Chapter Text
“Are you sure about heading here? The city has seen better days, and there are rumors of terrible beasts lurking around the place.” said Rodulf, the ferryman operating the small dinghy.
“I can protect myself,” Persephone reassured the balding man. “What kinds of beasts?”
“Vampires. Werewolves. Packs of wolves and lone Sabre-toothed cats. No sane person would travel here,” the man said.
As the ferryman rowed and rowed, Persephone thought on what he had told her. She’d facedd creatures such as the ones he described before.
“Tell me about the city,” the necromancer commanded.
“It’s called Windhelm. Some say it was built by Ysgramor himself. For another matter, I’m sure you’ve heard about the civil war. Well, this place is the stronghold for the Stormcloak faction. If I were you, I wouldn’t stay long. Not unless you want to be in the middle of the war,” he said.
“I won’t be staying long. My true destination is Falkreath,” Persephone replied.
“Falkreath? Ha! That’s almost worse than staying in Windhelm!” Rodulf said.
“Why do you say that?”
“That place is infamous for its expansive cemetery. Some say the city is built on cursed land, and that’s why so many people meet their untimely deaths there.”
Persephone didn’t have anything to say to that, so she opted for silence. As the ferryman rowed his way closer and closer to Windhelm’s docks, she noticed a number of scaled people walking the length of the shipyard.
“Who are those people walking the docks?” Persephone asked. She had never seen such a people in her travels before.
“Ah, is this your first time seeing the Argonians? They’re originally of Black Marsh, and they all share that scaly appearance. The Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric, doesn’t allow them to leave the docks or move into the city itself,” Rodulf said.
The ferryman continued to row, and he soon reached the docks themselves.
He rowed the boat into a spare space and said, “Well, this is where I leave you. Stay safe, alright?”
“And you as well,” Persephone said.
She carefully stepped out of the boat, trying not to tip over the whole thing. Once she was safely on the docks, she turned and waved to the ferryman, who had immediately started rowing away from the docks the minute his passenger had departed. Rodulf waved back and continued his rowing.
Persephone turned and examined her surroundings. The docks were filled to the brim with Argonians. The necromancer walked along the docks until she found a set of stairs that led into the city proper. A city guard standing at attention in front of a set of huge door looked the woman up and down and said, “You are welcome here, traveler.” The guard then opened the door and gestured for Persephone to enter.
The first thing she noticed was that the city was quite crowded. Houses were stacked almost on top of one another. Snow was piling up at the edges of the pathways, and many Dark Elves patrolled the streets where Persephone had entered. The necromancer made her way through the city, seeking ultimately to leave and take a carriage to Falkreath. She quickly ran into more city guards, but these ones were guarding the main gates into the city. They said nothing to her but did indeed open the doors.
Persephone shivered as a blast of cold air slammed into her. She had encountered cold climates in the past, but this was something else. This was the kind of cold that settled in one’s bones and refused to abate even when one was standing right in front of a warm fire. She quickly walked down the great bridge that led out of the city and soon ran into what she sought: a carriage fit to take her to Falkreath. She approached the carriage and saw a man waiting with his horse’s reins in hand.
“I can take you to any of the hold capitals. Where are ya headed?” The man asked.
“Falkreath,” Persephone said. “How much will it cost?”
“20 septims, and you’ve got yourself a ride,” he said.
“Here,” Persephone said, handing the man the necessary monies.
The ride was lengthy but uneventful. Persephone had expected to be attacked by some kind of creature, based on what the ferryman had said, but nothing dared to come close. Despite that, she kept her scythe close just in case. When they finally arrived at Falkreath’s gates, it was three days later and under the cover of heavy rainfall. According to the driver, there was always some kind of gloom hanging over the area.
The Deathspeaker at the Necropolis, Jiran, had instructed Persephone to speak with the head of Falkreath’s Hall of the Dead for more information about the evil gathering in the nearby woods, so that was where Persephone headed first. The Hall of the Dead in Falkreath was modet for the size of the town. With how massive the local cemetery was, Persephone had expected to see a far larger Hall of the Dead. When he arrived at the doors to the Hall of the Dead, Persephone discovered that the head priest, Runil, was busy speaking rites over a fresh grave. Persephone didn’t see anyone else outside or inside the Hall of the Dead, so she waited patiently for him to finish doing his job. When the priest was finished, he caught sight of Persephone right away, and walked directly up to her.
