Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, if it had been I would have been rich.
Chapter I. To the Beginning of Time.
Harry Potter bit his lip in frustration. Uncle Vernon had locked up his trunk, and all his magical things along with it, in the cupboard under the stairs. Harry knew it better as his former room. He was having a bit of difficulty with the padlock that Uncle Vernon had fastened, never having picked a lock before despite the rumours.
Now normally it would seem strange that a twelve year old boy had to pick open a lock on a cupboard just so that he could do his homework. But Harry Potter was not normal really, he was a wizard, an orphaned wizard who had managed to survive and vanquish the darkest wizard in over a century. Lord Voldemort… Tom Marvolo Riddle. Both names sent shivers of fear and burst of anger and hate through him.
It was Voldemort's fault that Harry had to skulk around Privet Drive like some criminal (thanks to Uncle Vernon's rumours). It was Voldemorts fault that Harry had to grow up with a family who hated him so much that he was physically and emotionally abused for ten years, treated worse than the lowest of slaves. In anger he smashed his fist into the cupboard door, the resulting pain further darkened his mood.
He really needed to get his trunk so that he could do his homework, as he'd rather not have to explain to McGonagall why he had failed to do even one of his summer assignments, that and Snape would kill him or put him in a month's detention at the very least (with great pleasure as well on Snape's part)
Harry sighed and dropped his hands to his side. The hairpin from Aunt Petunia wasn't working very well on its own. He couldn't depress all the tumblers necessary with it alone, no matter how much he tried to manipulate it, but the lock was too thin to jam another hairpin through.
'Try a paperclip next time with the hairpin', a musical feminine voice whispered just over Harry's shoulder. He turned, but found nothing there. A cold shiver ran through his spine as he thought of the events just a few weeks prior—the Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk, Parselmouth. He certainly didn't want another repeat to happen on Privet Drive. Not that Voldemort could've hidden an ancient snake under the floorboards of number four, but...
'Get back to your room! Your uncle's coming!' urged the voice. Harry spent half a second deliberating before deciding it was better to hear an imaginary voice than to get caught by Uncle Vernon.
He flew up the stairs just as the kitchen door began to open. That confirmed that the voice was no longer imaginary. Either that or he'd developed some rather extremely accurate senses with enough consciousness to speak warnings to him. Dead helpful for Quidditch, he imagined.
Once inside his room, he leaned back against the door.
"I'm going mad," murmured Harry as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I've cracked... It's finally happened. I'm gonna wake up tomorrow and find that there's no Hogwarts, and Uncle Vernon's shipped me off to the loony-bin."
Harry pulled off his thick, clunky circular glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was some sort of remnant from the previous term? From using the diary? Did Ginny suffer from this as well? Dumbledore had said she'd be fine, but... Well, she'd been almost drained dry by Voldemort's memory. He'd less time with it and yet he's hallucinating.
'Haven't you heard that brilliance and insanity are two sides of the same coin?' chuckled the mystery voice. It didn't sound like a snake, but then again, Harry wasn't always conscious of when he spoke Parselmouth. The voice was musical, soft and warm with a hidden glint of intelligence mixed in it.
Harry realized that the voice was coming from the end of his bed, not over his shoulder as it had been downstairs. He narrowed his eyes, trying to find out if anything—or anyone—was actually in his room besides himself. From all he knew it could be everything from a slightly… off House Elf like Dobby to an invisible Vampire who had decided to use him as his next snack and merely wanted to play with his food so to speak first, Harry shuddered at the implications.
"You've met Professor Dumbledore then?" question Harry aloud, trying to keep a conversation going as he gave his room a search. Hedwig was the only other being in his room and she was... Hang on, she was rotating her head as if following the movements of someone in the room!
'Well, I wouldn't say 'met,' said the voice. Harry could hear the smile in it. 'I've observed him from time-to-time, yes. Curious fellow'.
Harry's eyes tracked the movements of Hedwig's eyes and found that the voice moved accordingly. Someone under an Invisibility Cloak, then? His Invisibility Cloak, maybe?
Steeling himself Harry jumped to where the voice was located at the end of his bed. "Sodding fuckin hell that hurts", Harry swore as he tried to blink away the tears that had formed in his eyes. Instead of catching the mysterious woman following him he had met nothing but air, until his face was prematurely introduced to his closet door.
"BOY!" roared Uncle Vernon from the other side of the door.
"Sorry Uncle!" Harry said quickly, "I tripped out of my bed".
Uncle Vernon's indistinct mutterings could still be heard through Harry's door. Something sounded like "clumsy freak" to Harry's ears, but after so many years with the Dursley's he could ignore whatever they told him- mostly at least.
A faint chuckle could be heard in Harry's room, rankling his skin and short temper.
'Not bad, Master Harry, not bad at all', said the voice. 'I'm afraid the rules don't work that way'.
"Rules?" parroted Harry. "What rules?"
Harry got the distinct impression of a shrug. 'Rules. You can't touch something that's intangible, and you can't see something that's invisible'.
"Hedwig can see you," pointed out Harry, glancing over to his trusty owl.
'Hedwi—oh..'. The voice had trailed off and now Hedwig was climbing up her cage backwards. Harry took that to mean the apparition was moving towards her. 'Hmph. Never underestimate the magic in a magical owl. And here I thought myself to be ever so clever, naturally I have once again outsmarted myself', the voice said with something that could only sound like a pout.
"Who are you?" demanded Harry. "What are you?"
'Who I am, and what I was, I'm sorry to say, you probably wouldn't believe', said the woman. The muscles around Harry's eyes were quivering as he tried to focus on the air in front of him. Maybe there might be a shimmer in the air, or a vague outline, or something. 'What I am, however, is a little more plausible. You're taking Divination, yes?'
"Um yes," said Harry slowly. 'How can she possibly know that?'
A sigh came from the air. The woman could be no higher than little over five feet if the height from the sounds was anything to go by.
'It's not all a load of bull, you know. I mean, well, it is no more than speculative bullshit because the future isn't set in stone. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. But that doesn't mean that we can't see some ends—and beginnings too. Astrology truly does give one an accurate representation of a person's base characteristics, and let's not forget that the celestial bodies possess a power all their own—witness it with werewolves. Centaurs are particularly adept with scrying through the stars. But it takes a keen eye and plenty of magic to pluck one thread from the ever shifting fabric of time.
"So...you're projecting yourself from the future? The past?" inquired Harry with furrowed brow.
'No, no', laughed the woman. 'I suppose I got a little off tangent, didn't I? I was merely saying that Divination has its merits, but it's not faultless. For instance, I modified a measure of astral projection, though it appears I'd also had some help from Zen Buddhism, not to mention that my unique connection to the realms of Oblivion. I had no idea, of course. I couldn't. Not when you consider my physical limitations', she sighed wistfully.
"What limitations?" asked Harry, he collapsed back onto his bed and stared out his now barless window. It was easier than trying to speak at someone who wasn't there. Or...was there but couldn't be seen...
'Well, I've been trapped for a very long time, Master Harry—well over six thousand years, point of fact'.
"That's impossible! You—you have to be a ghost! No one can live that long" declared Harry, twisting around to scan his room again.
'I assure you, Master Harry, my body is quite preserved. She saw to that', she growled.
'Salina, my sister whom I took upon myself to teach everything so that she would be prepared for the world as it was back in those days'.
"Salina?" Harry frowned. He swore he'd heard that name before. Something about it tugged at his memory.
'Ah, I probably shouldn't have dropped that at this point', the woman said apologetically. 'It's been much too long since I've actually interacted with another. I'm really amazed that this worked, not to mention that you're receptive enough to hear me. But I suppose if you can wrap your mind around the fact that I've been wandering for close to four and a half thousand years...'
"You said you were trapped for six thousand!" Harry accused sharply.
'I am', the voice assured him. 'It took fifteen hundred years for me to separate my mind and soul from its body. Fifteen hundred years of seeing nothing but bluish crystals and the vague earth beyond. I think I almost went mad—in fact, I probably did go mad… not that I claim to have ever been sane but I digress, four and a half millennia of wandering the world as a spirit? Catching up on lost history and watching it unfold? To see it change from what it once was? It helped me exert some control over my predicament. It helped me regain my sanity… somewhat at least', she finished with a chuckle.
