Children of the Void, The sequel to The Story of the Listener Options

[Kayla]

Alright. I just finished writing and refining this to my satisfaction. I hope you all will enjoy this. This story takes place right after the last one ended. However, for awhile, it might be a few days between updates. I'm still trying to get some school things straightened out and I'm quite busy, but once things settle down at school, I'm sure I'll have more time to write. Enjoy what I have so far!

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My boots crunched softly in the snow as I weaved through the trees in the forested Jerall Mountains north of Bruma. The moonless night was cold and shadowy; just the way I liked it. The Night Mother’s words echoed in my head as I pulled my black robe tighter over my lightly armored body to fend off the biting cold.

“I know the Speakers usually go out to meet our clients, but this one is special. I want you to handle it personally, dear Listener.”

For the past six months, the Dark Brotherhood had been busy. Not only had we added on to the sanctuary, we had received a fair amount of new members. Though I enjoyed them, none of the newer members really shone through as Speaker material. Coventia, the only Speaker we had at the moment, and probably my oldest friend that was still alive in the sanctuary agreed with me. Therefore, it wasn’t unusual for the both of us to be very busy meeting clients. There was no shortage of people who wanted others dead. To add on to the situation, politics in Tamriel had become very rocky. And when politics became competitive, we were usually quite busy. I had also heard whispers in the underground of plots to assassinate the emperor…

I caught a glimpse of light through the veil of tree branches ahead. I was to meet an old Breton woman who lived in a small cabin in the forest. As I got closer to the light, I could make out the shape of a small cabin in a distant clearing. Warm light was shining through the windows. I stepped out of the forest and into the clearing, the surveyed the small structure.

“This must be the place.” I mumbled to myself.

I pulled my hood up over my head to hide my face, then moved to the front door and knocked quietly. I waited a few seconds and received no response. I knocked again, this time, louder. Still, there was no answer. I couldn’t even hear any noises from within the cabin. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed the doorknob with a gloved hand and pushed the door open, stepping inside the warmth of the cabin.

The place was empty. The fireplace on the opposite wall was lit, as were some candles that adorned tables in the room. Suddenly, I sensed a presence behind me. Turning around, I drew my shortsword and was greeted by a blinding flash of blue light. I felt an impact in my chest that knocked me to the wooden floor, and a sharp pain that was both burning and freezing.

“You won’t kill me, you psychopath!” a panicked female voice screamed.

I quickly sat up, pulling my hood off to reveal my face. I saw an aging Breton woman with her back against a wall, frantically edging toward the door of the cabin. As our eyes met, I watched her expression soften.

“Oh my…” she breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re not a murderer.”
“Technically, I am.” I replied, standing. She walked forward quickly and cast a healing spell on me, which made the pain my chest subside. “I’m from the Dark Brotherhood. Did you just hit me with a frost spell?” I asked. In my opinion, frost spells were much worse than fire spells. They had a different sort of pain that you could only feel on the business end of a magickal burst of ice.

The woman’s blue eyes looked me over nervously. “I’m terribly sorry…” she said.
“It’s alright.” I murmured, stepping toward the fireplace to warm myself. “Who is it that you want dead?” I asked.

The woman hesitated. I looked over my shoulder at her, waiting for a response. She shifted nervously, ran her hands through her short, graying hair, and finally, she spoke in an anxious tone. “There’s a murderer out here. He’s killed all my neighbors… I think I’m next…”

I turned my head and watched as the flames in the fireplace danced.

“Why did the Night Mother want me to take care of this?” I thought to myself.

Keeping my gaze fixated on the fire, I spoke. “Lady, we’re the Dark Brotherhood, not the Fighters Guild. Nor are we mercenaries-“ Before I could say another word, there was a loud crash. Shards of glass scattered across the floor and a black figure practically flew into the cabin through the broken window.

The figure stopped a few feet away from me, standing up straight. It was much taller than I was. It spoke in a deep, gruff, and obviously male voice.

“You’re in the Dark Brotherhood?” he half stated, half asked.
“Yes.” I answered, staring at him.

The tall, shadowy man was unlike anything I’d ever seen. He looked like a Dunmer, except his skin was much darker, almost black, and his long, black straight hair went down past his broad shoulders. When our eyes met, I was absolutely mesmerized. His eyes were a deep red, very similar to the color of blood. The more I looked, the more I was convinced that any moment, he would begin crying tears of thick, sanguine blood. Looking past the color of his eyes, it was easy to see that he was a murderer. The eyes are the windows to the soul and his soul was as black as the void.

