Sun's Height 21

(Fights-up-close): Night Mother Crypt

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But the grueling suspense was ended with words.

"You understand and strive for justice, you operate with courage, and yet you learned to welcome death." It was a deep voice, speaking feebly, but with a trace amount of promise. "Maybe you can truly understand and aid our cause."

Quivering violently, I lifted my face from my hands, seeing color and experiencing that which I thought I'd never again experience. I could see the legs of the black robed man.

"We knew the traitor's intentions and identity long before this incident. We allowed him to eliminate most of the Black Hand for us, leaving only bare essentials: it was the best way to make room for new leadership that could restore our organization to its original purpose." A metallic tingling ran through my face and arms at the words. They knew all along?

He took a deep breath, pausing briefly, as if he was trying to think of how to put everything in his head into words. He obviously wasn't ready to explain this. Various parts of my body were burning from scrapes as he spoke, and tears from various emotions were whelling up in my eyes, but I was entranced by his words.

"Champion, don't waste your time! Kill her!" I heard the Night Mother cry, but her voice sounded more...distant now. It was obvious she was trying to yell, but she sounded oddly quiet. The Champion was between us. He seemed to ignore her.

"I was to take the position of Speaker, a recruiter, to recruit leadership which fit our goals. " But the words weren't that of a crisp briefing I was used to hearing from my superiors, there was some despair or emptiness behind them "You and Arquen were kept alive to ensure we could buy time to meet this goal. You would have been disposed of once we found more suitable replacements, replacements like-minded to us." He paused briefly "Over time, the Dark Brotherhood has become convoluted almost beyond recognition. Its members have become motivated by greed, sadistic satisfaction, and sometimes superficial justice. We sought to restore our old ways, old motivations, and old philosophies. The Night Mother called on me to the aid in this task. Mathieu Bellamont aided our cause without realizing it." The epiphany began to seep into every crevice of my consciousness. My heart was pounding. I feared all that was being laid onto me.

"We have no time for this! Kill her!" The Night Mother called again, but this time her voice seemed even more distant.

"You, of course, know nothing of our old ways. They've been almost completely erased from our history and ethos. Our organization was hijacked, but we originally established ourselves with one sole purpose: to reverse the mistake of creation. Much as the Morag Tong, our predecessor, attempted to calculate killings to prevent long term bloodshed, we attempted the opposite in our early days in order to bring us closer to our ultimate goal. Vigilante murders, attempting to select those perpetrating injustice, provide only a temporary and superficial solution to injustice. Often the dedication they would take to pull off would only create more injustice than it put a stop to."

I knew I was on the verge of tears again, facing a hard, transforming truth. The Speaker let out another ragged sigh as if his life was drenched in pain, and to hear these philosophies made that pain contagious. I was opening an old wound: painful philosophy. After the pause for thought, he continued "The existence of Nirn's inhabitants allows for good to go unrewarded and evil to go unpunished, nature's defaults. You know your heros for their suffering, and your villains for their gain. We can't remove this system from Mundus, as government throughout the eras have tried to do. We can only remove people from this system that perpetuates injustice."

"Why would Sithis create a world only for us to destroy it!?" I protested, the pain evident in my voice, as I propped myself up slowly, now on my hands and knees.

"Sithis was never a creator. That alone may be the greatest symbol of the Dark Brotherhood's convolution." He stated, sounding neither angry nor confident, just empty "Sithis is the void. Non-existence. Stillness." Then he let out a ragged sigh. I was hurt by his words, and the rush I'd gained from being able release my fury on Arquen was slowly dissipating. I hated his words, but I couldn't hate him. He was making too much sense for me to think he didn't believe what he was preaching. "The Nine Divine are most widely recognized as our creators here, but I question the truth of this due to my own experiences. What the Mythic Dawn leader, Mankar Camoran, had shown me during the Oblivion Crisis makes me question the legitimacy of the Nine Divines." The Oblivion Crisis. Suddenly a coldness prickled across half my body. This was the indeed the Champion of Cyrodiil "With the help of Mehrunes Dagon, he demonstrated a power far greater than that of the Nine. He created his own plane, one of constant suffering, which would be the world today if Mehrunes Dagon's invasion was not stopped. He told me the Gods were but passing shadows. I--"

"Champion! Now!" I heard the Night Mother yell, but it sounded even more distant yet again.

"I don't know if he was right, but one thing became clear to me during my time fighting: the Nine Divines understood our betrayal would come if we had the appropriate revelations about the nature of our world. They forced mortality on us to ensure no one person could obtain a significant amount of power or knowledge. We reproduce to ensure they will always have subjects, but our short life-spans prevent most from attaining crucial wisdom. If they are our creators, they are well aware any wise mortal would betray their work. If they are indeed passing shadows, we will eventually find ourselves in a world similar to that which Mankar Camoran prepared if our souls remain on Nirn. Our fate af–"

There was a blast of cold air, and a white glow coming from behind the Champion. His eyes closed tightly in a look of intense anguish, but he didn't utter a word before his body, completely stiff, tipped forward. I stumbled away to avoid it landing on top of me.