“I got your Deathspeaker’s letter about your arrival. I am Runil, if you didn’t already know. How are you doing on this fine day, Persephone?” the priest asked.
“I don’t know how fine it is with this pouring rain, but I am well. And you?” Persephone inquired, following the priest as he gestured towards the Hall of the Dead.
“I am well, thank you.”
The two went inside the Hall of the Dead, where there were two quaint beds, a small table, some chairs, and a dresser. The priest gestured for the necromancer to sit at the table, and Runil soon joined her in his own chair.
“In your letter, you said there is evil gathering in the woods nearby. Can you explain it further?” Persephone asked, getting straight to the point.
“Yes. I believe a kind of foul necromancy is brewing there. Not the sort of necromancy that you and I are used to, but something far darker. I suspect vampires are involved, but I haven’t been able to go and look at it myself. All of my information is second-hand, gleaned from the mouths of the frightened adventurers who wander into Falkreath’s inn.”
“I will handle it. Where should I start looking for this den of vampires?”
“There are a set of ancient Nordic ruins near here. You’ll recognize it by the ruined tower that yet stands tall. Below that tower, there are ruins which provide the perfect shelter for vampires to dwell in,” Runil said.
“Is there anything else I should know before I head out?”
“Yes. If you happen to get bitten by the vampires, come right back to me immediately. You must receive the blessing of Arkay to cleanse yourself of the vampiric curse, and it must be done before you reach three days after being bitten.”
“What happens after three days?”
Runil sighed and said, “You will transform into a vampire. I would greatly prefer to return you to your Deathspeaker unharmed, so please be careful in those ruins. I would come with you, but there are more bodies to bury and more rites to say over the dead. I cannot leave my post here.”
“Worry not. I will take care of it,” Persephone reassured the Altmer.
The elf clearly wanted to ask something else, for his gaze never left Persephone’s, ad he was looking at her with a very pointed expression.
“Did you wish to ask me something?” Persephone asked.
“Yes. I hope I am not prying, but… you are doing this to ascend the ranks in the priesthood, yes?”
“Yes, I am.”
“So you do not have very much experience with Skyrim’s beasts?”
“That is also correct,” Persephone said, unsure of exactly where he was taking this conversation.
The elf hummed and said, “You must be very careful. The beasts of Skyrim are far more clever than one might assume.”
“I will be alright, don’t worry. I can handle a few beasts, clever or not.”
— — — — —
Persephone left the Hall of the Dead and began the short trek to the Nordic ruins Runil spoke of. The ruins were not far from the town. They were so close, in fact, that Persephone wondered if the vampires were feeding off of the townspeople nightly. It was a likely possibility. The tower was indeed a ruin, with broken stairs and half-collapsed cobblestone walls caked with thick moss. Persephone readied her scythe and took a look around the area. She soon found a large cellar door within the ruin. This had to be the place that Runil spoke of.
When she began the descent into the ruins, she failed to bring a torch with her. It was so dark inside that she considered turning back and grabbing one from within Falkreath. In the end, she decided to press on without a torch. That was her first mistake.
Her second mistake came swiftly. As she moved within the ruins, scythe ready to swing, she hadn’t brought a legion of skeletal warriors at her side. They would have been extremely useful in a situation like this. The ruins within were much like the tower: half collapsed and covered with moss. She also spotted a few crudely built coffins lined up against the walls. Vampires definitely resided here.
Persephone didn’t see the attack coming. Rather than face her directly, the vampires had decided to use subterfuge and traps to their advantage. Without a torch to pierce the darkness, she never saw the trip wire that she ran right into. As she stumbled forward, falling over the tripwire, she saw movement in the shadows ahead. Persephone used her scythe like a cane, trying to keep herself from falling all the way to the ground.
