Rastislav
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Arc 8 Chapter CXLIII: Plucked Ascent
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 21:29:46 +0000 UTCAn: Was just about to post the chap like an hour ago and patreon decided to die on me.
L
Anway!
So endeth this grand conflict.
Tomorrow awaits an epilogue of sorts, and le break begins.
I shall naturally be pausing payments on patreon for the duration of a month (a tad unreasonable to ask for y'all to pay me when I am doing jack shit), so no worries about that.
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Before he even realized what he was doing, Narsis unsheathed his blade and pointed it at the traitor before him, the demand of "What in Oblivion do you think you are doing?!" Rushing to his lips.
For a moment it seemed as if Finarfin would ignore him, the temptation to simply stab the bastard and be done with it growing within the nobleman, only for the Overlord to allow his focus to split and turn to face him "Treason, Kinlord? At this hour?"
The question lacked even the slightest trace of fear.
Narsis glared, eyes filled with hatred, and spat out "Do not speak to me of treason, cur! You and your ilk have done nothing but drag our people through the mud ever since you committed the ultimate sin and betrayed the Arana!" The sword in his hand shook from sheer fury "And now you seek to drag us even deeper?"
He expected a rebuke, a retort, hell even an attempt to kill him would have been better than what came in truth, as the Overlord first chuckled and then threw his head back and laughed, the noise carrying no humor but sheer madness as some comedy only he could behold played out before the traitor's eyes.
Narsis felt sweat rolling down the sides of his face as he gripped his sword like a lifeline.
No doubt feeling that the Kinlord was about to run out of nerve and lunge, Finarfin lowered his gaze back to him and sneered "Oh how precious, you nobles and your obsession with that damned name. Always so blind to what is happening before your very eyes.."
"What madness are you trying to imply?" Narsis demanded.
"I was born in this accursed palace, you know?" The Overlord said simply and without preamble, the delivery so flat he may as well have been speaking of the weather "Exactly one hundred and eighty years ago."
At first, Narsis thought he spoke of being the son of a servant but then it clicked for him. The rapid growth in power, the natural bearing of authority, the way the palace's wards reacted to him with such welcoming ease, and lastly the very birth celebration he himself participated in, back in those more peaceful times "Impossible" He muttered, half hopeful, half despairing.
"I see you aren't quite as blind as you try to appear, Kinlord" Finarfin drawled "For I am the very Arana you so seek to glorify, I am the boy who was hidden away as his family was slaughtered before his very eyes, who had to watch his weakling father fail to defend what was his."
The Kinlord merely stood there, shaking.
It seemed almost as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he exhaled "So tell me, Narsis, now that you have been given that useless name, to whom do you, and everyone on this island owe their loyalty?" His expression firmed into a glare "To whom do you owe your obedience?"
"To the King" The older elf muttered as his sword fell uselessly from his grasp "But why? Why join the traitors? I do not understand."
"Revenge, quite plainly" Finarfin answered simply "One I would have enacted once victory was achieved." A mocking sneer wormed its way onto his face "Now that your morality has shown the truth of its depths, do guard the door, you are not useful for much more."
Narsis, feeling utterly numb, stepped away from the well of souls, and allowed himself to slide down a nearby pillar, completely lost as to what he needed to do.
---
(Reyvin's POV)
A snap of my fingers caused the fireball in the soldier's free hand to detonate, killing him instantly and incinerating half of his unit, the sudden opening giving ample time for Minthara and the Dragon Banner to rush them down and butcher them without so much as taking a wound.
With a lazy eyeroll, I looked up to find the hundreds of arrows the palace guard had been flinging at us for the past few minutes just standing there, levitating ominously. I waited for the right moment, and just as Minthara smashed the gates of Alinor's palace apart, I rolled an index finger, twisting the projectiles around and launching them back to sender with far more explosive force than their flimsy little bows.
The battlements and towers above us exploded in a mess of blood and stone, showering us in dust and filth.
Not that any of us really cared, the filth refusing to stick to me while warriors around me simply did not care.
A deafening roar echoed from the city's northern district and I felt through my connection as Krein cast a cascade of death, spreading even more chaos in the enemy lines.
