night and fetch some dinner. Perhaps he would find his friend Lendrick or where Shadow, his tame pet panther had run off to.

The day was over, but on the morrow Bürdock had Templar Trials and exams. Sighing, standing and stretching.

To Bürdock, this was only the beginning.

He blew the candle out.





CHAPTER 1 – THE LOOMING DARKNESS


Bürdock woke from a fitful slumber of half remembered dreams. The dreams that caused the sleeper to be distressed while having them, only to frustrate them further upon waking as their memory flees like the snow before the sun.

Bürdock shaking it off, got dressed quickly, he had a big day ahead. The routine of training and ritual to show the proper respect to Akatosh.

As Bürdock was leaving his quarters, out of the corner of his almond shaped eyes he believed he spied a shadow! A humanoid figure. It was gone, like smoke and then, was it even there at all?

Shaking that off as well as residual dream thought, Bürdock made his way towards the Meditation Shrine.

For the next several hours, Bürdock trained, meditated hard and pushed his lean and muscled body through the fighting and exercise routine designed to reach spiritual perfection. Wielding his light elven sword and sturdy leaf shaped shield, Burdock spun and squatted down into leaps aside, spinning and rising, flipping and dashing about. A concentric move of fluid precision and mobility. A dance of grace and power and death.

Coming to the end of his routine, Bürdock steadied himself and collapsed into another mediative trance, to heal worn muscles and calm his heart rate. In the trance, Bürdock become one with the Isle. Summerset Isle became an extension of Bürdock s conscious thought and he could feel the wind in the trees, the whispers and playful mockery of the Squirrels and sighing of boughs, content with all things natural.

There was something though, like the shadow before, at the edge of meditation, scratching at Burdock’s brain to get in and cause havoc. It was dark, foreboding and Bürdock could feel the cold, evil resonating off the darkness. Molag Bal!

Molag Bal was the Daedric prince of domination and enslavement of Mortals. Common techniques would be to appear though a beings subconsciousness and start to subtly subvert them.

The Daedric prince had attempted to approach Bürdock before, sensing the power of the Templars flowing through him as a beacon of light and good. Only now, a shadow and wisp in the dark. Bürdock steeled himself and sought out the Shadow, hunted it through this mind’s eye.

There! He could sense it, lurking in the shadow of memory, burning through into Bürdock’s soul with evil radiating off it, as though Bürdock stood on the very edge of an active volcano in Morrowind.

“Ye shall not have me!” Bürdock screamed at the nothingness. “I shall prevail!”

The shadow reached out, the burning screaming eyes of Molag Bal ever present, boring into him, reached out and all hope started to flee Bürdock. Hope, joy and happiness. Gone. Replaced with anger, despair and hatred. It threatened to consume him, slowly, inexorably, Bürdock was drowning in the shadows. Thoughts of Gráceling, her pure light and tapping the spark to ignite to a furnace, that moment in time, the waterfall. Bürdock opened his eyes, light flared, pupils dilated and went wide.

“I…say…Thee NAY!”

Bürdock’s back arched and pure, holy light erupted from his mouth and eyes, burning away the haze, the darkness and obliterating the shadows.

Bürdock thought he heard the shadow scream, and then nothing. Had it really been there at all though?

Bürdock awoke with a start, to find himself lying in sweat and his training robes soaked through, he was still in the shrine, but night had fallen now.

Picking himself up, Bürdock felt drained and sore all over. Struggling back to his room, he quickly ate down a serving of bread and cheese that had been left for him before collapsing onto his bed, instantly asleep.

Mercifully, Bürdock did not dream that night.

The Next Day,
The Auridon Royal Palace
7:33 before Morn-feast.

Upon awakening, Bürdock knew what must be done. Seeking an audience with Queen Ayrenn, Burdock took the time to explain the previous day’s incidents and training debacle. Queen Ayrenn looked on with stoic poise and considered her words carefully.

