Shapeshifter's Oath [ESO Fanfiction]

1. Sepek

As I lay dying I hear distant battle cries. My poisoned body grows cold and numb, and drops of heavy rain mix with and wash away drops of sweat and blood off my face, open and bare to the elements. The Blood of Coldharbour seeps into my very being, eating at me little by little, breaking me apart, and tearing at my very existence. I can feel myself succumbing to corruption. The skies between the trees above are dark and my vision gets blurred, turning everything into a somber palette of colors and shadows. My mind dims, what remains of it. This soul of a slave still clings to soon-to-be husk devoid of any life and warmth. I wonder if the skies of Coldharbour are as mournful as the sky over Cyrodiil now...

I feel the icy hand of death, and that death has a name. Molag Bal. He will claim my soul and the souls of my Legion brethren. I hear the moans and cries of the fallen, as the Daedra march, clashing with the force of the Pact. I smell blood and death.

The sounds of battle grow closer... The roar of thousands of men and mer, and something completely inhuman. Unliving. The land burns, soaked with blood, riddled with mutilated corpses and broken weapons. The forest burns, filling the air with black smoke and the smell of burnt timber.

I don't want silence, for silence will bring the end of me and the eternal torment. Ah... Dibella, My Lady, forgive me. I never intended to betray you, but I had no choice.

I wanted to live...

I wanted to save them, but I still couldn't. Daedra and the Dominion be damned!

I can no longer save anyone, lest alone myself. I still want to live... But it is over for me now. At least the end comes before I will become Mind-Shriven. Though my soul's fate is even worse now.

The Pact and their Oblivion foes are close. I hear shouts, heavy breathing and clashes of swords and shields. Hungry blades crushing armor and bones. Hundreds of feet stomping the ground, charging into combat in the puddles of forest dirt, stepping over the body parts scattered throughout the battlefield.

As I lay dying there's no one I can ask for forgiveness, for I am guilty, and no one to ask for salvation, for I do not deserve one. All I can ask, My Lady, is that my wife and daughters are in your eternal embrace now. Please watch over them for me. And if you allow me to still harbor hope, I will. Until my last dying breath, I will...

But there is no hope for the lost.

I hear a song, a song sung by sharp steel. It brings me strange peace, for it carves right into the ranks of the slave masters. It's a refreshing sound, something unfamiliar, and also inhuman. In the corner of my eye I notice a tall, dark shadow slicing through the armor of my tormentors; it wields a blade, long and swift, singing the most beautiful battle song I have ever heard. It flashes here and there, and everywhere, and the foe falls silent. But it is not the silence I'm so afraid of. It is the silence of victory. An unforgiving and final victory.

The rain almost stops and the skies clear a bit. I see a blood moon shining through the torn clouds. It also listens to this strange battle song.

It watches the victorious shadow.

It watches me.

The battle is done.

My eyes are almost unseeing now. My heart rhythm embraces extinction, as the sound of battle ceases and the forest is engulfed in silence.

But the crimson eye of the moon is so clear now. So beautiful. And the shadow approaches. I hear heavy footsteps... So walks someone who is not afraid of a thing in this world, who does not care that their steps will be heard here. The shadow stands over me, huge, whether man or beast, I cannot see clearly.