Evolution, A TES Fan-Fiction Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue

3E 422

My eyes slowly opened to reveal bookcases lined with books, ingredients and trophies. I had fallen asleep in the Common House in the Wolverine Hall. This wasn’t that—it was something entirely different. The fungal walls were lined with book cases holding books, various alchemical substances and trophies.

I slowly forced myself into a standing position. The cold air hit me as soon as I managed to stand. The icy chill only bit into specific parts—it was as if invisible tendrils had a tightening grip on my body. The tendrils felt much more real when I tried to move my arms. They were completely immobilized by this abnormal cold.

A Dunmer garbed in flowing, ebon robes materialized out of thin air. Four others instantly appeared as well. The Dunmer stated with his raspy voice, “I am Lord Sarthon Kirth and you are in Tel Kirth.” My eyes widened slightly—Tel designated that I was in a Telvanni Tower.

“Bray-Hul demands to know why she is away from her master,” the Argonian questioned. My eyes took a quick glance to notice Bray-Hul was a relatively thin. Her tattered shirt hung off her as if she was only a skeleton and her pants were almost as loose.

“If I may explain,” Kirth responded. “You five are people no one will miss. You’re slaves, outlaws and paupers. This is why you have all been blessed with an opportunity to become Telvanni Wizards.”

The Nord to my right was a young man with shoulder-length blonde hair. He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed. “You damn dark elves are cowards,” the man blurted. “I’ll snap your spine like a skeever.” Sarthon shook his head and extended his open hand. He whispered something and out of his hand shot a bright chartreuse orb that slammed into the young man.

The Nord’s screams were sharp. I watched as the orb burrowed into his chest, dissolving his body as it went. As the screams continued, we all stood in silence as a puddle of viscera slowly formed at his feet. His entire body was eventually liquefied by the spell and then it just—disappeared.

“I do not appreciate threats,” the Wizard continued emotionlessly. “And you all need to learn the rules of what is going to occur over the next twenty-four hours. You’re going to be sent to the Canals beneath Vivec where you four will either kill each other or all die.”

“What—what are you talking about?” the Altmer Girl to my left said. “We…have to kill…each other?” Her voice was cracking as she struggled to say the words.

“You will all wear chokers. They are linked by your life force; if even two of you still live after twenty-four hours, then you’ll all be killed. If only one survives, you’ll be teleported back here and will gain the privilege of studying magic under me.”

What was the point of this game? What was he gaining out of this other than several corpses in the canals beneath Vivec? The Dunmer muttered under his breath and a black-metal collar appeared around my throat. One appeared around all of our throats. What was this thing?

There was a blinding flash of light and when I could see again, the world around me had changed. The bookshelves and walls had changed to a gargantuan metal pipe. In the center was a river slowly moving to its destination. Rats scurried around on the metal side-walks of the large pipe.

With a sigh, I knelt down and looked around for a tool to use in this fight. A skeleton with a steel stiletto between its ribs lay there peacefully. Next to it was a half-empty bottle with a label that was so old that it became too faded to read. And beside the bottle was a note that shared the same fate as the label. My hand firmly gripped the blade. The hunt had just began…

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: The Beauty of Death - Part III

For what felt like hours passed as we stood there staring into the water. Even after only bones remained, we just were there silently. The soothing sounds of the Canal gave no peace this time. They had no hypnotic effect. All I could think about was what I had done.

“You did what you thought was best, right?” he asked. His voice had lost the anger. But his voice pulled me away from my thoughts.

I looked up to him with teary eyes and whispered, “I only did what I thought was right, Thanryn. She was going to die anyway.” No matter how fast I blinked my eyes, I still felt the burn of a tear against my cheeks. In a vain attempt to hide my shame, my body turned away from him.

“Have you ever heard of Restoration magic?”

“I just know there is magic. I’ve seen wizards fight in Sadrith Mora using fireballs and lightning bolts, but all I know is that they use magic.”

He knelt down and grabbed the stiletto and snapped his fingers. Then he snapped his finger and pulled the dagger sharply against the palm of his left hand. “What are you doing?” I blurted in shock. What was he doing? Had he lost his mind?

“Shush,” Broodikus muttered as he stared at the wound. He whispered something and then I watched his hand’s wounds close. It was as if nothing had ever happened to his hand. What had he just done? Was that even possible with magic?

“What did you just do?”