That was when something shoved her from behind. She actually fell fully forward this time, her face pressed hard into the dirt floor. Persephone rolled over, scythe in hand, and swung her weapon at the darkness behind her. She hit nothing, though she heard a rumbling chuckle not far from her. Persephone scrambled to her feet and decided she was outmatched currently. She made a break for the cellar door that she had come though. She’d left the door open, but she watched as it closed abruptly, right before her eyes.
That was when her third and final mistake came. She continued to head for the cellar door, and tried to shove her whole weight against it. It wouldn't budge. As she continued to shove the dor, she felt metal snap around her ankles. The beasts had cuffed her with a metal chain. The chains were yanked hard, sending the necromancer sprawling to the ground. She lost her grip on her scythe, and it fell off to the side. Whatever had cuffed her ankles was now dragging her deeper into the ruin. Persephone scrambled at the dirt floor but found no purchase, despite using her fingernails to claw at the ground.
She rolled over, onto her back, and tried to kick at whatever was dragging her, but she failed to hit anything. She heard that eerie chuckle yet again, and it sent chills crawling up her back. As she continued to be dragged, Persephone tried to used her hands to pry open the cuffs around her ankles. She failed to open them. By her guess, they could only be opened with a key. Panic flooded her mind, and she used her magic recklessly. She slung a patch of blight at whatever was dragging her. She couldn’t see well enough to know if she’d landed a hit, but she had aprubtly stopped being dragged.
A cruel sense of hope filled her and she spun back around and got to her feet yet again. She ran for the door. If she had to, she’d blast it to pieces with her magic. That was when the next attack came. It hit her with the force of a wall. Something slammed into her head, and she was sent sprawling to the ground. A sharp ache bloomed in her head, and she groaned as she collapsed. As she saw shadows moving in the darkness, her vision grew blurry, and she blacked out abruptly.
— — — — —
When Persephone woke, she almost instantly knew she was screwed. Her back was against a cold stone wall. She felt more metal cuffs, this time around her wrists, which were raised high above her head. Her feet were stretched out in front of her, still chained with cuffs. Persephone looked around, and noticed that a torch had been lit in the room. She could see more now. She saw four humanoid shapes lined up against the wall opposite to the one she was chained to. Their eyes glowed in the dim light. The eyes of vampires.
“Let me go!” Persephone yelled in vain.
One of the creatures chuckled again. One of them started to come forward, directly towards Persephone. The woman bent her knees and tried to curl her body away from the creature as it came ever closer.
“Grab her legs,” the creature that had come forward said.
The other three vampires came forward. One of them grabbed at her kicking legs and held them down. They made it seem easy, restraining her. The first vampire grabbed her face and snatched it hard, forcing her to look at the creature in the eyes. In a panic, Persephone tried to summon her magic again.
The vampire pulled a blade from its belt and placed it right against her throat, and it growled, “Try that and I’ll cut your throat.”
She found that to be the better option, and she tried to sling another patch of blight right at the beast. Before she could fully summon it, the vampire grabbed her face and slammed her head back against the wall, and did so harshly. Her head started ringing, and she found she could barely think straight. She whimpered and tried to turn her face away from the creature. It wouldn’t allow her to do so, holding her face in its taloned hands.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, voice trembling.
“A bit late for that,” one of the creatures said, laughing.
Hot tears began to sting her eyes, and the woman tried in vain to pull her legs closer to herself. The beast holding her legs down growled and tightened its grip in her ankles.
“Come on, I want a taste,” one of the beasts said.
“Never tasted a necromancer before,” another creature grumbled.
The one holding her face turned to the others and spat, “I captured her. First rights go to me.”
The one holding her jaw turned back to her and said, “Call me Zola. Never let it be said we vampires lack manners. This here’s Loden, Solon, and Heldulf.”
The other vampires looked at her and nodded their heads as the first vampire said their names.
“Zola, please don’t do this,” Persephone said, words slurring in her throat.
The vampire chuckled and said, “I’m afraid your blood’s too tempting to resist. Now stay still, or else I’ll rip your throat to shreds on accident.”
The woman whimpered again, powerless to stop the beast as he turned her face away and bared her neck to him. She felt the sting of his bite as he sunk his fangs into her neck. She felt his tongue lap at the bite, sipping her blood slowly. As he drank her blood, the other vampires grew impatient and drew closer to her. She could just barely see them out of the corner of her eye. One of them got bold and launched forward, fangs piercing the skin of one of her wrists. Another vampire bit down on the other wrist, and the fourth pulled up one of the legs of her pants and bit down on one of her lower legs.
