I don't own anything from The Elder Scrolls series.

They conversed behind her back; hissing, rough sounds so unlike human despite their familiar appearances. Sona tried her best to ignore them while she pulled on the handle of her sword, careful not to slip on the floor. Her muscles bulged and she clenched her teeth but she knew she'd heard the stone rumble and shift once. Her back curved, her legs slithered across the floor, walking on the same spot. Then the rugged, rune-carved stone sprung out of place and rocketed into the wall. She toppled, crashing flat on her back. The pile shook and grumbled but only few escaped and glided down after the first one, quickly closing the hole she'd made with new ones.

She stood up and dusted herself off, glaring at the daedric creatures laughing at her demise. They knew exactly how irritating they were, how irritated she was. Conscious, the crushed Dremora endured the pain of tons of stone upon him. Although he seemed capable of doing so, she lost her concentration, became irritated and restless. The stinging inside her stomach wouldn't leave and would occasionally flare up like she was used to before calming to a never ending throb. It drove her crazy.

Sona inspected the sword in her hand, brushing over the bents the iron had earned with the rough handling. How long until it broke or the lever mechanism lost in efficiency? The stones wouldn't always be moved by the blade and the procedure was time-consuming and tiring. Her stomach growled. She had no food on her, too quickly had she packed her things to leave. Apart from her potions and the stolen bottle of wine she'd wanted to drink on a peaceful evening, she'd only found a few herbs in her bag, too bitter to eat unboiled and not nutritious enough even if it were the case.

Her eyes glanced to the side and she sheathed her sword and walked up to the corpse before settling into a crouch. It reeked of death, although not as strong as it should have been. She mused that the decaying process would go different paces inside this enclosed, 'sacred' room. It was not completely halted but slowed. The absence of insects further supported the thought. Normally they found their ways in every construct intruding this deep into their homes.

The corpse was cold and stiff and she fumbled around the sides. Her fingers found and ripped the familiar leathery texture off its owner, untying the knot to the pouch with ease. She spread the content in her lap. He hadn't carried much with him.

She undid the small bow on a parchment. The roughness of the paper was soothing to the touch, an invitation to rest and remember, to forget the rugged stones that pierced her hands over and over. Sona inched closer to the light the walls offered. With squinted eyes she read the symbols on the scroll. The element of fire was magically imbued within the paper. How strong it would be once unleashed was uncertain but judging by the twisted, strong lines it was of explosive nature. Sona smiled grimly. Just what she needed in her current predicament. She placed the scroll on the ground.

She knew by the smell what was waiting for her in the neatly packed bundle she'd placed on her lap. Ripping it open, the smell of crab and bread flooded her senses and her stomach growled in response. Her teeth tore through the tender flesh impatiently. The bread was hard and the flesh chewy but she didn't care as long as it stuffed her. This was the whole reason she'd come by the corpse at all.

Her eyes wandered towards the mountain of stone while she licked her fingers clean. Taking them down one by one was near impossible now. She'd gathered a pile as high as herself in one corner of the room but those were the smallest chunks. The kinds one could still heave and carry. Her hands were barely able to hold onto any of the rocks, too much weight held them firmly in place. The sword proved to be useless, too. She'd die of starvation or a rock to her head before she even got close to the exit. Albeit dangerous, she'd rather bet on the one card she got now and go out with a bang.

Before she gathered herself up, she uncorked the bottle the dark elf had on him and sniffed at its content. The faint smell of herbs proved her assumptions right and she corked it close tightly. Health Potion. A strong one at that.

Pondering about it one moment, she eventually went and knelt down next to the crushed Dremora, her boots swirling up the new layer of dust and debris. He looked up at her distrustfully. His eyes had a stronger reddish tone, reminding her of melting iron in a forge. Red tattoos followed the contours of his face, the lines crossing at his cheekbones. She licked her lips. Never in her life could she have imagined to be as close to such a creature to tell the small differences in them. Sona shook the bottle in her hand.

"Drink this," she said with a raspy voice.

Bellowing, mocking laughter erupted from the corner followed by an incomprehensible grunt. The one next to her lashed back at him, his eyes flaring with anger. He hissed in mid-sentence, the sudden movement a strain on his body and she flinched just a moment later and cursed under her breath. This curse was the worst thing she could have ended up with, the icing on a cake. With the free arm he had, he tried to fling her potion out of her grasp but she dodged quick enough.