“I cast a spell to regenerate the damage done by the wound.”
“But how? I’ve never seen someone cast a spell to do something like that?”

“Magic can be manipulated in many ways, Minx. I am merely a minor practitioner, trained in a few spells to help with my line of work.”

“What exactly is your line of work?”

“I used to be a Buoyant Armiger.”

“What exactly is a Buoyant Armiger, Thanryn?”

He stared at me and calmly said, “There’s so much you have to learn about what it means to be Dunmer.” He didn’t say it condescendingly and for some reason I think he really did care. Why did he care so much? I was just some stranger to him.

We both stood there and looked into the canals. There wasn’t anything being said, but I felt close to Thanryn. Something about him really made me feel safe with him. Maybe it was that he was a Buoyant Armiger—whatever that meant. Or maybe it was that he genuinely seemed to be a good person.

That serenity was interrupted when I heard the throaty voice of Bray-Hul. “Bray-Hul has found you. Bray-Hul will kill you as she did with the others.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Broodikus said. “We don’t have to fight. This doesn’t have to end like this.” As he finished the sentence, I watched the Argonian leap up and I scattered in an attempt to avoid the force of her mighty kick. A loud splash occurred and then I understood that she wasn’t aiming for me.

“We don’t have to fight, please—don’t make this be this way.”

“Bray-Hul knows how it must be. Your blood will run in the canals so that Bray-Hul may survive.” Her voice was emotionless. She had made no attempt to hide her intention; she was planning to kill me. But that couldn’t happen. I had to survive.

I darted for the dagger that he had dropped—what was only a few feet felt like a thousand miles. As I finally got my fingers around the hilt, I felt a set of claws dig into my shoulder and pull me back. Everything felt surreal as I was being jerked back. As if the world had slowed down. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the realization that I could very well die down here—but I was filled with vigor I had never experienced.

As my body pulled away from Bray-Hul, I cringed from the pain of her claws raking my shoulder. I had to have the dagger. I needed it. My arm extended to reach the blade, but just as I was about to grab it—the agony of her claws shot up my arm as she scratched at it.

A kick pushed her back, but it also extended the length of her scratch. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn’t stop. With a quick lunge, I had the dagger. “Surrender,” I barked with a ferocity that scared even myself. “Or I’ll kill you.” Quietly, she backed away.

I looked into the water to see a cloud of red. “No,” I shouted into the water as I shoved my hand into the water. A tight, bony grip grabbed around my wrist and he slowly emerged from beneath the water. As the Dunmer pulled himself up onto the walkway, he coughed up water and pointed to his leg.

On his leg was a slaughterfish that didn’t want to give up. With the dagger in hand, I plunged it into the beast and watched as what I was trying to avoid came to be. It bit down with all its might and fell lifelessly onto the walkway. Thanryn lost a chunk of flesh the size of my fist from his lower leg. He growled at the pain and then looked up to Bray-Hul.

The Argonian was charging at us. And with supernatural speed, he pulled the dagger out of the slaughterfish and threw it into her chest. It was amazing to see how accurate he was—right through the sternum. She died mid-run and collapsed into the canal.

“Are you…okay?” he coughed.

I simply nodded. Thanryn was covered in the needle-like bite marks of slaughterfish and missing a chunk of muscle from his leg—but he didn’t complain. He was more concerned with my well-being than his own. Why did he care so much?

It was right as that thought entered my mind that the bright light flashed and the world around me changed. The Canals dissolved into the fungal tower that I had known. It felt like an eternity ago, but in reality—it had been no more than a few hours. “I am pleased,” the unsettling voice of Kirth said as he slowly clapped. “You pushed yourself to limits I did not expect.”

“Where’s Thanryn?” I asked as I scanned the room for him. He wasn’t there. Had Kirth left him there to die?

“He’s in your quarters, Minx.”

“Does this mean you will teach me magic, Lord Kirth?”

“I will teach you nothing,” Sarthon explained. “I will give you the tools to make yourself a wizard unlike any before you, though.” What did he mean? He’d give me the tools? I traditionally thought an apprentice was taught under the watchful eye of their mentor.

“Rest, Apprentice,” he ordered. “For tomorrow, your new life begins. You will learn to value sleep as much as life itself, for this may be the last time you get the opportunity for quite some time.”

I tried to ask him a question, but my energy suddenly felt drained out of me. When I attempted to speak, I just collapsed. My mind was taken captive by my dreams…the horrible dreams.