Harry was very sure that the woman was still questionably insane, but he decided to keep shut for now. "Why did she trap you?"
Because... Because I wanted to protect her. I wanted to keep her away from the power hungry system that was so popular those days. I could always see it. She desired power like any other mage in those days, and the fact that I had it in buckets did not help I believe. Yet I was blinded by my love for the last piece of family I had left. I believed that if I took her away from the world and it became just me and her we could finally be together as real sisters, as a real family', she sighed, and Harry could hear her voice break just a little.
'No!' said the voice vehemently. Never! There are lines that even I do not cross, or else be branded as monster or worse. I never forced Salina to join me in my exile from the world I had grown to loathe, but I suppose creating a new realm so to speak for us to be lost in would be just as bad. She recognized what it was, at least, and trapped me in the entrance to that realm that was to be our home. A word to the wise, Master Harry, never anger family—or a woman in general they will if you excuse my language, fuck you over like no one else. It is a lesson that I shall take to heart', she said sardonically.
Harry thought of Ron's comment about Hermione in first year—about how she was brilliant but scary—and thought that the woman had a fair point.
"But you've had four and a half thousand years, you said," pondered Harry thoughtfully. "Why haven't you been able to free yourself?"
'Ah, well, that is slightly more complicated, Master Harry,' explained the voice patiently. 'I am invisible and intangible, as I said. That limits my options, as you might imagine. Moreover, few can hear me. More to the point, I must be cautious in who I trust. I cannot allow just anyone to hold my fate in their hands. Trust, as I think you understand, is a very fragile thing, the fact that I am a Telvanni would also explain some of my paranoia'.
"And you trust me?" Harry snorted. "Why, because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?"
'I won't deny that your title brought you to my attention. I am intangible, after all, not omniscient. But I have been watching you ever since your Professor Dumbledore deposited you on this hated house. I've watched you grow in adversity and become better for it. To be honest, I see so much of myself in you'.
"How can I help you though?" wondered Harry as he pondered over what the—well, ghost for lack of a better word—had said. He'd been watched his whole life by this thing without knowing? All the things he'd said and done, he heard? Harry thought he might've bristled, he might've raged out at the indecency of it all, but there was something in the woman's voice... An understanding and camaraderie... "I can't do magic outside of school. I'll get in trouble."
'I notice you split that into two phrases', chuckled the voice. 'Were you really concerned about trouble, you would've joined it all together, or possibly have voiced the trouble part first. In any event, Master Harry, I doubt you'll have to worry about your Ministry of Magic's Improper Use of Magic office.
After everything that had happened last year with the diary, Harry knew he shouldn't trust something when he didn't know where its brain was kept, but the urge to do magic outside of Hogwarts—to do something fun and maybe teach the Dursleys a lesson...
"How can I trust you if I don't know anything about you?" Harry questioned at last. "You might've been watching me, but this is the first I've seen—err, well, heard, I reckon—of you."
'A fair point', agreed the ghost. 'Well, after four and a half millennia, patience is probably one of my better virtues. I shall make you a deal, Master Harry. Every night, I will teach you a new trick, I will help you with your homework, and I will tell you a little about my life. I shall keep my name a secret for reasons that shall become apparent once I reveal it. Fair'?
"Fair," said Harry. "And it's just Harry. You don't have to call me 'master.'"
'Well, I don't mean it in the respect you think', said the voice. 'To me, calling one 'master' or 'serjo' is the same as you calling someone 'mister.' I suppose you'll need some name to reference me by. Hmmm... How about…Zafirbel'?
"All right, Zafirbel. Pleasure to meet you."
'And you as well, Harry. Now, let's get started on your first trick. It should help in liberating your supplies from your old room'.
And so everyday for the next week, Harry learned wandless magic from Zafirbel. It was different from Hogwarts in that there was either no incantations or movements for the magic to occur, simply amount of will desire and imagination or simply gathering up his magic and sending it out through his hand with a simple command, his subconscious and amount of magic put into the spell made all the difference.
Zafirbel had told him. 'When
I was young and all alone, magic, and perhaps a shiny sharp dagger
was mine only friend. You've done magic yourself without a wand.
You vanished the glass when you spoke to the snake in the Surrey
Zoo'. 'The magic of the Founders, of Hogwarts, and of
wands, are a strictly Roman philosophy with roots in the old Persian
culture. They carried it over when they invaded these lands. They
thought that magic could be better controlled if it went through more
restrictions before producing an end result. Thus, they taught that
in order for a wizard to control their powers, they must speak an
incantation and do a proper wand movement'.
'The magic of the Founders, of Hogwarts, and of wands, are a strictly Roman philosophy with roots in the old Persian culture. They carried it over when they invaded these lands. They thought that magic could be better controlled if it went through more restrictions before producing an end result. Thus, they taught that in order for a wizard to control their powers, they must speak an incantation and do a proper wand movement'.
"But if that's not correct, then why is it that I can't produce spells without them?" Harry had replied, thinking back to his first year with Hermione and the Levitation Charm.
'Because you were trained to think that way', was Zafirbels's reply. 'What the mind believes, the body follows. You believed that it was the only way, and so your mind would not produce the result otherwise. Know this, Harry, that in your sixth year, you will begin to cast spells nonverbally. Nonverbally. Curious, then, the reason they don't teach you that to begin with'.
"And the wand? Mr. Ollivander said—"
'Mr. Ollivander is not wrong. The wand focuses the wizard's power and intent—in a strictly Roman way—and so it must be properly attuned to the wizard who will use it. However, if you want to get by the Improper Use of Magic Office, you'd best not use a wand. They track it, you see. They can tell how long a wand has been in use, which is a stark difference from how long a wand has existed'.'My philosophy? From my experience? Magic is a friend—a limb. You can do anything through magic so long as you desire it hard enough. You wanted to escape your cousin and his gang, and so you appeared on the roof; you wanted to regrow your hair after your Aunt Petunia had cut it, and so you did; you wanted your cousin to fall through the glass, and so you Vanished it. Desire, Harry. But more than just desire, I'm afraid, or else anything we wish may transpire. You must have a specific intent. You must know what you want magic to do and tell it so—it possesses some level of creativity and intelligence, but you must shape it through your intent. You will find that things are similar between myself and Hogwarts in that you are restricted by you intent, understanding, and power. But you know how a lock works, and you want your school supplies—a sense of freedom, and I'm quite sure you have enough power to manage it with such a small object'.
Zafirbel had been right. It was a simple thing to make the lock Vanish by simply asking it to. Harry just had to concentrate on the lock and want it gone. There was no tingle of feeling of power. It just...happened—like magic.
Zafirbel assured Harry that the more he practiced, the quicker he would become at casting spells. While downstairs, and with Zafirbel keeping watch, Harry then focused on a Shrinking Charm. All Harry had to know was that he wanted to shrink a trunk—which was basic enough to understand. He didn't have to know what was inside the trunk. Then, all that was left was for him to Conjure a duplicate lock to the one that he Vanished. Uncle Vernon would never know.
Harry found himself growing rapidly proficient with small things. Zafirbel had been right about power. Harry could Conjure another chair for himself and make his bed larger, but when he tried to expand the room, well, his magic didn't respond as easily.
'It's like a muscle', Harry, Zafirbel had told him. 'You need to work it out for it to gain strength. Besides, you aren't even thirteen yet. You have much more growing to do'.
"But you also told me that magic is not all dependant on one's power", Harry said as he sat back down on his bed.
'Indeed Harry Indeed I did say so. Everyone, even muggles, have magic inside of them. What the so called witches and wizards of the last two or three millennia has is a natural affinity to channel the magic within their own bodies, but this does not mean that muggles can not perform magic, it will just require a lot more effort in the beginning. Do you know where magic come from? No I shall tell you'. She said as Harry looked on where her voice came from in amusement, just the thought that aunt Petunia or uncle Vernon could do magic when they hated it so was frankly hilarious.