Shaking my head in slight pity, I flickered through the formation of warriors, just in time to see Minthara slap a mage's head off while ordering another's blood to detonate, braining the Dremora he uselessly summoned faster than anyone but me could see.
We took a moment to check for injuries and resumed our stroll, the waves and waves of the Thalmor high command's most elite falling before us with insulting ease, doubly so when Scorch began sowing his usual terror, cutting apart entire squads before detonating himself whenever he was injured, just to reemerge a mere minute later.
Even Skirnir balked at the amount of eyeless corpses, but only for a moment. Shouting apart the High Justiciar attempting to grandstand at us when we reached the reception hall was far more entertaining to the Nord.
To my surprise, the shout was not enough to outright end the fucker, even if it was a full three word unrelenting force from a Nord mortal, but I wasn't about to let him regenerate and flee and simply crashed through the internal wards with all the elegance of an out of control buss, and cut his head off with Blasphemy.
"So many years of pain and suffering" I heard Minthara mutter under her helm "And they can't even offer a satisfying dying whimper."
As I saw a group of Justiciars cowering in terror beside me, I found myself in agreement to my dear wife, and telekinetically snapped their necks.
This was not a battle.
It was a cleanup.
-----
(General POV)
Kinlord Narsis of Shimmerene felt utterly dead as he watched his King resume his ritual, drawing dozens of innocent souuls into the growing well below him every second while two ravenous Daedra observed from the outside.
"It is time" The statement drew his deadened gaze to the elf in question, his arms spread widely in exultation as perfectly balanced and controlled soul energy flickered in and out of his form, preparing him for what was to come.
But for all the power surging through him, Narsis noticed a flicker of worry in Finarfin's eyes, and was soon shown the reason as he felt a shudder pass through the ancient stones of the palace, and heard the distant sounds of battle within the building itself.
He was given no further time to consider as Finarfin kept speaking "Be honored Narsis, for you will witness what our people have been seeking for eras." He rose his hand and clutched his fist "When I win and enact my vengeance you will understand, that every sacrifice made this day will have been worth it."
"Or maybe you will not" He tilted his head "All that matters in the end is your obedience."
Narsis said nothing as the energies of the ritual shuddered and rose from the well of souls, the glee of the two monstrosities just beyond the veil growing increasingly palpable with each passing second.
Out of the corner of his eye, just at the edge of his vision, Narsis saw a flicker move through the shadows.
He almost ignored it but the tension in the air forbade him from waving it off like he did so many other things in his long life.
He went to speak.
But then he paused.
The wails of the souls he could swear he heard, the feeling of sheer wrongness surrounding him, the judging stares of the statues of the Divines surrounding the chamber... All of it forbade Narsis from ignoring yet another atrocity.
He could not fight his King- No, the Overlord of the Thalmor traitors.
But he would also do nothing to protect him.
Narsis prayed to his ancestors for guidance and called "My King."
Finarfin did not move but the Kinlord could still feel his gaze on him.
"Is this truly the way you wish to follow?" He pleaded one final time "It is not yet too late, set the souls of our kin free-"
"Silence." The command shook the throne room "I will not be questioned at the moment of my triumph. Not by you nor anyone else." A finger covered in swirling soul energy pointed at him "Keep your whimpering to yourself, lest you wish to join the others."
For a single moment, Narsis knew deep in his soul that he could still warn him.
The moment seemed to stretch to infinity within his mind as his thoughts raced, but no matter how he loved the name itself, the bearer before him was unworthy. And so Kinlord Narsis closed his eyes... and let the moment pass him by.
Slowed by his focus on the ritual as he was, Finarfin only managed to half turn as he felt movement behind him, far too late to stop a lunging cowl covered figure, rising his hands defensively and making the energy of the ritual coil around him protectively.
But he was never the actual target, as the assassin instead slammed his dagger into the edge of the ritual circle, his weapon pulsating with power and unleashing its full assault upon the delicate work of magic itself.
For a moment nothing happened, both Altmer and Daedra stunned by the sudden twist.
And then the ritual blew up.
The assassin was blown away, smashing into a wall and disappearing a moment later, Narsis himself was launched away and he could swear he heard two loud thuds coming from the vague directions of the two altars.
Finarfin was nowhere near as fortunate, as his physical form was simply removed from existence, the sole thing keeping him even vaguely in the land of the living now was the vortex of souls he was desperately trying to absorb without the filtering effects of the ritual.