As they drained her blood, she quickly grew dizzy and passed out swiftly.
— — — — —
When Persephone opened her eyes, she realized that her whole body ached. There were sharp pains where the vampires had bit her, and she was still very dizzy. At first, she thought they’d left her alone, but the vampire named Loden came forward, out of the shadows. The vampire started talking, speaking so low that Persephone could just barely hear him.
“Zola doesn’t like it when I do this, but he’s out hunting, with the others,” the vampire said, laughing deep in his throat.
“What?” Persephone said, not understanding what he meant.
The vampire was still laughing when he arrived at her side. When the vampire pawed at the belt of her pants, she finally understood what he was trying to do.
“Wait, stop. Please don’t,” Persephone said, trying to pull her legs in close.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman? Far too long,” Loden said, chuckling.
He pulled her pants down to her ankles, and was starting to tear at her undergarments when it happened. In the darkness, she couldn’t see much, but she did see a shadow moving behind the vampire in front of her. Loden was too preoccupied to notice, laughing to himself and seeming to be spurred on by the tears falling down her face. Persephone watched as something struck the vampire hard at his temple, sending the beast sprawling to the ground. The humanoid shape began to relentlessly beat at the vampire, eventually succeeding in caving the creature’s head in.
The shape rushed over to Persephone’s side and she finally got a look at his face. It was Runil, the priest from Falkreath’s Hall of the Dead.
“When you didn’t return, I got worried,” the priest was saying as he examined the cuffs around her wrists.
“How long have I been gone?” Persephone asked, voice trembling.
“Three days. I need to get you back to the Hall of the Dead as fast as possible. Do you know where the keys to these cuffs are?”
“Maybe try his pockets. He said the other vampires were out hunting, but I don’t think thy’ll be gone long. Hurry!” Persephone said, breath coming in pants.
Runil procured a key from the vampire’s pockets and began to unlock her cuffs. As soon as her hands were free, she pulled her pants back up over her legs. Runil unlocked the cuffs at her ankles and helped her to her feet. Persephone looped an arm around Runil’s neck, and the pair began to walk slowly out of the cellar.
“Are you sure its dead?” Persephone asked, looking back at the vampire.
“Damn it, you’re right. Wait,” Runil said.
She couldn’t see exactly what he was fumbling with in the darkness, but she did see the vampire;s body suddenly go up in flames as Runil threw something at it. Runil returned to Persephone’s side and helped her out of the dank cellar. The world was dark, dimly lit by the glow of a full moon hanging overhead. They began to make the trek back to the city.
They had nearly made it back to Falkreath when a splitting pain pierced Persephone’s skull. With a sharp cry, she fell to the ground and clutched her head. She grew so dizzy that she fell on her side on the dirt. Her vision began to swim.
“What’s happening?” Persephone asked Runil, who was crouching at her side and trying to examine the woman’s eyes.
“The transformation. You’re turning into a vampire. Dammit, I thought we were going to make it,” Runil said.
“Then you have to leave me. Go!” Persephone said, still clutching her head.
“Nonsense. You didn’t choose this. You’re coming back with me, before the sun rises.”
Runil helped the woman get back on her feet, and they continued to shuffle down the road. When a headache bloomed again in her head, Persephone bent down and groaned. It came on suddenly. Abruptly, her vision cleared and her senses sharpened. Her strength returned. With a gasp, Persephone snapped upright and looked around. She could we through the darkness as if it were daylight. She could hear the hooting of an owl at least two miles away.
“I think it is finished,” Persephone said breathlessly, as she turned to look at Runil.
The grave look on his face told her that her eyes had changed color.
“Yes, it has finished,” he said gravely. “Come on, we only have an hour before sunrise. Unless you want to be ashes, we have to go now.”
Persephone was suddenly able to walk on her own, so she did so. They reached Falkreath at a lucky time, in between the guard’s shifts. No one saw the pair enter the city. More importantly, no one saw Persephone’s glowing vampiric eyes.