Just as suddenly as her body swelled and rose, it fell, with an all too familiar disappointing downward arc. The illusion Drathen had inspired in her mind flitted away as the men attacked, leaving the sleeping Altmer suspended between dreams and a deep sleep.
She did indeed wake when the crash sounded, although slowly and incompletely, the spell still in effect. She heard a familiar voice surrender himself, and the painful grips of dirtied hands pulling her across the wooden floor. The scraping of her feet against the rough wood made her open her eyes momentarily.
Her head lolled as she summoned the will to look at her surroundings, but through the haze, all she could see were the bound hands of Drathen, white in the dark hallways of the inn, the menacing eyes of one of her captors, and one of the men inspecting her sword.
"Not Dawnbreaker," she mumbled. "I need that." Her head fell forward again as she slipped back into the trance of the spell. Her next sensation was the sharp pain of rocks biting into her back and legs as she was tossed onto the ground. She regained consciousness to hear the squeak of a cage door swing shut.
After that, it was all black.
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