“This means much, Bürdock. I have always known you could possibly have “the sight”, and from what you tell me, that intuition appears to have been accurate. I see a darkness looming over all the lands, not just the isle, and we, the ever proud Altmer people, in our endeavour to change the overall opinion of us, that we are more than the self-centred, haughty race that we have been tarnished with. You I feel might be instrumental in effecting that change of attitude. To that end, I implore you to seek out a wizened prophet to be found in Heartwood. Moonleaf has been around since I was a little elf ling, and there is no-one more skilled to help ye. I feel as though a prophet that being you, would benefit greatly from seeking out another likeminded kin. Even if that kin is Bosmerian!”

Bürdock took all this in, having seen things now that little could surprise him further. For Bürdock, it was a chance to get some direction moving forward and perhaps explain why the Daedric prince was so interested in him in particular and was invading his thoughts and dreams.

Bürdock set out, informing as little as possible of his intentions, he served Queen Ayrenn, and she had faith and trust in him to ensure that whatever path was before Bürdock, that he was on the right path for the Dominion, with the Queen’s best interests at heart.

The training that Bürdock had been doing, for the past several months, had prepared him mentally for what lay ahead, or so he thought.

Bürdock was not very old for an Altmer, or High Elf, as people come to call them in the other lands, or “Mer” for a shortened term of his lineage. They would use “Mer” for all elven people, be it “Altmer, Dunmer of Bosmer”. Some would still consider him younger given his youthful looks, but at times, Bürdock felt the maturity beyond his years weighing heavily on his shoulders, the responsibility of the safety and wellbeing of his Queen and people his sole burden.


Tree Fern Inn,
Auridon
3:33 past Twilight

Bürdock entered the raucous little tavern “built in a tree”, that many elves frequented of an evening to woo the maidens and sip at fermented Honey Nectar and blue milk. Glancing around, Bürdock spotted Lendrick at the large log-bar, sidled up against a pretty young elf maiden. Possibly even one of the servers. He was dressed in his usual black leather with two gleaming short swords strapped to his back, crossed over, their hilts polished and appeared ready to leap to his hands at a moment’s trouble.

Moving in behind him, Lendrick was unaware of his approach, so focused was he on bedding the elf maiden, Bürdock had cough loudly and “pretend-stumble” into him to get his attention.

“Well? Look who decided to show after all? Let me get you a farewell drink!?” Lendrick quipped knowing the reply as he asked, the look Burdock gave was response enough.

“So..no drink then. Well, ye here to just to say your farewells then, I suppose?”

“Careful, Len, it almost sounds as though you going to miss me?”

“Yeah, right, going to miss all those stoic looks, those, “holier-than-thou” and “I’m better than everyone else, ‘cause I’m a Templar!” looks that you love to give.”
“Only because you know the truth hurts, Len. Listen though, I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone for, I am taking Shadow with me, but I am worried for mother, can you look in on her for me?

“I will be like the Son she never, nay, wished, she had! Don’t ye worry, you just make sure that whatever it is you’re looking for, don’t come back without it. Bur, you can’t keep playing with my emotions like this! “

Lendrick gave Bürdock a hearty slap, then embraced in a hug. While in the hug, Lendrick gripped tighter and pulled Burdock’s head close, so that Lendrick’s mouth was inches away from his ear and whispered: “Find her. She needs you. Save her and bring her back.”

They parted and Bürdock gave Lendrick an earnest and sincerer stare, nodding once.

Hating long goodbyes, Bürdock turned and left and didn’t look back. Lendrick stared after him, the girl forgotten, and seemed to be in a trance, seeing Bürdock go, Lendrick had a feeling of dread in his stomach. A tight knot that wouldn’t let go. That he wouldn’t see his friend again. Not for a very long time.

Blinking away tears that threatened to fall unchecked, Lendrick turned back to the log, downed his drink in one gulp then, with a shudder and shake, re-focused his attention on the elf maid next to him.

Now, her name was Leila, right….?

