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The Telvanni woke to a dimly lit room. He remembered feeling faint, and falling, but after that… Nothing. He felt tired, heavy, almost drugged, but his mind was alert. He was propped up, this much he knew, in his study on his bed. What initially concerned him was he could not move his arms. They prickled and tingled as if filled with needles, but he couldn’t move them. Had he hit his head? The old mer had no reason to suspect foul play. He had no enemies, or none that he knew of, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t turn his head.
A moment later and he began to panic. Who had brought him to his room? Why couldn’t he call out? Were those footsteps? By Azura if those belonged to his worthless apprentice or one of the hired help, he’d probably cry in relief.
“Good evening, Magister.”
A dark hand gently tilted his head towards the owner of the voice. A tall and trim but well built white-eyed Dunmer loomed over him. He did not know this mer.
“There is nothing…” The mer dragged a nearby chair to the bedside, the feet of it scraping the floor. “I hate more,” the mer sat and rested his elbows on his knees before bending to eye level. “Than a person who assumes the role of a mentor only to use and abuse their student. No no-- That dear boy has nothing to do with this. You’ve beaten him too well.”
The mer smiled, his teeth unnaturally long, unnaturally sharp and dagger-like. After a moment, he rested his hand on the Magister’s. Sharp needles ran through the contact.
“Blink if you feel that,” he murmured, his voice almost gentle. The Magister’s eyes batted rapidly, the needles a special level of torture. “Ah…” A tug on his arm, and there was nothing.
“And how about now?”
Nothing. Cold nothingness. The Magister, the mage so adept at restoration, struggled but couldn’t budge. Couldn’t cast. He looked at the mer above him in horror.
“My dear, dear Neloth. There is no coming back from this.”
The mer, a man he’d never seen before, pulled a long and thin surgical knife from his pocket.
“Have you ever studied the nervous system? Do you even know what it is? I hope you do. As someone who studies restoration, you know how difficult it is to heal a small and precise wound without inciting excess growth around it.”
The grey of the mer’s skin shifted to green, a brighter burn now visible across his daedric face. When he blinked, his eyes became yellow and the pupils curled.
“Hermaeus Mora does not give a shit about you. Have no fear of that. No. This is personal, from one educator to another.”
The daedra stood, bend down, and pressed a kiss to Neloth’s forehead.
“I do hope it’s your steward who finds you.” The daedra, mere inches from the magister’s face, murmured to him like a lover.
“
May you live a long life at the mercy of others.
”