'If you look out at the starry night you will see nothing more than the stars, perhaps distant planets the moon and such, however the 'universe' as the muggles call it at least is not infinite, true it's unusually big, but not never ending. But if you look at it with a spell that you shall learn soon, you will see something else entirely. Someplace out there lies Oblivion, the realms of the Daedra. Oblivion is even larger than the Mundus, which is another world for the realm of us mortals. Oblivion is also most likely the most different realm of all the realms out there, each Daedra Prince has his or her own realm in a different style than the other, so naturally if you ever wish to enter Oblivion you should be prepared for a shock due to the large differences. Beyond the realms of Oblivion lies magic, or so it is believed, in the old days, long before even I was born many tried to reach magic by using magic, but it proved impossible simply because the sheer amount of magicka that would have to be expended, so we will have to accept the fact that we can draw from it's large pool instead of almost drowning in it. The stronger your own magical powers are, the more you can channel from it's original source the source that binds everything together by the will of the Nine, so do not worry Harry, your powers are unnaturally strong even now, and I have no doubt to the fact that you can become one of the strongest magic users in history', she said as she finished explaining. It really was interesting, and while not everything made sense just yet, Zafirbel promised him that she would teach him more about Oblivion and the Nine.
Life at Privet Drive became much more manageable with Zafirbel around. Harry had a friend other than Hedwig to speak with and magic at his disposal. His chores became simple, freeing up time to practice more wandless, nonverbal magic. At night, he could lock and soundproof his room from the inside so that he could do his homework at his desk. Zafirbel was a well-spring of information on all subjects except History of Magic, although she never told Harry answers outright; she prodded and pushed Harry into the right direction through rhetorical questions.
At night, or whenever they had free time, Zafirbel would tell Harry about her life, starting from childhood. She was apparently a Dark elf, a race that had either been lost or disappeared over the years. Like Harry she had been orphaned in a strange way when she was a child. Guards in the city had taken her from her parents as payment for a debt they owed, and sold her to a man who was an assassin, so she had therefore been raised as a hotshot assassin in the Dark Brotherhood, and for some time she was just about nothing other than a murderous devil in a mortal shell.
'Not far off the mark, I suppose', Zafirbel had commented wryly.
However that had all changed when she got arrested on a contract due to the betrayal of another member of the guild.
'Prison taught me many things, one of them was that I was just as 'mortal' as everyone else. I was allowed emotions and the right to make my own decisions, and live my own life, and then I was suddenly kidnapped in the middle of the night, and sent in exile to Morrowind, which is lying in the same area as Japan and parts of the orient is now', said Zafirbel. 'There I learnt many things. I learned that I was special, I had a unique ability to learn especially when it came to magic. That if I just worked hard and never quit I would be able to accomplish anything I wanted'.
When Zafirbel was twenty one and had stayed in Morrowind for almost a year, an old Telvanni Mage Lord had seen her and her true potential. He had introduced her to a magical society ruled by might, political intrigue, blackmail, threats and lastly every Telvanni's loyal friend and companion, the incessant paranoia that would make Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody seem like a cute puppy who came over to everyone begging for some attention. Telvanni was so simple, with the fact that if you won, then you won, you got everything that belonged to the Telvanni you had killed. The system was an effective one in that only the strongest prevailed, yet after Zafirbel's imprisonment she could no longer lead the House and it fell down into a new system where rank and heritage meant everything, in other words they transformed into one of the first 'Pureblood' systems. Though not all of them carried the hatred for those of 'lesser' status than they were it was still a very unfriendly environment.
'Not that it was entirely unfounded', sighed a resigned Zafirbel. 'Telvanni lands were like a veritable Eden, but it was terribly...cold. Impersonal. No warmth or...passion. Nothing at all like my experiences in the wild. Their philosophy was quite different from the Romans. It was more along the lines of my own in the beginning, that we should keep the strongest amongst us and work for a better place, instead it changed into a system where everything had to be 'pure', She said sadly.
Her earliest attempts at magic made her a real genius amongst the Telvanni, but her sheer skill and power made her an outcast, The others were too afraid to do anything to her, so rising to the point of taking leadership over the most likely most powerful magical faction in the history of the planet had taken her barely two years. It was shortly after that that she had learned the truth of her birth. She had not been gifted to the Brotherhood by the Night Mother herself, She had been kidnapped and sold like a damn slave, she still had family left. When she found out that the three guards had not been punished at all for any of their crimes and were now living in highly respected positions in the Imperial Legions, she grew so angry that she left Morrowind shortly to hunt them down.
It had been a short relapse into her old ways, killing without emotion or regret. One she had dispatched right in front of the Emperor by removing his head with an axe. The second one had been found outside the Palace in a few baskets, the entrails in one basket, the legs in one the arms in another, the gutted torso was found on a pike beside the baskets with the head on another one, The last guard was found with his throat slit, wearing the skinned face of the second guard as a mask, after that she had returned to Morrowind, leaving behind her quest for vengeance.
It had taken them a week to get that far along. Now, Harry laid on his magically cushioned bed a week after Ron's disastrous, but hilarious, phone call. He was staring at the ceiling, running over Zafirbel's story in his mind. He understood why she'd chosen Harry. Zafirbel's time at The Dark Brotherhood and later the Telvanni mirrored his time with the Dursleys in an odd way. They both had lost their parents due to fear and greed.
"Zafirbel?" Harry called out quietly.
'Story time?' chuckled Zafirbel.
"You sort of left things off abruptly the last time," said Harry sheepishly. He couldn't help but feel like a little boy again, getting a bedtime story from a parent. The strange thing was that he didn't mind.
'For good reason', said Zafirbel. From here on out, I suspect you'll be able to deduce who I am, so I leave it to you. Would you rather me continue as I have, or would you rather know who you are really speaking to?
Harry thought it over for a moment before saying, "I think I know who I'm speaking to, but I wouldn't mind knowing your real name."
He swore he felt Zafirbel smile.
'My name, as it was given to me by my mother, is Telina Delvanni. My father's name was Gelandir'.
Harry's eyes went wide, and he began to search the empty space of his room as if he might confirm that with his eyes.
"Are you taking the mickey?" frowned Harry. The crazy suspicion he had that Zafirbel was in reality the Lady of magic, and old myth about a true genius, inventor of the magic that paved the way for all modern and most old magical societies was just weird.
at all, Harry', laughed Zafirbel—or
was it Telina? 'I thought Telvanni
might've been a large enough clue. But shall we pick up where we
left off? I was tired and had left Morrowind and the Telvanni behind
me. My plan had been devised from the very moment I learned of my
sister, and the doom that awaited Tamriel.. My plan was
simple—yet extraordinarily difficult. The Gates of Oblivion was
about to open. The Emperor and his heirs was to die within a few
years, and Tamriel would be cast into anarchy. So I had to do
something to save the world, yet I knew that it was not my tasks. My
task was to enter the Realm of Mehrunes Dagon and battle him
personally in both mind and body, to weaken him and keep his forces
under pressure so that he could not unleash the full horrors of his
realm upon Nirn. However with me gone the world would be without a
Champion, without someone to lead them against the Daedra invasion,
so I had a Champion created.
My plan was simple—yet extraordinarily difficult. The Gates of Oblivion was about to open. The Emperor and his heirs was to die within a few years, and Tamriel would be cast into anarchy. So I had to do something to save the world, yet I knew that it was not my tasks. My task was to enter the Realm of Mehrunes Dagon and battle him personally in both mind and body, to weaken him and keep his forces under pressure so that he could not unleash the full horrors of his realm upon Nirn. However with me gone the world would be without a Champion, without someone to lead them against the Daedra invasion, so I had a Champion created.
"Salina, the Dark Sorceress", exclaimed Harry.
Quite so. If I could use my sister whose skill and knowledge was almost as prodigious as my own, then I could save Tamriel and yes even all of Nirn. I regret my manipulations even today. I used a sleeping potion on her and bound most of her powers and most of her memories, and then had her brought into a special cell in the Imperial City's prison, mere days before the Emperor and his three official sons were murdered. Once The Blades, the Emperors bodyguards tried to escort him out of the city, they would do so in secret through Salinas cell, at which point she would be able to escape and once free from the prison her powers and her memories with the exception of me drugging her would come back, and she would help restore the last son of the Emperor to his throne, and together they would defeat Mehrunes Dagon. The plan worked brilliantly with the exception of one thing, one major complication.
Telina gave a deep seated sigh of regret.