***********************

For the first three days of riding, there was a steady rain, the Isles seeing a lot lately due to the wet season, and the honeysuckle plants made the surrounding forest a sweet and pleasant wafting odour when the wind blew just right.

Bürdock reached the easternmost shore of the Isle without incident and booked passage to Valenwood.

.



CHAPTER TWO – THE PROPHET

Woodhearth
Shores of Valenwood
Treehouse of the 5th Quarter.
1 week later…

Bürdock has some contacts in Valenwood, and it was no trouble to locate “Moonleaf the Prophet”, an old one eyed Bosmer. Rumours spread that he lost his eye to a rival Sorcerer who consumed it in front of Moonleaf to give him a new meaning of watching someone eat him in front of them, being some twisted version of the Green Pact, given that Bosmer’s never waste for anything and consume their enemies.

All it did was enraged him and he slew his rival in an attempt to get his eye back, but was unable to, the Sorcerers stomach acids having already dissolved it.
Bürdock shuddered at the thought, and didn’t put much stock in it just being a rumour, given the nature and history of the Wood Elves.

Reaching the correct Tree, Bürdock dismounted his Panther and gave him a gentle pat and whisper to go play. Shadow bounded off, not having to be told twice to frolic. Bürdock watch him go, with pride and joy, a half smile creeping onto his face at the memory of how the two had come together and become fast friends.

Bürdock had come across Shadow while exploring the northern tip of the isle, as reports of a marooned pirate vessels had been reported and warranted checking out. Bürdock found Shadow bound and tied in a black shipping cage, a prisoner of some Red Guard pirates.

Under the cover of darkness, Bürdock snuck into the pirate camp and liberated the Panther. In vengeance the panther had struck from the shadows and tore the pirates apart. The panther moved so quickly and fast it was like a living shadow with all too real claws and teeth tearing throats out and severing spines.

The pirates didn’t know what hit them, the panther decimating their ranks, they would scream “The Shadows! The Shadows are alive!” After that, the name kind of stuck.

Shadow followed Bürdock everywhere after that and the two were inseparable, the panther must have instinctually known what Burdock had done for him and owed him his life. Shadow would essentially become Bürdock’s shadow.

They shared a bond, one that would never be broken. Bürdock loved Shadow and Shadow returned that affection, loyal and devoted, ready to spring to his aid at a moment’s notice, and the two had shared much. It had been six months since Bürdock rescued him and they had seen some battles on the Isle, especially during the Pirate uprising four month back, which Bürdock believed to be a possible retaliation for the slaughter Shadow inflicted on their numbers.

It was times like this though, when Bürdock could watch Shadow play and all the blood and death went away, leaving a playful, happy panther cub.

Breaking out of his reverie, Bürdock smiled again, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately and turned toward the tree house. Now was the time to see if not only the rumours were true, but to get some answers to the burning questions etched into his psyche.

Bürdock had found the Prophet! Moonleaf was half asleep when Bürdock banged on the bottom of the tree. Slowly, and still half asleep. Moonleaf begrudgingly answered.

Opening the circular wooden door, Moonleaf glared out at Bürdock with his one remaining eye. Baleful hatred, racism and bigotry Bürdock could see behind that eye. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all.

“*** off, ye scummy ‘mer!” Moonleaf growled.

“Please, kind sir, I come all the way from Auridon, seeking thee, on a quest of most import! There is a darkness coming, and I was told only ye could help me with preparing what was to come! I am a Templar in service of Queen Ayrenn, and I need thine help, should thou wishes to be kind enough to give it!” Bürdock stammered out before the door was slammed. Even still, Moonleaf spat and begun to slam the door. Something though, a look, a second glance at Bürdock and something in his eye stayed his hand and the words sank in.

“Aye….ok. Come in, and sit there” Moonleaf said sternly, pointing to a seat near the front entrance.

“Sit there, don’t move or speak and I will see what’s what with you”

Bürdock, hesitantly stepped through and did as instructed.

At this Moonleaf walked off, up the spiralling staircase leading him higher into the tree, while Burdock sat and waited.
And waited.