“The assassin and the murderer… this should be quite fun.” He said, stepping forward and brandishing an ebony shortsword.

As I drew my Elven shortsword, I found myself wondering how I had gotten into this situation in the first place. The old Breton woman dashed away from us as he charged at me.

He grunted with each swift swing of his sword. He was fast, but I was faster, dodging and parrying his blade, trying to get in a hit of my own. Though I had this man beat in a contest of speed, I was not about to challenge his strength.

After a few more minutes of dodging, and getting no hits of my own in, my back hit a wall. He smirked as he saw his opportunity. Quickly, he brought his sword down in a vertical slash. I managed to block it at the last second by holding up my sword. The ebony and Elven metal of the blades collided with a loud clash. He clenched his jaw as he used his strength to try and bring his sword down and break my defense. I was struggling just to keep his sword away from my body. I looked up at his face to see deep wrinkles and for a moment, I found myself wondering just how old he was.

In a sudden movement that surprised me, and pulled me from my thoughts, he drew a silver dagger from a sheath on his left leg. He brought the dagger up to stab me, but I thrust out my left hand and grabbed his arm. Now I was doing all I could to keep him from bringing two blades down on me.

Knowing I would surely die if my back stayed against the wall for too long, I used the last bit of my strength to push him away. Then, I grabbed his left hand and moved smoothly to the left, pulling his arm behind his back and simultaneously took his dagger from him. Wasting no time, I jabbed his own dagger into his neck. Oddly, he remained perfectly still, not even making a noise.

For a few moments, we stood there, frozen in absolute silence until I heard a dripping noise. I looked down to see a puddle of blood forming near my right foot… and a Daedric dagger lodged in my ribs.

“It’s over for you…” he said quietly.

I pulled the silver dagger out of his neck, scarlet blood flowing rapidly from the gash, and then I stepped back. Surprisingly, my wound wasn’t very painful. However, I knew that if the Daedric dagger were to be removed, it could be very serious. He turned to face me, laughing and clutching his wound, blood seeping through his fingers.

“What the hell is so funny?” I asked.
“That’s a bound dagger.” He replied.

For a moment I was quiet, then I looked up into his eyes.

“What is your name?” I asked him.
He seemed surprised by my question. “I am a monster. I have no name.” he replied.
“You are a man. You have a name. What is it?” I asked.

I felt the dagger in my ribs disappear. Warm blood was now flowing out of the wound at an alarming rate. For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes widen in a look of concern, but his gaze quickly intensified.

“My name is Verano, and you are going to die soon…” he said.
“How would you like to join the Dark Brotherhood, Verano?” I asked.
He grunted.
“You could prove to be quite useful.” I added.
“You’re going to bleed to death…” he said.
“So are you.” I said, meeting his gaze. I knew that the wound I’d inflicted on him was just as bad as the wound he’d inflicted on me.
We stood in silence for a moment.
“I’ll join…” he finally answered.
“Good.” I said, pulling two healing potions from my pocket. I began to drink one and tossed the other to him. My pain faded almost immediately.
I began to walk to the door. “Come, I’ll show you the sanctuary.” Apprehensively, he followed.

The Breton woman ran forward and grabbed my arm. “He’s a psychopathic killer! A monster! You’re going to let him join with you?!”
I looked at her. “Deep down inside, we’re all monsters.”
“You will receive no payment from me!” she shrieked.
“Whether or not you want to, you will pay my Lord. Sithis demands blood.” I said, slitting her throat before she even knew what was happening.

I looked into Verano’s blood red eyes. “My name is Sarelle. I am the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Welcome to our family.”

[Kayla]

I walked down the winding path of the hill until I reached the base. The surviving guards and villagers alike were resting at a makeshift campsite. Small tents were pitched everywhere, most of them made of quilts or cloth wall hangings. The area was littered with odd items, such as paintings, chests, pillows, shovels, and small cloth sacks, most of them empty.

A Redguard woman sat near a small fire, cooking something in a pot. Her face was covered in ash and dirt and a small child clung to her leg, crying. People of all ages who occupied the camp were crippled with grief over the loss of loved ones and property. Many people were crying, and those who weren’t were sitting or standing near the tents, talking quietly. Injured people lay on the ground, some of them were being tended to, but most weren’t.

I walked through the campsite, watching the pitiful scene. There were more survivors than I thought. Suddenly, something grabbed my foot. I looked down to see a man with graying hair, a large, bleeding wound in his chest.

“Please… lady… sit with me.” he rasped.