' Salina and Martin, the Emperors last son that is fell in love, and though Mehrunes Dagon was defeated and the realms of Oblivion once more closed, Martin died. He gave his life for his father's Empire and Salina who had a child on the way was devastated. Oh she was installed as Empress until her son could take over the throne, but the child was stillborn, due to the neglect, stress and sorrow Salina inflicted upon herself those first months of her pregnancy. With the child dead, the Elder Council removed her from the throne and started squabbling amongst themselves on who should rule the Empire next, and blinded by grief rage and power Salina wanted to make her move. That is when I tried to take her with me to the realm I had created, to get her away. Suffice to say she was furious, and once she had started to entomb me I had two choices, I could either free myself and she would get away, or I could bind away or destroy as much of her powers as I could, to make her less dangerous so to speak. As you can imagine I lessened her powers greatly but even with just a tenth of her power she still had her cunning, and her very cunning proved to be the undoing of the world I knew back then.'
"She changed her name and then started the five century war didn't she?"
'Smart lad', said Telina. 'Yes for five hundred years, under different disguises she waged a war, and instigated them as well. In the end the wars grew so fierce that the twenty most powerful mages at the time banded together to create a spell that would put an end to the war, and in a way it worked. The spell was so powerful that it caused the earth to twist and shake, whole continents were swallowed by the sea, or new ones erupted, islands and other continents broke loose and smashed into each other. Fierce storms and blizzards ravaged the surface of the planet and lightning smashed down into the ground incinerating whomever was unfortunate to be out in such weather, the world was destroying itself and so in an act of desperation the mages tried to harness the power within one of the two moons, in order to stop the catastrophe'. Here Telina sighed as she remembered what she had learned from the stars. 'The power the mages wielded was to great and it destroyed them instantly, but they were successful. The spell was stopped and the world started to heal again, sadly the amount of concentration spent on the moon and the power they channelled through it caused it to break apart from the inside, and it was grabbed by the earths gravity and it was slingshot to the sun where the remains were incinerated. The war was over and the world changed into what we know today, what happened to most of the different races I do not know, but I believe they were either extinct or they went into hiding, never to return'.
Harry breathed out a breath he hadn't been conscious of holding. It was a lot to take in. What helped, although neither man knew it, was Harry's absolute lack of knowledge concerning History of ancient times, partially since the Dursley's didn't bother to learn anything outside of what had happened last decades or so, and partially because the information of history going so far back was very little and what was left was scattered throughout the different wizarding nations, and even then most was either folklore or myths, Harry had only come across Salina's name twice as a possible true name for the Dark Enchantress Morgana Le Fay, whom had been rumoured to be immortal.
'Indeed', said Telina when Harry told her of her suspicions. ' Morgana Le Fay and Salina Delvanni, and their respective titles are but two of the names my sister used over the years, and since I taught her everything she knew, she managed to survive the ravages of time that claim everybody by using an ancient Telvanni technique that would prolong her life indefinitely until she stopped doing them every century or so, I guess we should be grateful that the wounds she sustained when she fought and killed Merlin killed her as well', Telina said with a sigh.
There was no suspicion left for Harry, only sadness for a woman, that despite her rather cold and violent upbringing had tried everything to make the world a better place, yet failed because of her own personal flaws.
' You see now that after being alive for over six millennia, patience is one of my better virtues. Impatience… and love I suppose became my downfall, if I had listened to my sister when she told me that she would not come with me, if my love and concern for her safety, not to mention impatience to get her away from the world had not blinded me, then perhaps I could have stopped her from causing a war that tore the know world asunder, and though the world is beautiful in it's own right now it is but a shadow of what it could have been, never again will the inhabitants of the earth look at the two moons bathing it in a comforting light, never again will people have the opportunity to see the fair island of Summerset. Whole races and cultures, not to mention enormous amounts of knowledge and literature have been lost forever, the world remains a bleak place for me', Telina said with a note of regret and sadness in her voice.
"It's sad that's true", Harry told her as he pondered his words. "But that does not mean that everything is lost, I… er we still have you, you know incredibly much about the old days, you told me yourself. You have observed just about every aspect of every culture, you have read entire libraries filled with literature and knowledge, we, I just need to find a way to free you, so that you can try at least to bring back some amount of glory from the old days", Harry said with a voice filled with conviction.
' Freedom' whispered Telina, 'I'd like that', she smiled warmly, and though he could not see it, Harry knew she was smiling.
"Will, will you take me with you"? Harry asked unsurely. 'So my freedom for yours is it? As if I would do anything else Harry, I swear I will take you with me, so that you can get away from these relatives of yours, but before we start on the journey to my prison I suggest you go to sleep, we have a long and tiresome day before us tomorrow'.
Harry nodded in understanding and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. 'Goodnight my young apprentice', Telina whispered as she laid a kiss upon his forehead, and though he could not feel it nor hear her, Harry smiled and tugged the covers a bit more tightly around his sleeping body.
"So, what must I do to free you"? Harry asked when he was properly awake next morning.
'To free me will be difficult, and you wouldn't be able to do it now with your powers the way they are, but I… believe that I have a plan that just might work, but it will be difficult for you, extremely difficult and you'll be unable to count on my aid'.
"Tell me what I must do and I'll do it".
Telina spent a few moments in silence before she spoke again, more unsure this time. 'I remember a wizard who lived for a long time ago, old even when I came to be. And if I'm not mistaken you were that wizard'.
"M-me, but how can that be? I mean I'm only thirteen years old".
'Ah yes, but for many a year have I seen a destiny about you, and the stars have foretold that you will take a journey of immense proportions and importance. Yes I'm sure of it. I can see it when I look upon you that with the proper spells of concealment you will look exactly like he did. So will you take the journey or will you not'?
Harry pondered hard for a long time. The idea was outrageous, but then again Telina had not lied to him so far, he was sure of it, and he had promised that he would try to free her, and he NEVER backed out from his word.
"Yes I'll, I'll do it. I promised you that I would free you and I don't back down on my word".
'Excellent, now sit down Harry, I have much to teach you before your departure, and we do not have a great deal of time. Fist I shall teach you have to shield your mind from intrusion, this will help you on many tings including on how to maintain your focus, and it will greatly enhance your memory, and should you ever summon Daedra it will help you to maintain your control over them'
The next three weeks passed like a blur for Harry. Telina taught him everything she could, from etiquette and languages, to summoning and controlling Daedra minions. She taught him how to protect his mind and how to penetrate the minds of others. In most of these areas he was skilled enough to hold his own, and eventually perfect it, there were only two areas of magic that he himself counted himself an expert on and he still remembered the day he first started learning it.
'Prepare yourself Harry for now I shall teach you the art of Teleportation. To teleport I have a handy little spell for you. You must speak the words 'Exam ut Locus es' and then the name of your destination while pushing magic into the spell and, your magic shall take you to where it is that you desire to go. It is slower than apparition, but much more comfortable, and there is no known ward that can halt you either. So do it and transport yourself to Stonehenge'.
"Ut Locus Eram Pro Stonehenge" Harry intoned forcefully, forming his magic into the spell construct, and then it felt as though a sudden rush of wind grabbed him, and he could almost feel his body moving through the immaterium at great speed, before he came to a sudden halt and before him stood the magnificent circle of stones, also known as Stonehenge.
"That was strange, nothing like the floo", he remarked. 'Indeed, the ancient ways of magical travel are far better than modern ones, who are all about speed and power'.
'Now that we are here, I shall teach you Theurgy, and extremely dangerous form of magical elemental control. When I say dangerous I mean of course for your enemies. The spells pack and enormous punch and should be able to destroy almost any opponent you face. Sadly with the power of the spells come also the potential of harming yourself with them, so a Theurgist must be able to enchant items to protect himself against the very energies he or she unleash.
Fortunately for Harry most Theurgist spells were very few (about nine from each of the four elements of fire, earth, ice and lightning) and they were remarkably easy to cast, he simply lacked the power to cast the strongest of them. What took the longest time was actually learning how to enchant items to protect himself with, but once he could remember everything in miniature detail he was confidant that he would be able to produce some fine items.
