The Prince's Dagger

Five: Hope in the Void

"Well, look what the god dragged in!"

I'd been dreaming about frolicking through a field of lavender with blonde women. His voice shot through that rest with all of the cold terror it carried. I figured that he'd get angry. That he'd send someone after me. But showing up himself? That voice was unmistakable.

I rolled over, feeling the dirt and gravel pierce my back. Sheogorath was standing with his hands on his hips, cat eyes blindingly yellow in the sun.

Oh man. I'm going to die.

"And after all of my kindness and hospitality! Ooh, Thorne, you've really hurt my feelings." His voice is less pleasant when he growls and leans forward a bit. "And that... is not something you want to do."

I'm running even before I stand up, darting forward as soon as I can crouch to my feet. He grabs the hem of my sleeve, the other hand on his cane.

He wants me to come to him so badly? Fine. He won't be expecting me to give him that.

"Really, now. I'm half tempted to turn your-"

I thrust my full body weight forward into him, nearly knocking him over, and bring my arm into his chest when I do so. He barely stumbles, and while it's true I just made the sentence for myself worse, I'm already running past him and out the door of Crucible.

There's a gloom over the earth, the world lit just as much by the blues mushrooms that dot a stone pathway as the sun. Part of me wants to stop and admire the beauty, another part of me is fighting to stand under the overwhelming weight of anxiety. I've feared for me life before, but never like this.

"So tell me..."

I shriek, spinning around to come face-to-face with a devilish smirk. Sheogorath materializes beside me, leaning his scruffy chin on the head of his cane. "Where exactly do ya plan on going? It isn't like you've got a map of my realm. You're going to run headfirst into something that will kill ya, just like every stupid, pitiful mortal that thinks they can outsmart me."

Maybe he's right. But what am I supposed to do, stop? Turn myself in? Turn around and go, 'You're so right, Lord Sheogorath! Please don't make your next set of fancy silverware out of my teeth! I'll head right back to the palace!' No. My only option is to run.

That's what I do.

I fly like an arrow through the thicket to the side, crashing though the roots and bramble. The thorns grasp at my boots and nick my ankles, but I've felt worse. I have to go. I have to lose him. I have to- 

"Was it my breath? I'm fairly certain I have the dental hygiene of, well, a god! Haha!"

I don't even see him. Is he in my head? Fuck.

"Really, Krias. You're upsetting me. I'm really tempted to pull your intestines out through your backside, but I like ya too much for that. Don't give me a reason so do something I'll regret."

I move downhill, over to a fortified building that stands stout along a few connected bridges. I can see the faint outline of a few people wading back and forth in the water.

"Oh, I wouldn't go there if I were you."

It's fine if there people are dangerous. I'd rather they get their hands on me than Sheogorath. As I get closer, I hear a collective hum. Some chanting in a language that I don't understand but sounds elven. As I near the edge of the lake, the humming stops.

"...do you hear that..?"

"...footsteps..."

"...interrupting our summoning..."

"Thorne," Sheogorath warns in my head, "I will teleport you back to the New Sheoth palace, and the things I'll do to you won't be pretty if you don't. Come. Back. Here. Now."

Not if they kill me first.

I mean, what's he going to do if my soul disappears? Not a thing. I rush headlong onto the wooden platform that makes up the fort's outside, startling a circle of robed people standing in the water. A gaping vortex opens in the middle of the lake, a black void with water trickling over the side. One of the robed people, a dark elf man, unsheathes a dagger.

"You stink of madness," he hisses, "an element of the false god Sheogorath."

I fall to my knees on the wooden platform, unbuckling the collar on my neck and baring my throat at him. Can't be any more painful than the first time, and a lot less painful than if Sheogorath gets a hold of me. Slowly, the man approaches, as if cautious at my willingness to die.

Hurry up, hurry up.

I stiffen as a hand falls on my shoulder from behind. My entire body goes cold, and I'm so terrified I nearly disassociate from the situation. Behind me, a chipper accented voice says, "Choose your friends wisely, Thorne. Zealots are no fun at parties."

Which is a bit weird to be the scariest thing I've ever heard, but...

"The false god is here!" the man cries, catching the attention of all his fellow cult members. "Kill him!"

Sheogorath sighs and steps in front of me, but the gesture amounts to nothing as I sneak back and try and loop around to face the vortex in the lake. That could kill me just as well, I'm sure of it.

With a twitch of his godly pinkie finger, the man with the dagger is suddenly clutching his throat and choking out blood, bike, and chunks of meat. He falls to the ground, heaving and gasping, as his fellow zealots look forward in horror.

I move around a wooden pillar, still unnoticed.

"You know how they say it feels when you're scared?" Sheogorath muses. "It's almost like your heart's in your throat. Haha!"

That. That is what I was scared of. Akatosh preserve me.

I don't pay him any mind for the following gruesome deaths he provides, ignoring him until I'm as close I can get to the vortex without being in the open.

When I'm at the lip of water, he spots me. Scowls. Snaps his fingers.

And amazingly, nothing happens.

It's his turn to look shocked, which is not an expression I'm accustomed to when it comes to him. I flash a smile and dive head-first into the gaping mouth of the earth.

I think he tries to catch me. There's an odd pressure around my arm, like a hand clutching it, but it doesn't stop of from falling. I wonder if it's a zealot, but it's too dark in here to make out who the other suicidal bastard here with me is.

Together, we fall.

All the way to the bottom.