There was a noise almost like broken glass as his face hit the floor.

The Night Mother stood facing me.

She was now glowing brightly. I could clearly read her face, and it said one thing: fury. When she spoke, she no longer sounded distant. "I've waited over a millennium for the moment I could remove the convolution and restore our order! Mercenaries like Gogron Gro-Bolmog. Sadists like Arquen. Short-sighted traitors like you!" She screamed. Then she drew in an uneven, unnatural breath, as if to cool herself as she boiled "I can wait another millennium if need be. I may have lost the Black Hand, but that doesn't mean I'll let you intrude on my sacred rest and live!"

The two Black Hand members were gone, but that didn't mean I was going to live.

She lifted her hands in a casting motion. In my emotional disorientation the only appropriate action I could think of was to try to survive and see how it played out.

I knew I would soon meet with the same spell that killed the Champion if I didn't move

I fiercely sprung away, landing roughly once again on the coarse floor. As I looked towards her from my position on the ground, I noticed she was lifting her hands again...but something had changed. She had noticeably faded from a few seconds ago.

Trying to occupy every second with some kind of movement as I was locked in a very tight-battle with death, I rolled away from the next spell, feeling a painfully chilly blast of air, but knowing it was not a direct hit.

Thoughts of life and death were rushing through my head and my heart was pounding as I clumsily and rapidly propped myself up. I ran, half-hunched over, just trying to keep moving. I could feel the wind I'd generated cooling the sweat soaked parts of my body, but I didn't know if this would be to any avail.

I heard the sound of another frost spell, and found myself running into the white glow. She was trying to lead me, and in a clumsy conflict of momentum and will, I tried to stop myself. I accidently fell onto my back.

Light-headed panic beginning to seep in, I gave the Night Mother another look. She was drastically more faded than the last time I saw her. She was barely visible, but still clearly there.

I rolled once again to avoid another frost projection, feeling another blast of chilly air. But I was still alive. None the less, I felt faint as I wondered how long I could keep this up.

I looked towards the Night Mother again, prepared to squirm even more in my awkward struggle for survival.

But there was no Night Mother to see.

I stumbled to my feet, still cautious. I nearly fell again, but managed to stop myself by gripping a stalagmite.

Still silent. The site of so much terror and tension had quieted.

My heart was still racing, and the drive to move was still within me, and I felt noticeably hotter than before. Still, all I could see were the corpses. The Night Mother seemed to have disappeared.

Peace. The site of so much carnage was finally quiet. I was covered in cold sweat and quivering, still shaken, but the danger was gone. The Night Mother was gone. The battle and carnage was nothing but memories now. It seemed almost dreamy.

I realized what had happened: she had expended the power of her existence in the spell, power which she gained from the souls of the dead. Had...the last of her been cast away in that final spell or had she gone back into her ancient slumber? What did that even mean?

I sat quivering in the silence for moment, the power of the recent events was still in me even when I knew that death and destruction was over. I was still shaken, but it seemed like I could finally relax. I was left to reflect in the stoney silence.

I wasn't quite ready to relax, but I slowly lowered myself into a sitting position. Silence still.

I finally allowed myself to loosen up a bit, letting my tail sink onto the cold sands of the crypt.

The fires of the dead Speaker's torch continued to crackle rhythmically. Finally this crypt of so many horrors was peaceful.

I sat there taking in all the sensations of life, while those around my lied in death. I knew it would take a while to get my mind back to normal after the recent intensity, so I was unsure what to do.

I slowly propped myself up with a quivering arm and stood, in bloody and tattered robes, looking at the five dead bodies.

No one would ever know it, but I had made history in my own, quiet way.

Slowly, the tension and pain was fading, being replaced with a sense of calm and satisfaction.

With nothing better in mind, I decided to take a closer look at this odd little place under Bravil now that its evil seemed to have been vanquished.

I walked over to the altar on which the skeleton was to get a closer look.

I realized there were actually several skeletons lying on the stone slab. Only one was the size of an adult, though. It was the brutality of the Dark Brotherhood in a nutshell, yet it was empty of horror now.

I walked up the couple of stone steps to get a closer look.

I felt an urge to look over my shoulder, getting the feeling I was observing something I shouldn't. Of course, there were still only the corpses in my company.

I examined the skeletons closely, each with its own dumb grin. It would have been a hellish scene before I conquered this kind of evil, but I knew I was finding more peace now than I ever had before in Cyrodiil.

Then I noticed something about the largest skeleton. There was something inside the skull: something organic looking. A brain. It looked intact from what I could see through the eye-sockets.

