Itansehk and Drujeeta drifted alongside Hasir as if they were whispers on the wind. When they approached the magnificent temple - strikingly different from the drab atmosphere of the bluish-black stone standing like bi-colored dragon guarding eggs of the brightest shade of white, Hasir grabbed hold of the giant brass locked that looked like a dragon's head and knocked.
On each side of the door, great bronze eyes erupted and became bright as the great fires of Oblivion. Hasir gasped as he and his companions were bathed in an eerie green light that descended vertically, admitting them entry. Hasir's eyes grew wide as he beheld the massive room beyond the opened doors.
As if in a trance, Hasir stepped into the brilliant columned room, marvelled at the giant stone arch at the anteior of the chamber as he drew deeper into the chamber and sat a a rather ornate looking polished stone table flanked by similar looking chairs. He and his aunt and father sat down.
Drujeeta's eyes filled with tears as she looked at the seemingly endless hall of pillars.
"Oh my..." She gasped, hand flying to her mouth. Her amazed expression turned dour. "I wonder how the aylieds managed to build here, in the midst of Nirn's darket daedric realm?"
She glanced over to Hasir and Itansehk, inviting them to offer up theories. Itansehk looked stone-faced but Hasir spoke his mind.
"I have a theory that the daedric realms were once situated underwater; water of which the gods created upon first constructing the planet from the nothingness that was the void. I think this ruin is not of Aylied make, rather, it is of sea elven make. See, my expoundation of the theory is that the sea elves predated Bosmer, Altmer, and yes, even Dunmer. That is why I theorize that the sea elves somehow escaped Molag Bal's influence and fled to the seas. I think Nirn was covered with nothing but sea and the continent we now know as Tamriel cropped up sometime at a later date."
Drujeeta became rather thoughtful at this and, also, impressed.
"Good theory, however, I doubt we will ever get a straight answer." A smile broke the illusion of thought, "We can, however, ask a certain daedric resident of one such realm."
Hasir crossed his claws and hope to Hircine that she was not insinuating to involve Sheogorath in this. She eyed him and laughed, shaking her head.
"If not Sheogorath, then who? Hasir did his best shrug. Drujeeta became pensive, thinking harder than the dumbest rock. "Hmm.." She snapped her fingers, coming to a realization.."I know just the daedra." Hasir furrowed his brow as she called to the empty room at large. "Hermaeus Mora, I humbly request your knowledge."
The male Argonian screwed his face up and launched himself at his mother; pinning her to an ivory stone pillar.
"Are you insane?" He asked. "Why on Tamriel would you involve him in this? Surely, his servant, Scruut, is a better candidate?"
Drujeeta struggled against the steely grip of her son's claws. Finally managing to wriggle free, She glared at him in shock.
"That was the only choice I had; either that or Sheogorath. Hircine knows what he would do, probably turns us or the whole pristine palace into cheese or something." She pointed a threatening claw at him, "Also, if you ever handle me like that again, I'm afraid I will have to feed you to your father. Hircine knows he's been itching for revenge to being turned into a walking being of Oblivion."
Hasir, tail tucked between his legs, apologized. Just then, a dark greenish-black portal appeared. The ink permeating the portal became fluid and out swam a hideous creatures with what looked like eyeballs encompassing his otherworldly form. Hasir's jaw dropped.
"What good will that do? I thought you were going for Sheogorath or Azura or ithelia. They are more suitable than Hermaeus." He looked at Drujeeta and sneered, "What do you expect him to do? Spray ink at us? Suffocate us with his bottomless books?" He said laughing.
Inigo shot Hasir a nasty look; waggling his finger at him disapprovingly.
"My friend, have faith in her. She must have a worthy reason in summoning him." He moved over to where Hasir sat, grabbed his tail and the Argonian fell flat on his face, "Now, be a good hatchling and sit down and shut up." He ignored the hissing, snarling Argonian and gestured for the old, more seasoned Saxhleel to continue.
