"What are you doing here?"
The Dragonborn froze when she heard a masculine voice coming from somewhere in the strange realm. Somehow she had stumbled into Apocrypha, the home of the Demon of Knowledge. The woman had never been to this plane of Oblivion before but had read about it. It was not hard to figure out where she had ended up after getting separated from Frea.
"Who's there?" The woman questioned instead, readying her blade. Her longsword flared to life with it's lightning enchantment. She wasn't sure whether or not the voice belonged to an enemy and did not want to be caught off guard. It had an odd quality about it, echoing somewhat. She was couldn't tell where it came from.
The female warrior had come well equipped, bringing several weapons and a sizeable hoard of scrolls and potions. She didn't expect to find herself here but she was a cautious woman. She just hoped she had enough supplies to make it out of this place.
Instead of an answer to the Dragonborn's question, a fountain of darkness erupted before her. From it, a man emerged. He was clad in midnight black robes with gold trim. His face was covered by an elegant gold mask, reminiscent of some sort of sea creature.
The Last Dragonborn stilled, feeling the power emanating from the figure before her. It was rare for her to feel this uneasy but the presence of this man made her so. Who was he?
"Answer me, joor." The man spoke again. "What are you doing in my realm?"
"Your realm?" The woman could not help but say. "This realm belongs to Hermaeus Mora."
The female warrior looked carefully at the man before her. He could not be Hermaeus, could he? She was told this Daeda always appeared as mass of tentacles or just a sphere of darkness.
"Not anymore." The man explained coldly. "Now, if you will not-" The man paused without finishing his threat. He tilted his head to the side for a few moments and then relaxed his threatening posture.
"Ah, you are Dragonborn. I can now feel it." His voice was still icy but it had lost its edge. "Yet, you have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can weave."
"And you do?" The woman retorted. Who was he to question her power? She was chosen by Akatosh himself. She was Dragonborn!
"Of course. I was the first to wield such power, after all."
"You are Dragonborn?"
"The First Dragonborn. Also known as Miraak, or the Traitor to some." The man confirmed.
The female Dragonborn tensed, her mind racing. In her head, she cursed her luck. She might be in trouble. She wasn't sure she would be able to take this man in a fight. If he was truly the Miraak from the age of Dragons then she was likely severely unmatched.
Frea had mentioned him but she had not expected to face him as of yet.
"Your Master has given you Apocrypha then? Where has he gone?" The younger Dragonborn questioned.
"He is my master no longer. In fact, he is no longer anyone's master." Miraak responded.
"What do you mean?
"The Prince of Knowledge no longer exists." He stated calmly.
"That can't be. You can't kill a Daedric Lord." The woman scoffed.
"Believe what you wish. I have taken his place. This realm, and his power, are now mine."
"You're lying." The Last Dragonborn refused to believe him. It was impossible.
"How shall I prove it to you?" The man seemed amused at her denial. Without waiting for an answer, the man raised his hands. They began to glow and then something strange happened.
