As we leave the camp, the ghost of Calion floats out toward us. “Are you going back to my mother?”

I nod. “Yeah, she’s going to want to know what happened back there.”

“Can I go with you?” Calion asks. “I was going to go there myself but I’m not sure where it is or how to get there exactly.”

“Of course!” I say.

“Glad to have you along,” Ilara adds.

We destroy another Dark Anchor on the way back to Vastarie’s place. Calion is terrified at first, who wouldn’t be? But after seeing us and the Fighters Guild taking it all in stride, he zooms in to help. (The Fighters Guild take the assistance of a random ghost in stride, too. These n’wahs have seen some shit.)

When we arrive, Calion asks, “Is this the place?” and zips ahead to go inside before waiting for an answer.

Vastarie does not shriek like she’s seen a ghost. She merely draws a dignified gasp of surprise.

“Don’t be scared, mother!” Calion says, sounding more terrified himself than she does. “Please don’t think I’m a monster.”

“Neralion, what is this?” Vastarie asks.

“He followed us home,” I say. “He didn’t want to stay back at the ruin with Telacar.”

“Self-awareness and free will?” Vastarie whispers. “This isn’t just a mindless shade? This is my son’s true spirit…”

I leave the two of them to the privacy of their heartfelt reunion and go to make myself at home.

That evening as I’m reading, a projection of the Prophet appears before me, because something or another is prophetic I guess.

“You decided to use a projection?” I ask. “And not just appearing in my dreams?”

“I have been using a projection each time I have contacted you,” the Prophet says.

“So I was just hearing your voice in my sleep?” I say. “In that case, you keep calling at terrible hours.”

“I did not wish to interrupt whatever you may have been doing,” the Prophet says. “I see much blood and death around you, and violence requires a sharp focus.”

“Fine, let’s go with the reasonable answer,” I say. “Do you have something that needs to be done right now, or can I sleep first and pop over to the Harborage in the morning?”

“We have an unexpected guest who demands your presence,” the Prophet says.

“Who?” I wonder.

“You should come here and speak with him yourself,” the Prophet says.

“You’re going to need to be less cryptic for once, because I’m not moving from this house before morning unless I know it’s for something important.”

“I do not see any battle around you right now.”

“No, but I’m elbows deep in this book a friend recommended to me.”

“I see,” the Prophet says. “Well, if it will help draw you from your fine literature, then I will explain, if I must expend the energy. I’ve spoken with Abnur Tharn by projection, and he demands to speak with you directly.”

“Who?” I ask.

The Prophet sighs in exasperation. “One of the Five Companions. Of the noble Tharn family of Cyrodiil. Surely you must have heard of them by now, at least?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells,” I say.

“A necromancer, a powerful mage, currently in the employ of Mannimarco, but the situation may not be so simple,” the Prophet says. “He has impressed upon me the urgency of his message.”

“Fine, so why doesn’t he just send a projection directly to me if I’m the one he wants to talk to?” I ask. “If it’s so urgent, I should be speaking with him right now.”

“He has not even met you before and you are not the one who has the communication orb,” the Prophet says.

“I spoke with him on the communication orb before and he seems to be well aware of my existence to ask to speak to me. And if he’s such a powerful mage, he should be perfectly capable of casting a projection to speak to someone he’s had a brief conversation with once.”

The Prophet is silent for a minute, then says, “I must conserve my energy. He says he will contact you.”

The Prophet’s projection vanishes, and another one of that human I’ve seen a few times before appears. Right, him.

“You impugned my abilities as a mage or I would not bother,” Abnur says. “‘The Black Wolf.’ Hmph. You are well in your rights to demand less vagueness from that old fool, as inconvenient as it might be to myself. If Mannimarco were to learn that I am speaking with you, he would have me killed.”

“I take it you’re having second thoughts about working for Manny?” I ask.

“Mann—” Abnur Tharn makes a soft choking sound. “Ahem. Yes, you might say that. I am invested in Tamriel’s continued existence and do not believe that being more like Coldharbour would be an improvement upon the place. Lines have been crossed that are too much even for one such as I.”