Her fingers fumbled the scroll open and showed it into his face. She'd fallen for the offer of his master but he had to hold true to his words. Daedric Princes did not go back on deals once established but they used every loop-hole possible to make life hell. She experienced that with every fiber of her body. "Do you see this?" she hissed. "I wouldn't give a damn about your life if it didn't mean my death. But I don't want do die." She inched closer until their noses almost touched. His breath was hot, erratic but he kept his facade up well considering the circumstances. "Believe it or not: I will escape this place alive," she whispered for only him to hear. He opened his mouth, most likely to growl or bite her, and she used the chance to shove him the bottle between the lips. Her foot caught his hand from interfering and her own free hand forced his head back painfully by his hair.

The surprise rendered him helpless to the small Bosmer and he gulped the cleansing liquid down before he knew what was happening to him. The bottle left his lips with a plopping sound and a grin played around her face. She drank the last driblets herself and enjoyed the warmth that spread through her insides, the lightness of her body that followed the magical drink.

She let the bottle roll off her hand carelessly. It didn't shatter but it wouldn't matter if it had. It was her last one. She owned but mere drops in the ones in her bag and they wouldn't last her very long. Nothing could heal her up completely when he slowly gained more wounds with each passing hour. It was a gamble she wondered to have survived for so long.

Sona picked up the shield she'd carefully removed off the corpse's stiff fingers and climbed between the legs of the statue. She heard a faint chuckle from the back of her head. The irony that she was using him as a mean of defense was not beyond her.

The runes lit up brighter, allowing her to read the magical incantation without worrying to read a symbol wrong. His attention was fully on her, curious about the spectacle to unfold.

The words rolled off her tongue and she felt her skin prickle, threads of magic in the air pulling at her fingers and face. Warmth spread through her insides and a ball of flame weaved itself into existence in mid-air. When the last word left her mouth, she averted her gaze from the painfully bright ball to the pile in front. The ball shuddered and in the blink of an eye, it shot towards the rocks.

The impact came as soon as she'd crouched behind the shield, clutching it tightly, holding onto her dear life. The room shook wildly, bright as the day. Burning rocks shot past her and knocked into the shield, a tremble that traveled up her whole arms. Fire licked at the walls and she prayed her bag wouldn't catch fire.

Stars danced in front of her eyes and her skin burned from the heat. It was but an echo, just enough to let her know that the fire hadn't engulfed her but him and she held onto that thought, not wanting to lose consciousness.

It was over as quickly as it had started, the dust and the sparks of fire dancing in the air the only evidence of what had happened. Thick smoke spread through the room and she pulled her tunic over her nose, alarmed. She'd thought that magical fire wouldn't leave the same fumes as normal ones. She kept her breathing shallow when it engulfed her. What should she do?

The impenetrable black wouldn't dissipate for minutes and the swathes sneaked their ways into her lungs. She spit out what entered through her mouth but quickly ended in a coughing fit. Shit. It didn't help that she felt the effects of the potion fade away and the familiar stinging returned, more intense than before. When another cough shook her, she threw the shield away and waded through the dark, her eyes slits against the burning sensation of the smoke brushing them.

She had to find out if he was alright and drag him out of this room. Her legs wobbled, suddenly numb and beyond control. Confusion gave way to horrified realization.

She crouched on all fours when her feet stumbled over the sea of stones. Her free hand felt up the floor, searching for the Dremora, while awkwardly pinning the tunic close to her nose with the other. Her hand brushed over rocks, bruising itself over their rough ends until it grasped something firm and warm. Even if the body was hidden beneath thick armor, the heat managed to shine through. Her vision spun and she clenched her teeth. Not that she could see much but she felt what must have happened and touched her way down his body. Grim joy filled her when she felt both his legs, finally free from their confinement.

Her coughing became worse, the smoke entering further with each she had. She shook the body but it wouldn't move. He wasn't dead, he couldn't be. She reached for his neck, fumbling around the collar of the armor, and felt his beating heart. This couldn't be the end.