'Harry, the time is almost upon us, I have but two things to teach you now, first is the Telvanni techniques that will allow you to extend your life indefinitely as long as you remember to redo them every century or so, and lastly the spells you must use to disguise yourself as a Dunmer'.
The techniques that the higher ranking Telvanni used to prolong their lives were complicated, but fortunately included nothing of the Dark Arts, it was more of a complex pattern of prayers, spells and oaths of devotion, ambition and sacrifice. It took a long time yes, but a few hours every century or so was nothing compared to immortality against age.
The various chants and spells Harry used afterwards completely changed his looks. His skin was yellow, almost the colour of gold, and his eyes had grown larger and brightened considerably, almost to the point of looking like a pair of shining emeralds, and lastly he had… Pointed Ears?
"But… but I thought Dark Elves were supposed to have an ashen blue skin tone not golden like I have now".
'That is true the Dunmer do have ashen blue skin and red eyes, but you will arrive when the Dunmer were known as Chimer. Now Remember, that no matter what happens you cannot knowingly intervene in history, no matter how tempting it will be to save your parents, or stop Voldemort you CANNOT intervene, understand'?
"Yes I understand, and I promise you I won't do it". He said with a sigh. He could understand… really he could, to do so could change history completely, and perhaps even erase his own existence, with an internal shudder he turned his attention back to Telina. "So you still haven't told me my name".
'That's true I haven't. Your name shall be Divayth Fyr, and remember just stick to the plan, and if everything goes the way we hope it does I shall speak to you again in a week at Stonehenge, and a final word, if you find yourself in too much trouble to handle, do not hesitate to use the killing curse, we both need you to survive if I am to be freed'.
With a small nod Harry sat down at the floor. His entire room had been cleared out and slowly but surely he started to draw various Daedric symbols on the ground, stopping now and then to chant a small prayer to the Daedric Prince Azura. After three hours of drawing with his own blood he was finished. Seven hundred and seventy seven sentences in Daedric writing surrounded a large pentangle on the floor in a perfect circle.
With the first step completed he conjured up a bound dagger out of thin air and prepared for the second step. Two quick slashes opened up his wrists. Despite the pain and the already weakening feeling of blood loss he started chanting.
'Azura hear me. I am thy humble servant. I beseech thee. Grant unto me thy mercy.
Give me the strength to carry out mine destiny. I am thy humble servant. I surrender my life to thee so that thee can send me to mine fate.'
All of a sudden his wounds healed, and the pentangle and surrounding runes glowed in a bright white light, before starting to seep over the floor, only to merge together into one big blob of white liquid light. The liquid grew up and started to take the shape of a female form, before an explosion of light erupted, searing at his eyes but he refused to look away, and when the bright spots before his eyes had faded, he gazed upon a being of supreme beauty.
Hovering in the air stood a tall female in white robes and delicate ash blue skin devoid of imperfections. Her hair was black as midnight and seemed to hold the entire void of the universe in it. Her face, perfect though it was seemed filled with sorrow, yet love and supreme wisdom radiated from it at the same time. Her eyes were of a most enthralling fiery red, and spoke of unnamed power.
'Azura', both Harry and Telina whispered with awe.
Azura smiled sadly at him before she spoke. ' Harry Potter, you have summoned me, giving your own life and expecting nothing in return, for that I applaud you, not many would have the courage to do so'. Her voice was enthrallingly beautiful and it sounded as though dozens of persons were speaking in tandem with perfect synchrony.
'Though you and Telina only know a little of your destiny, I know it all, because I wove it millennia before the Mundus even came to be. I know why you do this, but in addition to doing what you must do to free Telina I shall tell you part of your destiny. You shall study the divine disease and through your study of it, you shall learn of your true destiny. And remember that though you may be a Slytherin or Telvanni in disguise, you have the courage of a Gryffindor, the mind of a Ravenclaw, the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, and lastly you have the soul of a Hero. Remember who you are and what you must do, and you shall see each other again, Fare thee well… Divayth Fyr'.
And then she was gone, and Harry had a brief sensation of pain before unconsciousness claimed him and his body disappeared from Privet Drive in a wash of flame.
Cyrodiil. First Era. Year 56.
A young Ayleid boy named Baladas Demnevanni was out in the garden to gather water from the well, when a sudden explosion of light and fire scared him out of his senses, and even more terrifying was the sight that met him afterwards. Another boy who couldn't be much older than himself was lying a few feet away from him, and he was drenched in blood.
"FATHER, HELP SOMEONE'S HURT", he screamed. Quickly the door into their house banged open, and a tall man with dark eyes and red hair stormed out, followed quickly by a woman with similar features.
"Baladas, go to your room, we shall take care of him", his father said strictly, and Baladas, having no desire to argue walked into the small house and to his room, where he quietly sat down on his cot. 'I wonder what happened to him. I've never seen anyone that injured before, not even the Nedic slaves are injured that badly, not even for the worst transgressions', with several similar thoughts like that he slowly fell asleep.
"Uhhh… w-what happened"? Divayth asked slowly as he awoke. (just gonna call Harry for Divayth in the future to make it less confusing) He felt like Hagrid had decided to squeeze him to death, only to stop moments before.
"I was hoping", a kind voice said. "That you could tell me".
As Divayth's vision cleared he could see a golden skinned Mer with dark hair and red hair gazing worriedly down at him.
"What's your name lad"? he asked.
"H-Fyr, Divayth Fyr", Divayth said, catching his mistake just in time.
"Well Divayth Fyr, where do you live? Where is your family"? he asked.
"They are dead, murdered", Divayth said, deciding to stick to the truth, 'for now at least'.
"I am sorry", the Mer said apologetically. "If you desire it, you can stay with us, Azura knows I would never let a child grow up on the streets like some Nedic slave", he said the last two words with distaste, as though he disliked humans or Nedics as they were known in this age.
"I, I thank you for the offer Mutshera, and I would be honoured to accept", Divayth answered, remembering his etiquette.
"No need for that, my name is Ardvel Demnvanni, and when you have recovered from your ordeal I shall introduce you to my son Baladas and my wife Arwethel, but for now rest yourself, and I shall return later with some food".
Some time later Ardvel came back with a bowl filled with a steaming stew. "Eat this, it should make you feel better, and… what happened to you"? he asked suddenly as Divayth's wounds all seemed healed.
"I healed my wounds Ser Demnvanni", Divayth said tiredly. "I am fortunately not a stranger when it comes to magic, though I must say that I must have overreached my abilities this time as I am quite tired, but I thank you for the food nonetheless". Accepting the bowl and spoon Divayth carefully tasted it. It was some kind of meat mixed together with potatoes and vegetables, and unusually spicy. Good but spicy.
"It's quite good, but unusually spicy", he commented to Ardvel.
"I assumed as much, rat meat has quite the dry taste and as such lots of salt or spice is needed to get a good flavour".
Divayth's first thought was to throw it back up, but it tasted good, and the rats in these times were over thrice as big as modern day rats, and most of them did not carry any diseases.
"Do you have anything to drink"? He asked carefully.
"I have some water for you, and a potion that should help you restore your magicka after you have finished your meal".
Accepting the goblet of water he gulped down some of the precious liquid before finishing his meal. With the meal undone he drank down the rest of the water before opening the potion bottle.
With a single gulp he drained it, ignoring the oily taste as it ran down his throat and he could feel the immediate effects of his magic rapidly replenishing itself to an acceptable level.
"I thank you Ser Demnevanni, did any of my clothes survive"?
Ardvel looked apologetically at Divayth before answering. "I am afraid that your clothes were too damaged so we disposed of them, I have put forth some of mine own clothes, which should suffice until my wife can sow some for you".
"Oh…" and embarrassing silence followed. It wasn't as if he would miss them, after all they had once belonged to Dudley. "It does not matter, I can always conjure some until I can get some permanent ones", he said, and with a wave of his hand and a slight push of his magic a pair of shoes, trousers, shirt and a black robe appeared, along with a long walking staff to support himself with.
Quickly he got dressed before grabbing the staff reassuringly in his left hand, and then he rose up slowly. Divayth winced as he felt the effects the ritual had performed on his body. He was sore all over, and had it not been for the staff he would have fallen over.
"Amazing"! Ardvel exclaimed. "I shall have to introduce you to some of the Mages in the nearby village. Come with me now and I shall show you our home".