“Sensible,” I say. “But why did you want to talk to me?”

“You seemed uncommonly competent from our previous conversation,” Abnur replies. “I knew you must be a Hero.”

“How did you guess?” I wonder.

“You showed more… personality than most minions,” Abnur says evenly.

“Oh, yeah, personality is something I have in droves!” I say. “But I don’t think you were calling me up for my winning personality. Most likely you were just interested in the ‘winning’ part.”

“Indeed,” Abnur says. “You are, I believe, the only one both foolish enough to venture into Coldharbour to come to the rescue of someone you barely know, and competent enough to succeed. Therefore, I,” he gives a long list of titles I don’t bother to remember, “formally request asylum.”

“Okay,” I say.

“In return—I haven’t even gotten to the part about what I’m offering you and you’re already agreeing?”

“Sure,” I say. “You asked nicely and you seem like an alright sort.”

“I seem like an—,” He takes a deep breath. “Well. Far be it from me to discourage your sense of personal judgment. I hope I will see you shortly, then.” We wrap up the conversation, and the projection vanishes.

I head out to the main room, where Eran and Gelur are tending to their equipment, Vastarie and Merry are discussing magey stuff, and Ilara is napping, although she opens one eye when I approach and speak.

“Hey guys,” I say. “Who wants to go to Coldharbour to rescue a necromancer?”

“Pass,” Eran says.

“Hard pass,” Ilara adds.

“You’re insane,” Merry comments.

“I’ll go,” Vastarie puts in.

I’m surprised at that. I hadn’t expected that she’d even be interested. “Are you able to provide transportation?” I ask. “Because I’m not sure I’d be able to teleport you with the method I use. Or if not Coldharbour, would you be able to teleport to Vulkhel Guard?”

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“I have no connection to Coldharbour to be able to open a portal there,” Vastarie says. “I can get us to Vulkhel Guard, though. Also, I still have Irrai’s geode, so I should be able to open a portal to get us back here at least.”

She opens a portal, and we step through and I lead her off down the beach toward the Harborage.

“I’m surprised you were so eager to go back to hell already,” I say. “How did things go with Calion?”

“He’s a dear and it fills me with joy and pain to have been able to speak with him again after all these years,” Vastarie says. “He wanted to see the big tree and went off to explore Valenwood, but he promised to come by to visit regularly. This is the least I could do to repay you for all you’ve done for my family.”

“Well, I appreciate your confidence and trust in me, then, considering you didn’t even ask any questions before agreeing to come,” I say. “The one we are looking to retrieve is a human by the name of Abnur Tharn, who has decided to defect from Manny’s side.”

“Manny—Mannimarco?” Vastarie says, struggling to keep a straight face. “Oh, he is going to love you.” She clears her throat. “Turning one’s back on Mannimarco is an endeavor I can wholeheartedly support. The news you and your friends brought of the Worm Cult’s current activities is unsettling.”

We locate the cave and head inside, and I make a round of introductions. The Prophet has heard of Vastarie, of course, and he also pretends that he knew she was coming and something about destiny and I interrupt him before he can get too far on that vein.

“Can we talk about destiny some more after Abnur Tharn is safely back here?” I ask. “I am really eager to go back to Coldharbour before hearing anything else about destiny.”

“He made his bed,” Lyris says. “I wouldn’t bother if he didn’t have information we need.”

“Well, you’re welcome to just stay here, then,” I say. “Vastarie and I can handle this.”

Lyris’ fear of being thought a coward winds up outweighing her desire not to have anything whatsoever to do with Abnur Tharn, and the Prophet opens a portal for the three of us and we head through. Once in Coldharbour, we receive a projection from Abnur letting us know that Manny is not in his castle at the moment, but the gate is sealed so we’ll need to find another way in.

We step outside of the decrepit house we wound up in and I look to the sky to get my bearings. “Ah, this must be the Wretched Squalor,” I say.

“Coldharbour has some lovely place names, doesn’t it?” Lyris says.

While the dark thoughts seem brighter when I’m on Nirn, back in Coldharbour, every memory of pain and torment comes spilling back into my mind and it takes me a moment to reorient myself and focus on what we’re doing.