Drujeeta smiled at thus rather kind gesture and, in turn, gestured to the monstrous eyeball. There was a sound like a Wamasu growling as the god of the void cleared his throat.
"Thank you for the delightful summoning. Yes, it is true that all Oblivion was once underwater." Hasir eyed him suspiciously. The green swirling vortex nodded as to put the Argonian's suuspicions at ease. "I have many books on this very topic. It has become at hotbed of much debate amongst scholars and, many daedra themselves as they believe chaotic creatia is merely a substance for them to be reborn from and not leftover from when water resided above the realms."
Hasir became pensive and decided the plausibility of the ink void's words. He lent ginst one of the ivory pillars dotting the main room to soak it all in.
"Hmm... makes sense. Why though, didn't the Moarmer themselves confirm this? I wonder... could Molag Bal be a moarmer transformed by Meridia due to some wrongdo and, if so, is currently seeking revenge on her?"
Hermaeus eyed the argonian with careful comprehension.
"It is.... possible, but if Molag Bal were Moarmer himself then how do you explain him being one of the 'daedric' creators of Oblivion having broken away from Aedric control with the other fifteen?"
Hasir frowned; taking this into consideration.
"Fair point. If Molag Bal didn't influence the Moarmer to settle what was once underwater, who did?"
Hermaeus turned toward Hasir as if to answer but, just like a bolt of a crossbow, Inigo came running up to him.
"My friend. I went to explore the temp,e's depths and I found a church black as night. Inside said church, I found, at the rear, double silver doors. I guess they lead to the Moonless walk. Where the Quad of fate, as told be Khamara herself, are held captive."
Hasir, Nanaki, Drujeeta and Itansehk followed Inigo through halls of pillars and ivory-stoned rooms to a graveyard. It was moreorless a bare bit of land with weeds overtaking it. Within it lay a multitude of ebony graves, some were legible while others looked like one more good tornado or hurricane could finish them off.
Hasir moved through rows of dead brambles until he could just make out the silver writing on one of the more legible ebony slabs. He knelt down to examine it.
"This chunk of ebony says that a man named Lucien died here." He shook his head in disbelief. "That can't be right." I met with him months, if not years ago and he seemed fine. I hesiitate to think more dark brotherhood members are buried here.Can someone shine a light on this dark cloud？'
Nanaki walked along the rows of ebony to join him, likewise kneeling down.
"I think I can shed some light. Hasir, these tombs are echoes created by Molag Bal. Think of a bookmark holding places in a book only these are placemarkers for a more sinister purpose."
The Argonian looked aprhensively at the khaajit; unsure if he wanted the answer.
" ...and the sssinisster purposse?" He hissed nervously. "What is it?"
The khajiit looked as if he had swallowed a bad bit of Thelule. He told the Argonian that the purpose of the tombstones were to form the ilkusion that the peop,e depicted on them had been drained of life lime a mortal of blood. He informed Hasir that the exact purpose was to serve as placeholders for those ill-fated mortals to be consumed by the chaotic creata upon death and reborn as soulless slaves of Molag Bal; the soul shriven.
Hasir's spit sizzled on the bluish black ground, forcing Inigo and Nanaki to pull faces of disgust.
"Is that who Khamara, nature gods curse her, is? Is she a soul shriven as well? Is her grave among these?" He said, gesturing to the ebony slabs. " The logic makes sense if you think about it. Khamara shed her coat of mortal fur for one of a monstrosity, so it stands to reason that her grave should be here."
Nanaki pondered this for a while and, ultimately, found that the Argonian had some merit to his stance.
"It's possible." He mused. "I saw her transform, so, I guess it's true. Molag Bal is, above all things, a taskmaster and isn't afraid to lead us on with naught but a sliver of meat to nibble at."
Hasir shrugged and followed Nanaki and Inigo to the massive blackstone cathedral; it's fobeboding facade facing the lonely churchyard. They forewent admiring its rose window and, likewise, impressive stained glass windows and crossed the threshold.
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