Desperately, she tore the fabric of her tunic and held her breath to bind it around his head tightly. Her head spun around, looking for the other Dremora but he was nowhere in sight; not his glowing eyes nor a cough betrayed his presence.

All she had around her were rocks and she could still touch a high pile where she'd sent the fireball to. She regretted her decision. They were deep beneath the earth and if she hadn't even opened up a little hole, it would take hours for the smoke to dissipate, to eat up all air inside.

Sona leaned back, suddenly very tired. Her own stupidity had led her to this place and it was the same stupidity that would mean her death. I have survived longer than any men or mer would have expected, she repeated her own words as if to soothe her beating heart. It was not as if anyone cared whether she lived or died. There was no one but herself. Relying on that had brought her this far, only to succumb to a wall of smoke. Not a daedric creature ended her life but a side effect of nature. She cursed her situation once more before her lids fluttered shut and she drifted into a different kind of black.

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped for breath like a drowning man surfacing the water. She choked on her own attempts and coughed, dry and scratchy to her throat. Her hand shot up around her neck to calm the pain but it wouldn't go away.

It took her minutes to regain her composure. Her body was heavy and exhausted, her head felt groggy and rolled around on the stones behind her as she took in her surroundings with disappointment. The same four-armed statue stared at her as it had always done, a shout on his lips, the gigantic axe raised for battle. The room glowed an eerie red that gave the stones scattered around the room the appearance of rubies flowing to being onyxes where the light didn't reach.

How had she survived? The smoke... her eyes widened as she realized what was wrong with the room and her waking up at all. The smoke had disappeared altogether. She shifted her weight and pushed herself up the wall behind her, when her fingers slipped over something wet on the floor. It didn't take long for the memories to rush through her mind, the dam of the shaky consciousness breaking.

She struggled up with a groan, stumbling all the way to her bag. The fire had made good work of the room, soot blackening the corners and the platform of the statue, rocks torn in half. It hadn't succeeded in destroying anything inside. Dagon's power must be guarding it from harm. The extent of her own musings reached her as she grasped her bag. All inside was guarded. She squeezed the fabric in her hand. Her bag, the corpse, the statue, the living inhabitants.

One glance into the opposite corner revealed her suspicion. The smug-faced Dremora was alive and well, looking unshaken by all that had transpired. His eyes fixed on her with a burning intensity that betrayed his real feelings towards her actions. She tore her gaze away and crouched back to the one she'd freed.

He was still unconscious, which proved to be better for her. She felt calmer without the gnawing, throbbing pain following her every step. She bit her lip at the sight in front of her, while she pulled out the bandages.

The same dark armor adorned his body, streaks of red occasionally peeking through the black, adding a sinister, dangerous feel to it. Her fingers gently followed the lines of red, following the sharp forms of the thick material. Not a spot of skin was uncovered. Her fingers stopped to hover over two deep gashes on his lower back, where the black plates had given in to the pressure and ripped.

With the little she got, the wounds wouldn't heal but it could buy her the time she needed to get out. She didn't dare look at the entrance, the uneasy feeling that she would be disappointed, desperate and angry hindered her from it. Instead she focused on the sides of his armors, searching for clasps to get it off him. She couldn't believe that it was a one-pieced breastplate, too scaled and incarnate were the plates and too agile did they seem to move in them, as far as she remembered her brief encounter. If it were, she would be faced with a whole new problem.

He stirred when she found the first of the well hidden clasps beneath one of the scales winding its way to the front. The pattern continued another three times on both sides and she loosened them first before unclasping the front and back of the armor. Only the back alone made her arms give in before she threw it on the ground.

Different smells greeted her the moment his ebony skin laid bare in front of her and her stomach lurched when blood streamed down around her legs, a lake that had been released when she'd removed the armor that withheld it. Blood was tingled with sweat and had dried around the fringy ends of the torn flesh. Bruises colored the skin up until his shoulder blades in different shades, only shadowing what damage lay beneath.

She couldn't resist the urge to touch her own back, to search for the same wounds but they weren't there. All of his wounds, all of his pain had reflected on her. She glanced on the bloody spot on the arm of her tunic then to the same spot on his arm, where the sword had pierced a hole in the armor. The only reasonable solution was that the gashes had been inflicted before Dagon had cursed them and therefore withdrew from the range of the magic. The pain coming from them was real enough, though.