Narsis could swear the incoherent noise currently assaulting his ears was in fact a scream of primal terror.
One that only grew in intensity as the two Daedra recovered from the interruption... and began shoving more and more power into their 'ally'.
The Kinlord felt no pity for the traitor as his soul began to whimper.
...But the suffering was seemingly not enough for the wrath of the Divines, as the barred doorway leading into the throne room was smashed open, the Overlord's most trusted High Justiciar flying through like a projectile before skidding across the polished floor like a boneless rag, his trail ending a foot away from the screaming amalgam of souls.
He tried to get up, only to be grabbed by a dozen spectral hands and dragged off into the vortex of energy, never to be seen again.
A shudder passed through the throne room, and the ritual seemed to stabilize just a tiny bit, the rushing mess firming itself into something vaguely resembling a large mortal form filled to near-bursting with Daedric 'blessings.'
Two figures followed the High Justiciar inside, one clad in steel and imperial crimson, face covered in an ancient tusked mask, while the other bore armored robes in Dagoth black and purple, both of them leaving a trail of blood behind them as the liquid slid off their enchanted garb.
'Maybe the madness would soon end.' Thought Narsis, as his head wound finally caught up to him and he lost consciousness.
---
(Reyvin's POV)
Both Minthara and I stopped in our tracks as the... thing? before us became more coherent as a being, the amalgamation of torturous darkness and cruel light only vaguely resembling a person in both looks and aura as winds that would kill most mortals whipped in each and every direction, gouging the walls of the once glorious throne room and throwing stone and debris everywhere.
The thing that was once an Altmer was now a mess of jagged spikes and gleaming golden plates, completely asymmetric in appearance and metaphysically unstable. So unstable in fact that I would not be surprised if it was only capable of existing for an hour before its 'patrons' dragged it kicking and screaming to be devoured.
A rather deserved fate, even if I was not about to allow it to happen.
"No!" It roared/screeched/begged "I will not fall like this! I will ascend!"
I felt the familiar grips of Molag and Meridia egging the poor fucker on, my frown swiftly replaced by a smirk as a cunning plan swiftly formed within my mind. One shared quick look with Minthara and a quick mental conversation later, we readied our weapons, and advanced.
Immediately, I allowed my mortal form to dissipate, displaying quite plainly the truth of what I was, and making the once-Overlord scream and lash out with both his weapons, one a replica of Molag's Mace while the other was a shimmering mess that looked vaguely like Dawnbreaker.
It was like Meridia was begging me to ruin her day.
I slipped out of the mace's path, unbothered by the destructive wind it kicked up as I allowed the Dawnbreaker replica to fall upon my own blade, my metaphysical ownership and weight as a greater being allowing me to slice through the thing as if it were made of paper.
The sword, and thus the souls it contained, cracked open, and I shoved as much of my divinity as I could within, channeling my returned Shroud to conceal what I was doing from the peeking fuckwads above.
A wave of roiling soul energy lashed out at me a moment later, forcing me to teleport away for but a moment as Minthara appeared in front of him and smashed the incoherently screaming motherfucker in the groin with her warhammer.
Just as planned, I leapt back in with Blasphemy, coating it with my divinity and delivering slash after slash upon the amalgam of souls and suffusing it with as much of my authority as I could conceivably regenerate.
A full minute passed like this, with Minthara smashing what remained of the Overlord around like a child while I drained myself over and over again, the only thing stopping me from just saying fuck it and blowing the unstable fucker up being my evergrowing spite towards those who would use others as pawns to get back at me.
An act they would pay for dearly.
It was the least I could do for a people so thoroughly betrayed by those they were meant to trust.
(General POV)
Beyond the veil of normality, two Daedra observed the ongoing battle. Fooled by the semi-divine pair's hesitance to end their foe, they stood assured that their puppet would be able to extract some manner of vengeance upon their hated foe.
"What a waste of time." Molag Bal growled, scarred clawed hand clutching a jagged mace "The fool should have begun the ritual before his city was under siege."
Beside him, the usually perfect face of Meridia was marred by a sneer as she glared down upon Nirn "The pathetic coward still hoped to evade our deal. It took the enemy being at the gates for him to finally cave."