“Let us see if we can find a way into this castle, then, shall we?” Vastarie says, thankfully breaking me out of my grim reverie. “I would hate for the young Tharn’s confidence in us to be misplaced.”

“Can’t say I ever tried to get in here, but let’s ask around and see if any of the Soul-Shriven have any ideas,” I say. “Maybe Cadwell’s around somewhere. He could help.”

Most of the Soul-Shriven around are the usual kind, their minds so broken that they just stand around staring at the ground and barely respond if they respond at all, but I pick out a few lively ones and learn that Cadwell is indeed around somewhere. (One woman is offended at being asked, as if I were assuming that it’s because she’s an Imperial. She becomes even more offended when I inform her that I can’t even tell the human races apart for the most part.) We locate him, after beating up a few cultists along the way.

“Ah, thanks for the assist,” Cadwell says. “These cultists are such antisocial chaps, aren’t they? Good to see you again, Nerevar, and fair Lyris, of course. And a well met to the lovely lady you’ve brought with you as well.” He gives a bow. “I am Sir Cadwell, and it is my deepest pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must say, your pallid skin and glowing blue eyes are quite fetching.”

“Why, thank you,” Vastarie says. “But did you say ‘Nerevar’?”

“Oh, right,” I say. “I forgot to mention that, didn’t I?”

“That would explain why Azura sent you to help,” Vastarie says.

I open my mouth to start arguing that Azura didn’t send me, that I just overheard some people mentioning Daedra and thought it would be fun to hit them, but then close it again. It’s not worth arguing about. Religion causes people to make up their minds that something happened by their god’s will, and not by anything completely unrelated. And in any case, Azura implied to me that I’d been ‘put in play’, like my escape from Coldharbour had been arranged somehow, by someone who must have assumed that me being out in Tamriel would just result in a lot of annoying things being fixed. In any case, I let it go.

I introduce Vastarie, and Cadwell kisses her hand with a “Charmed.” After I explain why we’re here, he directs us to the cistern and tinkers with some machinery to get us inside while we beat up every Daedra that shows up to protest Cadwell tinkering with machinery. He opts to watch the door while we head inside.

“Sir Cadwell is certainly a clever fellow,” Vastarie says.

“He is that,” Lyris agrees. “And he’s just as mad as the kleptomaniac Chimer over there who is stopping to look in every box… Nerevar? We really ought to get moving before anymore Daedra or cultists show up.”

“Right,” I say, absently tossing a chunk of starmetal I found at the bottom of a barrel into my pack.

We head up to the tower, passing by one of those rooms packed with Soul-Shriven, all just standing about mindlessly two feet apart. Those are the ones that are the most far gone, that they don’t even realize where they are anymore. Their minds couldn’t handle respawning again and again just to be exposed to more horrors and torments. Maybe if I can get my own soul back, I’d be able to release theirs, too, so that at least some of these poor fetchers might finally be able to pass on to Aetherius.

Another of Abnur’s projections appears before us, informing us that there’s a warded door blocking the way between us and him. He mentions that there’s a laboratory nearby and suggests we make a flesh atronach to break down the door.

“Ah, that might do the trick,” Vastarie says.

“Do you require instructions, or are you more capable of apprentice-level necromancy than a lunatic with a battle axe and an ice-brained half-giant?”

Vastarie chuckles. “I am, indeed, experienced with necromancy. Let us find this laboratory, then.”

As we press on, Vastarie instructs me to help collect suitable pieces of flesh, and that task dutifully falls to me since Lyris is too squeamish. Probably more about the necromancy than the meat. The whole place is chilled, so it doesn’t really smell too bad.

Lyris examines some wall art, of people’s bodies being contorted in pain, reaching out and screaming. “Such lovely statues here, too.”

“Those aren’t statues,” I say lightly, gathering another chunk of flesh. “They were people petrified in the midst of being tortured. Manny might have even released and re-froze them repeatedly just to get them into the perfect poses, too.”

Lyris shudders. “Didn’t need to know that.”