I nodded, and sat down on the grass next to the man. I knew he wouldn’t live much longer. He was an Imperial, dressed in a regular brown robe. His face was contorted in pain and deathly pale.

“Thank you, miss. You are too kind…” he said.

I didn’t know why I was sitting with this man. I didn’t know why I had helped that woman in the city. I should have been trying to find the guard captain, and if he was still alive through all this chaos, I was supposed to be burying a dagger in his back.

“I think we all fear dying alone…” the man said, pulling me from my thoughts. “I never thought I would… I had a family, a very loving family…my wife… she was too good for me, my son… always made me so proud… he’s a member of the Imperial Legion… But, I haven’t seen my son in awhile… my wife is dead… killed by a damned Dremora.”

He paused, coughing violently, and spraying a fine mist of blood into the air.

“I tried to protect her… but, I was too weak… I’m just a priest after all… but, I know… I know my son could have protected us…"

He clutched his wound, but blood seeped through his fingers.

"I was always against violence… I wanted him to be a priest just like his old man… I was a little upset when he joined the Legion… but, he’s become a fine warrior… I only wish… he… was here… I only wish I could see him... just one more time... I don't want him to know that his father died... here... like this... but at least I'm not dying alone... and I no longer have anything to fear...”

The flames from the burning city lit up the sky, making the shadows move and dance around us. What wasn’t cloaked in shadow was bathed in an orange glow. I watched as the man winced in pain. He would die soon.

“Thank you, miss… may you always walk with Kynareth…” he whispered.

His brown eyes widened, and he let out one last breath, before his body went limp and his eyes closed.

I stood and looked toward the city. I scanned the crowd of survivors in the camp, looking for anyone who even remotely resembled a guard captain. I sighed, not seeing anyone save for weeping civilians. Some of them were weeping over corpses, but I didn't see anyone coming to weep over the man I had just watched die. Somehow, I doubted anyone would.

As I scanned the crowd for the second time, I noticed a figure in a black cloak standing near a tent. Stunned and confused, I quickly walked forward, pursuing them. It looked like the person I’d bumped into at the Arcane University. What were they doing here? Were they following me? Why?

Suddenly, there was a very loud crash of thunder. Involuntarily, I looked up to the sky. When I looked back down, the figure was gone. The sky began pouring rain. Each and every eye in the camp cast its gaze toward the city on the hill. A guard came running down the path.

“Another gate is opening in front of the city gates! A huge one!” He yelled over the sound of the rain.

All around me, the people who were capable of taking up arms did so and began to run up the hill.

“What is there left to protect?” I asked myself as I watched them run to the ruined city.

I sighed and followed them. I still had a contract to fulfill.

At the top of the hill, I joined the people as they watched in terrified awe, a very large wall of flame form right in front of the city gate. Almost immediately, floods of Daedra came pouring out.

“Don’t let them get down the hill!” A commanding voice yelled.

As the people ran forward, their swords raised high, I looked to the source of the voice. I spied an Imperial man, wearing captain’s armor. I smiled.

“I could kill him right now and no one would even know who did it…”

I worked my way through the small army and the Daedra, keeping my gaze fixed on the captain.

“Someone go in there!” He yelled. “We’ve got to find a way to close it!”

Just as I was within a few feet of the captain, a flame antronach jumped between us. Cursing out loud, I began slashing it. Inside, I was yelling at myself for losing focus on my environment. This whole situation was stressing me out too much... I couldn't let it get to me. My job was too dangerous to lose focus like this. The captain definitely noticed the Daedra and helped me take it down.

“I admire your fighting skill!” he yelled over the sounds of war around us.

Before I could say anything in reply, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him.

“We need someone to go inside and close that gate! A lot of men have gone in already, and the gate still isn’t closed! We need someone else to try!”

I looked at him blankly.

“You’ve lost something here, haven’t you?! We’ve got to show those Daedra what they’re dealing with!” he screamed.

Then, without warning, he tightened his grip on my arm and hurled me toward the towering wall of fire.

“Damn!” I yelled as my right shoulder connected with the wet ground, making a small splash.

I stood up, rubbing my shoulder. I was more surprised by his strength than hurt. Perhaps he would be harder to kill than I originally thought… I stared up at the wall of flame, the gate to Oblivion, and over the yelling of the people and roar of the Daedra, I heard a familiar, yet distant voice.

“Listener!”

As I turned around to face the voice, something hit me. Literally. Whatever it was hit me with such force, that I was sent careening right into the wall of fire.