Into Oblivion

26

Please... hold on.

Those were the last words that the Hero heard as he slipped into a state of unconsciousness. As he fell deeper into this dark void he saw his own memories cascade as well with him in this dark sea of emptiness. Each memory was presented to him and he had the chance to rather hold onto it or let it fall away faster from him and disappear for what seemed like eternity. He heard the agonizing shrieks of the battlefield as he looked upon a moving photograph of his reminiscence. The portrait vanished and behind him he heard a crackling voice beckon out to him. The tone echoed out around him and silently a memory had resurfaced from a chest that he confined it to in his mind. "Oh, look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prison. I guess they don't play favorites, huh?"

The Hero turned his head as he looked at the memory. He saw a shadowy elder Dunmer standing behind a sturdy cage door. His hands wrapped around the smooth metal as he stuck his head closer to the light to see the Hero who remained shrouded in the shadows of his own cell. His faded crimson eyes shifted back and forth as the once Imperial prisoner had walked closer to examine the Dunmer who spoke to him. Dreth's lips coiled in a smirk sending a few dark ripples over his discolored façade. "...Your own kinsmen think you're a piece of human trash. How sad. I bet the guards give you "special" treatment before the end. Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here, Imperial! You're going to die! Imperial criminal scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You're an embarrassment. Best if you just... disappeared."

As the Hero cascaded into the darkness of his mind he reached forward and attempted to swipe the remembrance away. The ethereal figure of Valen Dreth slowly but surely altered to a billowing hunched haze of shades as the Hero wished not to remember that day at all. Conversely, another memory resurfaced that he wished to shroud former in the depths of his mind. He heard the bubbling of fresh magma that churned in the fiery lake. He heard the jerky metallic noise of the Crawler rolling the joints of its body as it inched gradually across that lake. He smelt the brimstone and decayed human flesh that was thick in the air. His stomach churned as he attempted to force it from him; however, it seemed nearly impossible. The mere thought of that realm made him uncomfortable. He pivoted his head away with desire to avoid this memory.

The memory grew around him and soon its hellish jaws swung ajar and devoured him. He became shrouded in the darkness of his mind and as he looked onward he could see he was standing before the vast lake of fire. The heat of the magma emitted from the lake as if it were the pulse- the essence- of the lava. His skin cried for he was far too close to the edge of the lake. Perspiration dampened his darkened brow as he gawked upon the immense atrocity that was the Siege Crawler. Upon every fifth pulse of his heart it inched nearer to the gate of which he was faced away from. Upon the bronze back of this monster he saw two entwining figures. His eyes lifted and he could see Xilivicus and himself clashing together. Their blades swung together in harmony but the Champion's hearts were shattered and upon two different levels. As the man looked up into the sky to see himself he felt such grief rise in his heart. It hadn't really ever left him. It was merely just a voice in his head he quieted unless he lost grip of his self the voice would raise. With a heaved groan that rose and vanished before him, the Hero looked into his own crazed eyes. In those moments, he had been taken over by another entity. One which he never wished to become.

High above the steeples of the towers, thunder shattered the heavens causing crimson pieces of the clouds to cascade into the lakes of fire. Not long after, a scream came from the bridge of the towers. It was her voice. The man lifted his eyes leisurely as he could only watch this performance. No longer was he a part of it. Is this my reprieve from damnation? To spend forever watching that which condemned me? The dark void of Sithis would be far more pleasant than watching this play out for eternity. The Hero stomached the play as if it were rotted meat dampened with cave water. He saw Elizabeth's weakened body hunch over the bridge as she reached her hand out in hopes to grasp Xilivicus and save him from the fate that the knight delivered to him. Could she have known? Could she have known what would befall of his feeble human body?