All worthy mortals were like that, so neither was truly surprised. They got what they wanted in the end, as was their right.
Below them the battle continued, with the amalgam of souls drawing more and more power each second and failing to catch up to its foes, the pair of demigods continuously landing counter attacks but seemingly failing to do any real damage.
It was almost suspicious, considering what they knew happened in Apocrypha.
Molag was too taken by the sight of the fight, but Meridia who for all her capriciousness was the far less impulsive of the two understood their foe was an insidious one, and paid close attention to what was going on.
And there! Just as the remnant of the Overlord was slammed against a statue of Auri-El, the statue's stone blade seemingly doing actual damage to the creature, she saw a flicker of grey flame overtake a small fragment of her judging light beneath its armor, and immediately understood something was wrong.
"A trap!" She called, clutching her hands.
"Again!?" Molag glared first at the battlefield and then at her "How certain are you?"
"He is preparing something" She said simply, both of them understanding deeply how resourceful the accursed elf was "We should withdraw."
Molag grunted, smashing his hand into a spectral wall that was not there a moment ago, and nodded "We should at least take the souls."
She wanted to protest but stopped herself, her ranks had been thinned and any opportunity to replenish them was welcome "Indeed." She agreed and extended her hand towards the projection of Nirn.
With a synchronicity that could only ever be born of absolute spite, the duo pulled at their failed puppet, dragging it apart before their enemy's eyes and forcing the pair of demigods to leap away and guard themselves.
Unwilling to squabble once again, Molag and Meridia split the souls equally, and with one final scream of agony, what was left of Finarfin Arana of Alinor was unmade.
The two Daedra glared at each other for a moment and then forced themselves to nod.
At that exact moment the souls reached their respective realms.
The power pushed through their defenses, welcomed as a new addition instead of an invasion... And before either Molag or Meridia could react, the streams of pale blue and brilliant gold turned into a familiar, baleful grey.
And the edges of Coldharbor and the Colored Rooms detonated.
The last thing they heard before their 'colleagues' began pillaging their realms with reckless abandon was the maddened cackling of a certain ascended elf, the child of Akatosh beside him rolling on the ground as he informed her of what just happened.
-----
Narsis' eyes snapped open as he felt a splash of icy water fall onto his face, the battered Kinlord sitting up with a gasp and taking greedy breaths before finding the one who had dared to pull such a childish prank on him.
His indignance disappeared as quickly as it arrived, replaced by terror and sorrow as he beheld the Septim and the Dagoth standing above him without the slightest tensions in their posture.
"Hello Narsis" Lord Dagoth greeted, his crown absent from his head and blade leaning against the ground "Had a nice nap?"
He was in no mood for levity, and immediately demanded with a rasp "The Overlord?"
"Worse than dead I am afraid." The Dragonborn sneered.
"Good" Narsis nodded without hesitation and repeated a bit more weakly "Good..."
The sword in Lord Dagoth's hand disappeared as his expression brightened "Ah, excellent. I hoped I wouldn't have to gut you." He clapped his hands "I am afraid as you are now the highest ranked member of the Alinori government still alive, I am going to need you to announce your official surrender."
Still disoriented, Narsis waved the demand off with a scoff, he had greater concerns "What of the souls? Did the Daedra take them?!"
Reyvin barked a laugh "I assure you, I permitted nothing of the sort."
"So they are free?" Narsis closed his eyes and exhaled.
"As free as the dead can be" Lord Dagoth nodded with a surprising solemnity in his eyes "The attempted crime against Nirn was not allowed to occur, an act you'd be wise to thank us for."
The Kinlord ignored the oddly fitting term, and merely bowed his head "It is as you say. Alinor is at your mercy."
And thus ended the Second Great War. The Empire triumphant, and the Dominion broken, never to rise again.
Comments
Hakkira
Thank you kindly for the chapter đ
Rastislav
The thought is appreciated but I can't reasonably ask that people give their hard earned money for nothing. Even if some may be willing most would rightly disagree. Don't worry, I will survive a month :P
Skid MyCrack
It's fine if you keep the billing active, we know you have to make money and the hole point people typically come and subscribe to a patron is other then more chapters is to support the other keep the billing so we can keep funding you