The Demnevanni it seemed were farmers, and successful ones at that. The house was fairly big, and they had many animals, and once he looked out to the fields he could see several ramshackle buildings.
"They are the homes of the slaves", Ardvel said with distaste. "I wish I hadn't anything to do with that filthy race, but their work bring me good revenue from the cities, and so I am quite happy".
Personally Divayth disagreed with slavery, but then again, the Ayleids had lived here first, and the Nedic people had tried to invade them, so he couldn't blame the elves for keeping them as slaves to ensure it wouldn't happen again.
Cyrodiil. First Era: Year 60.
It had taken almost a year before Divayth had fully healed, but when he was he quickly fell into a routine. From early morn till midday both he and Baladas were tutored by Ardvel in politics and maths. History and Alchemy and how to defend themselves with a blade. After their tutoring sessions Divayth continued to work on his magic and had started his own exercise to make his body more fit, and it was one day in the year 60 FE that he discovered something.
Baladas who was just three years younger had followed Divayth into the woods where he used to train and watched from afar, when he was suddenly accosted by two Nedic slaves who had escaped.
The two men, furious at the race that had held them as slaves for so long threw themselves at Baladas with murder in their eyes. Baladas panicked, he did not want to die, and wished desperately for someone to help him, anyone and anything, and to his great shock the two men were thrown backwards with terrible force.
Divayth who had heard Baladas' fearful scream ran towards the two men, intent on saving the person he had come to think of as a good friend and adoptive brother. To his great shock he saw a pulse of magic slam out from Baladas and throw back the two men.
The accidental magic did not deter the two men who were lost completely in their fury and with a howl of rage they threw themselves towards Baladas again.
Korst was furious. He and his friend Thard had managed to escape their cursed slavers, and were running through the forest to escape back up north, when they had spotted a young Ayleid boy. With a scream of rage they threw themselves at the boy, intent on paying back over twenty years of oppressive slavery when they had been blasted back by some unseen force. Infuriating them even more they went for the boy again, and were only a few feet away when Korst felt a sudden warmth, followed by a scream of absolute agony from Thard.
Divayth watched as the man stopped and looked at his dying friend whom was being consumed by the fireball he had sent at him.
'Run or you shall suffer the same fate as your companion', he said in the Nedic language. The slave looked fearfully at Divayth who was holding a ball of living flames in his hand, ready to be thrown in a moments notice. With a howl of rage and denial he threw himself towards Divayth before his body was blasted back by the arcane forces of the fireball. After a few seconds of painful screams he was silent.
"Come Baladas, I shall take you back home", Divayth said, putting a reassuring hand at Baladas' shoulder.
While they were walking back home Divayth's mind was in a whirl. Had he really needed to kill them? He knew that he had only defended himself and Baladas, and the world was a lot more ferocious and deadly in these times than what he was used to but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.
They had barely gotten home however when Ardvel came running out towards them with panic in his eyes. "The slaves have escaped and are coming for us, we must get to the village quickly".
Divayth swore. Ardvel had over three hundred slaves, more than enough to kill the entire village that barely consisted of seventy people, many of them children. "Run to the village and get them to Velke, I'll hold them off as long as I can before following", he told Ardvel.
He could see Ardvel's struggle. He did not want to leave Divayth alone, but he also knew that he needed to get the villagers to the safety of the Ayleid fortress city of Velke, and that it would take some time to evacuate, and if anyone he knew could hope to hold the slaves off for some time it had to be Divayth.
With a final nod at Divayth, Ardvel, Baladas and Arwethel ran towards the village.
Not a minute passed before Divayth could see the mob of furious slaves come running towards him. Many of them carrying rusted axes, shovels or whatever they could use as a weapon. Sighing for himself he steeled himself for the inevitable battle that was to come. He was alone against three hundred slaves, and it was a true David versus Goliath battle, but Divayth did not use a sling. No Divayth preferred magicka.
"Brycchwyd Algbh Wshjcerra" Divayth chanted and threw his hand out towards the oncoming mob. The spell flew out and took shape as a gigantic brown ball of incandescent energy, before detonating amongst the slaves.
Cries of anger and despair reverberated over the grassy field, as large wines and huge plumes of earth erupted from the ground to ensnare the slaves. It halted several of them but it was far from enough as more kept on coming.
"Brycchwyd Grbarragh Devhtas Minllh", his second spell flew out, and he could feel the immense heat and power emanating from the enormous globe of fire. With a loud bang the globe detonated, incinerating anyone in a ten feet radius before expanding lighting everyone within thirty feet on fire. Screams of pain came as dozens tried to put out the flames… that is until Divayth concentrated and started to pour more power into the spell.
With a roar the Flames rose up in a whirlwind of fire and smoke, growing bigger for every second, until he allowed the spell to dissolve. From what he could see, almost as many as fifty people had been burnt to death, but it wasn't enough, and he was dangerously low on magicka. With a groan he gulped down a restorative draught and could feel his magicka levels slowly rise again.
Quickly he unslung a bow from his shoulders and nocked an arrow on the string. He wasn't great at using a bow, but with so many targets it was impossible to miss. Quickly he loosed it, and took another one, before firing. A scream of pain told him that he hat hit something, and as he loosed the second arrow he could see that a man was on the ground, screaming in agony due to the arrow that had penetrated his right rib. The second arrow pitched a man backwards as the arrow went through his eye and into his brain, killing him instantly. He managed to fire his last three arrows, killing one more man with an arrow in the heart and wounding two more. Angrily he threw the bow away and drew the elven short sword that Ardvel had given him a year earlier.
Three slaves had almost reached him. A fireball eliminated the one that was furthest away from him. He ducked under a poorly aimed hit from a shovel, driving his blade into the chest of the man. He threw his weight around, and managed to use the still impaled slave as a shield against the second man, whose axe chop cleaved the impaled slave's head, sending forth a spray of blood and bone fragments.
Dragging his sword out of the dead slave he delivered a fearsome kick into the other man's groin, calling forth a high pitched cry of pain, before he swung around, and deftly beheaded him with a single stroke.
Almost a dozen slaves were just a few yards away from him, and desperately he thrust out his hand, forcing his magic to comply by sending out several bolts of lightning, that threw them to the ground and forced their bodies to twitch painfully. With a roar of anger for forcing him to do this, he ran forward, and slashed open the throats of three of them.
More from instinct than anything else he dodged sideways, and narrowly avoided an axe chop that would have split open his skull, and with a rush of panic he saw that he was suddenly surrounded by almost a hundred angry slaves. Desperately he focused most of his magic and let it blast out from his body with a terrible force.
The closest ones died instantaneously as their bones were crushed and their organs ruptured, and the ones behind them were thrown back several yards as the magical wave exploded outwards. Quickly Divayth focused his magic again, and with a thunderous crack he disappeared, only to reappear some distance away from the slaves. With astonishing speed he fished out his second and last bottle of magic restoratives, and with a quick gulp he downed it, and was rewarded by the feeling of his magicka levels filling up.
He knew that he had not held them away for more than thirty minutes at most, and he needed more time. Quickly he snapped out a fireball, engulfing one of the confused slaves, and predictably they turned towards him. With the losses he had incurred on them he knew that they would be filled with irrational hate, and would do anything to kill him.
And so started an insane cat and mouse game between them. Divayth snapped off a fireball every now and then, keeping out of their way, and whenever they came to close he simply apparated to somewhere else.
After three hours he was so exhausted that he could barely stand, and it was with his last strength that he spoke his final incantation, 'Exam ut Locus es Velke'.
Barely conscious he reappeared outside the white marble doors of the fortress city of Velke. With a sigh of relief he collapsed outside the entrance, and just lay there in bliss. However after five minutes he realized that he had yet to give word about the escaped slaves who would probably be besides themselves with fury due to their foe disappearing.
With a groan and a tremendous show of will he rose up on his legs and opened the marble door before entering the city. He had barely walked ten yards before a patrol of guards clad in elven armour stopped him. "Who are you, and what is your business here"?
Even though he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep he forced himself to remain conscious. "My name is Divayth Fyr, and I have come to tell you that the slaves of Ardvel Demnevanni have gone into a revolt. Ardvel should be leading the villagers of Sanithas here now, I stayed behind and held off the slaves as long as I could before retreating", and so with his message delivered he collapsed into sweet unconsciousness.