That was a definite anomaly. Was there a connection between the evil here, and that mysterious skeleton? It seemed logical to assume it was what allowed this place to be unlike the others, because it itself was a strange sight.

I decided I should destroy it. I'd destroyed the Black Hand, afterall, and if there was so much evil here, I might as well not even allow for even a trace probability of it resurfacing.

I knew there were plenty of rocks on the crypt floor, so I turned around to survey the crypt floor for one. Most of them were little bigger than a pebble, but I spotted one of a promising size right between two bodies.

Stretching my legs and walking on the tips of my toes to step over a body, I bent over to pick up the rock.. I turned back to the skeleton and stepped over the body again, rock now in hand.

I walked up the two steps to the altar once again.

Tension was welling up as I stared down at the skull. Was this what maintained the Night Mother, the deity I'd revered for over a decade? If that was true, I knew this would be a hugely deciding moment for the world. Questions began racing through my mind, because I knew this action could have permanent, colossal effects and the words of the Champion made me feel unsure about everything.

I looked over my shoulder one last time. Still no one.

I had time to think. I began reflecting on all I'd heard today.

"Where will you go? What will you do? You can't survive without us, your only life is in our ranks."

Maybe he was right, but I'd already seen lives destroyed by the Dark Brotherhood. It would be selfish not to sacrifice my own to put a stop to this. But those weren't the words that worried me the most.

"The Nine Divines understood our betrayal would come if we had the appropriate revelations about the nature of our world."

His words were heavy, yet I knew nothing of the Nine Divines. I did know the ripple effects of death.

"Our existence allows for good to go unrewarded and evil to go unpunished, nature's defaults."

Days ago, I might have been devoured by that cold logic, but with the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood, there was an end to my inner anguish, replaced with a new feeling of peace. Its magnitude was unexpected, yet that made it all the more real, and now I knew, through all the hardship, I could value what I had more than ever.

There was a spurt of euphoria as I realized the untruth in the Champion's words.

Yes, it was time. My questions always had the same answer. Destroy her.

I slammed the rock into the skull, cracking it in multiple directions.

I felt many bizarre sensations all at once. Had I just snuffed out the Night Mother? A deity over a thousand years old who I'd revered above all others?

The response of the skeleton was just as disturbingly indifferent and lifeless as from anything dead.

No doubt the brain had been damaged massively already, and if the brain was what was keeping her alive, that would have almost definitely been her death, but I couldn't take chances when dealing with something as monumental as the existence of the Night Mother.

I lifted my hand again, smashing the rock into the skull, this time cracking its face almost beyond recognition. As I saw my thought-out decisions in action, I began to feel more lucid.

I hit the skull again, making it look like little more than a pile of bone fragments and organic matter. And again, and again, until the brain matter and bone fragments were blended together. Again, and again, and again until the mass of squishy matter and juices was wider than tall. And again, and again, until there was little visible effect.

Then I dropped the rock, its underside tip darkened by some sort of liquid. I put my palms against the cold, stone altar, looking at the mess with no feeling of disturbance. That was peace for the world.

I sighed and relaxed, letting my mind take a slow, soothing swim in all I'd done. I felt lucky to be alive right now. I could still see, hear, taste, touch, and smell. I could still eat, drink, sleep, swim, read, and talk. Then I thought about the future...but I didn't know what the future held.

With that, I stood up straight and turned around towards the ladder.

Was I ready for the world above just yet? Minutes ago, I'd been a trusted member of Cyrodiil's worst enemy. Was I ready for that transition? Was I ready to look the world I'd terrorized in the eyes yet?

Yes, I was ready. It was time to get acquainted with the outside world, because delaying that wouldn't do me any good. I could look them in the eyes because the underworld I used to know was destroyed by my own hands. All the tragedies and crimes beforehand were a necessity to bring about this moment.

Yes. I could relax and open up.

I would no longer be burdened with guilt or fear of the truth or uneasiness in the face of criminal temptations, because they were all evils generated by my place in the Dark Brotherhood.

And the Dark Brotherhood was gone, after all.

Probably forever.

A/N: Well, that's it. That's the final chapter. That doesn't mean I'm done with this story yet: Now I'm going to go back and polish up the earlier chapters. A significant amount of the plot to this story was invented/modified as I went along, so there's probably not as much of a sense of connectivity through out the story as there could be. Similarly, I will now go back to earlier chapters and implement some of nightdragon's advice, as well as fix up other elements of the story that didn't originally turn out as well as planned.

Any advice you have for any component of this story is currently welcome (doesn't necessarily mean I'll comply, but I'll listen). After I give this story its final polish, then I'll change its status to "complete".

Anyway, a special thanks to nightdragon for his reviews and advice and M'aiq the Liar for her help with the lore early on.