Glancing around, not sure how much time had passed, could have easily been an hour, Bürdock though t he may have been forgotten about, as the Bosmer was getting on, and perhaps his mind was addled.

About to yell out, Bürdock caught himself. Maybe this was a test? Moonleaf did say for him to not speak or move. So, with the thought of losing the chance to really get the help he needed, Burdock stayed his tongue and continued to sit.

It was have to have been easily another hour that passed before Bürdock heard steps on the stairs. Time meant little to the long lived elves, but it was the growing impatience of the urgency of what might await that really tested Burdock’s patience.

Moonleaf appeared, acting as though he had only been gone five minutes and Bürdock did his best to keep quiet and polite. Moonleaf had brought some candles, a small table, another chair with him and without speaking sat it across from Bürdock and began arranging items on the table. Moonleaf would occasionally look up out of his eye at Bürdock and seemed to be waiting for Bürdock to disobey and say something.

Bürdock remained quiet, the worry now that Shadow might be wondering where he was and had wandered off burned at him and lessened his patience resolve even more.

Moonleaf set this table up in the front entrance, which was a modest circular room with other rooms from doorways leading off, but with night fast approaching, Bürdock was unable to see into the other rooms. All these made from the very hollow tree itself but with some Imperial re-enforcement. Bürdock had studied that Woodhearth was originally an Imperial Settlement taken back, and over, by the Bosmer, many years ago.

On the table, Moonleaf set out two scented candles, a ceremonial dagger, a set of what looked like fortune teller’s cards and a number of small bones.
Moonleaf sat opposite and arranged the bones into a pattern. Moonleaf then lit both candled and motioned for Burdock to put his hand up onto the table as well. Unbuckling his Shield and setting it to one side, Bürdock complied.

Moonleaf began to chant, taking hold of Bürdock’s hands in his own, Moonleaf had his eye closed and the chanting intensified. Burdock felt a jolt go through him, and his eyes rolled back.

Darkness consumed him.









CHAPTER THREE – THE FIRST SHADOWHUNTER

The chanting seemed to get louder, like the roaring of water, of a waterfall. The waterfall. Bürdock opened his eyes, he was back at the lake, at the waterfall and his heart skipped a beat with joy. A dark figure stood on the other side of the waterfall, obscured by the sheet of falling water. Bürdock’s heart raced – It was Gráceling! He had found her! She was al..NO!! It’s not her! Despair! The figure moved forward through the waterfall, Scales, spikes, a horned head with huge, massive spiked teeth, a tail with a spiked tip and massive! Standing over nine feet tall. Molag Bal roared and moved forward grabbing a hold of Burdock, the one massive clawed hand wrapping right around Burdock’s total body and lifted him. Raiding him above his head, Molag Bal screamed.

“Ye stupid mortal elf-ling! You are less than nothing! I will devour your soul and dine on your precious Queen’s marrow! You think you can stop me?” Molag Bal laughed a screeching laugh causing Bürdock’s ear drums to burst and blood poured forth.

“Ye are nothing! A mere speck on my plans for Tamriel! Your world is going to be devoured! I will see it in Oblivion and you will see everything you hold dear to your heart burn to ash!”

Bürdock couldn’t breathe, the grip was too tight, try as he might, and his was not strong enough to lessen the pressure of the clawed hand. About to be consumed by the darkness, Bürdock had to grasp hold of the fleeting emotions of light and hope. Of Gráceling and that kiss. That first, wonderful, blissful kiss where his whole world dropped away and there was nothing but him consuming her. He needed that, the strength of his love for her coursed through him and light and hope returned”.

“N..Nay. I shall ever be here. Standing between you……and the darkness. The world will know. The world will be saved. No matter what! You will be defeated! The darkness will flee before my light!”

“Impudent mortal, ye know nothing! Ye shall…”

“Let..me…go!” Bürdock screamed, all the hope and faith pouring from him, his mouth, eyes, a burning sunbeam of righteous holy light searing away at the Daedric prince.