The blood soaked her pants and made her shiver. She pulled the health potion out and poured little of the liquid onto the open wound. He gasped, growled and she too, winced at the sudden burn. She held him down as she repeated the procedure on the other end. His eyes snapped open and he let out a painful cry before struggling from her grasp, scraping across the floor like a limbless worm. He was unable to stand up and she had no strength to stop him. With him conscious again, all the pain hit her fully, traveling up her spine and her breathing became shallow, her head spun.

"Don't move!" she shouted angrily, holding onto her head. It felt like it would explode. He didn't listen, spat something in his own language at her before continually trying to stand up on his own feet unsuccessfully. His daedric brother decided to help for the first time, although not her but him and it worsened the situation further.

He heaved the other up and gave him halt. Sona screamed as she felt something shatter. Broken! It made no sense for the leg to break now when it had endured endless tons of stone! She forced her legs to move and both obeyed weakly. They were not broken but the pain unbelievably real. She'd escaped barely.

The potion lay shattered on the ground, what was left of its content mixing with the blood. The Dremora retreated into their corner while she stayed in hers. For the first time she allowed herself to take a look at the entrance.

Something inside her cracked when the pile that had loomed into the room had disappeared only to reveal more stone. The corridor was what had collapsed after all. Dagon's power guarded this room. The rules for survival were simple. But impossible to achieve.

Her eyes fluttered open when her head rolled to the side. Darkness greeted her. Not even the runes were lit, Mehrunes Dagon not bothering to watch her any longer. They both knew she was dead. She didn't entertain him any longer. Sona raised the bottle to her lips again, enjoying the warmth that traveled through her body. The wine tasted good, the grapes fruity. She shook the bottle and heard the wine splash around. She'd have enough to last her for a while. The time passed differently when she drifted into sleep and back to life again but it would last long enough until death embraced her.

Sleep she needed but felt deprived of it every time she awoke. Her body had gone on health potions alone, on willpower. She had none any longer. She took another gulp.

Such an interesting adventure she'd witnessed but none would write about it. About the Bosmer that had stolen a magical artifact and escaped the mages for weeks before eventually dying to the darkest creatures on Tamriel. She chuckled. It was a step up from being killed by nature.

It was the first time she thought of the little troublemaker she'd picked up and she placed the bottle down to pull it out of the pocket of her armor. Her mind had been focused on the situation at hand, not wanting to yield to the inevitable. Reality had finally caught up to her, lastly when she noticed the presence of the Daedric Prince fade away. She could rest with the few good memories she had, if she had the time to spare.

She unwrapped the paper and took out the ring with a frown. The small orb on top glowed a bright red, lighting everything within a feet. On closer inspection she saw mists move within, almost peacefully circling in endless eternity.

The ring had never glowed. She turned it around and inspected it from all directions. Why did it glow now – or had it always since she'd entered? The last time she'd taken a look at it was when she'd packed him inside the pocket.

The longer she stared at it, the calmer she felt. It was if the ring spoke to her, patted her hair and told her that all would be good. That he would protect her. She didn't dare take her eyes off it, fearing that the hope it gave her would disappear as soon as she did. It was a breeze that played with her hair, one she hadn't felt in a long time, that forced her away with a quickening heart beat. Why was he here now out of all times?

"I know you're watching, Dagon," she whispered into the dark but he didn't answer her.

It took no great mind to guess what had earned his curiosity, had lured him out from him realms into the mortal world. When she clenched the ring tightly in her hand, the glow disappearing and the darkness engulfing her, she could feel his stare follow her fist. She almost snorted. It was too simple to be true that all it took was a small ring to catch his interest.

'The rules for survival are simple, little one. I am certain you will find out soon enough.'

She stared at the ring inside her hand. She was pretty sure she'd just found out.

This one's long, took a long time to be written and is the introduction to a hopefully long story. I plan to take this further than just a few chapters inside a dark ruin. The setting does get a little repetitive. ;)

One of the reviewers has asked and guessed right: this currently takes place in Morrowind, Vvardenfell. No great knowledge is needed because this story plays out a few years after the game's plot and just a year or so before Oblivion's. Mehrunes Dagon is preparing his invasion and is growing in strength. And we will find out how exactly Sona fits into all of that.