When Divayth woke up again he knew immediately that he wasn't in his own bed. It was much larger and infinitely more comfortable than his usual one, and he could see several persons standing close by.
"Look he is awake", Ardvel said as he rushed towards his bed. "I must say Divayth that I am impressed, you held them off for so long that we came here only an hour after you arrived".
"Indeed, we are quite impressed you killed almost seventy slaves before escaping. Not many a warrior could claim to manage the same", said the Mer who was standing next to Ardvel. He had a shock of black hair and was wearing what looked to be armour made out of Ebony, and with the golden circlet that surrounded his head Divayth instantly knew who this had to be.
"I thank you, Your Majesty", Divayth said before bowing his head.
"So you know who I am then"? The king inquired with curiosity.
"Indeed I do, the Ebony armour and golden circlet, who else could you be Sire"?
The king laughed heartily. "You are a quick one Fyr I shall give you that, the last person here is Veloth, my advisor and prophet. So what can I do for you then name your price, and if it is in my power I shall give it to you".
Apparently the king wanted to give Divayth a gift for his part in quelling the rebellion. "Magic", Divayth said after a moments thought. "I want magical training both for myself and for Baladas, who have great potential".
"Then so it shall be", the king said. "I am grieved to say that your home has been burnt to the ground, but I have given all of you residences here in Velke".
Cyrodiil. First Era. Year 173.
Both Divayth and Baladas had now reached adulthood, and under the teachings of Veloth and his fellow mages they had already turned into fearsome magic users, the two had since bonded together with a very select group of magic users led by a Mer named Sarin Telvanni and his two closest friends, Foreyn Uvirith and Dulseya Zafirbel. The group which consisted of just eleven including Divayth and Baladas held few secrets from each other and magical knowledge was for the most part shared. Divayth had even relinquished the secrets of eternal life to his fellow members, and it had been decided that only they, the eleven first should know the secret if more members joined, until they had proved themselves worthy of it.
The only secrets he held was about where he really came from, and of course the Killing Curse, so far he had not used it, and had no desire to do so either and he would definitely not allow anyone else to know about it. And together their little group formed the basis of what would one day become to most powerful magical society in the world. All of them agreed that they could not be weighed down by incompetent members, and that only the powerful could exist in their group, so the rules were made. Fortunately for Telvanni, Uvirith and Zafirbel, all the members had taken the rank of Master, and as such could not challenge the Grand Magister and his two Arch Magisters, only Divayth and Baladas had refused the rank of Master, preferring to spend their time on research on various subjects instead.
Grand Magister Telvanni had in the beginning been fearful of the two 'young' Wizards and had despatched two of the Masters to kill them. Master Riverren had made the mistake of attacking Divayth in public, throwing spells around like crazy trying to kill him. At first Divayth had tried to attack back using 'normal' deadly spells, however once it became clear that Riverren could block them with just as much ease as he could, he decided to do what he must.
With a silent 'pop' Divayth disappeared and reappeared a few feet in front of Riverren, and a silently whispered Avada Kedavra, fuelled with all of his hate had produced that feared green light, and snuffed out Riverrens life in an instant. And with the spectacle over the other denizens of Velke who had witnessed the duel simply went on about their business.
Master Aryon however was much more unfortunate. He attacked Baladas at night when he believed he would be sleeping, only to be gutted like a fish by Baladas' pet Daedroth who guarded him when he slept.
After that the Grand Magister had deemed it prudent to leave Divayth and Baladas to their own devices.
Life in Velke was not easy. In a society where might equalled right, one had to constantly be careful, and add to the fact that most of the regular citizens including Divayth and Baladas were deeply religious and worshipped the Daedra, something that was against the law of the Ayleids, and in the year of 206 in the First Era catastrophe struck.
In one night the Ayleid kings of the various cities rounded up and banished the Daedra worshippers from the cities, and after barely three months over seven hundred thousand elves had gathered together without a country to call their home.
"Well, we have waited long enough Veloth, I think it is time you told us about your plan", Divayth said, stroking his beard absently. Though now over one hundred and sixty years old, there was not a wrinkle to be found on his body, and he had his long black hair tied back in an elegant ponytail and his beard was short and well trimmed.
"One day Divayth I will find out how you and Baladas can stay so young", the old Prophet said. Veloth was the oldest of all the Mer's that had gathered together, so old that he had even been there when the Meric race first left ancient Aldmeris, the homeland of all Mer's and as such had been chosen to be the leader of the outcast Daedra worshippers.
"Well, I have communed with Azura, and she has shown me the way to a new country that we can have for ourselves, it lies to the east, and we shall call it Resdayn".
Word quickly spread amongst the rest, and with a new purpose they renamed themselves Chimer and started on the journey to the east towards Resdayn.
It took almost three years before the Chimer reached Resdayn, and over the years of travel the Chimer had split into several different groups. The staunchest worshippers of Azura banded together into a large nomadic group, and upon reaching Resdayn called themselves Ashlanders, due to the ashen climate they lived in, which was situated close to the large volcano of Red Mountain. The other groups formed themselves into the Great Houses.
Those who focused on magic joined the small group of Mer that Divayth and Baladas had been members of for some time, and formed the Great House of Telvanni. They situated themselves equally on the Telvanni Isles on the east coast of Resdayn and around the various smaller isles between the inner side of the east coast and the large inland isle of Vvardenfell.
The warrior Houses Redoran and Indoril took up parts in the south of mainland Resdayn, though the Redorans also claimed parts of Vvardenfell, while the Houses Hlaalu and Dres whom were much more concerned about claiming riches took up the western parts of mainland Resdayn, though Hlaalu like both Redoran and Telvanni also claimed land in Vvardenfell, and the last House Dagoth, situated themselves on Vvardenfell.
Vvardenfell. First Era. Year 211.
Divayth looked happily at his finished home. He had chosen to settle down on a small island on the west coast of Vvardenfell, a few leagues south-west from the fledgling city of Sadrith Mora, and had immediately started to build a home for himself in a true Telvanni fashion. While other Telvanni dwellings were giant mushrooms that were as hard steel and grown up from the ground, Divayth had chosen to build his partially inside the mountain. This protected his home even more, and since he had constructed it inside a mountain he could now build himself a nice underground vault where he could keep treasures and whatever else took his fancy.
In another typical Telvanni fashion he had constructed his tower so that his living quarters and office was only accessible through levitation up a long narrow tube leading up from the first floor, and naturally the roof in the first floor was too low to make it possible to shove a ladder up the hole. This was a last defence strategy since the enemy, if they could even get up the hole they could only do so one by one, which were good odds to Divayth.
The lower level had been constructed into a larger cave system. The first part of the cave was built more like a prison and vault than anything else, but the second and innermost part was another matter entirely. It had been constructed as a maze that would keep changing, dooming anyone unfortunate enough to wander in to an eternity of imprisonment, especially since food and water would appear every now and then to make sure that anyone trapped could survive, the maze of course would be reserved for Divayth's most hated enemies, of which there currently was none.
His defences were sadly tested less than a month after he had finished construction. Divayth had been outside to gather a few ingredients for his alchemy lab when a small band of golden skinned Mer clad in some strange heavy golden armour and armed to the teeth approached. Divayth had heard from hearsay that Resdayn, and Vvardenfell in particular was populated by another race of Mer that called themselves Dwemer, a race who preferred logic and reason over religion. Divayth who couldn't care less what other people believed in was different from the rest of the Chimer, who for the most part were staunch Daedra worshippers and took the Dwemer's beliefs as a personal insult.
"Halt who goes there, and what are your intentions here on my land"? Divayth questioned as he loaded up a spell.
"Your land? We settled this land long before you came little Mer, and you should watch your tongue because if you haven't noticed there are twenty of us, and only one of you".
'Ah arrogance it is then'. "Well, it appears you are right, so what are your intensions then good ser"? He said sarcastically.
"We are here to bring you in for questioning, we need to know more of your people before we scour your presence from our land, so just come quietly and we won't have a problem".