The grip loosened, the holy light pouring forth and blasting into the Daedric Prince. Burning, melting and searing, the Daedric Prince was engulfed in the light, being blasted through stain glass windows that appeared from nowhere before exploding into a thousand shards.

Crying out, everything went black.

Images flash. Of the future? Possible Future? A wedding, to Gráceling, sealed with the rings of Mara, children born. More images, Darkness and Blood. Bats and Mist and creatures of the night, of love lost and the tragedy of failure, the bittersweet taste of immortality, of blood and fangs in Bürdock’s mouth”.

The army rises, Shadowhunters. Aldmeri Shadowhunters, founded by Bürdock, Bürdock the Lord Commander and working in secret for Queen Ayrenn. An Elite force for the good and light, slaying evil and taking the fight to Molag Bal. Fighting for the Ruby Throne and epic battles in Cyrodil. Bürdock could see it all, standing proud next to Ayrenn as Emperor of Tamriel. Crowned and just and fleeting. The throne in flux.

Is this his destiny then? Foretold? His training and devotion to his gods to bring him this future? Where to from here though? Where is Gráceling?

The images came fast and flashing through his mind. “Shadow hunter Lord Commander. Take the role, Bürdock, you are now the Light bringer. You will bring Light to the Shadows. You will hunt the Shadows. Build your team. You can’t do it alone. The elves are with you. The Cats are with you. The Imperial defectors will flock to your banner. Stand tall. Don’t ever give up and ye will prevail. You must succeed. Tamriel is counting on you. From the Shadows, the clock is ticking and time is running out for this world. Without you, you will fail and the world will be consumed into Oblivion. You must not fail”.

Who’s speaking? Mother? Gráceling? It’s so dark, the darkness is consuming, I can’t see.

Darkness.

Bürdock started awake. He was on the floor, the chair had tipped, his shield had fallen and Moonleaf was sitting back, a tired, exhausted look in his eye, but looking down with what Burdock could only take as possibly respect, maybe?

“Get up”.

Bürdock found it difficult to move, as though he had been drugged, and slowly rose to his feet, picked the chair up and collapsed back into it, breathing heavily opposite Moonleaf.

“Well, what happened?” Bürdock asked, the first time he had spoken since being told not to.

“You are indeed a special one” Moonleaf responded.

“You were right to seek me out, you have a destiny, one not clear or written as yet, but during my vision quest I just experience with you, there were certain things I was indicated needed to happen”

“Which are?” Bürdock asked incredulously.

“My time on this world is almost at an end, and I can go to the next happy in the knowledge that I was able to finally make a difference” Moonleaf replied, the subject having been changed.

Bürdock gave an expectant, quizzical look.

“Have you heard of the term, “Tabular Rasa”? “ Moonleaf asked.

“Aye, it means clean slate” Burdock replied.

“Correct. Have you heard of Cold Harbour?”

Burdock cringed, knowing it all too well.

“Yes, it’s the domain of Molag Bal”

“Yes, it is, and you need to go there” Moonleaf said “It’s been prophesied” He added.

Bürdock gave an amused look.

“You have to be joking. I can’t go there. The only way to get there is to die”

“Your correct again, I am not sorry for doing this, as the world needs you.”

Cold realisation dawned on Bürdock, and Moonleaf moved faster than you would think possible,

“Wait…” was all Bürdock was able to utter before Moonleaf had snatched the ceremonial dagger from the table and plunged it into Bürdock’s heart.

A Surprised expression spread over Bürdock’s face and was unable to speak. Moonleaf started to chant again.

Bürdock slumped in the chair, the dagger in his chest, and died.









EPILOUGE – COLD BIRTH

Bürdock gasped, but there was no air, so how could he gasp if he couldn’t breathe? Looking down, he could see his body, and Moonleaf chanting. A pillar of blue fire engulfed his body and suddenly it was gone. Moonleaf sat back down and looked pleased with himself. That look stayed on his face though as he too died. His heart giving out and Moonleaf collapsed to the ground.