“I must say, though, that I don’t think much of the Worm King’s choice in decor,” I go on. “Too many skulls. I don’t have any problem with skulls, mind you, but when you have entire pillars full of skulls at ten foot intervals down every hallway, it starts to be a bit much even for Coldharbour. It’s tacky.”

“Indeed,” Vastarie says. “Just because someone is a necromancer does not mean they need to put skulls absolutely everywhere, even if it does mean that they have an army available on short notice to animate and attack any intruders.”

Lyris freezes and gives a long look at one of the pillars of skulls again, gripping her axe tightly. “Let’s… stop talking about the decor.”

We make it to the library, and I pile up the bodyparts in the indicated location. We probably did not need quite this much meat. Vastarie performs the last step, and the pile of flesh obediently gets up and goes over to the shimmering door. The ward sizzles around it, quickly resulting in the smell of charred meat, but it smashes the door open and disrupts the ward before collapsing again.

“That was quite the serious ward,” Vastarie says to Abnur’s projection. “Most people would have found it sufficient to keep someone out and not incinerate them. Mannimarco must have been afraid you’d figure out a less lethal ward.”

“Most likely,” Abnur says. “I’m glad that they brought someone competent along. I did not relish the thought of attempting to instruct one of these two in basic necromancy. Or watching them incinerate themselves like idiots, leaving me still stuck in here.”

“I totally probably wouldn’t have done that,” I say. “I mean. I might, but only if I thought it would get the ward down and Lyris would be able to finish up here herself while I respawn. Heroic sacrifices only make sense when they actually solve the problem at hand.”

“If what your friends have been telling me is any indication, you would have yelled ‘Whee!’ while flinging yourself at the barrier,” Vastarie says. “And you might have taken off your pants first.”

“That… is probably accurate,” I say.

Once through the door, more Daedra teleport in onto the ramp leading up to the summit. They must have found out their defenses have been breached and are making a last-ditch attempt at stopping us by throwing three dremora at us at a time. It’s not very effective.

At last, we make it to Abnur Tharn in person and not in a transparent monochromatic image that’s floating above the ground. He starts trying to talk to us (and I get the feeling that this is a guy who loves to hear himself talk), but I interrupt.

“Nice to meet you, let’s get out of here,” I say, turning back toward the way we just came in.

“We won’t be able to get out that way,” Abnur says. “They’ve probably sealed it back up.”

“That’s quite an assumption,” I say. “Are you sure?”

Abnur sighs. “With the aid of my magical skill, I have determined that the door your atronach smashed open closed itself off again after you passed through. We will need to find another way out.”

“I have a sigil geode I can use to open a portal back to Nirn,” Vastarie says. “Let me just—”

A voice from nowhere interrupts, and an image of an Altmer appears on the platform in the middle of the room. He’s blustering and taunting, just like Molag Bal, and it’s frankly a little tiresome.

“Abnur Tharn, how dare you betray me!” probably-Manny says. “And now you’ve gotten Vastarie to attempt to extract you? I’d thought she was gone and sealed away. How long have you been scheming with her?”

Abnur sighs. “I only just met the woman, not that it matters. She’s not the one who is scheming to overthrow Molag Bal and rule as a god in his place.”

“He’s trying to do what?” Vastarie says. “Oh, that fool. Always one to overreach.”

“Manny, knock off the trash talk and fight me already,” I say, hefting Dumzy.

Manny does not knock off the trash talk, but he does oblige me with animating some of the ubiquitous bones laying around to attack me. And then more skeletons once we’ve knocked those apart. And then a bone colossus for good measure. Then Manny and Abnur do some weird magical attack at one another, and I smack Manny’s projection while he’s distracted and make it disappear. At least, I think it’s a projection. Or a ghost. Sometimes it’s hard to tell and it doesn’t matter right now anyway.

“That won’t keep him down for long,” Abnur says. “Vastarie, get that portal open, quickly.”

Vastarie pulls out the magic rock and works her spell, and a glowing portal appears, which we waste no time in jumping through. Or at least, Lyris and I waste no time in jumping through; Vastarie and Abnur proceed in a slightly more dignified manner.