'Aha, so they intend to drive us out do they, well we can't have that now can we'? "I must respectfully decline, I have duties and studies, and cannot perform them properly in a prison cell, though I shall allow you to withdraw from my lands peacefully, or you can fight me and die", Divayth told them. After all with one hundred and fifty eight years of magical study he felt sure of his abilities to defeat these Mer's.
"Get him", the apparent leader said and with perfect synchrony the other nineteen ran towards him with their weapons drawn.
"AVADA KEDAVRA", the green beam of death flew forward with frightening speed and intensity, and slammed into the chest of one of the warriors pitching him backwards, and he was dead before he hit the ground.
"What… what power is this"? One of them asked fearfully.
'Interesting, they have apparently no knowledge of magic, at least not besides enchanting'. "It is called magic, and I am its Master", Divayth said as he threw out his hand, sending a small concentrated fireball of such intensity, that a warrior had been reduced to ashes before his white hot armour even hit the ground.
With a howl of fear and hate they threw themselves towards Divayth, trying to avoid the fireballs he kept throwing towards them. But the weight of the armour they wore slowed them down, and two more got slammed to the ground and tried desperately to quench the magical fires that burned their bodies.
Suddenly Divayth let out a scream of pain, and as he looked down he could see a bolt fired from a crossbow in his arm. Looking around he could see three warriors who had stayed a bit behind the rest of their comrades. Cursing he barely managed to put up a shimmering shield that deflected the other two bolts. Slowly he began to back away back towards his stronghold, throwing a few fireballs towards his enemies.
With a slight part of concentration he apparated to the entrance of his stronghold which he quickly entered. Instead of locking the heavy gold door he laid a heavy enchantment on it, before venturing up to his office where a stack of potions stood ready. Gritting his teeth he broke the bolt before dragging the remaining part out from his arm, and with a sip from his potion it was healed and as good as new.
Just as he had gotten down to the first floor again he heard an agonizing wail of pain, and knew that the trap on the door activated on one of the poor souls outside.
Yagrum Bogarn watched helplessly as Gradung flailed on the ground, holding on to his head for dear life. The heavy round gold door had obviously been trapped, and Gradung was paying the price for his hurry. Yagrum and his fellow compatriots watched as his head began to bulge before it exploded outwards in a fine red mist, spraying fragments of bone and brains all over the place.
All of them now stared apprehensively at the door. All of them were skilled warriors, some of them could rightfully claim to be the best warriors amongst the Dwemer yet against this foe they were woefully unprepared. They knew about magic of course, but High Priest Kagrenac and his devotees could do nothing more than to enchant weapons and armour, though fortunately they were extremely good at it.
With a sigh he reached out for the door handled with apprehension, he was the leader, and as such it was his duty to do this, with a sigh of relief he opened it, apparently the trap was a one time thing only, and quickly his men ran past him towards the top of the tower which was the most easily defended place.
To their confusion however the way ended on a round room with no doors, and he believed their foe to have escaped before Barak noted the hole in the roof.
"Check it out", he said to Lares and Gendel. The two Mer's walked carefully over to the hole before looking up.
Divayth had been watching the hole, and was quickly rewarded with two of the attackers peering up. Quickly he fired the two crossbows he held. One of the bolts merely glanced off the heavy Dwemer armour he wore, but the other person collapsed to the ground with a terrified gurgle, compliments of the bolt that had penetrated his throat. Before the other one could recover he threw out a small orb of coruscating energy the exploded in a series of small lightning bolts that coruscated over his armour.
Thankfully for Divayth it appeared that the metal the Dwemer used for their armour was a very good transmitter for electricity, and the poor Mer was fried instantaneously. After five minutes of waiting Divayth had concluded that the rest of the Dwemer were not going to go into the death zone, and with some quick thinking he threw down a mannequin that he would hang his armour on when he did not wear it.
The mannequin had barely reached the ground before the sound of three bolts piercing wood resonated up to him. Apparently the Dwemer were content as cucumbers to wait for him to come down and expose himself. Foolishly for them they believed that merely placing them out of his sight meant that he could not attack them, fortunately Divayth was a wizard of prestigious power and blessed with great imagination and quick thinking.
After a quick incantation later there now stood a Golden Saint in front of him. Armed with a Daedric tower shield and a heavy Daedric mace. "Go down the hole and kill them", he commanded. The summoned Daedra stared at him, its eyes of liquid gold glaring at him with hatred so harsh that he almost shivered from its gaze. He knew that Daedra sometimes turned on their summoner but his control was firm and with a simple nod the Daedra jumped down the hole.
An eerie metallic howl of rage erupted from the Daedra's mouth when it was struck with three crossbow bolts, and with a howl of immaterial hatred it threw itself at the ones responsible. Cries of panic and denial came from downstairs as the Dwemer tried to kill the summoned creature, and while the Golden Saint was immensely powerful, it could only buy him some time. Quickly he jumped down as well, drawing his broadsword that was made from the finest ebony, a gift from the king of Velke himself.
Once he hit the ground he could see his summoned Daedra was surrounded by the five remaining warriors and they were raining down blows on it from all angles. It howled with rage when the arm holding the shield was cut off, and swung out with the heavy mace, hitting the head of one of the warriors with such strength, that it was severed from its body with a spray of arterial fluids. The leader of the warriors was knocked to the ground by the creature's reverse blow and did not get up again, and it was just about to strike one more when it suddenly vanished in a glow of golden dust back to the realms of Oblivion.
The three remaining warriors turned towards Divayth and ran towards him. One of them was blown back by a powerful magical wave and promptly broke his neck one a desk which was shattered by the person's weight. Quickly Divayth dodged a thrust from the warrior on his right, before he was knocked to the ground by the one from his left.
On instinct he rolled to the right and doing so managed to save himself from a vicious stab. He grabbed his sword tightly, before he swung it with as much force as he could. It hit the heavy Dwemer armour on the greaves, and slid off in a spray of sparks, but the force of the blow managed to break the left leg of one of them and he yelled out in pain as he fell to the floor.
The brief respite allowed Divayth to return to his feet and he prepared himself to fight the last one.
The remaining warrior held a pointy and sharp spear made from the same material as his armour, and he gazed at Divayth with pure unadulterated hate. With astonishing speed for one wearing such heavy armour he thrust the spear towards Divayth. Divayth desperately dodged to the left, but it was much too late, and the spear penetrated the chainmail vest he wore, and a scream of pain erupted from his mouth when the warrior removed the spear.
Divayth could feel blood flowing from the wound, and he was sure that some of his ribs were broken, but he would worry about that after he had despatched his enemy. The spear came again, but this time he was ready, and with a quick swing the heavy sword threw the spear out of his way, and he moved in for the kill, only to be rewarded with a punch to the face which threw him off his feet and left stars in front of his eyes.
The warrior stabbed down, but with a stroke of luck missed Divayth by inches. Divayth quickly grabbed hold of the spear, and used the warrior's own momentum against him by planting both of his feet at his waist, before kicking him away.
Divayth grabbed his sword and flew to his feet, ignoring the pain in his right side. The Dwemer warrior had almost unsheathed his sword when Divayth swung again, and could only manage a brief flicker of panic into his eyes before the heavy blade hit the side of his head, cracking his skull and spraying blood, and the warrior fell to the floor dead.
Divayth saw the Mer with the broken leg crawl towards a sword that was lying on the ground, but before he could reach it Divayth had plunged his sword into his back, penetrating the armour with ease, and left the man skewered on the floor with Divayth's sword through his heart and lung.
With the fight over Divayth fell to the ground exhausted, and he could barely concentrate enough on a healing spell to take care of his wound and broken ribs. After the spell had healed him tough he was fully lucid again, and the small moans coming from one of the bodies on the floor alerted him to the fact that at least one of them were still alive. A quick check revealed that the leader had only been knocked unconscious by the Golden Saint and Divayth quickly stripped away his armour and weapons before taking him to the dungeons, he would interrogate him later but now he had to warn the council that the Dwemer were preparing to wage war.
After securing the locks on all doors in his home he opened up a teleport spell that would take him to Sadrith Mora, home of Arch Magister Uvirith, whom would then rapport to the rest of the council that the Dwemer were going to attack them sooner or later.
AN: I reposted the chapter now that my beta finally managed to get it back to me, enjoy.