But what of Bürdock? Glancing around, he was dead? That was it then? All the visions and trials he had put himself through led to this? To nothing? Off to the clouds and ne’er to be seen or heard from again? Who would mourn his passing? Lendrick might come looking for him one day, to find nothing. Shadow would pine and sulk but eventually hunger would get the best of her and she would wander off to seek food and shelter and away from other Bosmer who not knowing her or her friend Burdock might see her as a menace or threat to be hunted down.

The essence of Bürdock seemed to swirl, so no more time in this treehouse then?

Surely there must be more to the story than this? The visions? The actions of Moonleaf? It made no sense, he was not the enemy, and so what did he see to cause him to stab Bürdock? Another mystery.

The world became hazy and Bürdock had the sensation of falling. Forever falling. Down, under the ground, through the world, through the dimensions of time and space. Always down, down. Coldness. Frost. Ice. Chill. Snow. How any of these physical sensations could be felt by Burdock if he was truly dead? He should feel nothing. Ever again.

Coldness, Cod. Hardness. Hard. A hard, cold, stone floor.

Bürdock opened his eyes. Glancing down, his body was not immaterial. There was no dagger in his chest, but nor could he feel his heartbeat or breathing. So he was still dead? Dead, but in a physical body that looked like his mortal one. What in the realm of Oblivion was going on? Was this some spell that Moonleaf had cast and he was not really dead after all? Where then, was he? When?

Bürdock sat up. Glancing around, it looked as though it was some kind of cell. Of a prison. Bürdock had a faint memory of being led here, past others, Creatures and demons and Daedra. Where was he?

What did Moonleaf say? What was the last thing? Why was he so cold?

Cold? Cold Harbour. Molag Bal’s domain. So he got him after all. But now what? Not dead? Not alive? How was he going to get out of this? Standing up, there were shackles on his wrists and he was wearing what appeared to be leggings and tunic made out of some kind of cloth sack. Well, at least he wasn’t naked, small mercy.

Glancing around, it wasn’t a very big cell, and there seemed to be some kind of commotion going on outside the cell door.

Bürdock had nothing on him, just his wits, and even they were on edge, but the memory of the visions remained strong. The urge and desire to get out flooded back and with it, his resolve and hope. This strengthened Bürdock, he would find a way. A way back to the world. To Tamriel. To save it.

Tabular Rasa. Moonleaf had said that. Cleans slate. Bürdock was raw and stripped and essentially through the trials, his soul had been cleansed. Molag Bal wanted it. Bürdock was not going to give up and now, with the strength and will from the cleansing. The clean slate was given to Bürdock for a reason.
The Shadow hunters will rise. Heroes will Rise. And Bürdock will be there, between the darkness of Molag Bal and shining the light into the darkest reaches of Tamriel.

Bürdock was now, “Bürdock Light bringer”, and he intended to make that namesake mean something.

Gráceling would be proud, standing tall and stretching out the sore muscles. Bürdock would make sure that Molag Bal falls, to never rise again, to never threaten the innocent of Tamriel. Ever. Again.

Gráceling, Bürdock needed to find her, to fulfil the promise he made to Lendrick. Gráceling was out there, in the world, and the fact that it was kept a secret from Bürdock because him the most concern of all. If everything was well, then she would be in the open, perhaps married, perhaps a mother of her own, but as it was, Bürdock knew nothing. Less than nothing. To say he knew nothing would be something but he didn’t even know to where she went, with whom or why. Too many questions remained unanswered and Bürdock must find her. He must tell her, that the one day, that one kiss, changed his world. She became his world in that moment, and once that happened, nothing was ever going to be same for him again. Bürdock would not feel complete, he was an empty shell without her, and he had to do everything in his power to find her, protect her, save her. It was with her that the one truth could be found. Bürdock knew, within his heart of hearts, that by saving her, he would be saving himself.

All he had to do now, was find a way out of this cell……..


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